Platonic

Thanks for the great night. I don’t think we should see each other again, though. Sorry. God, I really hate doing this. She was nice, too. Interesting, and intelligent, and really, really pretty. But I can’t do this to her. If there’s a second date, there’ll be a second night and then this will be a thing and that’s cruel. I can’t do that to someone knowing it can’t possibly work out. I thought I could change this about myself, but I can’t.

I leave the message on a happy pink sticky note and stick it to the dark wooden headboard, just above the spot on her bed where I previously lay. The spot she’ll wake up to find completely empty tomorrow morning. I’m such an asshole. I pad over to the front of the apartment, where light from the hallway is streaming under the door. I put my boots on, grab my bag, and silently leave, closing the door behind me as quietly as possible.

One by one, the streetlights outside bounce off the faded plastic bus seat in front of me. It’s giving me a headache. I just want to go to bed. It’s so late that there are only two other people on the bus with me. I pull out the small journal I keep in my backpack and begin to write. My old English professor didn’t do much other than force-feed us daily Shakespeare quotes, but he did give us one useful piece of advice: whatever you feel, write it down. A journal is cheaper than a therapist and, one day, you could profit from your pain. So now, I write. Everything.

i can’t seem to get it. why do i have to be like this. this big mess of feelings and yet i can’t seem to feel anything. at all. i just want what others have; that simple, pure attraction that makes your heart feel as though it’s sitting outside your body, reaching for that one person. i want it so badly. i thought that if i wanted it enough i could have it too.

I close my notebook and shut my eyes, leaning my head back against the top of my seat. Only two more stops before I can get off and go to bed. I’ll sleep this feeling off like a hangover.

===

Shit. Where’d my phone go? I can hear it buzzing but where is it? Damn did I really sleep in my jeans? Ah, there it is.

“Hey Andy, what’s up?”

“I got your text from last night. It sounded bad. I just started my break, wanna come down to the café?”

“Sure. Give me like ten minutes.”

I push off my comforter and change into another pair of jeans. I must’ve been really dead last night to not even change into sweats before passing out. I glance at the little alarm clock on the chair beside my bed; the faint glow of the digital display reads 12:06 pm. I don’t even remember going to bed that late last night, unless– of course. That familiar sinking feeling in my chest sets in as I remember the girl.

I throw on my university sweatshirt, brush my teeth, and head out. The walk to the café is only a couple of minutes, but I spend each of those minutes recalling what an asshole I was last night. She’s probably woken up, seen that little pink sticky note, and realized I’m a complete jerk. I never meant to be, though. It always seems like it’s not as hurtful if I leave before morning, rather than stay and give them false hope that it could turn into something. Because with me, there’s no hope for any kind of relationship. Even if I want one more than anything. I’m just not wired that way. I can imagine what it would feel like, after watching my buddies fall for girl after girl. It would be like MJ and Peter Parker, or like Luke and Lorelai from Gilmore Girls. It would be great, but I just can’t feel those things, no matter how hard I wish I could.

When I get there, the café is quiet; only a couple of university students are sitting in the corner with their laptops. Andy is in the window booth with two iced coffees.

I sit across from him and pull the coffee toward myself, taking a sip. I don’t know if it’s my lack of sleep or the fact that I haven’t eaten since 5 pm last night, but this coffee is fucking incredible. “So, I’m guessing the blind date didn’t go so well last night considering you picked up a morning shift.”

Andy looks out the window, ignoring my question, but I can see the smirk on his face when he turns toward me. We talk about basketball for a few minutes until Andy finally addresses the elephant in the room.

“So, what was the deal with you last night? You sounded kinda… depressed, when you texted me.” Andy looks up at me over his straw. I grab my notebook and pass it over. He knows the drill.

I look out the window and watch the busy businesspeople rushing by, likely on their way to buy overpriced salads and iced tea before heading back into their massive corporate buildings. They all look the same. Grey people in grey clothing taking their authorized 45-minute break before returning to their grey jobs. Bleh.

“Man, I honestly don’t know.” Andy slides the notebook back over to me.

