Storymania - The Masochist Boy by Pearl S

The Masochist Boy (8)
Pearl S

"I’m not here!" she shouted between the stinging tears.

"Alright, Vivien."

She turned over and sobbed into her pillow bitterly.

Rob saw her the next day in English class.

There were circles under her eyes; she was pale. She didn’t look at him. She didn’t look at anyone. She dragged like a zombie through the class, writing down what the teacher said mechanically. She dragged through the day. He wanted very badly to apologize; but his newfound pride wouldn’t allow for that.

At one point during class, she put her head down on the desk. Her shoulders shook. No one noticed.

As Rob knew only too well, no one cared.

She hung around his locker nervously at the end of the day. She wasn’t sure of herself; she wanted to talk to him.

"Robby-" she began.

He threw his bookbag over his shoulder and started walking away.

"Robby!" she cried after him.

"Go talk to Jason," he shot over his shoulder.

She ran after him and caught his arm. She was crying so hard she was shaking. "Listen to me, Robby," she begged, sobbing. He saw the tears on her cheeks. A pang of guilt struck deep in his chest. He hadn’t wanted to make her…to make her cry… "I’m sorry. It wasn’t true, what you said-"

He wrenched his arm away and said shortly: "I’m going to be late for my drug meeting. Get away from me."

He ignored the look on her face and the tears, pushed her aside and continued on his way like he didn’t care.

It hurt deeply, though, to do it. It hurt deeply.

She approached him one more time that month; that time he completely ignored her. He wanted nothing more to do with her, he told himself. He wanted independence. She hadn’t talked to him for six months and had done so quite happily; she could manage this.

The month passed.

She looked more and more tired and pale with every day. She didn’t cry anymore, as far as he knew. Her eyes were dark circles, puffy from lack of sleep. She looked thinner.

His own patience was wearing thin. He had liked Vivien. He’d wanted her friendship. And he wanted to talk to her. And maybe it wasn’t right that the first conversation he should have with her after six months was an argument. Pride was such an annoying thing, and so was friendship. At last he found someplace between the two.

He decided to follow her to the park on Tuesday. If she happened to turn around and see him, he would say hello. If not, he would go home.

The bell rang for his last class; he jumped into action. He threw his things into his backpack, cleared the papers off his desk and dashed from the room before the teacher had even dismissed him. Vivien was so far down the hall that if he didn’t run he would miss her.

He caught her near the door just as he was coming round the corner. She was staring at the ground. She walked slowly with a kind of listlessness.

He slowed his pace and fell into place behind her.

They made their weary procession through the endless mob of color and backpacks to the stairs and the parking lot. Turned down the corner, slowly breaking away from the rest of the crowd.

He waited for Jason to drive up to the curb in the Rolls Royce. He’d been curious about that part.

It only took about a block. And the car wasn’t exactly a Rolls Royce. But it was close enough. He pulled up alongside Vivien, rolled down his window, and called: "Hey, Vivien! Want a ride?"

Rob grated his teeth together, but said nothing.

Vivien said, her voice peculiarly low: "Leave me alone, Jason."

He saw the golden eyebrows knit together. "What’s the matter, Viv?"

"I don’t want to talk about it. Just leave me alone."

"What do you mean, you don’t want to talk about it?" Jason cried, somewhat alarmed. "What did I do? Come on, Vivien, I had it all planned out! We were going to see ‘A Beautiful Mind’ today, remember? Why are you crying? Aw, you poor-"

She whirled at the car suddenly. "Just leave me alone, will you?" she shouted. She was crying. "You think I don’t know what you’re about?" she continued fiercely. "I know, Jason Wayte. I know! Do you really think I’m stupid enough to believe you care a string’s worth for me? You just take me out so you can get your homework answered. That’s not real-that’s not real friendship. I haven’t got any friends, Jason. Find some one else to bail you out and leave me the heck out of it!"

She stumbled back on the sidewalk, sobbing.

Jason said finally: "Well…I don’t know why you’re saying what you are, Vivien. But I know something’ll make you feel better. Have it in my car. Take it when I need some pep."

"I don’t need any-pep," she spat.

