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We were both crying. "Oh, God, Oh, God," I kept wailing.
Sam. Not sweet, scared Sam. I just couldn't believe it.
I thought he was getting better. I thought he was happier. I thought Zoe... oh SHIT!!
"ZOE!" I said to Shannon. "Does Zoe know?"
"I don't know. I don't see her until tomorrow. I just found out. I knew you were coming in but I was going to call the rest of the group."
"You need to call Zoe now, before she finds out some other way. And you need to get her in here. Don't tell her over the phone--or we're going to lose her as well." Shannon just looked at me. "Shannon, Zoe and Sam went out Saturday. On a date. Zoe even gave him his first kiss. She called me Sunday and told me it was wonderful. She really liked him."
"Oh, God," Shannon said, and quickly reached for the phone. She got Zoe on the phone, and then her mother. They were on their way.
"Ginny, can you stay for this? I think Zoe might need a friend."
"OK," I said, dreading it but not willing to duck out. "This is just--I'm in shock."
"I know you are. Ginny, the statistics aren't pretty."
"What do you mean?"
"Between forty and fifty percent of kids who try suicide will try it again. That's the grim reality," Shannon said. "When I sat down with the five of you in group, I knew the odds are high that two of you will try again. And the odds of succeeding are far higher for boys. Did you know that ten times as many girls attempt suicide as boys? It's true--but boys are have twice the fatalities." She sighed. "And Sam, unfortuately, is a good example of why. Boys are far far more likely to use a gun."
"That must be depressing as hell, for you I mean."
"Therapy helps the odds," she said. "But Sam is not the first patient I've lost, nor will he be the last. That doesn't make it any easier, mind you. It's like any doctor--you don't want to lose any patients. But you do."
Just then, Zoe walked in. "Hey, Shannon. Hi, Ginny. What's up?"
"Sit down," Shannon said. Zoe did, planting herself next to me, in the second chair facing Shannon's desk. "Zoe, there's no easy way to say this," Shannon said gently. "Sam killed himself this morning."
I have never seen a person's face look the way Zoe's did at that moment--and I hope I never ever have to see it again. Heartbreaking doesn't even start to cover it. I can't describe it. It was horrific.
She just crumpled. Her mouth was moving but no sound was coming out. Her eyes looked like they'd seen a ghost. It was just--God. God damn.
Shannon and I got her out of the chair and over to the couch. We practically had to carry her. When we got over there I just pulled her into my arms and hung on for dear life. That's when the wails came--deep, pitiful wails. I could barely stand it. Shannon was bawling her eyes out and making sure Zoe didn't see. It didn't matter--Zoe wasn't in the room, really, not mentally. She was off in hell somewhere.
God damn it. A fifteen-year-old kid shouldn't have to go through this. None of us should--Sam most of all.
I guess her mother heard the wails and peeked her head in the door. The poor lady, seeing Zoe completely fall apart like that. Shannon pulled her back out into the hall, apparently explaining what had happened.
Her Mom came back in, crying as well. Zoe had told me her mom had been a real trouper, putting up with Zoe's scattered mental state and doing her best to get Zoe the help she needed. The poor woman--just when Zoe'd gotten the right meds and was making progress, now this.
Zoe calmed down a bit after a while. She sat on the couch, me on one side of her, her mother on the other, holding her hands. "I thought I helped him. I thought it helped," she half-whispered.
"The date?" Shannon asked.
"No. Well, I know that helped. We both had a good time. I talked to him Sunday and he was happy. We both were. We were planning the next date." She sniffled. "I'm talking about yesterday, when he called me. I thought I helped."
"What happened yesterday?" Shannon asked.
"He called me last night. He went into school yesterday morning. He told me it was the best mood he'd been in going to school in forever." Her voice got laced with bitterness. "Evidently, some asshole didn't like seeing Sam happy, because he got the shit kicked out of him. Again."
"Oh, shit," I hissed.
