"Cowboy?"
"Spot?"
"…What are we doing?"
"We're looking at plasma screen TV's at Best Buy and some obese man is giving us a weird look because he prolly wants to steal our money to buy a soft pretzel."
"Can't you take me seriously for once?"
"Huh?"
"You're always making stupid fucking jokes. Why can't you just be serious and listen to me?"
"Whoa, alright, chillax. What's the problem?"
"Jack, we're not…we're not working."
"…Yeah?"
"I mean…I can't see this…going any further."
"Uh huh?"
"Look. You like me, right?"
"I didn't go at it with you at the airport for nothing."
"And…And I like you."
"Which is why you let me do that, ok, so…what?"
"So we care about each other, but…not enough…Jack, you like me. But you love David, don't you?"
"I dunno."
"You don't know?"
"Yeah."
"How can you not know?!"
"I just don't! Lay off! It's a big decision, okay? You think this has been easy for me?"
"It hasn't been easy for me either! You know how hard it is to be the one guy that every girl is head over heels for and-"
"I'm not talking about this little relationship with you! I'm talking about everything! My mom's dead, my dad thinks I'm a faggot, I'm having a really shitty first year at college, and to top it all off, my two best friends constantly wanna fuck me."
"So that's it? That's all that matters to you, Jack? We wanna fuck you? So, what, David and I are nothing to you except some human form of Prozac? Oh no, I'm sad, I think I'll just blame my two man-whore friends for everything. Your problems are so bad that you gotta put the blame on us? Well, guess what?! You're not the only one with problems!"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"And I'm sure your life just sucks! Everything must be awful in your king-of-Brooklyn-I'm-better-than-everyone world, right? Oh the woe, I'm Spot and I get laid all the time and everyone thinks I'm great and I'm wicked handsome. Yeah, that's an all American tragedy right there."
"You know what? It is. You know nothing about me, Jack!"
"Boo fucking hoo. What don't I know about you, Spot? You were born exactly six months before me in Brooklyn. Your father is from Ireland and your mom is from Vermont. I met you on the subway when we were both in first grade and you introduced yourself as Gabriel and I said my name was Francis and you said you wanted to be a T. Rex when you grew up and I said I wanted to be a cowboy."
"Jack-"
"Then we didn't see each other until second grade at Skittery's birthday party and you got him this Power Rangers action figure and I was mad at you because I got him the same gift. We got into a fight about it and you shoved a cupcake in my face and I got icing in my eye and I had to go home early and missed the piñata. The next day Skittery said that you took all the candy from the piñata and threw up all over his carpet. And just knowing that made me laugh for days, which was rare because my mother had died four months earlier and I hadn't laughed like that for a long time."
"Jack-"
"It wasn't until fourth grade when I saw you again because your class was on a trip to the Central Park Zoo. We spent the entire day watching the sea lions and then we went and got Popsicles and you dropped yours on your shirt and got this huge stain on it that looked like boobs and we couldn't stop joking about it and then our teachers told us we were being unacceptable and made us write reports when we got back to school and I wrote about how much fun I had with you."
"Jack-"
"And then Skittery had another party at the end of 8th grade and you showed up and I made fun of you because you were going through your punk phase and your hair was spiked and green and you wore a shirt that said The Ramones and you said your name wasn't Gabriel anymore, you said it was Spot and I said my name wasn't Francis anymore, it was Jack. About an hour after we got at the party, Blink started a game of spin the bottle and you had to kiss Elise Bernson and you said it was like making out with one of those jets in pools which didn't sound very appealing. And I remember I got all nervous that I'd have to kiss her to but I ended up with Anna Deviaye who was the hottest girl in school and you were so jealous that you kissed her too, five minutes after I did, and then Eric Parrelle said that was practically the same thing as us kissing each other and we told him to shut up and that he was just being an ass because he wasn't getting any action."
"JACK-"
"We kept in touch over email and AIM and I went over your house a lot when I was a sophomore and we'd just sit on the computer all day and look at skateboarding videos which took like five hours to load on your desktop so we would just go outside and try skateboarding but we both sucked. And one day we were doing tricks and your tried grinding down a railing and ended up shattering your wrist and your parents weren't home so I had to take you to the hospital and you were crying and you said that not even getting braces in 6th grade hurt as much. I was the first one to sign your cast and I wrote 'Cowboy' on it and none of your friends knew who I was and kept asking you about me."
"JACK-"
"Then you threw a party when we were juniors for St. Patrick's Day at some weirdo boarding school you were at and you invited Skittery and Blink and Mush and I and everyone got wasted and we left. And I kept asking you questions and you wouldn't answer me and you kissed me and at first I was grossed out but you made me feel comfortable so I didn't refuse. So we ended up going back to your house and I didn't wanna do anything so we sat outside for awhile listening to the drunks wander through the street and you said you were sorry for kissing me and I said it was okay because Sarah and I were having a rough time in our relationship. Then we went inside and you asked me if I wanted to spend the night and I said sure but you slept on the floor and let me have your bed. And in the middle of the night I fell and landed next to you and you kissed me again and I was really tired and didn't react until you started feeling me up and then we just kind of made out and tried to have sex but neither of us knew how because they didn't teach that sort of thing in sex-ed so we just had to improvise and neither of us came so we just gave up and went to sleep."
