Here is Gone - 1. Chapter 1

Pulled up the cold metal zipper. Pushed the button through the hole. Ran my hands along the sides of the jeans, straightening the odd creases. Fingers lingered at the hole torn near the knees. Picked out a neatly folded t-shirt from among the wrinkled ones stuffed in the drawer. A light faded green colored one without any particular design. Pulled it on and then ran my hand through my hair, straightening the hair that had been messed up.

I spent several minutes in front of the mirror trying to get my dry brown hair into something stylish. I tried combing it flat and then I tried spiking it up. Nothing really seemed to work. It looked just as dull and uninteresting as before. I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time trying to see if there was anything really attractive about me. Did I have nice eyes? A pretty smile? A cute nose?

My bedroom window looked out onto the tree-lined street suburban street with aging houses. In the mornings, the sun shone directly into my room, casting rays across the floor and onto my bed. I usually closed the blinds to preserve the darkness. I also wrapped myself in my maroon sheets to make sure to keep away any light from reaching my eyes and waking me up. The sheets now lay tossed to the side in a bunch along with the grey t-shirt and blue and white striped boxers that I had worn in bed.

I squeezed a bit of toothpaste onto my toothbrush and proceeded to mechanically brush my teeth. I stared at a spot on the mirror before I spat in the sink. Rinsed my mouth. Placed the toothbrush back in its place. I looked in the mirror at the average person standing in just the usual t-shirt and jeans. Sigh.

Opening the blinds, I let the light stream into my small bedroom. Everything was cast into light. I switched off the bathroom light. I looked around this small place where I passed my time. The place I slept. The place I read. The place I just sat and thought about life.

Saturday morning. No school. I checked my clock to make sure that I still had time. It was already eleven. I had to go meet my girl.

*****

Michelle. She's the most beautiful girl in the whole state of Kansas. I love her so much. She loves me too. She told me. But the problem is that I can't love her like that.

I can't look at her the way she looks at me. The way she seems to look past my eyes and try to find something hidden behind them. She hasn't found anything yet but that still doesn't make her stop.

She hugged me as approached her. "Damn it Marcel!"

"What's wrong?" I eyed her carefully. I could usually tell what was on her mind. She didn't keep much to herself.

Her eyes seemed moist and her smile was forced.

"Stupid Chase." Her head came to rest on my shoulder. I rubbed her back.

"It's okay Michelle. He's an idiot. He's gotta be."

"Marcel. What would I do without ya?" She gave a more genuine smile.

What would she do without me? I was always there for my girl. Just like she was always there for me. I couldn't let her down. I couldn't leave her.

*****

I remembered the odd razor lying near the sink. I couldn't do it. Not like that. Or could I?

I had stared in the mirror for a long time that moment. Trying to find some truth about me that would save me. Something to salvage my life. Could this be fixed? Was there some kind of solution?

Damn it! That fucking idiot. Leaving me here all by myself.

What the hell was I supposed to do? Smile? Be happy?

A tear escaped my eyes. I quickly wiped it away in an attempt to pretend that it didn't even happen.

No. I wasn't going to cry about it.

That was not the solution.

*****

"What did he say?" I asked a more composed Michelle as she sat on my bed.

Her hand fumbled with the sheets bunched in the corner. "He said it was over," she stated in an emotionless voice.

"Over?"

"Yeah. Over, Marcel. Over. Like finished."

"Finished..."

"Like he wants that stupid Brittany bitch!" yelled Michelle standing up abruptly.

I grabbed her and sat her down on the bed again. I sat down next to her also.

"Brittany is a slut."

Michelle just nodded.

"She really is just a whore. And Chase is just an idiot to like her."

Michelle nodded again.

"So you got the better end of the deal. You got rid of that idiot."

"Yeah," replied Michelle sadly without any great conviction in her voice.

I just hugged her without another word. That was what she needed the most right now I figured.

*****

I wish someone would hug me. Hug me tight. Hold me close. Tell me that they would never leave me. That they would always be there for me. Always there to wrap me in their arms.

Jay was an idiot too. A real fucking idiot.

And a liar.

He told me he loved me.

That meant that he would always be there for me, right?

Wrong.

He left me. Just like that.

Fucking idiot.

*****

Ice cream seemed like the best solution to any heart break.

I drove Michelle to the ice cream place close to our home. I got a scoop of plain chocolate ice cream. Michelle got a scoop of orange sherbet. Of course, I then wanted the orange sherbet too. So we ended up splitting up ice cream.

"How are you feeling now?" I asked after the ice cream was finished.

"Better. Thanks." She smiled.

I smiled too. We sat in that booth at that ice cream shop just smiling at each other.

"Marcel. I want to do something for you. Something real special."

"What? Why?"

"You really make me smile. You take away all the bad things in life."

"It's what friends do."

"Yes, and I want to thank you for that. For being such a good friend to me."

"You don't have to do any sort of thing."

Michelle shook her head. "But I want to. So that's that. You are getting something special."

*****

Something special?

I'll tell you what was something special. What happened between me and Jay. That was special.

We would lie on those maroon sheets and make out for the longest times. All my worries disappeared and I didn't think about anything besides just the two of us being together.

Lying next to him on my bed with my lips on his. My tongue feeling his mouth.

The peace and serenity. Nothing in the world could touch us as we made out in my room.

Those were truly special times.

Were.

Now all I wonder about is if I will ever feel that something special again.

Ever?

*****

I dropped Michelle off at her home before driving back home.

On the way back I passed the cemetery. I stopped the car and stared at the line of headstones on the green grass.

I found myself getting out of the car, passing through the wrought iron gate and walking towards one in particular.

Tears escaped my eyes and I made no attempt to wipe them away.

Jay Alexander Carmichael. 1988 - 2005.