Nelson

I didn’t understand what the fascination was. Why did he stare so as if it were an amazing piece of art that hypnotized him? All I saw was a blank space, a clear void, nothing…



         Isn’t it funny just how the mind works? Everyone sees things differently; no one sees the same thing. As some say, “Eyes are the window to the soul”, and I wonder now, if that is a true saying. If I asked him he would probably say, “You can see without having a soul” and go back to staring at the white wall. His mind confused me; he was so negative about everything and anything all the time. Why was that? I don’t think I had the courage to ask him.



         And just who is this him I keep talking about? Well, his name was Nelson Clive and he was my best friend. 



         Nelson was one of those sarcastic, extremely witty, and brutally honest people. You know, one of the ones that everyone hates because they come off self-centered, cruel, and holier-than-though. I think that was what drew me to him in the first place. He was different than everyone else in our high school; he dared to be different in our close-minded town. His hair was black—long in the front, short in the back—and was grazed with pink that makes you think, at first, that maybe you think you are only imagining it, maybe it isn’t really there, because what guy would wear pink—and so proudly—in his hair? It just wasn’t normal. Nelson would then step in, asking, “What is normal? Can you give me a definition of the word normal? Normal is an opinion, a state of mind if you will.” I would secretly agree with him, but would stay silent because I wouldn’t have the guts to speak my mind. I may have been more liked, more popular, then my friend Nelson, but you couldn’t say I had more guts. If you did you would have to call yourself a liar.



         The person would call him a freak and look toward me for reinforcement. I would say nothing so the same person would walk away scowling at me and, I knew, that I would get harassed—not as badly as Nelson—later by some of “the guys” for my friendship towards him. No one understood how I—a bright, lively, and outgoing person—could be friends with him—someone who wears all black. Black eyeliner, black shirts, black shoes, black jeans…black everything. I would tell them I didn’t care what they thought. Of course they would only roll their eyes and nod sarcastically before, once more, walking away. I would bite my lip and shake my blond hair away from my dark blue eyes because deep down I knew how I felt. I didn’t like… I felt ashamed to be seen with Nelson. I’m a nice person, aren’t I?



         The best…



         I think, no, I know that Nelson knew I hated being seen with him. He said nothing to me about it, but I could tell it hurt him and it hurt me knowing it hurt him. I didn’t deserve such a good friend. I was nothing but an asshole to him and he deserved better. I think though that Nelson only wanted a friend; he didn’t care who it was as long as he had one.



         That made me even sadder, knowing that it was the truth.



         I had a relatively easy life when compared to Nelson’s. I was in a family of five; me, my mom, my dad, my younger sister, and my older brother. We were fairly comfortable with my dad being a doctor, my mom a shrink. I was on the track team which I loved more than nearly anything, except my family of course… and Nelson.



         I cared for Nelson. I really did. I would go as far to say I loved him if I didn’t get strange stares from the people around me. He was what I wanted to be! Brave, outspoken, intelligent, artistic—he could draw like you’ve never seen. Who wouldn’t want to be this? He was like the perfect person. That is… if you didn’t already know him… and I did.



         Getting to know Nelson had its downside. I couldn’t live in this fantasy world where I could continue to believe that he was perfect. People may have thought I was a sculpted Adonis, but he had the inner beauty that mattered so much more than outer beauty. Many of you probably scoff at the concept of “inner beauty” but it’s true. You can be gorgeous but still be a monster; you can look like a monster but still be gorgeous inside of yourself. Does anyone know the definition of sentimental?



         I think Nelson cared for me too. He didn’t show it but even letting me talk to him was something, and him talking back was something even bigger. He didn’t like being around people. It wasn’t that he was nervous around them, he just didn’t like people. Whereas I, Seth Jackson, was a people person; one of the cool kids who hung out with the right people, who had the right cloths, who had the money, the house, even the family. But I didn’t care about any of that stuff. The only thing I cared about even remotely was Nelson.



         I cared about what he thought of me. Did I look fine? Did I sound fine? Did I smell fine? And these questions would go on and on, over and over in my head when I was near him and sometimes I would think I had said them out loud and get all nervous—my breathing would pick up, sweat would start to appear on my brow—and finally Nelson would snap and tell me to stop being so fidgety, and I would stop moving all together. I had to please him. He would huff and turn away from me and my heart would fall just the littlest bit. Did I do something wrong?



