die catfish, die. - Prologue. Prologue

Prologue

At first, there was confusion.

Then, there was silence.

His mother rubbed him between the shoulders.

“Stop that,” he whispered, his own voice barely audible to himself over the ringing in his ears.

She withdrew her hand and leaned to the side to look at him, her mascara melting down her cheeks.

He shriveled a little more into himself.

His mother had gone through the whole song and dance expected at times like these. She started by telling him she loved him more than anything, hugging him, crying. She was proud of him when he couldn’t think of anything that he’d accomplished recently enough to merit the pride. It had taken her ten minutes of waffling to get to the point.

She held him and gave him a vague idea of how they had found Jacob. The words, burning, searing, etching, pulling his guts into his lungs, making it hard for him to breathe. She had said she loved him again, and over and over and over, and when she asked him to say something, there were no words.

None.

Jacob, his shining light, was gone.

She sniffled and wiped a flat hand across her face, pulling thick, oily streaks across her face.

She asked him, again, to say something.

She hugged him. Again.

She.

She.

She.

The troubling feeling inside of him coiled and knotted at his sternum, the feeling of having to retch was overwhelming. Numbly, he rose from the couch, bare skin peeling away from the leather, the chilly night air biting at the already cold, sweaty flesh on the back of his legs. The basement, his own miniature apartment, was always cold this time of year.

A single bead of snot fell from his nose. He walked to the bathroom, the ground rolling and tilting below his feet as he went, his balance shot to shit. Slowly, he lifted the toilet lid, the faint aroma of ammonia dancing around his face. His sides cramped as hot, yellow bile shot from his mouth and into the water below him. Once, twice, and almost a third time as he braced himself against the porcelain tank and dry-heaved.

He trembled and violently shivered.

“Eli?” The soft knocking sent shock waves through his skull.

He could hear her breathing in the crook of the door, waiting for him to pull it open.

“Baby, are you okay?”

The bathroom tile was cold, unsympathetic. He curled up into a ball and squeezed his knees.

Why? Eli had seen Jacob just hours before, and he seemed just fine.

After a while, he could feel his mom through the floor as she walked away.

The ringing in his ears warbled, chirped, and bit at his awareness as he got to his feet; Eli stood before the toilet on two skinny, wobbly legs.

At the sink, he scooped two or three handfuls of water into his mouth and spat it back into the basin.

The hiss of the faucet was indifferent to his pain.

He stuck his face under the running tap and took a few large gulps, the water splashing across his face. The spigot squawked in protest as he cut the flow of water.

Then, there was silence.

And, confusion.

He stared intensely into the mirror, right through the piece of shit framed before him. He wasn’t Elijah anymore, nor Eli. He was transparent again, another warm sack of meat and bones in an ocean of screenagers. Jacob had come along and turned Eli’s world on its side; he made Eli feel like he was a real person. Maybe even a bit normal.

Stupid Eli, ‘shy’ Eli. The skinny kid, the late-bloomer. Until Jacob came along, people wondered if Eli might be autistic, some even saying retarded.

Eli had never been much for words.

But Jacob came along, with his charm and warm embrace. His acceptance and prudence. They became friends. Then they became secrets. They went everywhere together as a set of shadows under the same soul. Never had Eli felt more loved than when Jacob had entered him, gently, delicately, lovingly. Two weeks without his virginity and Eli craved to be with Jacob again.

Eli had accepted Jacob’s gift, his love, his adoration. They talked all the time. They held hands under the table. They kissed in the places they would not have been seen.

Did someone see us? For fuck sake, Jacob, why?

He sighed. Bit his lip. Tried to look at himself, but he was invisible again. There was the warbling again, the chirping, the strange noises in his head which would not relent. Could he ever be with Jacob again? Would Eli find him in purgatory, or could he brave the vast spaces of hell to find the one whom he loved.

His normally smoky, alto voice cracked as a feral scream escaped his throat. He gripped the sides of the medicine cabinet and shook his arms, pulling the mirror off its weak hinges.

He threw it across the bathroom.

The mirror crashed against the side of the shower stall, shattering into a million shards, exploding out onto the tile and into the shower basin.

Eli slid down the wall and sobbed into his hands, until he felt his mother wrap her arms around him, rocking him, trying to comfort him but, instead, crying with him.

* * * * *

Eli’s eyes stung. He stared out into the darkness of his bedroom as his mother talked quietly into her phone, just outside his door.

“No, he’s not taking it well at all.” — “No, Mom, I don’t know what to do about it. He hasn’t said anything since I told him.” — “I just got him to sleep. What? No, I’m keeping him home for a few days. I don’t think he could take it.” — “Yeah. Uh-huh. I’m going to use some of my paid time off and stay here. The way he reacted, I don’t think I should leave him alone.” — “I’ll have to talk to him about it. I don’t think he’d do something to himself, but after tonight… I just don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this.”

Eli heard her sniffle.

“Mom,” she cried, “Mom, how do I take away his pain? How do I help him with this?” — “I didn’t think I’d ever have to talk to him about suicide like this. Especially being his best friend. I’m at a loss, Mom. I don’t know what to do.” — “No, you stay there. You have enough on your plate.” — “I know you love him, but it’s just a speed bump.”

Rage boiled up inside of Eli. Jacob was a speed bump? A fucking speed bump?

“I’ll keep you posted.” — “I’ll be sure to give him a big hug for you.” — “Yeah.” — “I won’t let anything happen to him.”

Damn it, Jacob. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He had to know why; he had to hold on long enough to find out.

Jacob seemed fine when he was there just hours before. They had made plans for the weekend — they were going to love on each other again. They were going to go to the bowling alley, or catch a movie. They were going to hug on the couch and watch movies; the thought of Jacobs body heat…

Eli pushed his finger hard into the button, the screen on his phone blasting his achy eyes. It took him several moments to compose one simple text message:

Goddamn it. Why?

He threw the phone away from him; it skittered across the floor.

“I think I could find him someone to talk to. I’ll have to check the insurance to see if he’ll need a referral.” — “There’s got to be a way to get him in to see someone. Even if I have to pay for it out of pocket. He needs to talk it out, and he won’t open up to me.” — “I know, I know.”

Suddenly, there was a chirping in his room, but it wasn’t Eli’s tone.

He got to one elbow. After a few seconds, he heard it again.

“What the shit?” he muttered to himself. Carefully, quietly, he got to his knees and slid off his bed, feeling around the dark floor for his phone.

Suddenly, there it was, a bright square of light on the floor peeking out from under his bed, the chime again ringing out into the troubled night air.

Eli sat against the end of his bed, next to his portable space heater, and took the phone into his hand, staring down at the screen. Gently, he rubbed his thumb across the glass. The screen again came to life, asking for a passcode.

He had Jacob’s phone in his hand, the last digital extension of his secret boyfriend, and he wondered, for a fleeting moment, if it held the answers.