"JACK!"
"And then your parents sent you to live in Manhattan because you were making too much trouble in Brooklyn but you still had to commute there to get to school and you needed a place to live so you stayed in my apartment, one floor above me, but we didn't really talk and then you became friends with Sarah and you started hanging out with her and the truth is I only slept with David to get back at you for flirting with Sarah."
"…What?"
"I slept with Dave to piss you off."
"…you…took that much of a risk?"
"Yeah, and now I'm paying for it."
"How? You have herpes because of him, right?"
"No! What is with the herpes thing? Geez, I'm paying for it because…well…I dunno. I'm just…really sad all the time now, I guess."
"You? You're never sad. You're never serious enough to be sad."
"You actually believe that? That I don't get sad?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because you always seem to make the best of things."
"Yeah right."
"You do."
"Then how come I can't make the best of this?"
"You…you can. If we just get outta here and go home and…we'll be okay."
"Whatever. Fine. Let's go."
---
SeAbIsCuItYAY has signed on.
Stuyvesant232 has signed on.
SeAbIsCuItYAY: Is this David?
Stuyvesant232: Yes. Who is this?
SeAbIsCuItYAY: This is Jack's roommate.
Stuyvesant232: …Racetrack? How'd you get my screenname?
SeAbIsCuItYAY: From Jack's buddy list. Um. I just wanted to check in on you.
Stuyvesant232: Huh?
SeAbIsCuItYAY: You…um…you know what happened to Jack and Spot, right?
Stuyvesant232: Do you know where they are?
SeAbIsCuItYAY: They're at some Best Buy. Look, I don't wanna have to break this to you…
Stuyvesant232: Then don't. I already know what happened.
SeAbIsCuItYAY: And you're okay with it?
Stuyvesant232: Not at all.
SeAbIsCuItYAY: I'm sorry.
Stuyvesant232: Don't be. I was stupid to think Jack would actually give a damn about me when he came back.
SeAbIsCuItYAY: Mmmhmm?
Stuyvesant232: You know, you think I would have learned after senior year, but no, I just had to be a dumbass.
SeAbIsCuItYAY: You're not a dumbass. If anyone is a dumbass, it's those two. Honestly, who has oral sex in an airport bathroom?
Stuyvesant232: They…what?
SeAbIsCuItYAY: …You said you knew.
Stuyvesant232: I thought they just kissed. They…wait…no…
SeAbIsCuItYAY: Oh God. Shit, I'm sorry.
Stuyvesant232: They…who…who did it?
SeAbIsCuItYAY: Excuse me?
Stuyvesant232: Jack or Spot, who performed it?
SeAbIsCuItYAY: Does it matter?
Stuyvesant232: Yes.
SeAbIsCuItYAY: Jack. Jack did.
Stuyvesant232: Oh my God.
SeAbIsCuItYAY: David?
Stuyvesant232:
SeAbIsCuItYAY: David?
Stuyvesant232:
SeAbIsCuItYAY has signed off.
Stuyvesant232:
---
"Hello?"
"Skittery?"
"May I ask whose calling?"
"Racetrack, I'm Jack Kelly's roommate."
"Oh, hi."
"I think you need to go check in on David."
"David Jacobs? How do you know David?"
"I don't. I just talked to him on IM."
"Yes?"
"He's very upset and I think he might hurt himself."
"What?"
"Just go, please."
"Okay."
"Bye."
---
Dear Morgan,
I'm sorry to hear about your encounter. It is very difficult for any parent to see their child, whether heterosexual or homosexual, engaged in a sexual act. I realize you feel responsible your Francis's actions, but even if you were there for him I doubt it would have made any difference in his preference. Although there is nothing you can do to change the past, I recommend that you try and encourage Francis to at least be healthy and safe when he chooses to have sex. He is almost eighteen years old, and he makes his own decisions. As for the moment, I suggest that you give your son some time before you approach him with your concerns. In spite of your best efforts, I can assure you that the conversation will be awkward and unpleasant. The least you can do is love your son and focus on how you want the best for him and that includes using protection (you failed to mention if he did during his recent airport…rendezvous). Best of luck to you.
-Dr. Wilson Barwick
---
Facebook status:
David Jacobs is…
Dead.
---
No. No. No.
Why does his Facebook status say that?
He's gotta be joking.
Except he doesn't joke.
Shit.
Stupid.
That's what I am, I'm so stupid.
Fuck this.
Fuck me.
Fuck Spot.