         Now, I know these feelings aren’t something that would be considered normal but I never really thought on that until years later. I liked Nelson, he was my best friend, and later I would think maybe I liked him a bit too much for him to be just my friend. But it was too late to go back.



         I had known Nelson since we were nine, when I had first moved here. I didn’t become his—for lack of a better word—friend until grade nine; in this story we are in grade eleven. He knew nearly everything about me but I knew nearly nothing about him. Nelson didn’t talk. He wouldn’t talk, not even to me and that hurt a lot at times. It was like he was giving me the cold shoulder purposefully, and I knew he wasn’t, but it felt like that.



         And so here we were, Hendricks High School, Cafeteria, table 13, and I’m watching Nelson as he watches the… white space that people call a wall. It isn’t very interesting watching someone looking at a wall, even if that person is Nelson.



         His eyes looked non-seeing and maybe they weren’t seeing. I wouldn’t know. My eyes traveled down his face to stare at his facial features. His left eyebrow was pierced with a pink ring, dark eyeliner accentuated his pale green eyes, and his nose and lip were also pierced. I always paid the most attention, though, to the lip ring. There was just something about those lips that caught my attention so…



         Finally he blinked out of his odd revere and looked towards me lazily. “You’re looking at me.” His lips barely moved and I noticed this because I couldn’t look away from them.



         I shook my head, mentally telling myself to snap out of it. “Sorry,” I murmured as my cheeks tinged a bright pink. Nelson gave a soft sigh and the corner of his mouth twitched up in what would have been a smile if, that is, he had let it fully mature.



         He looked back over at the wall. “It’s fine.” I pursed my lips in awkwardness. Oh, how I hated this silence around him. I knew he didn’t think it was awkward but he wasn’t me. Of course he wasn’t me. He would never—could never—be as big as a wimp as I was.



         The bell rang.



         I stood quickly and shouldered my bag. Nelson stood more slowly, more gracefully, than I ever could. More than I would ever try. Usually Nelson would just walk out of the cafeteria without saying, doing, anything to me but this time was different. He smiled. But not only that; he talked to me.



         He took a step closer to me and I could swear my heart skipped a beat. “Don’t be alarmed if you don’t see me.” He left me there, more puzzled than I had ever been in my entire life.



                                          XXX



         I woke up late. That was my first mistake.



         “Seth, Hun, time to get up. You’re late for school.” My mother shook me away gently. She should have just dumped ice cold water on me. I would have forgiven her if it meant stopping that day’s events.



         I groaned. I was tired. I wanted to sleep. “G’way.” I pushed her hand way from my shoulder and flopped over on my stomach. Why wouldn’t she just leave? Couldn’t she see how tired I obviously was?



         My mother huffed and I could just see her standing over me with her arms crossed threateningly over her chest and her lips white as she squeezed them together tightly. “Fine,” she huffed once more. “If you want bad grades, stay in bed. See if I care.”



         My blond head snapped up and not because of the grades. No, because I suddenly thought; Nelson. I wanted to see Nelson and if I didn’t get up I couldn’t see Nelson and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?



         No, we wouldn’t.



         I jumped out of bed—not bothering to correct my mother (who smiled as if she had accomplished something) that it wasn’t because of her I had gotten up. Taking my cloths out of my drawers, I hurried to the bathroom to wash up and change then down to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. But I was out the door before you could say, “I’m in love.”



         Like my mother had said, I was late for school. Twenty minutes late in fact. I didn’t bother going to my locker because my first three classes didn’t require text books and I already had paper, pen, and pencil with me. Besides, I wanted to see Nelson as soon as possible, and it was just luck he happened to be in my first class.



         Or at least, he usually was…



         I paused just inside the door to my Web Design class and scanned the seats for Nelson. He wasn’t there.



         I swallowed down my disappointment, made my way to my seat, and prayed that he would be here during our third hour.



         He wasn’t…



         My fingers tapped against my leg in impatience. I wanted—needed—to see Nelson. Where was Nelson?! He just had to be there! He was never absent from school. He hated missing it because he hated staying home. He didn’t exactly have the best home life, but that was all I knew.



         I made my way to my locker to put my things up and go to lunch. I didn’t feel like bringing them with me today. And it was luck that I didn’t.



