{"id":191,"date":"2023-05-28T12:05:21","date_gmt":"2023-05-28T16:05:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/?post_type=chapter&p=191"},"modified":"2023-06-25T13:57:39","modified_gmt":"2023-06-25T17:57:39","slug":"platonic","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/chapter\/platonic\/","title":{"raw":"Platonic","rendered":"Platonic"},"content":{"raw":"Thanks for the great night. I don\u2019t think we should see each other again, though. Sorry.<\/em> God, I really hate doing this. She was nice, too. Interesting, and intelligent, and really, really pretty. But I can\u2019t do this to her. If there\u2019s a second date, there\u2019ll be a second night and then this will be a thing and that\u2019s cruel. I can\u2019t do that to someone knowing it can\u2019t possibly work out. I thought I could change this about myself, but I can\u2019t.\r\n\r\nI 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\u2019ll wake up to find completely empty tomorrow morning. I\u2019m 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.\r\n\r\nOne by one, the streetlights outside bounce off the faded plastic bus seat in front of me. It\u2019s giving me a headache. I just want to go to bed. It\u2019s 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\u2019t 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.\r\n\r\ni can\u2019t seem to get it. why do i have to be like this. this big mess of feelings and yet i can\u2019t seem to feel anything. at all. i just want what others have; that simple, pure attraction that makes your heart feel as though it\u2019s 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.<\/em>\r\n\r\nI 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\u2019ll sleep this feeling off like a hangover.\r\n

===<\/p>\r\nShit. Where\u2019d my phone go? I can hear it buzzing but where is it? Damn did I really sleep in my jeans? Ah, there it is.\r\n\r\n\u201cHey Andy, what\u2019s up?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI got your text from last night. It sounded bad. I just started my break, wanna come down to the caf\u00e9?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cSure. Give me like ten minutes.\u201d\r\n\r\nI push off my comforter and change into another pair of jeans. I must\u2019ve 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\u2019t even remember going to bed that late last night, unless\u2013 of course. That familiar sinking feeling in my chest sets in as I remember the girl.\r\n\r\nI throw on my university sweatshirt, brush my teeth, and head out. The walk to the caf\u00e9 is only a couple of minutes, but I spend each of those minutes recalling what an asshole I was last night. She\u2019s probably woken up, seen that little pink sticky note, and realized I\u2019m a complete jerk. I never meant to be, though. It always seems like it\u2019s 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\u2019s no hope for any kind of relationship. Even if I want one more than anything. I\u2019m 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<\/em>. It would be great, but I just can\u2019t feel those things, no matter how hard I wish I could.\r\n\r\nWhen I get there, the caf\u00e9 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.\r\n\r\nI sit across from him and pull the coffee toward myself, taking a sip. I don\u2019t know if it\u2019s my lack of sleep or the fact that I haven\u2019t eaten since 5 pm last night, but this coffee is fucking incredible. \u201cSo, I\u2019m guessing the blind date didn\u2019t go so well last night considering you picked up a morning shift.\u201d\r\n\r\nAndy 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cSo, what was the deal with you last night? You sounded kinda\u2026 depressed, when you texted me.\u201d Andy looks up at me over his straw. I grab my notebook and pass it over. He knows the drill.\r\n\r\nI 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cMan, I honestly don\u2019t know.\u201d Andy slides the notebook back over to me.\r\n\r\nI lean on it with my elbows and tip my head down toward the table. \u201cWhat should I do? I feel like I\u2019m missing something. Something important, and I can\u2019t seem to figure out how to live without it without feeling sad all the time.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cTheo, I really don\u2019t know what to tell you. I don\u2019t think I can help. You\u2019ve been doing this sleeping around thing for a while and it doesn\u2019t seem to be doing anything except making you feel worse.\u201d\r\n\r\nHe\u2019s right. I nod and return to watching the masses of people continue to march by.\r\n\r\nAndy takes a sip of his iced coffee.\u00a0 \u201cMaybe 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\u2019t help you solve this, but you can try and distract yourself.\u201d\r\n\r\nMaybe I should. The semester\u2019s 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cI\u2019ll figure something out. Thanks, though.\u201d\r\n\r\nAndy stands to toss out the empty cups; his break is almost over. When he comes back, I can\u2019t help but ask again.\r\n\r\n\u201cSo how was the date last night?\u201d\r\n\r\nHe rolls his eyes. Oh boy.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe longest two hours of my entire life. She kept talking about how The Bachelor<\/em> is demeaning to women because they shouldn\u2019t be made to compete for a single shitty guy\u2019s attention.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cOkay\u2026 but she\u2019s right.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYeah, she\u2019s right, but that doesn\u2019t mean I want to talk about it for forty-five minutes straight. I mean, analyzing shitty relationships doesn\u2019t really set the mood for a first date. Also, she put ketchup on her salmon. I almost vomited.\u201d\r\n\r\nI hear a loud bang from the back of the caf\u00e9 and see another employee in a blue apron poke her head out the door.\r\n\r\n\u201cHey, Anderson? Can you give me a hand?\u201d\r\n\r\nHe 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.\r\n

