die catfish, die. - 2. keyboards

I find it looks the same, but everything has changed
I find remembering gets harder every day
Sometimes, I still believe who I pretend to be
Sometimes, the little thing's exactly how it seems
Exactly how it seems

_{How to Destroy Angels – Ice Age (2012)}

* * * * *

No matter how much he’d tried to force it, sleep didn’t come easy. The entire night, Eli tossed and turned, trying everything he could to turn off his brain for even a moment of silent bliss, but nothing worked. He finally blinked out at four in the morning.

The warm embrace of sleep was over far too soon; Eli’s mother pushed the door open and flipped on the lights. “Time to get up. I can’t be late today.”

Eli stirred under his sheets; he’d just gotten comfortable.

She lingered in the doorway. “Come on, Elijah! Tick, tock.”

He grumbled and stretched. “I’m going.”

Finally, she backed away. “Let’s go, baby. I want to hear that shower running in five minutes.” At least it sounded like she was trying to get back to normal.

Eli tumbled out of bed, falling to the floor and pulling the comforter down with him. He pulled into a small ball and rolled to his knees, knowing full well that the day wasn’t going to be any easier than it was at that moment.

Once on his feet, he swayed for a moment.

“I don’t hear that shower,” his mom called from upstairs.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath.

He stumbled to the bathroom and waited for the water to warm up. The faucet had a hair-trigger; if you didn’t wait a moment, you’d be standing under the showerhead and suddenly it was either colder than the Ross Ice Shelf or hotter than Satan’s holy banana hammock.

Once he was convinced that the shower wasn’t hell-bent on sending him to the burn ward, he stripped down and stepped under the showerhead, cautiously wondering about the day ahead of him. He knew he’d have to fake his way through a biology test. There may have been something in French, too, mais il était pas sûr.

Aside the everyday minutiae queueing up in his brain, he prepared himself in case people might ask him questions for answers he did not know.

Eli hadn’t made it very far into Jacob’s phone. The wallpaper on the home screen was a photo of the two of them, Jacob with his arm around Eli’s shoulders, both smiling, both with chocolate sauce on their noses. They had snuck out of the house after they had first made love and walked down to the Tastee Freez.

Eli regretted unlocking the phone because it felt as if the memories were mocking him, telling him that the two of them weren’t meant to be, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Jacob had felt the same way. The whole relationship was a fluke, and the universe was getting Eli back for it.

What in the hell could a basketball player, even a second string player, see in a guy like Eli?

After a good ten minutes of crying, he put the phone away and decided to try again, maybe after he’d had a little more time to calm down.

A pounding on the door brought Eli out of his trance.

“The mom express is leaving in ten minutes. Hurry, or you’ll miss breakfast.”

He sighed and turned the water off. After a moment of dripping, he brought a fresh towel to his face and inhaled its fragrance: fresh linen fabric softener.

As he’d guessed, the day didn’t get easier.

Jacob’s locker was covered with butcher paper. People had taped on letters and left their signatures. In big, block letters, someone had written you will be missed, and under that, someone else wrote I’m so sorry. Under the locker, there was an assortment of stuffed animals, candles, flowers, and a picture frame with this year’s basketball picture.

As he stood before Jacob’s locker, another kid stopped next to him and sort of groaned. “That’s horrible.”

Eli glanced over.

“I can’t imagine what would have to be going through a dude’s brain to want to die like that.”

“A bullet,” someone in the crowd called behind them. There was a spate of laughter.

Eli’s face burned with rage. He balled his fists and snapped around, looking from face to face to find out who had said it. The hallway cleared out, leaving him standing there alone and breathing like a madman. He shuffled to his first class, which was in as much disarray as it had been the last time he’d been there.

Family and Consumer Science, or Home-Ec, as his mother called it. It used to be considered a girly class, but it was a required class for everyone, even guys. Today, the teacher was braving the chaos of having everyone make a Bundt cake. Eli was sure the teacher could cover more ground if the boys weren’t required to take the class, nor would some enterprising young asshat have replaced the sugar in the bins with salt before his lab.

Worst. Strawberry. Shortcake. Ever.

Math was math. While the class was reviewing homework, Eli’s guidance counselor had sent for him. Slowly, he ambled down the long, white-tile hallway to the little offices near the auditorium, where he signed in and plopped down onto one of the most sadistically uncomfortable benches in creation. He didn’t know exactly where his sciatic nerve was, but he was sure that he’d pinched the entire damn thing waiting in the lobby.

