Suicide Notes

Anyway, back to Squirrel. I talked to him a little bit this afternoon. He’s still on the Wonder Drug, so I don’t think it’s quite sunk in yet that he’s in a psych ward. Part of me wanted to tell him. Then I remembered how cool it was to fly around in space smelling clean air, and I decided not to.

Instead, we played Monopoly. I know, it’s the most boring game in existence. But it’s good for killing time, and you don’t have to think too much about it. Juliet and Martha played, too. Juliet was the top hat, Martha was the little dog, I was the shoe, and Squirrel was the race car.

Martha won. She bought up all the red properties and set up hotels there, and that wiped the rest of us out. For someone who barely says anything, that girl is one tough landlord. When I couldn’t pay the rent on Indiana Avenue, she made me give her Marvin Gardens and the Reading Railroad. She’s like a little Donald Trump, only with better hair.

Afterward, the four of us sat there watching the snow fall outside. For some reason, I counted, and I realized that I’m getting out of here on Valentine’s Day. That’s kind of ironic, don’t you think? I mean, I ended up here because I was all heartbroken over Burke. Now I’m getting out on the most romantic day of the year.

Maybe I should make Burke a valentine. Just kidding. I’m so over him. Sure, he’s cute. And nice. And funny. Okay, so maybe I’m not totally over him. But there’s that whole being straight thing. That’s kind of a problem as far as he and I being boyfriends go.

Besides, I don’t think it was really him I wanted. It was the idea of him. I saw how happy he made Allie. Makes Allie. Present tense. At least, I assume they’re still together.

Maybe someday I’ll have a boyfriend to give a valentine to. Thinking about that kind of makes me sick, actually. I’m not exactly romantic, you know? And did you know that Valentine’s Day originally started when this emperor like a million years ago made marriage illegal because he thought it made soldiers weak? This priest— Valentine—married people in secret anyway, and he ended up having his head cut off because of it. So the first Valentine was some guy’s head. There’s some history for you.

It’s sort of perfect, when you think about it. Isn’t falling in love a lot like losing your head?

Day 43

If you ever have to tell your parents you’re gay, there’s only one thing I can promise you: However you think they’ll react, they won’t.

I tried not to think about it too much, but I was awake almost all night doing exactly that. I kept running through the different scenarios that I’d rehearsed the other day with Cat Poop.

What actually happened wasn’t like anything we did, though. Well, it was and it wasn’t. It was more like a little bit of everything we did.

Things started off kind of badly because my parents were late. I don’t know why, but they were arguing about it when they got here. Something about my mother not being ready on time or my father having to stop for gas. It doesn’t matter. It’s just that they were already in a weird mood. Oh, and they brought Amanda with them, which was actually kind of good, because I wanted her to hear what I had to say, too.

So my parents were kind of bickering, not really fighting but being snappy with each other. Amanda was sitting there rolling her eyes the way she does when she’s completely embarrassed for people to know that she’s related to our mom and dad. And I was trying not to throw up.

Cat Poop started things off by reminding my parents that I would be coming home soon. As in two days. That snapped them out of their moods a little bit. My mother got all smiley and my father kept nodding, like someone had asked him a question and he was answering yes. Amanda hunched down in her seat, chewed on the ends of her hair, and tried to disappear. I think she’s about at the end of her patience with my parents. It’s good that I’m coming home to distract them.

Then Cat Poop started talking about how well I’ve been doing in the hospital and how much progress we’ve made. It was all doctor crap, and I knew he was saying it to make me look healthy and not crazy before I dropped the big bomb on everyone. I was glad he did it, because my parents are really into what doctors have to say about stuff. One could tell them their heads were made out of blue cheese and they’d probably buy it.

Once we’d established the fact that I wasn’t going to go all Amityville Horror on them and kill them in their sleep when I got home, Cat Poop asked me if there was anything I wanted to tell them. That was my cue to spill the news. Only I couldn’t even remember my name right then. It was like everything had gone blank inside my head. I turned into my dad and just started nodding, like I was agreeing with something he had said. I was like this giant bobble-head doll sitting there in the chair nodding, nodding, nodding.

Because I wasn’t saying anything, my mother started talking. She talked about the new curtains she’d put up in my room, and about how much the dog missed me, and how my grandmother was making cookies—chocolate chip cookies—and was going to bring them over when I came home. I sat there and watched her mouth open and close, wondering how she could talk so fast and still breathe.

Then my father started talking, too, saying stuff to my mother like, “Marjorie, Jeff doesn’t care about the curtains” and, to me, “How’d you like to go skiing next weekend?”

They were both talking at once. Cat Poop was trying to interrupt them, but they were ignoring him. The only one not talking besides me was Amanda, so I looked at her and said, “How would you like to have a gay brother?”

Then everyone stopped talking and stared at me. Amanda stopped chewing her hair and sat up. “That would be okay with me,” she said. “Why?”

“Because you do,” I told her.

My mother gave a little gasp. Amanda sat there with her mouth open. My father said, “Sweet Jesus Christ on a biscuit.” I swear to God that’s what he said. Sweet Jesus Christ on a biscuit.

“You’re gay?” Amanda said, really emphasizing the gay part so that it sounded like the longest word anyone had every said. “As in gay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I am.”

My father said the thing about Jesus on a biscuit again and my mother said, “Eric,” like he was five years old. Then she shook her head and said, “I don’t understand. What do you mean you’re gay?”

I thought for a second I was going to have to explain to her what gay meant. Then I realized she thought I was joking, or confused, or maybe both. I guess she thought maybe I didn’t know what gay meant.

“I’m gay,” I said, not sure how else to say it.

“You’re fifteen,” she said. “You can’t be gay.”

“Sure he can,” Amanda said. She sounded all excited, like this was her big chance to show off something she knew that my mother didn’t. “My friend Katrina from dance class’s brother is gay and he’s fifteen.” She looked at me. “Hey, maybe I can set you guys up. Evan is really cute.”

“Jeff,” my mother said, using the tone she gets when she’s about to explain something to you, “you’re too young to know if you’re gay or not.”

“Do you care if I am?” I asked her.

“Of course I care,” she said. “I mean, I don’t care, but I care about you, and if you were gay, then I’d be okay with it.”

“Well, I am,” I said. “So I hope you’re really okay with it and not just saying that.”

My father still hadn’t said anything. He had this look on his face like he was trying to figure out a joke someone had told him and that he knew should be funny but didn’t understand why.

“Dad?” I said. “Are you all right?”

“What?” he said. Then he shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. “So, this gay thing,” he said. “Is that why you, well, you know.” He waved his hands in the air, like he couldn’t think of the words he needed.

I shook my head. “Not really,” I said. “It’s part of it, but it’s not everything.”

“I think we have a lot to talk about,” Cat Poop said, saving me. “I know you all probably have questions for Jeff, and I know there are things he wants to tell you. So let’s just start at the beginning and go from there.”

And that’s what we did. For about four hours. I can’t even remember everything we talked about. There was some yelling, a little crying, and finally a big family hug, which is a miracle all on its own. By the time my parents