CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Brian and I moved our beds to the opposite walls of the bedroom. We ceased touching each other, and though our new protocol felt odd at first, after a week it seemed like things were fairly normal. We continued our study and exercise routines and shared our meals. We conversed, as always, and if Brian harbored any resentment toward me, he didn’t let it show.

I thought all between us was fine—I believed everything was copacetic—but I was terribly wrong.

*

On a Friday afternoon, when I returned home from my final class of the day, I tossed my backpack onto our dining table. I whistled a tune when I entered the bathroom, but then my heart leaped into my throat.

Oh, Jesus, no.

In our bathtub, Brian dangled from the shower nozzle on a hangman’s noose he’d fashioned from a leather belt. He did not breathe. Claw marks appeared on his neck, his eyes were bloodshot, and his tongue stuck out of his mouth. His clothing was disheveled, as if he’d struggled to free himself from his predicament at some point.

My vision blurred and my knees wobbled, but at least I had enough sense to act.

I raced to the kitchen to grab a carving knife, and after I sliced the noose in two, Brian collapsed onto the tub floor. He had soiled himself and smelled awful, but I didn’t care. I tried performing CPR on him, but his teeth were clenched so tightly against his tongue, I couldn’t pry his mouth open. So, I called the fire department and begged them to come as quickly as they could.

After the phone call, I returned to the bathroom and climbed into the tub with Brian. I lay beside him and wrapped my arms around his scraped-up neck. Then I rested my cheek against his shoulder and wept so hard I could barely breathe. Already, Brian’s skin felt cold when I kissed his cheek.

“I’m sorry for everything,” I whispered. “Please don’t hate me.”

Time seemed to stand still, but finally I heard a siren’s wail. Two EMTs in navy-blue uniforms entered the apartment. They told me to let go of Brian and get out of the tub, and though I didn’t want to, I did. One EMT pressed a stethoscope to Brian’s chest and shone a pen light into his eyes, then he looked at the other EMT and shook his head.

I trembled so hard I could barely talk. I did my best to explain how I’d found Brian when I arrived home, and how I tried to revive him.

“You were too late,” one EMT said. “Nothing you could have done would have helped.”

After the EMTs brought a gurney up the stairs, they placed Brian on it and covered his body with a sheet while I watched in disbelief.

He’s dead and gone forever?

How can it be?

A police cruiser pulled to the curb out front. By now a crowd of a dozen people, mostly students, had gathered on the lawn, and they gazed up at my door with puzzled expressions on their faces while whispering to one another.

A Tallahassee cop with a gun belt and nightstick arrived with a grim expression on his face and a tablet computer in his hand. Though the size of a linebacker, he spoke as softly as a priest. After he conversed briefly with the EMTs, he motioned me to the sofa while the EMTs carried Brian down the stairs.

“I know you’re upset, but I’ll need to ask you some questions.”

He tapped on the tablet while I gave him basic information on me and Brian. I provided Brian’s parents’ phone number in Fort Lauderdale. My voice shook and tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, and eventually the cop gave me his handkerchief so I could blot my face while I spoke.

“We ate lunch together today; he seemed fine.”

The cop nodded. “Any idea what might have brought this on?”

Go ahead…

I gazed into the cop’s ruddy face. “He fell in love with someone who didn’t love him back.”

“Do you know who that someone was?”

I nodded and poked my sternum with a fingertip.

The cop lowered his gaze for a moment before returning it to me. “I know you’re blaming yourself for what happened here, but don’t. He made the decision, and nothing you might have done would have stopped him.”

I gazed into my lap and worked my jaw from side to side.

The cop cleared his throat. “Do you have any family in Tallahassee?”

I shook my head.

“How about a close friend, someone who could stay with you tonight?”

I couldn’t think of a single soul. Brian had been my best buddy and constant companion since the school year began. And I’d pretty much lost touch with my friends from the dorm, now I didn’t live there, so none of those guys would be of much help.

Then I thought of Mason.

I sniffled and dabbed at my leaky eyes. “Brian has a cousin who lives in town; I know him pretty well.”