"Black eye, bloody nose, the whole bit. He didn't even go to the nurse--just went home. Hid the damage from his parents. But he called me."
Zoe took a breath. "I told him. I told him to report these assholes, but he was scared to. But I told him it was OK. I told him I'd help him." Her voice dropped again, and the tears started back up. "I told him they didn't know what they were missing. I told him how cool he was. I told him how much I liked him."
"I thought he was OK. Oh, God, I thought he was OK..." The wailing started up again.
Shannon looked at her, then came over to me and asked me to wait out in the waiting area for a bit. I did so, feeling lost and upset.
And pissed. Those bastards. They ruined a smart, sensitive, sweet kid. They did it. The ones that tormented him. Bastards.
After a while, Zoe and her mom came back out. Zoe could barely walk. Shannon called me back in.
"I'm having Zoe admitted to the hospital. For observation, at the very least," she told me.
"Not a bad idea," I agreed.
"Unfortunately, this isn't atypical," Shannon said. "What happened to Sam. The problem with happy moments when you're recovering from a suicide attempt is that it magnifies the low moments so much more."
"In other words, you have further to fall," I said.
"Exactly. I didn't say that to Zoe, because if I did she'd start blaming herself. And she's not to blame."
"I know. Damn. I'm worried about Zoe."
"Yes. But how are you?"
"Depressed. Sad. Very pissed off."
"At the people tormenting him," she said.
"Yes."
"That's not a bad thing, Ginny, if you use it the right way."
"Right now it feels like it's going to eat me up inside," I admitted.
"Don't do anything destructive, Ginny. Should I admit you as well?"
"No," I said. I managed to get off a bit of a sad grin. "I think I'm just going to go find my boyfriend and get a cuddle."
"That's a damn good idea," she said.
That's what I did. I called Mom from my cell phone. She was upset of course, and told me she'd be heading right home to meet me there. "Well, actually, Mom, I think I'm going to go find Craig first," I said sheepishly.
"Of course you are," she laughed. "I'll be here anyway."
"Thanks, Mom."
I got to Craig's house. His mother answered the door.
"Hello, Ginny. You look awful!" Then she gulped. "I'm sorry, that sounded horrible. You look upset, though."
"It's been a bad day. Is Craig here?"
"Yes, he is. Come on in and I'll go get him."
He came downstairs. "Ginny! I didn't expect to see you this afternoon." Then he saw my face. "Honey, what's wrong?"
"Come sit with me," I said. He sat next to me on the couch, and immediately wrapped his arm around me. His mother was there, as was his sister. "I don't know if Laurie needs to hear this," I said.
"It's OK. I'll listen. Even if it's bad. You look awful," she said. In other words, in her awkward 13-year-old way, she was offering to help--which touched me like you wouldn't believe.
"OK. It's about Sam. He's a kid in my group therapy. He was the one that went to the same school as Craig and I, though he was a sophomore." I took a breath. "This morning he found a gun and blew his brains out."
"Oh, God," Mrs. Tolland gasped. Laurie turned as white as a sheet. Dear sweet Craig just pulled me closer into him. God, I needed that.
"The worst part is it never should have happened," I said. I told them the whole story, about Zoe, the date, the beating, all of it.
"My God," Mrs. Tolland said. "It still amazes me that kids can be that cruel."
"They can be, believe me," I said.
"How's Zoe?" Craig asked.
"A complete mess," I said. "Shannon had her admitted to the hospital for observation. At least there she'll be watched over."
"Yeah," Craig said sadly. "I'll make sure I check in on her when I do my food rounds tomorrow."
"That'd make me feel better," I admitted. "Zoe Watchell is her name. Just say you're Ginny's Craig, I talk about you enough, she'll know."
"That must have really scared you," Laurie said. I just looked at her. "I mean, Sam, he had a... what do you call it? I mean if someone goes backwards?"
"A relapse?" I surmised.