===<\/p>\r\nOh 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cHello?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cTheodore Griffin?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYes?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThis is the New York Community Hospital. There\u2019s 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.\u201d\r\n\r\nShit, I remember Andy asking me if I could be his emergency contact after the falling out with his parents. I never thought I\u2019d actually get a call.\r\n\r\n\u201cOkay, thank you, ma\u2019am.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe hospital staff hangs up, and I\u2019m left staring at my phone screen wondering what the fuck just happened.\r\n

===<\/p>\r\n\u201cAndy? Where did you throw that one blanket?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThe one with the purple stripes? It\u2019s on the floor by the TV.\u201d\r\n\r\nI walk over to the TV and pick the blanket up, shaking the wrinkles out. I take it into the small bedroom attached to Andy\u2019s 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\u2019s wheelchair as he tugs on the wheels, attempting to move.\r\n\r\n\u201cBro, you gotta unlock it. Otherwise, you\u2019re stuck.\u201d\r\n\r\nI 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cFuck,\u201d Andy mumbles. \u201cHey Theo?\u201d\r\n\r\nI 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cWell, I guess you\u2019re not having cereal.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cShut up,\u201d he says, hiding his amusement.\r\n\r\nAfter 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\u2019t shown to Andy.\r\n\r\nparalyzed. paralyzed. paralyzed. paralyzed. maybe if i write it enough times it won\u2019t look like a word anymore. maybe if i write it enough times it won\u2019t be a thing anymore. maybe it won\u2019t 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.<\/em>\r\n\r\nThat was three months ago. He\u2019s doing better now, but he\u2019s 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\u2019s getting happier though, a little less defeated than he was in the beginning. My phone alarm goes off and I check the time.\r\n\r\n\u201cAndy, guess what time it is\u2026\u201d\r\n\r\nI hear a groan from the living room.\r\n\r\n\u201cIt\u2019s physical therapy time!\u201d\r\n\r\nI laugh as a pillow suddenly flies through the hallway and past my door.\r\n\r\nThis wasn\u2019t exactly the distraction I had in mind all those months ago, but it\u2019s been nice to focus on our friendship.\r\n

===<\/p>\r\nthings are a bit better now. i mean, i\u2019m 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\u2019t 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.<\/em>\r\n\r\nI 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\u2019s been getting stronger lately, the physical therapy helping him to be a little more independent. I think he\u2019s enjoying that, needing less help.\r\n\r\nI hate feeling as though I\u2019m babying him, like I\u2019ve 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.\r\n\r\nI 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\u2019s 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.\r\n\r\nI 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.\r\n

===<\/p>\r\nI 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cAndy, man, you up? I\u2019m gonna get some Lucky Charms, do you want some?\u201d\r\n\r\nI turn the corner to find Andy lying face down on the living room floor right beside the couch.\r\n\r\n\u201cShit.\u201d\r\n\r\nI get down beside him on the floor and flip him over, checking to see if he\u2019s breathing.\r\n\r\n\u201cShit, Andy. Wake up, man.\u201d\r\n\r\nHe\u2019s breathing. Okay. His eyes are still closed but he doesn\u2019t look peaceful. He looks like he\u2019s 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.\r\n

===<\/p>\r\n\u201cHe\u2019ll be okay, there are no complications with his current condition. However, he\u2019ll likely have a bit of soreness from the impact of the fall.\u201d\r\n\r\nI 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\u2019s okay. I don\u2019t 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\u2019s bed.\r\n\r\n\u201cHow\u2019re you doing, man?\u201d\r\n\r\nHe gives me an amused look and laughs.\r\n\r\n\u201cI mean, I rolled off the couch directly onto my face. I\u2019ve been better.\u201d\r\n\r\nHe 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.\r\n