"Yes you do. You’re all depressed over something or you wouldn’t be insulting me. Here," he fumbled in the car for a moment, then handed her two little tic-tac shaped pills. "Take these. You’ll feel better."

Rob froze.

The world froze. Everything was suddenly too loud. He heard the birds overhead. The sky loomed, grey and ominous, over his head. The street was abandoned and a cold gust of wind blew scarlet leaves past him.

His eyes were so wide they were popping out of his head.

She held them up to the light suspiciously, forgetting her tears for a moment. "What is it?"

"OxyContin or something," he said carelessly, motioning it aside. "Don’t worry, it’s alright. It’ll make you feel like you’re flying in no time."

She studied it for a minute wordlessly. Her face was a bitter, twisted thing to see.

At last she said: "If Rob can do it-I can."

She opened her mouth and tipped her head back.

Rob shouted stupidly: "Vivien, no! Don’t!"

She swirled around. Jason’s head snapped around.

And there he was, standing there, wide-eyed, hardly breathing. There was nothing to do. Nothing to say. He looked at them, trying to catch his breath.

Vivien narrowed her eyes at him, and then, pointedly, popped the pills in her mouth and swallowed.

He felt his heart stop.

It was a million things rushing through her head, a million different things. He felt like screaming. NO! He wanted to shout. DON’T YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU’RE DOING! YOU’RE DESTROYING YOUR LIFE! YOU’RE STARTING SO MANY DIFFERENT TROUBLES YOU DON’T EVEN REALIZE! DON’T DO THIS TO YOURSELF, VIVIEN! NOT YOU, VIVIEN, NOT YOU; NOT YOU!

All that came out was a crestfallen, whispered: "No."

That idiot Jason spoke again, in his stupid voice. "There. You feel better, Vivien?"

"No," she said, glaring at Rob.

"Well, you gotta give it time. You wanna come with me and see the movie or what?"

"No," she said. "Beat it, Jason."

Beat it. Vivien. Sweet, nervous Vivien. It wasn’t real.

"Aw, Vivien-"
"Call up Justine for the answers," she said sharply. "Take her out and leave me alone."

There was a small silence. "I’ll catch you tomorrow," Jason mumbled, and the window slid closed.

The car drove off.

Quiet. The wind ripped through the trees.

Vivien blinked, shook her head, and sat down, a puzzled look on her face. She frowned at her fingers.

Rob walked over to her cautiously, one step at a time. She leaned back against the lightpole, twisting her fingers.

He kneeled down in front of her, and said quietly: "Vivien…what did you do?"

"I don’t care." She frowned. "My hands, I can’t…can’t feel my hands."

He shook his head. "No. You-you took the pills. You took them-Vivien, why…why?"

She said tiredly: "I don’t know. I want to feel happy. Not used or hated, just happy. And I wanted to get even with you." Then, fearfully: "Robby-Robby, I feel funny."

He looked at the sky. "It’s going to rain. Come on, I’ll take you home."

He stood, and waited for her to stand.

She didn’t.

"Vivien…get up."

"N…no." Her voice was mistier now; her eyes were wide. "I’ll…I’ll…stay here, you…you go…go…" And suddenly sharp: "Don’t you leave me, Robby! Don’t you leave me alone! I feel so strange…"

She bit her lip, or tried to; but her mouth worked itself against her loosening grip.

He sighed. A distant boom of thunder resounded in the empty street.

Vivien whispered oddly: "Don’t you leave me, Robby. I’m scared."

"No," he said quietly. "I won’t leave you. You-you never left me."

He bent down, pulled her up. She wobbled, tried to grab a light pole, but he got his arm across her back; and slowly, slowly they started to walk home.

It was pouring by the time they reached Vivien’s front door. He rang the bell once, twice, looked around at the lawn decorations.

Vivien threw up in the bushes, crying and laughing drunkenly at the same time.

Vivien’s mother answered the door in her trim cut work suit.

The scene that greeted her was of the boy she had seen trying to kill himself in the hospital ward, whose face was tired and shadowed, literally holding up her very own daughter, who was laughing and hiccupping and whose eyes and head and shoulders were rolling like they were attached with velcro.

She gasped, pulled Vivien through the door, still giggling.