Five minutes after he’d arrived, Miss Bowman invited Eli into her office.

“I’m glad you were able to make it down so quickly,” she said, closing her office door.

“Um, okay?”

She sat down next to him, dragging her chair around her desk, and paused, clearly collecting her thoughts. “I wanted to touch base with you and see how you were holding up after last week. It’s been rough for a lot of people, and I understand you two were close.”

“I guess so.”

“You guess so?” She tilted her head slightly. “What, that you’re holding up, or you two were close?”

“Yes,” he said flatly.

She smirked and lightly smacked his arm with a few sheets of paper she’d been holding. “No Internet-speak in here. I don’t do the 9-Gags and the 4-chans.”

“You must know the Internet if you know the joke,” he said.

“I try to keep up with trends where I can.” She leaned forward. “Now, tell me how you’re doing.”

Eli sighed and shrugged. “I’m here.”

“I know you were out a few days. You missed the grief counselor. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“I think I’m all talked out,” Eli replied. “I don’t know. I wish I knew why he did it. It bothers me.”

Miss Bowman nodded. “It’s a hard thing to understand sometimes.”

“It’s too late to understand.”

She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“Jacob’s a page in the yearbook. Next year, nobody’s even gonna remember him. They wrote all over his locker about how sorry they were, but what in the hell were they sorry for, anyway?”

She patted his leg. “I don’t think that’s quite true, Elijah. You’ll remember him, and I’ll remember him. His family and his good friends will remember him, and as long as he was loved, he’ll always be alive in our hearts.”

Eli pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please spare me the bullshit.”

Miss Bowman sat back and blinked at him. “I’ll let that one slide.” She studied him for a moment. “You seem to be holding on to some anger.”

He rubbed his knee. “Nothing about this feels right. I saw him that morning, and he was fine. He was happy. We were making plans, then the next thing I know is my mom practically has me in a death-hug telling me they found chunks of his brain on the ceiling.”

“God, I hope she didn’t say it like that.”

Eli scowled. “No, but, you know. It’s hard not to have some pretty shitty thoughts go through your head when you hear about things like that.”

“Elijah…”

“Eli.”

“Eli, nothing about suicide ever feels right. I’ve dealt with this dozens of times throughout my career, and it always gets harder. But I need to know about you. I need to know you’re going to be okay.”

Ely shot her a dirty look.

“Just for my own sanity, okay?” She waited for him to reply. After a moment, she continued. “Are you talking to someone about this? A doctor?”

“I’m sure Mom’s already made the appointment. That’s all she’s talked to Grandma about for the last five days.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Look, you know I’m here if you ever need me, right?”

“You and about a dozen other people.”

“Well, then there’s a dozen people who want to make sure you’re okay.” Miss Bowman smiled weakly. “I saw Jacob a few times.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. You were very special to him.”

Eli shot to his feet. “Are we done?”

She studied his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t really have anything else to say.”

“Eli, if I said something that offended you…”

“Shit.” His eyes clouded. “I just don’t have the energy to keep talking about this.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“Unless someone can tell me something I don’t already know, I don’t wanna hear anything else. Okay? I’m done with people wanting to talk to me about it. It makes it worse every goddamn time someone…” He squeezed his eyes shut and flung his backpack hard against the floor. “Fuck,” he squeaked. “I can’t.”

“I’ve got nothing but time.”

“I don’t want to be here. I just want to get through my classes and go home. I don’t want to talk to anyone else today.”

“If your mom gets you set up with a therapist, will you talk to him?”

“Yes, fine! Jesus.”

She swiveled around in her chair. “I’m writing you a pass back to your class. It’s for fifteen minutes from now.” She scribbled a few lines on a pad of paper. “But first, you need to head down to the cafeteria and get something from the vending machine. Take a breather before you head back.” Turning back to him, she put two hall passes and a dollar coin in his hand.

“Miss Bowman, you don’t need to give me money.”

“I’d feel better if you went and got yourself a snack. Okay? If you don’t need the dollar, then pay it forward. Now go collect your thoughts. I’ll be here if you need me.”

Eli picked his backpack up off the floor and backed quietly out of the room, Miss Bowman giving him a slightly uncomfortable smile as he left.