         I spun my locker combination in a hurry and opened it. I almost didn’t notice the note that fell out of my locker. I bent down to pick it up, immediately recognizing the neat scrawl that had wrote my name. It was from Nelson. I read it:



Seth,



You are probably wondering why I’m writing you a note. This isn’t my usual type of thing, I know. But it seemed as if I must. It seemed as if I owed it to you.



         You see, you are the only one who ever really paid any attention to me. I was always the loner, both at home and at school. You know this. You also know that we only recently became friends, and though it may not have seemed like it, I did care for you as if you were my own brother—my heart fell a little with this declaration—and I thought you ought to know how I felt. For I won’t be able to say it soon enough.



         You’ve meant more to me than my own family. You were kind; you cared for me whereas they never did. Funny, isn’t it? Someone I barely know and someone who barely knows me back cares for me more than the ones that gave me life. I guess life is funny like that. But I wouldn’t change you being my friend for anything. How can I when you have been there with me through more than you even know?



         And this is where I say good-bye Seth Jackson. I won’t be seeing you again, nor anyone for that matter. I don’t think I belong in the land of the living anymore. Tell everyone to screw themselves and good riddance for me, would ‘ya? Thanks. I knew I could count on you.



See you where doves fly.



         Nelson Clive.



         I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe…

         No, this wasn’t happening. This had to be some kind of sick joke, right? Right?!



         Nelson didn’t… he couldn’t… he didn’t write this. He wouldn’t leave me alone here. I needed him! I needed him here, with me! Didn’t he understand that?! I needed him!



         But he did write this, a part of me said, that is his hand writing, isn’t it Seth? I didn’t want to listen to that voice. I didn’t want it to be right. I just wanted to place the note into the trash can and pretend it never happened, that it wasn’t real. Yeah, that seemed like a good idea.



         My hand was poised over the trash can with the letter scrunched tightly in it when a thought came to my head. What if it was true? What if Nelson was going to kill himself?



         I think my heart just broke.



         There must be some way I could stop this from happening. What did the letter say? Meet you where doves fly…?



         Remembrance flashed in my eyes. Meet you where doves fly. I knew where that was.



         I fished my car keys out of my jacket and ran to my car.



                                                        XXX



         I was making my way on top of the roof of the abandon apartments on Ribbon’s Street. We had hung up there on the roof a few times and one time we thought we saw a dove fly by, but then we realized it was just another measly white bird. Why he would pick this place was beyond my comprehension.



         Taking a deep breath, I hesitated with my hand on the cool, bronze door knob. I was scared. Scared because this was the place and scared because it might not be. If it was that meant I had to face my best friend who was going, or already had, to commit suicide, and if it wasn’t… I didn’t even want to think about that thought.



         I walked onto the roof…



         I saw nothing at first. I spun, screaming Nelson’s name and nearly jumped out of my pants when I heard him call from behind me, “I was wondering if you would find me.” I spun around once more but saw nothing. My brow furrowed in confusion. “Up here you dolt.” I looked up and saw Nelson standing at the very edge of the roof; there was no wall.



         My breath started to become inconsistent and my heart sped up rapidly in my chest. No. “Wh—what are you doing up there?” I stuttered.



         Nelson didn’t answer for a minute. “Pondering.” He said simply.



         “Pondering what?”



         “My life.” I froze. I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it still sounded weird coming from Nelson. He didn’t seem one to take the easy way out of things.



         My eyes fluttered up and I shivered as a chill swept past me. “Well, can you… I mean, do you have to do it from up there?” I asked nervously.



         Nelson smiled but didn’t look down at me. He hadn’t looked at me once since I’d gotten there. “What fun is it pondering something I hate from someplace I hate? I don’t see the point.” He shrugged.



         “You don’t see the point in living?!” I couldn’t help but to snap at him.



         His voice turned cold and he finally looked down at me. “What do I have to live for?” Me. “Who wants me alive?” Me! “Can you name one person that really loves me?” I do! I didn’t stop to think on that. “Not one can you?” I wanted to say I can, but my throat seemed to clog up and nothing comes out. Why now? He smiled bitterly. “I might as well just end it now.” He takes a small step forward so that half of his feet are in the air.



         My eyes widen. “NO!” I yell as he seems to lose his balance.



         Nelson throws his head back and screams in excitement. “GOSH! I feel FREE! I want to feel this way FOREVER! WOOOO-WHOOOOOOOO!” He laughs. Damn it. He laughs. How can he laugh about his life?