Then she turned her narrowed eyes at Rob, still standing in the doorway, and in a voice made of acid, said: "I don’t care what you do to yourself. But stay away from my daughter."

Then she slammed the door in his face.

And he kept reliving that same scene over and over again during the drug meeting.

Sitting on his chair, listening while the teacher rambled on about self esteem. Self esteem. Look what self esteem had done to him! He’d been proud and now Vivien…Vivien…his heart sank lower just thinking about it. Stay away from my daughter. I feel so funny, Robby…I feel so strange…that pitiful, bewildered face…I don’t know what’s happening to me, Robby…don’t you leave me…don’t you leave me…I feel so funny, Robby…what’s happening to me?

"Hey, dude," some one was saying. It didn’t sound like something the teacher would say. He blinked.

Purple spikes and a nose ring.

"Hey, dude, the class is, like, over."

He shook his head free and looked around disconcertedly. Jeff was walking out the door. Jackie was gone. Monica was twitching in her seat, so obviously high it was nauseating. The kid had a point.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"You look like a truck ran over you on the way here," replied the one with purple spikes helpfully. "That ain’t no way to act when you’re looking for self-esteem."

"I’ve had done with self-esteem. I don’t want any more than I’ve got. I’m a jerk already."

The kid slid into the chair next to him. "Nah, I don’t think so, man."

Rob turned to look at him curiously. It was already getting dark outside; the room was shadowed in the greyness of late afternoon light. Twister, the kid’s name was, wasn’t it? Purple spikes for hair…a big chunky nose ring…and yet…

"You know," he said lowly, "it’s not so bad if it’s just you taking them, the-the pills. But-listen…let’s say you know this girl. Let’s say she’s this really…really sweet, kind girl who sticks around you even though you’re a worthless suicidal druggy. And let’s say you-you treat her like a jerk, for one little mistake she makes, because you’ve just discovered pride or whatever."

"Let’s say," agreed Twister, leaning back in his chair.

"And then at one point she-she snaps. And she starts…"

He looked away.

"She starts to take pills too."

"Well," Twister paused, "that stinks, man." He raised one eyebrow. "Don’t guess that happened to anybody you know."

"You’re being awfully friendly, don’t you think?"

"Could be."

A pause of silence.

"I hate it," he cried suddenly. He twisted around to face him. "I did this. If she would never have met me-she’s the most wonderful girl in the world! She’s brilliant! She could be-she could have been so much-and now, just because she met me, just because I’m a stupid jerk who will never be anything more than a street bum-now who knows what will happen to her! Those pills kill. Those pills kill people. And it’s all my stupid fault!"

"Yep," said Twister. "It is."

"Some help you are!"

"Hey, cool it, man. Listen to me. Is she leaning over the kitchen sink and swallowing a whole bottle of Valium every morning?"

"What? No!"

"What’s she doing? Novocaine? Robitussin? What’s she-"

"OxyContin, I think he said."

"Well, ok, that’s dope-stoked stuff. But how often is she taking it?"

He blinked. "Well-she only took it once."

"Once?"

"Yeah. Some idiot gave it to her."

"Uh huh. So this girl took a nonlethal dose of OxyContin-once-from somebody else-and you’re flipping out and banging your head against the wall?"

He shook his head. "But it’s my fault."

"Yeah, it is. So what’re you gonna do, kick yourself and think about it till you slash your wrists? Listen, man, there ain’t nothing you can do about two pills a girl took in the past tense."

"If you know so much," he snapped irritably, "then what do you think I should do?"

"Why’d she take the pills? She depressed or something?"

"Please no," he muttered to himself.

"Her parents splitting up?"

"No…"

"Then why’d she take the pills?"

"Because I treated her like a jerk."

"So what’s the problem? It’s not like she’s gonna be sitting here with us next week. She took the pills because she was mad at you for being such a jerk. Right?"

"I guess something like that."

"Are you going to keep acting like a jerk?"

"Definitely not."

"Then she’ll be fine. Trust me."

"You really think that?" he asked, surprised.

Twister nodded. "It’s a safe bet, man. Don’t tear yourself to pieces over it. There are so many other things more deserving."

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