* * * * *

English had been moved down into the computer lab, so Eli’s class could work on short story book reports; Missus Stockton had been trying to teach everyone how to write MLA-style reports.

Eli had typed out about two paragraphs. He sat back in his chair and ran his hands down his face, the blinking cursor mocking him. His brain had checked out shortly after lunch.

He pulled the dollar coin out of his pocket and made a clumsy effort to roll it across his knuckles. He had gone down to the cafeteria, but hadn’t gotten anything out of the vending machine. He noticed Miss Bowman out of the corner of his eye; she was standing outside the cafeteria spying on him. She was even nice enough to follow him back to class.

How insane do they think I am? He pocketed the coin and stared at the screen.

Next to him, two boys worked as partners, quietly chatting away instead of working. Normally, Eli would have been working with Jacob, but now he was solo. Nobody in the class had cast him a glance or even tried to talk to him; it was just like it was before he’d met Jacob.

The boy next to him giggled. “Hurry up, and get that done,” he mumbled. “Don’t need another D.” He turned in his seat toward the other boy with a wicked grin. “Do you want the D?”

The other boy, Chase (if Eli remembered right,) rolled his eyes. With a quick and awkward twist of his head, Chase popped several vertebrae in his neck and aligned his fingers over the keys.

The first boy—God, what was his name?—leaned toward Chase. “Your mom have anything planned for you tonight?”

Chase shrugged. “I think she mentioned she might want to—”

“Oh God,” the other one interrupted. “What, she going to change your diapers and tit-feed you all night?”

“It’s family night,” Chase huffed. The look on his face told Eli that he’d rather be anywhere away from the other boy.

“You’re coming over,” the other boy said quietly.

“I said it’s family night.”

“Bullshit. I want to—”

“Fuck you,” Chase hissed. “No!”

“I have some shit to do after school. I’ll see you at my place at six.” He stood up and stretched his arms out. “I’m going to take a crap.”

“Whatever,” Chase mumbled.

Eli watched the other boy walk across the room to get the hall pass from Missus Stockton.

Chase shook his head.

Eli had already been pushed way outside of his comfort zone. He remembered when people walked all over him and pushed him around, or the insulting things they’d said. Something about Jacob had turned him into a different person; Jacob taught Eli to cope, and he showed Eli that he didn’t have to let people push him around, or take insults from people.

Chase shouldn’t have had to, either.

“Why do you let him talk to you like that?” Eli asked.

The Chase kid didn’t even look over. “Don’t you have your own shit to deal with?”

“Just saying, man. Jesus.”

“Well, let’s say you mind your own fucking business,” Chase snapped back quietly.

Eli couldn’t stop himself. “You don’t have to stand for it. What sort of friend says shit like that—that you ‘tit-feed off your mother?’”

Chase’s face turned bright red; he gnashed his teeth. A vein above his temple bubbled out from his smooth skin. Suddenly, he yanked the keyboard up off the desk, and with a quick, swift movement, he swung it like a baseball bat toward Eli’s face.

Eli jerked his head back; the keyboard hit him hard across the chest and knocked his chair over backward, sending Eli to the floor with a loud thump.

Somewhere, a girl let out a short scream. People gasped, others got to their feet.

Chase stood over him like a baseball player who’d just taken a home-run swing, breathing heavily. The cord dangled loosely under the keyboard; the computer had been yanked halfway around before the cable had freed itself from the USB port.

The teacher started yelling.

Although the skin across his chest stung, Eli wasn’t really hurt. In fact, staring at the ceiling tiles gave him a little comfort and solace—until some of the other students started standing over him, looking down at him. He sighed and rolled out of the chair, rising to his feet and brushing himself off.

Missus Stockton had already snatched the keyboard away from Chase and was shoving him toward the door.

“Yeah,” Eli muttered. “That was a proportional response.” But he knew he had hit a nerve. He hadn’t meant to, but he had.

Stockton, who Eli had always thought was a bit of a hardass, marched across the classroom. “Everyone sit down and save your work. Quietly. The bell’s about to ring.” She walked right up to Eli, getting him at the elbow. “Hallway. Now.”

He let her lead him across the room and out into the hall. She crossed her arms and waited. “Now would be a good time to tell me what just happened in there.”