"Yeah. He had a relapse. That must've really scared you."
Damn, this kid was smart! And sympathetic, too. Little eighth grader--unbelievable. "It did a little," I told Laurie. "But I'm in a better place than Sam was and I know it."
"That's good," she said, standing up out of her chair. "My brother really loves you, you know." And if her saying that wasn't enough of a shock, she came over to the couch and hugged me. "I'm sorry about your friend," she said--and then walked out of the room.
Everybody watched her go. Then I pointed in the direction she'd gone and said, "That is one of the coolest people in the universe." Craig turned and looked at me. "You are really lucky to have a little sister that awesome. I hope you tell her that."
He blinked, and said, "Not enough. Not nearly enough." And then he scrambled off the couch and headed in the same direction Laurie had.
"Right, there's my good deed for the day," I told Mrs. Tolland--I even managed a bit of a grin with it.
"Yes it was," she agreed. "They actually get along very well for siblings, but they can use a push now and again."
After Craig came back in the room, he offered to go to my house with me. We drove over in my car. "I went and told Laurie how cool she was, and that that was from you and me, and she almost started blubbering."
"Good," I said. "That kid should think about becoming a shrink when she grows up, you know."
"Hm. You might be right about that."
"She's got good insight. I just hope she wasn't too shaken up."
"She's a pretty cool cucumber about stuff. She's worried about you, though, I know that much."
"All these people worried about me. I'm really not used to it."
"Is that good or bad?"
"It's good," I said. "I guess I like being worried over. At least at this point in my life."
"I try not to be overbearing," he said.
"You're not at all," I assured him.
I guess that little conversation stuck with me, though. I don't know if I got suspicious, but it did seem like a whole lot of people were worried about me, and awfully suddenly.
Like Mom, waiting there for me when I got home. I even got another big hug. After I'd told her the whole story, and Craig got up to use the facilities, I said something.
"I'm glad you're here, Mom. Surprised, but glad." She laughed a little. "You've been surprising me for a couple months now. Don't think I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth, mind you, but it's like living with a different person. Sometimes I don't know how to take it."
"Well, it's what I told you. You scared the shit out of me." She took a breath. "Call it a wake up call. Call it a slap in the face. Whatever--that's what it was. You got a drastic turnaround because I didn't feel I had a choice. I didn't tell you this but after that first meeting in the hospital with Shannon--well, I came here. After court, and my court appearance was thankfully brief. I came here. And I cried for an hour straight."
"Oh, Mom," I said.
"Something in my head said, 'Change or lose your daughter. It's that simple.' I chose not to lose my daughter."
"It's not all you, though. It was never all you. I mean, Sam never talked about having any problems with his parents--and he did it."
"I know it wasn't all me, Ginny, but I also know I wasn't helping. Are you OK?"
"As OK as I'm gonna get, today, anyhow," I said with a wan smile. "Dammit, I'm going to miss him," I said. "I liked him."
"In a lot of ways, he was kind of a kindred spirit, wasn't he?"
"Yeah."
NineteenCraig stayed with me for a good while that night. I really appreciated it.
Shannon called. The wake was Thursday, the funeral Friday. The wake would be right after group Thursday, so she proposed we all go together after group. I agreed. Of course, 'all' was just three of us now, plus Shannon. Zoe would probably still be in the hospital. And Sam was gone.
I slept, although fitfully. Got up the next morning and trudged to school.
And found myself in the middle of a zoo.
The media was there. The freakin' media! Of course, I should've expected it. Why on earth would a kid in a wealthy town like ours attending a 'great' school like ours ever want to kill himself? Just that there made it a 'story'. Fucking vultures.
What was worse was all the kids wailing and crying. Jesus Christ, did they want to get on fucking TV that badly? It made me sick. And, of course, the vultures with the microphones ate it up with a spoon. The Six O'Clock News would be filled with all kinds of reactions from Sam's distraught 'friends'. Of course, that ignores the little fact that Sam had no friends. The closest thing he had to a friend in this school was me. And the one time I had a microphone thrust in my face, I threatened to shove it up the guy's ass.