No. No, I already did that.
Geez.
Forget it.
I'm not stupid.
You're stupid.
You have potential.
Had potential.
You were a genius, you were gonna change the fucking world.
And you blew it all away.
Weren't you religious?
You're not allowed to kill yourself if you're religious, right?
But then again, you're not allowed to have sex before marriage.
You're not allowed to love me.
You knew that.
I knew that.
Why'd I let this happen?
Why'd I let us happen?
I'm sorry if I let you down.
I'm sorry I ignored you.
I'm sorry I hurt you.
Please.
Don't do this to me.
I love you.
You can't die if I love you.
Even if I didn't show it, I did.
You're my best friend.
David…
---
"Don't push me 'cause I'm close to the edge. I'm tryin' hard not to lose my head."
"Don't sing that," I snarl, not even bothering to turn around to look at Blink. My tone does enough. He shuts up and presses his temple against the window of the car. Right now was not the time for songs about people being close to the edge. Mush whimpers from the back seat and unbuckles his seatbelt. He shuffles around for a bit before leaning on the back of my seat. I don't mean to compare Mush to some sort of dog, but he could definitely tell that something was wrong.
"Skittery?" he asks timidly. "Who just called?"
I set my jaw and don't respond. My knuckles grow pale as my grip around the steering wheel tightens. In spite of my stern expression, I was experiencing fear in its rawest form. Although most wouldn't have taken Racetrack's call seriously, there was utter desperation in his voice. And, besides that, I knew something about David that the others didn't. Sure, Jack had been his best friend, but he'd only held that position since he managed to get into Stuyvesant near the end of sophomore year. You see, David and I weren't exactly friends, but we used to talk about everything. One time, while working on a stupid project on turn of the century child labor, he casually mentioned that he'd tried killing himself during 6th grade by drinking shampoo. Apparently he was very upset about getting bad grades and receiving little attention, being the middle child and all. Now, chugging a bottle of Pantene wasn't very effective, and all he gained from it was countless hours of vomiting, but that wasn't the point. The point was that David was an emotional guy, probably even on the brink of being manic depressive, and when he was sad, well, he got outta control. Even Jack had said that he'd nearly drowned at a swimming pool when Sarah brought up the idea of him having a girlfriend. He's unstable.
"Skittery?" Mush repeats, lowering his voice. "What's going on? You look funny."
I was surprised at how Mush was approaching this issue. He was unusually serious. However, I pay little attention to Mush's sudden maturity and instead focus on getting to the Jacobs' apartment. New York is probably the worst place to be in a dire situation, because no matter how urgent and frantic you are, the other drivers don't seem to care. My breathing increases as I see the time: 5:43pm. Racetrack called exactly seven minutes ago. Seven minutes…David could already be hanging by his neck, lying with blood gushing from his wrists, or even going unconscious from swallowing a bottle of pills. Dammit. I sigh sharply and try to take a right, but I'm cut off by a silver Corolla.
"FUCK!" I scream, slamming my palm into the horn. The beep is long and drawled out, but it doesn't catch the attention of the man in the car. For some reason, he doesn't even finish taking the turn and just stays there. Blink and Mush look me with wide eyes (and patches), their lips pursed together. Neither of them dares to speak. They aren't using to seeing me when I'm this angry, because…well…I'm never this angry.
"What are you thinking? Huh, dickhead?" I'm out of the car and running towards the Corolla. I'm fuming and furious by the time I'm knocking on the window. "Open your fucking door, buddy!" I yell. The man hesitantly opens his door and steps out, afraid I might throw him to the ground. In fact, I'm just about ready to, until I see who it is.
"Mr. Sullivan?" I say in disbelief.
I neglect to apologize, quickly mutter for him to follow me, and hop back into my car. The clock reads 5:49pm. Why did I just waste so much time? I speed up, take a right, and make my way to David's place. Blink and Mush remain speechless for the entire ride, either in fright or respect for the friend who might be dead. All four of us rush into the apartment. The entire time, Mr. Sullivan asks questions that I'm too breathless to answer. When we reach the third floor, it's 5:56pm. My mouth is dry and I feel sick, but nothing makes me feel worse than the sight at David's door. It's swung open. Did someone already call 911?
Inside, Spot is in the living room, shouting into David's cell phone. He looks at us and for a moment appears startled, then relieved. However, his gaze rests on Mr. Sullivan. What's going on?
"Where's David?" I growl. He points a thumb towards David's bedroom. Blink follows me and Mush stays behind with Spot. Mr. Sullivan is motionless.
"David?" Blink calls. I start to echo him, but my voice is suddenly cut off by intense sobbing.
We peek into David's room, and I know for sure I'm going to be sick. Jack is hyperventilating while his flushed cheeks are paraded by tears. David's head is resting in his lap. He's pale and unconscious.
Jack slowly looks up at us. He catches his breath and chokes out a few words.
"It's my fault."