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I finished my water bottle and tucked it back into the pocket. Holden stared at my covered wrist, which I pulled close to my chest.
“For the record,” my voice turned smug and defensive. “I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. I don’t need help. It’s superficial.”
At least the first time, and I was discharged after a consult with the resident psychologist. However, my file was marked. The next visit, they were abit blunter, and yet, in a way, kinder. That incident required four stitches, but again, I hadn’t done any real damage as once again I’d missed the artery. Each attempt was closer, but never good enough. However, I couldn’t recall with much clarity the last attempt, just bits and pieces.
Holden reached into the pocket in front of him and took a drink from his water bottle.
“I’m not crazy.” If I repeated the phrase enough, it should come true.
Because I wasn’t. Crazy people didn’t know what they were doing. I did. It was all planned out. It wasn’t my fault if it didn’t go the way it was intended. That didn’t make me crazy. All it did was reveal the truth. Again. No matter what I did, I failed. Horribly.
He pointed at my water. “You should have another sip.”
“It’s empty.”
“Excuse me.” Holden unbuckled and walked to the front of the plane.
A sting of rejection kicked me in the ass. My weak attempt to bare a tiny portion of my soul was foiled. A heavy weight sagged my shoulders, and I leaned into the depths of my seat, putting my hand over my aching chest.
My seat mate returned and handed me another room temperature water bottle, tucking another into my seat pocket.
I narrowed my eyes slightly and smiled weakly. “Thank you.”
“Flying can make a person dehydrated. Best to keep drinking.”
I half expected him to turn away and either fiddle with the screen or pull his book out and read. Ignoring me, like so many others had, would’ve been more on par. Instead, after he buckled in, he faced me, narrowing the gap that had formed.
“Can I ask one of my twenty questions now?” Genuine concern settled over him, his features softening with each passing breath. He looked deep into my eyes, but he didn’t wait for me to answer. “How can I help you?”
Chapter Four
Never inmy life had anyone asked what I needed, and I was gutted for a respectable answer. When my few friends learned of my failed suicide attempts, they stopped talking to me, at least about real things. They no longer talked about anything personal, rather conversations turned to weather or the latest movie orOMG, what is she wearing? Once, I overheard a friend say if she brought up the suicide attempt, she was afraid it’d give me more ideas. As if. Trust me, I had plenty.
Deep down I should’ve been happy they wanted me to stick around, but instead it made me pull away even more. They didn’t understand. We had nothing in common. They had everything they ever wanted, and they took it all for granted. I had lived in my car formost of my adult life, up until a week ago, and I had to fight for everything in my possession, which sadly wasn’t much anymore. It was all in the bag stashed under the seat in front of me, with an additional bag in cargo. A whole life crammed into two bags. There wasn’t anything worth fighting for.
“It’s okay, you don’t need to talk about it, if you don’t want to.” Holden didn’t break eye contact. “And I can’t say I’ve been there, because I don’t know what you’ve gone through or whatever it is you’re currently going through, but back in high school, I too, struggled with depression, and believe me, suicide was a thought that had crossed my mind.”
An even bigger lump formed in my throat. “Because of my group?”
“Not your group. Not really. But they didn’thelp.” He shook his head. “In grade eleven, it was a new group, and they were mean. Really mean. My parents didn’t want to move, wanted me to fight for my place since I was entitled to be there just as much as they were. And things got worse, but I’ll spare you the details.” He picked at the ribbing on his sweater. “However, since I feel I can share this with you, one day, while riding my bike home alone from school, I considered driving into oncoming traffic.”
“What stopped you?”My voice lowered to a bare whisper, and I nearly regretted the words coming out because if someone asked me, I don’t know if there would’ve been anything to have stopped me aside from my insane inability to take my life properly.
“I really wish I had an answer for you. Mostly,I realised I didn’t want to go. I knew my parents and sister would be crushed, and I hoped things would get better. Corny, right?”
I broke contact and flipped my gaze over to the screen. It flashed an updated flight image. We were over Canadian soil onceagain.
Holden carried on. “I know now that I was just sad and hurting because I felt so all alone. That kind of solitude was all consuming.”
Hearing the worldalone,I searched his face. He understood and was telling the truth; that depth of loneliness was rare, and it put you in a special club.
“I know now, and perhaps deep down I sort of knew then, but there was much to live for and still is. I just needed to get a fresh perspective on things, and make it through the day, hour by hour, sometimes even minute by minute. What I found helped me at least, as awkward and painful as it was, was talking to people about my feelings. I talked to the school counsellor and made some changes in my life. I stepped outside my comfort zone, big time and, this probably won’t surprise you, I started an astronomy club at school, fueling my passion. However, part of that requirement was leading and teaching a group of eager beavers. Let me tell you, I learned to respect my teachers a heck of a lot more.” He chuckled lightly and tipped his head back. “Want to hear something funny?”
I didn’t get a chance to agree or disagree.
“If you can believe it, the biggest jock in school joined. He wanted to learn everything about the constellations as he was trying to impress a nerdy girl he desperately wanted to date.”
I rolled my eyes, but Holden carried on.