When I got in the school building, it got worse.
Instead of class, they had us all attend an assembly. To 'discuss' the tragedy. Counselors were available to help any distraught 'friends' of Sam, of course.
It all pissed me off like you wouldn't believe.
When we got into the auditorium and were getting seated, I found Eggy. "Mr. Egermont," I called him deliberately, "I'd like to get up and speak at this thing."
"Did you know Sam?"
"Yes, I did. We were in group therapy together."
"Is that what you want to talk about?"
"Sort of."
"What does sort of mean?"
I took a breath and told him the truth. "Mr. Egermont, I think there are some people in this room that need to hear a few hard truths."
He thought about it, and said, "No singling out."
"In a lot of cases, I wouldn't even know who to single out--not by name, anyhow."
He looked at me. "How are you, by the way?"
"OK. All things considered." I took a breath. "Sam had a date this weekend, his very first, with another girl that's in our group. And she is in the hospital, under observation. I was there when she was told--I think 'nervous breakdown' would be accurate."
"Oh, God," he hissed. "OK, Ginny, say what you have to say."
"Thank you."
He talked, and they had one of the shrinks talk, and there was all kind of sniffling and whimpering from Sam's poor heartbroken classmates. It disgusted me.
Craig sat next to me. I told him what I was going to do. Told Angela, too, who was on the other side. Craig hugged me and Angela squeezed my hand.
Finally, Eggy called me up there.
"My name is Virginia Klusse," I started. "I'm a junior here. And I wanted to talk to you about Sam, because, two months ago, I attempted to do what Sam did yesterday." And I showed my wrists.
"When you try to kill yourself, naturally they put you in therapy. In my case, I'm in one-one therapy and a group session, with other suicide survivors. That's where I met Sam, in group. He'd tried suicide before as well, a few weeks before I did.
"So, I got to know Sam pretty well. He was very shy, even in group, but I got a good idea of him.
"There are many reasons for attempting suicide as there are people who try it. There are different people in my group and we all had different reasons. I've heard stories that would curl your hair. Though I surely can relate to the impulse, the reasons were different.
"That wasn't quite true with Sam.
"We had quite a bit in common. We both went to school here. Anyone in the junior class knows I'm the quote class-brain unquote--Sam was the same for the sophomore class. We both had trouble making friends.
"We weren't exactly alike of course--not even here. Sam got beat up, which I never did." I think I heard Eggy give a little gasp at that. Sometimes principals and the like are completely clueless.
I went on. "And Sam was a lot shyer than I'll ever be. But there were similarities. And though there were different reasons we both wanted to kill ourselves, there were some that were the same.
"And the biggest one that was the same for both of us? Well, that was you," I said, and pointed my finger straight out and swung it across the room. "You people in this room, in this school. Students and teachers."
Well, I surely had their attention. I don't think anyone expected this, not after all the happy sympathetic talk from the shrinks. I saw a few smirks directed up on stage--but mostly it was rapt attention. I softened the blow a wee bit. "Not all of you, of course. Not all of you. But enough. A significant number of people in this room had a big part in making my life so unbearable I wanted to end it. And in making Sam succeed at ending his.
"I don't know. Do some of you people think I'm deaf? Do you think I didn't hear the comment about it being too bad I was found in time? Or other similar comments? Or do you think because I'm smart I don't have feelings? Nothing could be further from the truth, let me assure you."
I took a breath. The auditorium was utterly still.
"I want to tell you about Sam. Sam was smart, yes, and very very shy. But he was also sweet and kind.
"Sam was scared. Of just about everything. There's a girl in my group named Zoe. Zoe's brash and bold and says what she thinks--and at first, Sam was scared of Zoe, too.