===<\/p>\r\nandy\u2019s been acting strange since his visit to the hospital. he\u2019s still talking to me, but he doesn\u2019t seem to want to. maybe the hospital trip embarrassed him. he probably didn\u2019t like that i had to call an ambulance. i don\u2019t know. but it worries me. he doesn\u2019t 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 caf\u00e9 have vanished, and all that\u2019s left is me. if he pushes me away he might be left completely in the dark, and i don\u2019t think anyone could possibly manage that on their own. damn it, andy. i\u2019ve nearly lost you too many times. i couldn\u2019t handle it if i lost you like this.<\/em>\r\n

===<\/p>\r\nI 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\u2019s past 7 pm, but I don\u2019t see any dishes in the sink and the dishwasher isn\u2019t running. Andy must not have eaten yet. I walk into the living room and see him sitting in his wheelchair, watching TV.\r\n\r\n\u201cHey man, if you haven\u2019t eaten yet I can call for some takeout. What do you want?\u201d\r\n\r\nHe doesn\u2019t turn toward me, just keeps watching the TV.\r\n\r\n\u201cI don\u2019t care. Whatever you want, Theo.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI chose last time. Where do you want to order from?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI said I don\u2019t care. Whatever you want.\u201d\r\n\r\nHis tone takes me by surprise. Sure, he\u2019s been pissed off at me over dumb shit before, but he\u2019s never been passive-aggressive like this.\r\n\r\n\u201cHey, what\u2019s wrong? I texted and said I had a late class today. I thought we could just get some food and watch the SNL<\/em> episode I recorded. Is something up?\u201d\r\n\r\nHe 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cFUCK!\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAndy, it\u2019s okay, I\u2019ll go get the broom. Go back into the living room and I\u2019ll make something for dinner if you don\u2019t want takeout.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNo, Theo, stop. I\u2019m fine.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNo, you\u2019re not fine. What\u2019s going on?\u201d\r\n\r\nHe 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.\r\n\r\n\u201cTalk to me.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cFuck off, Theo. Let go of me. It\u2019s not your job to baby me all the time.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cOkay. But if you need someone to talk to, I\u2019m here.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBut it\u2019s not your problem, it\u2019s mine. This is my life, and it isn\u2019t going to change. You shouldn\u2019t have to deal with it.\u201d\r\n\r\nI stare at him in disbelief.\r\n\r\n\u201cI want to be here, Andy. I want to help. You\u2019re the one who suddenly doesn\u2019t want anyone helping.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBecause I\u2019m 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.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis stops me dead. Charity case? Is that why he thinks I stuck with him all this time? Out of pity?\r\n\r\n\u201cAndy, I\u2019m doing great in school. The only time I wasn\u2019t was when you got hurt, and I couldn\u2019t fucking focus because I wasn\u2019t sure whether or not you\u2019d be okay\u2013\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI\u2019m fine.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAndy, please don\u2019t push me away, man. You are getting better but you can\u2019t just isolate yourself from the world. You\u2019re allowed to need help. It\u2019s okay to rely on people.\u201d\r\n\r\nI 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\u2019m with him. How I want to protect him. Is this what it feels like? Is this what \u201clove\u201d feels like? Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my backpack beside the fridge. My backpack. My notebook. I probably wouldn\u2019t even be here if Andy hadn\u2019t found my notebook that day. If he hadn\u2019t read my thoughts when my depression was at its worst.\r\n\r\n\u201cDo you remember that day you found my notebook? The bad day?\u201d\r\n\r\nHis expression softens.\r\n\r\n\u201cYeah\u2026\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cEven though I hated you for it, you got me help. I didn\u2019t want it. But you knew that I needed it.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cOkay\u2026 what does that have to do with this?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cIt made you feel better knowing that if you helped me, eventually I would be better off. That I wouldn\u2019t die. Right?\u201d\r\n\r\nHe stares at the floor. He won\u2019t look up at me.\r\n\r\n\u201cAndy, you are my best friend and you kept me alive. You continue to do that every day. Now it\u2019s my turn.\u201d\r\n\r\nHe finally looks up from the tile floor, his eyes full. Goddamn. Did I make him cry?\r\n\r\n\u201cAw, shit, man. Don\u2019t get all emotional on me now.\u201d\r\n\r\nAndy laughs and runs his hand over his face.\r\n\r\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry. For yelling. And for not realizing.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI understand how hard it\u2019s been. You\u2019re allowed to be frustrated. Just know that I love you and that\u2019s why I\u2019m here.\u201d\r\n\r\nHe looks at me for a second, his brow furrowed.\r\n\r\n\u201cRelax, Andy, I\u2019m not gonna make out with you or anything.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cShut up, Theo,\u201d he grins, \u201cI\u2019m too cute for you anyway.\u201d\r\n

