Martin has been on one of his downers for a day now. He’s barely said a word to any of us. He didn’t even insult Randall, when he had at least five great chances to do so. We’re sitting in Tough Talk together. Randall has just admitted to one of his lame sins. Of course everyone applauds him for being so honest.
“We have ten minutes,” Brian says. “Does anyone else want to talk about what’s on their mind?”
“I do,” Martin puts up his hand. The rest of the campers are as shocked as I am. Martin has never once said anything in these sessions.
“Come on up,” Brian tells him.
Martin steps over the other campers and sits in the middle of the group. He looks down at his hands. There’s a second during which I think he’s just pulling our legs and he’s not going to say anything at all.
“I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with,” he finally says. “I don’t have a good attitude about things. And I’m not a people person. I’ve prayed to feel better about myself but nothing works. Sometimes I wonder why I was even born.”
“We all feel that way sometimes,” Brian says.
“But my grandmother seems to believe my life is a waste. It’s like she blames me for my mom disappearing. Yesterday I was talking to her on the phone and she didn’t even ask how I was doing. She just wanted to know if I had found Jesus yet. It never occurs to her that I might feel as abandoned by my mother as she does.”
“Did you tell her this?” Brian asks.
“I’ve been telling her for years now. She doesn’t listen. Every time I try to talk about my feelings she tells me to go to church and give up my feelings to God. But God doesn’t answer back. And yesterday, she said I’m never going to be a whole person unless I learn how to love Jesus. She said I should just give up if I’m not prepared to sacrifice myself for him.”
“She has a point,” Brian tells him. “Jesus can help guide the way.”
“I don’t need saving. I need a parent. I need someone who believes in me. I don’t have that right now. I might never have that again.”
“You have to believe Jesus will lead the way.”
“I’ve tried that. It doesn’t work.”
“You’re not trying hard enough. You have to really believe, Martin.”
Martin starts to cry. The room goes quiet. No one knows what to do.
I’ve had enough of this. I get up from my seat and put my arm around Martin. I stand him up and walk him back to our room.
“You were brave in there tonight,” I tell him.
“Thanks.”
“Do you feel any better?”
“I don’t feel anything anymore.”
Martin sits at the desk by the window.
“Do you want me to get you anything?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” he says.
Paul and Randall hang back at the door until I motion them in.
“Is everything okay?” Paul asks when he sees Martin slumped in the chair.
“Martin is feeling emotional,” I tell him.
“What else is new?” Randall says.
“Now is not the time, Randall,” I say.
“He’s never given me a break. I don’t know why I should give him one,” he says.
“What would Jesus do, Randall?” Paul asks. When Randall doesn’t have a smart answer, Paul turns back to Martin. “They’re having a sing-along by the campfire. Want to come? It might cheer you up.”
“You guys go ahead. I want to be alone,” Martin says.
“I’ll stay here with you,” I say.
“No really. You and Paul should spend some time together,” Martin says. “You guys haven’t been the same since the fight about Rhonda.”
Paul and I look at each other.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Randall asks.
“I think it means Martin wants to be alone,” Paul says. “Come on guys. Let’s give him his space.”
Walking towards the bonfire I tell Paul, “I’m really worried about Martin. I’ve never seen him this low before.”
“He’s just trying to get attention,” Randall breaks in. “Don’t let him ruin your good time.”
“You don’t understand. He went to a very dark place in Tough Talk tonight. It sounds like things with his grandmother are really bad.”
“Indians are never happy unless they’re reminding you how bad they have it,” Randall says. “You’re too nice to him. I’m sure he’ll be fine by the time we come back from the bonfire.”
I hate to say it, but Randall is right. After a couple of songs I do start to feel better. Sarah is sitting next to Paul. I watch her as she takes his hand in hers. She looks into his eyes while she sings out of key at the top of her lungs. Every so often Paul looks at me, and smiles. It’s nice to see him happy, even if it’s not with me. Maybe whatever we had is over. But at least I don’t feel like he hates me. Maybe I can live with this, whatever this is.
***
Martin is still sitting at the desk by the window when the three of us get back to the room. I go to wake him up to go to bed. Something crunches under my shoe as I get close. Several insulin cartridges are on the floor.
“Martin?” I say, pushing his shoulder. “Martin wake up!”
Paul comes over and shakes Martin by the shoulders. But he’s not responding.
“Randall! Go get Brian!” Paul says.
“What’s going on now?” Randall asks in a huff.
“Just do as I say,” Paul yells at him. “Adam, help me get him on the floor. I’m going to give him CPR.”
I scoop Martin under his armpits and Paul takes him by the ankles. We lower him to the floor. Paul starts pressing on Martin’s chest with both hands. I feel like I’m going to faint. But I have to keep it together. The last thing Paul needs right now is two unconscious roommates to revive.