I lean on it with my elbows and tip my head down toward the table. “What should I do? I feel like I’m missing something. Something important, and I can’t seem to figure out how to live without it without feeling sad all the time.”

“Theo, I really don’t know what to tell you. I don’t think I can help. You’ve been doing this sleeping around thing for a while and it doesn’t seem to be doing anything except making you feel worse.”

He’s right. I nod and return to watching the masses of people continue to march by.

Andy takes a sip of his iced coffee.  “Maybe put your focus on something new. Throw yourself into art like you used to. Go on a trip somewhere, where you can sketch and shit. I really can’t help you solve this, but you can try and distract yourself.”

Maybe I should. The semester’s almost over, and I was planning on staying in the city for the summer anyway. Maybe what I need is an escape to clear my head.

“I’ll figure something out. Thanks, though.”

Andy stands to toss out the empty cups; his break is almost over. When he comes back, I can’t help but ask again.

“So how was the date last night?”

He rolls his eyes. Oh boy.

“The longest two hours of my entire life. She kept talking about how The Bachelor is demeaning to women because they shouldn’t be made to compete for a single shitty guy’s attention.”

“Okay… but she’s right.”

“Yeah, she’s right, but that doesn’t mean I want to talk about it for forty-five minutes straight. I mean, analyzing shitty relationships doesn’t really set the mood for a first date. Also, she put ketchup on her salmon. I almost vomited.”

I hear a loud bang from the back of the café and see another employee in a blue apron poke her head out the door.

“Hey, Anderson? Can you give me a hand?”

He sighs and stands up, patting me once on the shoulder before returning to his shift. I glance out the window at the sea of grey one more time before embarking on the long five minute journey back to my apartment.

===

Oh my god, what time is it? I squint over at my bedside clock to see it read 4:57 am. I find my ringing phone and answer, clutching it against my ear.

“Hello?”

“Theodore Griffin?”

“Yes?”

“This is the New York Community Hospital. There’s been an accident with Anderson Stone. He had you as his designated emergency contact and we need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible.”

Shit, I remember Andy asking me if I could be his emergency contact after the falling out with his parents. I never thought I’d actually get a call.

“Okay, thank you, ma’am.”

The hospital staff hangs up, and I’m left staring at my phone screen wondering what the fuck just happened.

===

“Andy? Where did you throw that one blanket?”

“The one with the purple stripes? It’s on the floor by the TV.”

I walk over to the TV and pick the blanket up, shaking the wrinkles out. I take it into the small bedroom attached to Andy’s apartment, also known as my bedroom for the summer. I come back out and hop on the couch, reaching over to pull the lock on Andy’s wheelchair as he tugs on the wheels, attempting to move.

“Bro, you gotta unlock it. Otherwise, you’re stuck.”

I flip the lever on the side, then as Andy wheels into the kitchen, I grab the remote and turn on the TV. A shitty rom-com movie flashes onto the screen as I hear a loud noise from the kitchen.

“Fuck,” Andy mumbles. “Hey Theo?”

I push myself up off the couch and walk into the kitchen to find Andy in his wheelchair, with cereal covering his lap and the entire kitchen floor. Andy looks up at me in annoyance as I snort.

“Well, I guess you’re not having cereal.”

“Shut up,” he says, hiding his amusement.

After sweeping the Lucky Charms off the floor, I go into my room and shut the door. I root around in my duffel bag and pull out my notebook, flipping through for a specific page. Ah. There it is. The one page I haven’t shown to Andy.

paralyzed. paralyzed. paralyzed. paralyzed. maybe if i write it enough times it won’t look like a word anymore. maybe if i write it enough times it won’t be a thing anymore. maybe it won’t be andy anymore. maybe andy will be okay. i hope andy will be okay. please god let him be okay. please please please please. paralyzed. fuck.

That was three months ago. He’s doing better now, but he’s changed. Not that I can blame him. I would feel different too if I no longer had control over the lower half of my body. He’s getting happier though, a little less defeated than he was in the beginning. My phone alarm goes off and I check the time.

“Andy, guess what time it is…”

I hear a groan from the living room.