"But Zoe convinced him not to be scared. And this past Saturday, they had their first date. It was, I understand, Sam's first ever. Afterwards, on Sunday, Zoe called me. She was flying on air. She'd had a great time and evidently Sam felt the same way.
"And then, from what Zoe told me later, Sam came into this fucking school on Monday and one of you bastards beat the crap out of him. Again." That time I know I heard a gasp from Eggy--and he wasn't alone.
"Realize what I just told you. He was happy. Then he got beat up. Less than twenty-four hours later, he was dead.
"I hope whoever beat him up on Monday can live with themselves.
"It wasn't the first time. They were endless. What you people have to get through your heads is this shit adds up. All the slights. All the comments. All the being singled out in class by teachers that have nothing better to do--which creates more slights and comments. All the days you eat by yourself. All the parties you don't get invited to. In Sam's case, all the beatings. It's cumulative.
"And for what? Why is my friend dead? Why is my other friend Zoe in the hospital on suicide watch? Why?
"Are you all really that jealous? Come on. It really makes a difference to you if I ace a test, or if Sam did? Enough to torment the shit out of us?
"I'm smart, very smart. So fucking what? I was born this way. Why is it the smart kids? Look around you. Find the guy in your class that can throw a football 40 feet on a line--do you give him shit? The girl who can hit a contested jump shot automatic from 18 feet--do you give her shit?
"One of the people who's befriended me since my suicide attempt--and I'm forever grateful to her for it--is Johanna Sullivan. All the juniors know who Johanna is--she's the class artist. She's very good. She blows away all of you in art class the way I do in physics. Me, too-she's practically a genius with a drawing pencil where I can barely manage a straight line. Does anyone give Johanna shit? No way. Not only does everyone ooh and aah over her drawing and painting, she's just in general one of the best-liked kids in this school. And she should be. She's an excellent person.
"But, you know what? So am I. And very few of you have ever even bothered to try to figure that out, because you're too hung up on the fact that I got a higher grade than you on some test or other.
"And because brains are somehow treated with a stigma around here--when no other talent is--another excellent person that I was happy to know put a bullet through his yesterday morning.
"So, you need to think about this. You need to think about what you're doing to other people. You might think it's harmless. You're going to tell me 'but I didn't want for him to kill himself or anything!' But he did. And I tried.
"One of the counselors brought in talked before I did, and she talked about all of us 'coming together'. You know what? I'm not sure I want to do that. I'm not sure at all I want to 'come together' with a bunch of people who tormented a poor kid into digging his own grave.
"Because you have to understand. It's not just me. It's not just Sam. And who it is besides me and Sam... you don't know. You might never know. Until someone else does it.
"I have another friend, I won't mention who. This friend has been on edge. Hasn't tried it yet, but has had thoughts. It seems like they are doing better. We got this person some help. This person is adapting better, making friends, in therapy--even has a significant other.
"But there's still a danger zone. And I do not want to do this again."
That's where the tears started, and I couldn't stop them.
"I don't want to sit in another one of these fucking assemblies and discuss another dead friend, dead by his or her own hand! I can't!" I got out between sobs.
"You think about it. You think about what you're doing to your classmates."
That was it. That was all I had in me. The tears were coming non-stop. I put down the microphone and got the hell out of there. Off the stage, out the side door, into a deserted corridor where I slumped up against a row of lockers, and just cried and cried.
I heard the auditorium door slam, but I didn't look up. However, before I knew it, Craig was sitting beside me, holding me while I cried.
The rest of them soon followed--Johanna, Alex, Cap, Angela. They were all hugging and touching me. "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen," Johanna said.
"Hope you don't mind me bringing you up," I sniffled at her.
"Why would I? You said I was a great artist and an excellent person. Very accurate." She was trying to get me to smile. She succeeded--at least a little.
After we'd huddled there for a while, the door opened again. It was Eggy.
Arisha
- 19.01.2021
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