“I’m not really sure,” he said softly.

“Um, hello? He smacked you with a keyboard. What did you say to him?”

Eli sighed. “His friend said some nasty things to him before he left for the bathroom. I asked him why he let his friend talk to him like that. He didn’t like it, so he hit me.”

“Okay, what sort of things was he saying?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. You either tell me—”

“Look, I’ve been having a really bad week. Send me to the office if you want to.”

The last bell of the day rang out through the hallway.

She pursed her lips. “You don’t get a free pass with me. If I find out you did anything to patronize him, I’ll be sending you to the principal. Understood?”

Eli nodded.

“And you might end up there anyway. Depends on what Chase tells the resource officer.” Her face softened just a bit. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if you were hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Eli said. “I just want to go home.”

“Go get your stuff. Check in with me at 7:30 tomorrow, before first period starts. We’ll talk more then.”

* * * * *

As Eli strolled across the front lawn of the school, he spotted his mother’s Lexus pulling up to the curb; she honked the horn and waved at him.

After a short walk to the car, he hoisted himself inside and tossed his backpack onto the back seat. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d pick you up and we’d go get some ice cream or something.” She smiled at him.

“No, really. Why are you here?” Eli’s mother wouldn’t usually pick him up unless there was bad weather or the school was on lock-down. She wasn’t the sort of person to duck out of work early.

“I had a little chat with Miss Bowman. She said you lost it in her office.”

Eli slumped back and sighed.

“I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Baby, you’re not fine.”

“You keep telling me that,” he snapped.

“Well, I’m worried.” She sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours. I just want to make sure you’re going to pull through this and be happy again.”

Eli crossed his arms. “Let’s talk about something else.”

There was a moment of silence as his mother navigated toward the main street. “How was school, then?”

“Some kid smacked me with a computer keyboard. Like, he picked it up like a baseball bat and tried to pwn me with it.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Someone might call you about that.”

“Christ, Elijah. Why in the hell did he do that?”

“I told him he shouldn’t let his friend talk to him the way he was talking to him, and he got angry, so he picked up the keyboard and nailed me with it. And he didn’t hurt me, thanks for asking.”

She shook her head. “And you didn’t do anything to egg him on?”

“No! Jesus.”

“Okay, I had to ask.” As she pulled to a stop at a light, she pulled the band out of her hair and let the bun out. She ran a few fingers over her scalp and lightly shook her head. “Well, I don’t want you to get upset about this, but I set you up with a therapist.”

“Why would I be upset about it?”

“I’m just saying, baby. You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but I called this guy and got you in. I think you need someone who you can talk to about everything.”

“Whatever you want,” he mumbled.

She pulled into the mall parking lot, taking the outer service road around the large building. “Eli, tell me what you want. What can I do to make you feel better?”

“Can you stop saying you’re worried?”

“You know I’ll worry, no matter what.”

“Mom, I know. But it’s not helping anything.” He glanced over at her. “Everything feels shitty, and you know why. If going to see this dude gets you to stop asking how I feel every five minutes—fine—I’ll do it.”

She nodded. “I guess that’s fair.”

Eli sighed.

“And from now on, I want you to be careful around keyboards. They’re dangerous.” She whipped the little SUV into a parking spot and cut the engine.

“Keyboards don’t kill people. People with keyboards kill people.” Eli shot her a little smirk; he had to admit, that was a good one.

“One more thing, baby.”

The last thing Eli wanted was to hear her wax on for ten more minutes about…anything.

“Any games you get that are rated M, I get the last say. You get one system of your choice, one extra controller, and three games.” She ruffled his hair. “Happy birthday.”

He glanced across the parking lot at the front of the Best Buy, then back at her. “Mom, can we afford this? That’s a lot of money.”

She smiled. “I’ve been waiting for a good time to tell you. I didn’t think it was a good time because of this whole thing with Jacob.”

“Tell me what?”

“I made partner.”

“What?” Eli grinned.

“Law offices of Duchane, Matton and Bridges!”

He reached out across the console and gave her a big hug. “That’s great news.”

* * * * *

The room was fairly dark aside from the lamp on his nightstand.