“Would you like me to call him?”

I glanced at my wristwatch. The time was 5:30 p.m., and I figured Mason was home from work.

“I’ll phone him myself. He should learn of this from me instead of someone he doesn’t know.”

The cop nodded and rose to his feet.

“I’ll notify Brian’s parents as soon as I reach the station, but I won’t tell them what happened between the two of you. It would only make them feel even worse if I did.”

The cop walked out of the door and descended the stairs while I stood at a window watching. He started his cruiser’s engine and roared away while the crowd on the lawn kept staring at my apartment like I lived in a haunted house.

I returned to the sofa, so despondent I didn’t know what to do. I stared into space while scenes of all I’d done with Brian in recent months passed through my head: our study sessions and exercise regimens, sharing meals together and, of course, our intimacies.

It was all over.

Despite what the cop had told me, I believed Brian’s death was my fault. He had confessed his love for me unequivocally, and I spurned him as if he wasn’t worthy. Shouldn’t I have reached a middle ground with Brian? Instead, I’d placed an emotional barrier between us—one he wasn’t able to cope with. Now, he was gone, and I’d have to explain everything to Mason, a task I didn’t look forward to.

But what other choice did I have?

*

I lay in my bed, listening to Mason snore on the other side of the room.

He had come as soon as I called him, and after he arrived, we sat together on the sofa and held each other while tears streamed down our cheeks. Mason wailed like an abandoned child, and his shoulders shook like a sapling in a gale.

He’s not even trying to be tough, is he?

When we both calmed down and composed ourselves, I explained how, several days before, Brian had told me he was in love with me and wanted me for his boyfriend.

“He took me by surprise—I had no idea he felt that way—and looking back, I think I behaved badly in the situation. I cut him off—gave him no hope we’d ever be anything more than friends. He couldn’t handle it, I guess.”

Mason sniffled while wiping his upper lip with the back of his hand.

“God damn it, I should have known something like this would happen. I told you he threatened to take his life before, right?”

I nodded, then Mason continued.

“Brian always put on a good front—he came across as a carefree person to most people, but wasn’t that way at all. In truth, he was a fragile guy who couldn’t stand it when life disappointed him.”

“But I can’t help feeling this is my fault.”

Mason looked at me and shook his head. “You only spoke honestly to Brian, and what other option did you have? If you had lied and said you loved him, it only would have made matters worse.”

When I asked Mason if he’d spend the night with me, he readily agreed.

“You don’t need to be alone right now, and neither do I. I’ll run home and throw some things into my truck. Then I’ll stay here till the situation calms down.”

When he returned, he carried a twelve-pack of beer in one hand and a bulging paper sack in the other. “I figured we could both use a beer to drink, and I picked up Chinese takeout. It’s important to eat in situations like this.”

Despite the day’s dreadful events, I was hungry and grateful for the meal. We sat at the little dining table and gobbled the food. Then we washed it down with beer. After I drank three cans, the alcohol dulled my senses, putting a little distance between me and the afternoon’s horrid events.

When it came time for sleep, Mason undressed and crawled into Brian’s bed. I got into mine and switched off the nightstand lamp. After I laid my head on the pillow, a vision of Brian’s body, lying on the EMTs’ gurney and covered by a sheet, entered my head. I still couldn’t comprehend the fact I would never see him again, nor would I hear his voice. The whole situation seemed surreal.

“You okay?” Mason said.

“Not really, but having you here sure helps.”

Mason’s sheets rustled when he rearranged his limbs.

“I’ll stay for as long as you want me to, Jakub, and we will get through this craziness together.”

*

The next several days passed in a blur.

A dean in student affairs gave me permission to skip classes for a week. In my condition, I couldn’t face crowded classrooms, and my brain wasn’t working as it normally did either. When I tried reading a magazine or newspaper, I found it hard to concentrate on the words.

All I wanted to do was sleep.