         I gulp. “I’m coming up there!” I call toward him as I made my way towards the latter on the side of the building.



         His laughter stops immediately. “But you’re afraid of heights.” At the moment I had thought I heard a hint of worry.



         That stops me for a second before I go on up the latter. I am afraid of heights. But all of that didn’t matter now. I had to make him see sense. I couldn’t let him jump of that roof. I… I would never forgive myself for letting him do that.



                He stared at me, as if in amazement. Had he really just came up here, for me? I knew that was what Nelson was thinking, and a part of me was hurt that he didn’t think I would do that for him. I would give my life if it meant saving his. That was one of the reasons I was partly mad, and worried, that he would do this. Would he not do the same for me?



              His eyes flickered over me, as if studying me. “Why are you up here?” He asked me simply.



              I swallowed and fought down the blush that wanted to make its way to my cheeks. I was happy to say that I was partly successful. “Because you’re up here.” My mouth hardly moved as I spoke and I couldn’t believe I had admitted that. Sure, Nelson probably wouldn’t get anything from that innocent saying, but I knew what it implied and I fought it down. I denied its passage to the front of my mind, especially at that time. Nelson was about to kill himself, I didn’t need to be thinking thoughts like that at a moment like that.



              Nelson closed his eyes tightly; as if he were hurt. “You…I…” His voice trailed off for a moment before he looked back up at me, his eyes showing his confusion. “You came up here, for me?”



              My lips quavered a little as I went to speak. “You say that is if you can’t believe it’s the truth.” I knew my hurt sounded in my voice, but it had a right to. How could he even think I wouldn’t care if he killed himself? Was that even possible? Not to care I mean. Of course I cared. Though I wouldn’t admit it back then I loved him. I loved his devil-may-care attitude, his back-talking mouth, his screw-you posture. How could I not love that? It was impossible.



            “Because I can’t.” His eyes then started to show distrust and that made me take a step back and bite my lip, trying to hold back tears. “I can’t believe anything you say, anything anybody says. No one cares about me. I know you don’t care about me. Why would you? Look at me. I’m a freak.” I could hear the massive amounts of pain in his voice and I couldn’t believe he thought that. I cared about him. I cared about him so God damn much! Couldn’t he see that? He was my best friend; he meant the world to me.



              I shook my head rapidly. “You aren’t a freak. Don’t ever say that about yourself.” I took a step forward and Nelson shifted, as if he were trying to get further away from me.



            Nelson rolled his eyes. “I’ll say whatever I want about myself. Especially if it is true, and this is.” He nodded, like he was trying to reassure himself. “I don’t even see why you pretend to give a damn about me. Nobody else does. I bet you just want to prove that you weren’t as cruel hearted about everyone else. But guess what. You proved the exact opposite. I know you were just pretending to be my friend and then whenever I wasn’t near, whenever I was home getting the SHIT beat out of me—“ I winced. “You ran off to your little friends and told them all your great stories about the school freak, didn’t you?” he asked cruelly.



            I shook my head defiantly but he wasn’t looking. He was looking at the ground, eight floors beneath us.



            I went to speak, but my mouth was dry. It didn’t matter anyway. Nelson continued on. “My own parents hate me. They dumped me on the side of the street when I was six.” I never knew that and I frowned. What kind of parents did that to a poor boy? “I had to fend for myself until I was eight, and then finally I was rescued by a God given miracle.” He threw his head back and laughed, as if this were all a big fucking joke. I didn’t see what was so funny. “Turns out that the people who took me in were no more than people who sold children to get money.” He looked over at me and smiled. I was confused. …Sold children to get money.  What did that mean? And then, realization dawned on my face and Nelson’s smile widened. “Figure it out did you.” This wasn’t a question, and he said as if it were some stupid math problem. This was not some stupid math problem! And God! How… how could someone do that? How could someone sell children as s… God, I can’t even say the word. “Yeah, typical question.” He knew what I was thinking and yet he was so fucking normal about it. How can someone be normal about something like that?



            “I—I…” My voice trailed off. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to say something and I knew what I should say but it wouldn’t come out. And damn it! If I ever met those messed up creeps they would have wished they’d been murdered in their sleep.



            Nelson looked away from me and down at the ground. I saw tears and I could tell my friend was holding them back, that he wanted to be strong. I wanted to tell him that he was, that he was strong. That anyone who goes through that is strong, and that he was the strongest person I knew. But it just wouldn’t come out.



