The Kid

The kid looks average; and by average, I mean average in every way a teenager is

nowadays: spiky hairs mixed up with too much gel, baggy clothes, and a demeanour that tries to appear aggressive but falls just short of looking sheepish.

         And he is standing perilously close to the edge of the subway platform.

         So I start walking toward him.  Normally down in a subway station people are more cautious than usual, you couldn’t get within five steps from someone else before he gives you the glare.  But I know this kid is preoccupied, and as I thought, he hasn’t even noticed me until I started talking.

         “You know, you’ll regret it.”

         The kid gives a start upon hearing my words.

         “Wha…Who the fuck are you?”

         Masking surprise with anger, resorting to profanity the first chance he gets, well just your typical teenager these days.          

         “I know how it feels kid.  You think the whole world is against you and everyone is making fun of you.  You feel abandoned, jeered and laughed at every way you turn.  But trust the words of someone who has been there, it is not worth it and you will definitely regret doing it.”

         “Hey, mister, I dunno who the fuck you are, and I dunno shit what you are talking about.  Just mind your own goddamn business, ok?”

         More profanity, more anger.  I feel nostalgia welling inside me.  Ah how it is to be young, full of emotions inside, ready to burst at any moment.

         “Indulge this lonely old man here a little, kid.  If you are going to leave this world in a few minutes, might as well do one last charity before you go, wouldn’t ya?”

         He looks at me with suspicion: “What? You trying to con me or something?  Cuz I ain’t got no money.”

         I chuckled, and that seems to anger him even more: “I don’t want your money, kid.  I just want to talk.  Why don’t we make a deal here?  If you could listen to me for two minutes, I’ll leave you alone and you can do whatever you want.”

         He is clearly uncomfortable, but uttered an “ok” anyway.  I guess he doesn’t want to back down from an old man like me.

         “Believe it or not, I was once your age.  I remember I was so in love with this girl that when she rejected me and went for a boy I despised, I felt crushed; at the same time, my parents were in the middle of a nasty divorce, and neither of them wanted me as a tag along for their future second marriage.  So you can see how my life was at that point.  I thought there was no more hope in my life; then I thought of suicide, just like you are right now.”

         “Oh don’t try to deny it, kid.  I know that look and body language when someone is seriously considering taking his own life.  I experienced them first hand, after all.”

         “So just like you, I was standing on the edge of a platform just like this one, I was about to jump in front of the inbounding subway cars.  I was about to make everyone feel sorry and ruin their lives with my crushed body.”

         I pause my tale on purpose; few people could resist the urge of wanting to hear out a story in full, this kid is no exception.  I could see curiosity piquing in his eyes.

         After a few more seconds, I resume talking: “It was at that moment I saw the girl that rejected me walking by with her new boyfriend.  I saw them talking and laughing, occasionally hugging and kissing with each other, full of happiness.  She cast a look my way but quickly diverted her eyes away as if I was invisible.”

         “Then I started thinking: if I die now, would she even shed a tear?  Would my parents feel bad about pushing me around like an unwanted package?”

         “And you know what?  The answer I get was a resounding ‘No”.  Sure, they might feel bad for awhile, but life goes on.  She would still be in love with this boy that I had always hated, my parents would quickly forget about me and go on to form new families of their own.”

         “My death then, would only be nothing more than an article of gossip around dinner tables of strangers, a short piece hidden away on the inside page of a local newspaper; and then it would be quickly forgotten, along with my short, miserable life.”

         “As I was thinking that, the train that was supposed to end my life went rushing by me.  I took a step back and shuddered as if I just woke from a bad dream.”

         “Here is the end of my story:  the girl I loved eventually dumped her boyfriend for the rascal he was.  And no, she never did become my girlfriend.  My parents went through with their divorce, while I went on to live with my father.  Though clearly seeing me as a burden, he treated me alright for the few remaining years until I moved out when I reached eighteen.”

         “Through all these years I have lived since then, I had endured hardship far worse than what I had when I was at your age.  I had lost loved ones, had difficulty making a living, but you know what?  I never looked back to the day I wanted to kill myself.”

         I stop talking as my tale draws to an end.  The kid is visibly shaken, I would too if a complete stranger comes up to me and spews out a story of how he almost commits suicide.

         As silence continues to span between me and the kid, I could hear the train coming down from the tunnels up ahead.  The kid takes a tiny, hesitant step forward, then looks back at me and withdraws both his foot from the edge of the platform.

         “Well, kid, it has been a real pleasure talking to you.  If you could remember my words well, I would be very, very glad.”

         The kid now has a mystified look on his face.  He seems to be confused and lost, unsure of what to do next.  Well, that is exactly the effect I wanted to achieve when I first started talking to him.

         The train is almost here.  I look to the kid and say: “Remember my words, ok?”

         Before he could make a reply, I jump down from the platform, just as the subway cars rush toward my falling body, full of sound and fury.