Brian’s parents came up to Tallahassee to claim his body. They also retrieved the Louis XV furniture and Brian’s personal belongings. Mason and I helped load those into a U-Haul trailer hooked onto the Keenes’ shiny Escalade.

Mr. Keene was a florid faced guy with a raspy voice, a beer gut, and shoulders so broad they brushed against the jambs of my front door whenever he passed through it. He wore blue jeans and a chambray shirt, and his gold wristwatch glittered with diamonds. When Mason introduced him to me, he seized my hand in his massive paw and squeezed my fingers so tightly I feared he might break a bone or two.

“Call me Stan,” he said while he looked into my face with his piercing, onyx-colored eyes, as if he could read my inner thoughts.

Brian’s mom, Laura, was a petite woman with graying hair, a pinched voice, and a careworn face. She avoided eye contact and had very little to say. Mr. Keene ordered her around like a drill sergeant while they gathered Brian’s clothing and shoes and stuffed them into cardboard boxes they’d brought with them.

Of course, I didn’t tell them about my personal relationship with Brian or why he’d taken his life. How could I? But I found it hard to keep my voice steady when I told them how sorry I was about everything. In truth, I couldn’t wait for them to go. After the last of the Louis XV pieces went into the trailer, I sighed with relief when they told Mason and me goodbye and drove away.

The only furniture remaining in the apartment was the dinette set and a floor lamp. The place looked almost abandoned, and even the slightest of noises echoed off the walls and linoleum floor.

“I’ll bring a few things over,” Mason said. “I have a queen bed we can share till you get another.”

My dad came to Tallahassee in the park’s pickup truck. He rented a hotel room for a few days and did his best to console me while I wallowed in grief. We ate meals in restaurants and took long walks through campus, and during one of those, Dad talked to me about my mom’s disappearance, for the first time ever.

“The loss hurt me like nothing had before. For months, I didn’t want to go on living, but I had to be strong for you, so I toughed it out, and the pain grew less after months passed. I think you’ll find the same will be true with Brian.”

We visited thrift shops to buy used furniture—a bed, a bureau, a coffee table, and a battered Naugahyde sofa—to replace the things Brian’s parents had taken with them.

Of course, I often spoke on the phone at night with Jeff because I needed to hear his voice.

“I wish I could be there to hold you,” he said one evening, “but right now I can’t. Try to be strong. I’ll be there soon, and everything will be okay.”

One afternoon, right after my dad left Tallahassee, I took a long walk. The day was bright and cool, and a light breeze tickled Spanish moss beards dangling from the limbs of live oaks I passed beneath. I ambled down Park Avenue and turned onto Duval Street before reaching Trinity United Methodist Church, a stately brick structure with a soaring white steeple and columned portico.

After ascending the church’s concrete stairs, I found the front doors unlocked, so I entered the sanctuary, a high-ceilinged room capable of seating six hundred people with ease. Above a raised altar, three stained glass windows admitted diffused light into the quiet and empty space.

My footfalls on the parquet floor echoed off the walls.

I sat on a pew up front and studied the altar with its brass cross and vases holding gladioli arrangements. After a few minutes, I removed my jacket and folded my hands in my lap. Then I closed my eyes and tried to surrender to the beliefs of my childhood—I fashioned a silent prayer.

God, I don’t even know if you exist, but if you are there, please forgive me for the pain I caused Brian. I didn’t mean to hurt him, and I know I acted stupidly. Why didn’t I think before speaking? And now look what’s happened.

If Brian is with you right now, please tell him I love him and miss him so, his laughter and tenderness. His quirky personality too.

In the future, please help me make better choices so something like this never happens again. I couldn’t stand it if I caused another person to take his life. If so, I’d probably take mine as well.

I sniffled while tears rolled down my cheeks.

Thank you for giving me Jeff. I love him so much, and I promise to always treat him with care. I’ll think about his feelings before I consider my own; I’ll put him first. Maybe if I’d done that with Brian, he would still be here today, I don’t know. But help me learn from what’s happened. Show me how to become a better person, not just for Jeff but for everyone else in my life.

I sure hope you don’t hate me, God.