“It’s physical therapy time!”

I laugh as a pillow suddenly flies through the hallway and past my door.

This wasn’t exactly the distraction I had in mind all those months ago, but it’s been nice to focus on our friendship.

===

things are a bit better now. i mean, i’m worrying about my own problems a lot less since andy got hurt. i still want it, though, that love i hear about everywhere. songs, poems, books, films, even the advertisements constantly remind me of what i don’t have. the kind of love that feels like every beautiful thing in the world thrown together and presented in the form of a human being that holds your hand and makes you feel safe. i just wish i could feel it, feel love, be in love. have a person. live a love story like everyone else.

I cap my pen and glance over at Andy, fast asleep on the couch while the TV flashes a variety of colours, all of them faintly reflecting onto his face. He’s been getting stronger lately, the physical therapy helping him to be a little more independent. I think he’s enjoying that, needing less help.

I hate feeling as though I’m babying him, like I’ve slowly transitioned from best friend to caretaker without those words really being spoken. It kind of just happened. It feels right though, after all the times he looked out for me. I mean, he essentially saved me from myself.

I switch off the TV and reach over to the chair beside me for the blanket. I drape it over Andy and adjust him so he’s on his back properly and not putting stress on his legs. I quietly pad into the kitchen to get him a glass of water in case he gets thirsty in the night, then return to the living room and place it on the coffee table across from the couch.

I look at him for a second in the dim lighting, his face completely at ease as he breathes softly. I turn the lamp off and walk over to my bedroom, a strange, peaceful feeling filling my chest as I drift off to sleep.

===

I wake up to the sun sending golden rays through the window and across my bed. For the first time in a long while I feel refreshed waking up. I get up and throw on a shirt, then walk out into the hallway to see if Andy is awake yet.

“Andy, man, you up? I’m gonna get some Lucky Charms, do you want some?”

I turn the corner to find Andy lying face down on the living room floor right beside the couch.

“Shit.”

I get down beside him on the floor and flip him over, checking to see if he’s breathing.

“Shit, Andy. Wake up, man.”

He’s breathing. Okay. His eyes are still closed but he doesn’t look peaceful. He looks like he’s in pain. I run back to my room and get my phone, dialing 911 on the way back to the living room. I kneel back down beside Andy and check his pulse while talking to the dispatcher. Five years of lifeguarding at the dingy little outdoor pool down the street is finally coming in handy after never actually saving anyone except for a dumbass squirrel. The 911 dispatcher hangs up and I sit beside Andy on the floor, my hand on his knee as I watch his chest for the uneven rise and fall of his shaky breathing.

===

“He’ll be okay, there are no complications with his current condition. However, he’ll likely have a bit of soreness from the impact of the fall.”

I look over at Andy, fast asleep in the hospital bed behind me. The nurse passes by me to wake Andy and tell him the same thing. Thank God he’s okay. I don’t know how the fuck I slept through him falling off the couch and onto the floor. The nurse leaves and I sit down on the scratchy purple chair beside Andy’s bed.

“How’re you doing, man?”

He gives me an amused look and laughs.

“I mean, I rolled off the couch directly onto my face. I’ve been better.”

He begins to sit up, so I give him my arm to hold onto as I rearrange the pillow behind him to support his back properly.

===

andy’s been acting strange since his visit to the hospital. he’s still talking to me, but he doesn’t seem to want to. maybe the hospital trip embarrassed him. he probably didn’t like that i had to call an ambulance. i don’t know. but it worries me. he doesn’t exactly have any support system left except for me. all those buddies he went out with have vaporized, all those girls who hung around him at the café have vanished, and all that’s left is me. if he pushes me away he might be left completely in the dark, and i don’t think anyone could possibly manage that on their own. damn it, andy. i’ve nearly lost you too many times. i couldn’t handle it if i lost you like this.

===

I get to the front door and pull my keys out, unlocking it. Jesus, class was long today. At least the bus was quiet. I open the door and throw my bag on the floor next to the fridge. It’s past 7 pm, but I don’t see any dishes in the sink and the dishwasher isn’t running. Andy must not have eaten yet. I walk into the living room and see him sitting in his wheelchair, watching TV.