            “I just can’t take it anymore. I have no one to live for, no one lo—cares for me.” I saw one tear slip from his cheek and I knew this was it. I took a step forward. “So what am I still living for.” He spread his arms out and I took two more hurried steps forward. “This is the end dear Seth. Don’t expect to see me at school next week.” Three more. “See you later. Or not.” And just as he falls, I reach out.



          I stare down in shock just as he stares up at me. “What are you doing?” He asks a harshly as he struggles to get me to let go of his arm.



          I glare at him so strongly that I could have killed him if I wasn’t saving him. “I’m stopping you from killing yourself! What does it look like?!” It was hard for me not to let the harshness out. I was mad. I was fucking mad. Who did he think he was, trying to kill himself and leaving me all alone?!



          “Let go of me.” His jaw clenched tightly and I struggled to keep hold of him. Truth was that I might let go of him at any minute, but if that was the case… well, you could just say Nelson wouldn’t be the only one to commit suicide that night.



          I shook my head, tears finally starting to fall down my face. I wouldn’t let go of him, I couldn’t. Oh, fucking hell, I couldn’t.

“You fall, I fall Nelson.” My voice was dead serious and I could tell that Nelson knew that too.



          He took in a ragged breath and helped me pull himself over the edge of the building. We landed on a bundle on the rooftop and I looked over at him, tears still streaking down my face. I hit him.



          “You FUCKING idiot! What were you THINKING?” I slapped him once more. Nelson didn’t even try to stop me.



          “Don’t have anyone to live for? You have me you jerk. You’re best friend, whether you like it or not!” I continued my rampage for a good hour, finally breaking down fully, resulting in me falling asleep and being held in the arms of Nelson.

I woke up late that night to Nelson sleeping.



          My right arm was around his waist, my head laying on his firm chest, and his arm was over my shoulders. Even then I couldn’t admit to myself that I wanted to wake up like that for the rest of my life and it saddened me to know that it would never be possible. Nelson would never like me like that. And it wasn’t one of those things every teenage boy tells himself because they think it’s true. I actually knew it was true, and that saddened me more than I cared to admit.





          Everything was fine for the next three months. We went on living out our lives as if that day had never happened, no one knew anything.



          I thought everything was perfect, that Nelson had gotten over the want to kill himself. I was happy. I got to be near him every day and I knew Nelson would never do anything like that again. He wouldn’t do that to me.



          I was very wrong.



          Nelson shot himself four months after that event.



          He died immediately.



        I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. No one understood my depression. How could they. The day Nelson killed himself was the day I finally admitted to myself that I was in love with him.

I didn’t go to school for two months.



        I even tried to kill myself, but I didn’t have the courage to end my life. Instead I sank deep into depression, releasing the inner hurt I felt, even the physical hurt that came with it, by controlling my own pain with knives, glass, razors…



        It was nearly six months later until anyone found out what I had been doing to myself.



        My family sent me to a shrink and it was another two months before I even uttered a word to her. Another three months before I talked at all about what was bothering me, not in full detail, and another month and a half until I told her the whole story. I have to admit, I did feel a lot better after talking everything out with her.



        Graduation was coming soon, and I was more than happy. In all the drama I had never applied to a college though, not that I even wanted to go now that Nelson was dead.



          I had lost hope, lost will. But eventually I moved on.



          I fell in love once more.



          Her name is Penelope. We have three lovely kids, two boys and one girl. The girl is the youngest and her name is Naomi, then the middle child George, and finally the oldest. A boy named Nelson.



          I loved them more than anything. Except for one thing.

Nelson would always hold that special place in my heart. He would always be the one I first fell in love with.



          I never told Penelope about him, I just told her that our first son had to be named Nelson in memory of my dear old friend. She smiled and told me that the idea was lovely and a year after we were married we had a son we named Nelson.



        I’m not exactly sure how it happened but my son is the exact replica in attitude wise of my first love. He is outspoken, outgoing, and he doesn’t care what people thinks of him. My family doesn’t understand why I encourage his behavior and I know I shouldn’t really in some parts, but I can’t help it. I miss him.



        I will always remember that smile, the few times that he did. It was full of mischievousness, and wonder, and courage, and bravery. I will always remember that voice of his, so strong, so witty, so loving and caring. I will always remember him as long as I live.



      I can’t help it.



      I was in love with him.



      I am in love with him.