My mind is reeling so fast right now with confusion and doubt, the only thought I manage to formulate is, “Why?”
Memories worm their way back in also. I think back to kindergarten and all the time spent in the loft with him, talking about our favorite holidays and new episodes of Mr. Rodgers' Neighborhood. To second grade when he won a giant jar of Wonka Nerds, and we lugged it home and ate every single one. We were sick for weeks, but became addicted to those crazily-colored sugar treats.
Erik Levers and I were always together, joined at the hip, like brother and sister. In fact, we considered each other our siblings, because we had no sisters or brothers of our own. But I came to realize that we were so much more than that. We were each other's rock, the one person we could trust anything with. I came from a middle-class family, who occasionally struggled to get by, but we usually worked it out. His parents were divorced and they had somehow lost all contact with his mother and her side of the family. His father, who was an only child himself, was an absent doctor always at work, and both of Erik's grandparents had died, so he had no one to call 'family' except me, Anna Trueman.
All of our friends believed that we were destined to be together when we got older. But there was nothing romantic between us, ever! We both had friends; but over the years his had slowly turned against him, leaving him with no one but me and his absent father. He was a little out of touch with the world; I guess we both were, but my friends accepted me for it and his didn't. I couldn't believe the stories he sometimes told me, the things his wild mind had thought up. After a while, I realized that the stories that he was making up were just an escape from real life. A life where his dad supplied the money, and Erik took care of the rest. While he had his quirks, he was the most independent person I knew; not many young boys can semi-run a house and still do well in school!
We had sleepovers all the time in fifth and sixth grade. We lived in a very safe neighborhood, so he could leave his house whenever he slept over. The neighbors were snobby, but promised to watch over him and the house if anything ever happened. Half of the nights he would be at my cheerful house, and the other half I would be at his gloomy, depressing one. He said many times that home to him was staying up late, watching comedies until we cried from laughter, and eating an endless supply of Pop Secret Movie Theater Butter popcorn until we were sick.
I seriously don't know what happened. I don't know why, in seventh grade, my best buddy Erik Night started avoiding me. I don't know why we broke apart. I do know that his father lost his job, and they lost the house and all their assets. He moved to a lower-class house and pulled out of school. Every time I tried to go by Erik's house and comfort him, to console him, he pushed me away. After getting rejected for a year, I decided it was time to move on. But his well-being always stayed in the back of my mind.
And then, in the middle of eighth grade, on a Saturday evening, he pulled the trigger.
The bullet went hurtling towards his head.
And somehow did not end my best friend and brother Erik's life. He turned the gun away at the very last second, and the bullet flew past him and into the wall.
And I found myself sitting in the hospital, him beside me, both of us as silent as the grave. I didn't know how he had gotten there, but when I came in, he was sitting outside of room 239, looking alive, but still dead somehow. He was so pale that he didn't look real at all.
When I had come rushing in, the desk clerk sharply told me to be quiet, but after I asked for Erik, her tone softened and she told me an extriemely confusing and surprising thing-- Erik had told the police to call me-- not his dad, not his neighbors, but...me.
It was the first time seeing him in over two months. My arrival seemed to catch him by surprise, like he was a deer and I was the headlights. His expression when he saw me reminded me of his 3rd grade surprise birthday party, when everyone hid under his bed, waiting for him to come home. We all intentionally 'forgot' his birthday to make his surprise that much more amazing, and it was. When we popped out screaming and cheering, I swear he almost peed his pants. It was hilarious.
But this situation was the exact opposite. I had to... get to the bottom of everything.
“Why, Erik?” I took a deep breath, anxious and scared for his response. I didn't know if I even wanted to know.
He seemed startled by my question, as if we were playing the silent game and I, the opposing player, had broken the rules.
“What?”
That was the first word he had spoken to me in over a year.
I zipped my coat up to my chin, put my backpack on the floor, and tightened my gloves. Even though the walls and electricity kept the swirling winds outside, I felt no warmth.
“You heard me.”
“Huh?”
His darting, one-word answers unleashed an agony that I had never felt before.
“The nurse told me what happened.”
He dropped his head into his hands, running his fingers through his hair, and still avoiding my eyes and my questions.
Clearing my throat, I tried a different angle:
“What changed, Erik?”
“What?”
“I said, what changed? With us. We were best friends; you were my brother! I loved spending all that time with you. Hell, we grew up together! How could you just... just...” I couldn't finish my sentence.
He finally looked at me, really looked at me for once. His eyes took in my puffy, red face: my worried and hurt expression. He winced as if he couldn't stand the torture of just looking at me and dropped his gaze to the floor once again.
“You still had me," I said, knowing I was treading on thin ice but still taking the first step. "You weren't alone. I've been waiting this whole time for you to come back, so we could be even just friends again. I miss you. I miss the way you laugh, sing, cry, talk, dance. Everything. You just left. And I have no idea why."
Silence.
Tearing up, I whispered, “What did I do?”
Erik turned to me and practically shouted, “God, Anna! You did nothing, nothing! You were perfect, had a perfect life, perfect friends, perfect everything. Perfect, just fine Anna. Not a worry in the world.”
Startled, I felt myself pulling away from his burst of anger, but forced myself to stay in the present and said, “Erik, I...”
“No, Anna, no! I was not perfect, are you kidding me? I am not perfect. I am nothing. Nothing is what you did and nothing is what I have become. I didn't deserve to be your brother anymore.”
A new emotion flared. Anger.
"So the reason that you've been avoiding me is because I was too... good for you?"
He took a moment to think and then said, “Yes and no.”
I noticed him tearing up, and realized that the only other time I had seen him cry was in fifth grade when I accidentally socked him in the face and knocked his tooth out during an extremely competitive game of softball.
I told myself that I had to stop living in the land of what had been.
“What's the real reason you stopped talking to me? Was it because you told me you loved me that night and I didn't feel the same?”
He recoiled as if I had punched him in the gut. Silence.
“Then why?” I repeated in frustration.
“Because you were too perfect,” he said, interrogating me with his hazel eyes.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He turned bright red and stuttered. “Nothing. Never mind. And I didn't love you. I was confused.”
“Oh? You were? Well, that's funny. You know what? I don't even care. I just want my brother, who's been ignoring me for the past year of my life, and who just tried to kill himself!”
Silence again.
“Riddle me this, Erik: why do I even bother anymore?”
“Because you still care.”
“And you don't?” My voice had taken on a pleading tone now.
“No.”
Choking back sobs, I slowly reached down, opened my backpack, and pulled out the one item that I thought would remind him of our friendship. I had grabbed it on my way to the hospital when I heard the news. Not taking my eyes off his face, I gently placed a pre-popped bag of Pop Secret Movie Theater Butter into his lap.
I left, letting a trail of peppermint candies drop behind me.
And never looked back.
Gender:
Points: 1817
Reviews: 82