Eli sat against the wall in nothing but his gym shorts, cradling Jacob’s phone in his hands. He never wore his gym clothes anywhere other than home, mostly because all he did in gym was sit on the bleachers. The asthma thing had its perks, and honestly, he’d be embarrassed to wear these shorts at school. They were cut in such a strange way, and a little on the short side, that if one didn’t wear underwear with them, one might just find their junk dangling out the leg hole, just flapping about in the breeze. He’d already got a good, unintentional look at several of his classmates because of these shorts, and Eli could tell you exactly how Jewish Andrew Berkovitz actually was.

He eyeballed the boxes on his bed—the new PlayStation and all the accessories—and dropped his gaze back to the phone. He thumbed in the password and sighed.

Why, Jacob?

Eli had no idea where to start. He tapped on the Gmail icon, but most of the stuff was about flash sales on Steam. There was a letter from one of his teachers, replying back about a question he had on one of his assignments. Nothing really jumped out at him.

He went back to the main screen and thumbed through the apps. On the second page, a yellow icon demanded his attention. Inside the little yellow square was an ASCII drawing of a dick.

G-STAG

“What the shit?” Eli said under his breath.

There was a soft knock at his door. He glanced up as his mother poked her head through the doorway.

“You haven’t set it up, yet?”

He shook his head slowly. “I had too much homework. Maybe I’ll set it up this weekend.”

“Most boys would be chomping at the bit to hook up a new PlayStation.”

“It’s just a game.” He faked a smile. “It can wait for a bit.”

“I wonder whose child I got at the hospital.”

Eli threw his shirt at her.

“Maybe you should have Benjamin come over this weekend,” she said. “I bet he’d like it if you two could play some games.”

He looked up at his mom and furrowed his brow. “Can we not?”

She pushed the door open and leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “What’s wrong with Benjamin?”

He really didn’t want to answer that question. It wasn’t just his resentment of Benjamin, but it meant that Aunt Marlene would have to be there, too; she was a bombshell he tried to sidestep at all costs. “I didn’t get any two-player games,” he said. “And I don’t really want to hang out with anyone.”

“Okay,” she said with that whatever-you-say tone. “Well, I’m heading to bed. Don’t stay up too late.” She backed out of the room and shut the door behind her.

Eli punched in the password again and went back to the second page of apps. He hesitated, then clicked on the G-STAG icon.

He was presented with a stacked list of men, some looking for a date, others for a good time. Most of the profile photos featured guys in provocative poses, and others were nothing more than seemingly disembodied but muscular torsos.

His hand began shaking. Had Jacob been cheating on him? Had he been sleeping around? Eli tapped on the menu icon and loaded his messages. The last one Jacob had sent had been on New Year’s Eve the year before. It had been a very short ‘what’s up’ exchange with one of those torso people.

Eli covered his face with his free hand and sighed deeply. What are you doing to me?

Jacob didn’t seem like the kind of guy who slept around, and every guy on this app was well over eighteen. What in the hell were you doing?

Eli went back to the menu and looked around. This time, he tapped on View My Profile. There was a photo of Jacob that was taken from far away. You couldn’t see his face, and probably wouldn’t have known it was him at all. Under his biography, there was a short paragraph:

Just looking around. Not into hook-ups, so don’t ask. Friends for now.

The phone let out a small chime. Someone on G-STAG had tried to send him a message.

He wondered for a moment if he should look at it or if he should exit out of the program. His curiosity got the better of him.

The profile picture was of some hairy, overweight guy in a leather harness.

GrzzlyBear: 9” cut masc top looking 4 some fun. hbu?

“Ugh!” Eli squealed with disgust. He went back into the message history and browsed through the sent messages. It was obvious that these weren’t the kinds of people Jacob went after. There was nothing in his history that even looked like he’d tried to meet anyone.

The phone chimed again.

LthrTwnk69: Show u mine if u show urs.

“Dude…fuck off,” he said to nobody.

He backed out of the app, a little more relieved but scared that someone might send him some more unwanted details of their anatomy.

Then, he made the last mistake of the day; he opened Facebook.

He had a hundred and sixty notifications, probably people leaving sentiments on his timeline. There were also forty-three private messages.

He tapped on the inbox icon and started to browse. He didn’t want to open anything to expose that he’d gone through the phone, but from the message previews, he could see that it was mostly people sending him condolences, maybe in hopes of reaching him in the great beyond.

There it was, the last message available on a short list:

Bob Bobberson (5)

Fuckin fag. you deserved it.