“Hey man, if you haven’t eaten yet I can call for some takeout. What do you want?”

He doesn’t turn toward me, just keeps watching the TV.

“I don’t care. Whatever you want, Theo.”

“I chose last time. Where do you want to order from?”

“I said I don’t care. Whatever you want.”

His tone takes me by surprise. Sure, he’s been pissed off at me over dumb shit before, but he’s never been passive-aggressive like this.

“Hey, what’s wrong? I texted and said I had a late class today. I thought we could just get some food and watch the SNL episode I recorded. Is something up?”

He turns the TV off and unlocks his wheelchair, then spins the wheels backwards to turn around. He wheels past me and into the kitchen without a word. He goes over to the cupboard and pulls down a plate, but when he spins around to the fridge, the plate slips off his lap and shatters on the floor.

“FUCK!”

“Andy, it’s okay, I’ll go get the broom. Go back into the living room and I’ll make something for dinner if you don’t want takeout.”

“No, Theo, stop. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not fine. What’s going on?”

He puts his head down and attempts to wheel past me again but gets stuck behind the shards of porcelain on the floor. I step in front of him and rest my hands on his chair.

“Talk to me.”

“Fuck off, Theo. Let go of me. It’s not your job to baby me all the time.”

“Okay. But if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“But it’s not your problem, it’s mine. This is my life, and it isn’t going to change. You shouldn’t have to deal with it.”

I stare at him in disbelief.

“I want to be here, Andy. I want to help. You’re the one who suddenly doesn’t want anyone helping.”

“Because I’m a burden now. All you do is sit around this stupid goddamn apartment with me. You should be studying and passing school instead of taking care of your little charity case all the time.”

This stops me dead. Charity case? Is that why he thinks I stuck with him all this time? Out of pity?

“Andy, I’m doing great in school. The only time I wasn’t was when you got hurt, and I couldn’t fucking focus because I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d be okay–”

“I’m fine.”

“Andy, please don’t push me away, man. You are getting better but you can’t just isolate yourself from the world. You’re allowed to need help. It’s okay to rely on people.”

I look at him for a second. At his flaming face. At his eyebrows drawn into a frown, creating ripples on his pale forehead. I realize how familiar it all is to me. How accustomed I am to every little bit of him and how safe I feel when I’m with him. How I want to protect him. Is this what it feels like? Is this what “love” feels like? Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my backpack beside the fridge. My backpack. My notebook. I probably wouldn’t even be here if Andy hadn’t found my notebook that day. If he hadn’t read my thoughts when my depression was at its worst.

“Do you remember that day you found my notebook? The bad day?”

His expression softens.

“Yeah…”

“Even though I hated you for it, you got me help. I didn’t want it. But you knew that I needed it.”

“Okay… what does that have to do with this?”

“It made you feel better knowing that if you helped me, eventually I would be better off. That I wouldn’t die. Right?”

He stares at the floor. He won’t look up at me.

“Andy, you are my best friend and you kept me alive. You continue to do that every day. Now it’s my turn.”

He finally looks up from the tile floor, his eyes full. Goddamn. Did I make him cry?

“Aw, shit, man. Don’t get all emotional on me now.”

Andy laughs and runs his hand over his face.

“I’m sorry. For yelling. And for not realizing.”

“I understand how hard it’s been. You’re allowed to be frustrated. Just know that I love you and that’s why I’m here.”

He looks at me for a second, his brow furrowed.

“Relax, Andy, I’m not gonna make out with you or anything.”

“Shut up, Theo,” he grins, “I’m too cute for you anyway.”

===

i’ve been doing better lately. so has andy. we’ve just been rolling along and it’s kinda nice. i haven’t been thinking about that empty feeling as much, and i haven’t slept anywhere except for my little bed in andy’s apartment in over four months. no strange girls. no strange nights. it still sits there, in my head, gnawing away like frostbite. that longing. but a little less than before. and i’m beginning to feel kind of okay with that.

it’s a start.