===<\/p>\r\ni\u2019ve been doing better lately. so has andy. we\u2019ve just been rolling along and it\u2019s kinda nice. i haven\u2019t been thinking about that empty feeling as much, and i haven\u2019t slept anywhere except for my little bed in andy\u2019s 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\u2019m beginning to feel kind of okay with that.<\/em>\r\n\r\nit\u2019s a start.","rendered":"

Thanks for the great night. I don\u2019t think we should see each other again, though. Sorry.<\/em> God, I really hate doing this. She was nice, too. Interesting, and intelligent, and really, really pretty. But I can\u2019t do this to her. If there\u2019s a second date, there\u2019ll be a second night and then this will be a thing and that\u2019s cruel. I can\u2019t do that to someone knowing it can\u2019t possibly work out. I thought I could change this about myself, but I can\u2019t.<\/p>\n

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\u2019ll wake up to find completely empty tomorrow morning. I\u2019m 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.<\/p>\n

One by one, the streetlights outside bounce off the faded plastic bus seat in front of me. It\u2019s giving me a headache. I just want to go to bed. It\u2019s 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\u2019t 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.<\/p>\n

i can\u2019t seem to get it. why do i have to be like this. this big mess of feelings and yet i can\u2019t seem to feel anything. at all. i just want what others have; that simple, pure attraction that makes your heart feel as though it\u2019s 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.<\/em><\/p>\n

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\u2019ll sleep this feeling off like a hangover.<\/p>\n

===<\/p>\n

Shit. Where\u2019d my phone go? I can hear it buzzing but where is it? Damn did I really sleep in my jeans? Ah, there it is.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey Andy, what\u2019s up?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI got your text from last night. It sounded bad. I just started my break, wanna come down to the caf\u00e9?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure. Give me like ten minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n

I push off my comforter and change into another pair of jeans. I must\u2019ve 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\u2019t even remember going to bed that late last night, unless\u2013 of course. That familiar sinking feeling in my chest sets in as I remember the girl.<\/p>\n

I throw on my university sweatshirt, brush my teeth, and head out. The walk to the caf\u00e9 is only a couple of minutes, but I spend each of those minutes recalling what an asshole I was last night. She\u2019s probably woken up, seen that little pink sticky note, and realized I\u2019m a complete jerk. I never meant to be, though. It always seems like it\u2019s 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\u2019s no hope for any kind of relationship. Even if I want one more than anything. I\u2019m 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<\/em>. It would be great, but I just can\u2019t feel those things, no matter how hard I wish I could.<\/p>\n

When I get there, the caf\u00e9 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.<\/p>\n

I sit across from him and pull the coffee toward myself, taking a sip. I don\u2019t know if it\u2019s my lack of sleep or the fact that I haven\u2019t eaten since 5 pm last night, but this coffee is fucking incredible. \u201cSo, I\u2019m guessing the blind date didn\u2019t go so well last night considering you picked up a morning shift.\u201d<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, what was the deal with you last night? You sounded kinda\u2026 depressed, when you texted me.\u201d Andy looks up at me over his straw. I grab my notebook and pass it over. He knows the drill.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\u201cMan, I honestly don\u2019t know.\u201d Andy slides the notebook back over to me.<\/p>\n

I lean on it with my elbows and tip my head down toward the table. \u201cWhat should I do? I feel like I\u2019m missing something. Something important, and I can\u2019t seem to figure out how to live without it without feeling sad all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTheo, I really don\u2019t know what to tell you. I don\u2019t think I can help. You\u2019ve been doing this sleeping around thing for a while and it doesn\u2019t seem to be doing anything except making you feel worse.\u201d<\/p>\n

He\u2019s right. I nod and return to watching the masses of people continue to march by.<\/p>\n

Andy takes a sip of his iced coffee.\u00a0 \u201cMaybe 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\u2019t help you solve this, but you can try and distract yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

Maybe I should. The semester\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll figure something out. Thanks, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

Andy stands to toss out the empty cups; his break is almost over. When he comes back, I can\u2019t help but ask again.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo how was the date last night?\u201d<\/p>\n

He rolls his eyes. Oh boy.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe longest two hours of my entire life. She kept talking about how The Bachelor<\/em> is demeaning to women because they shouldn\u2019t be made to compete for a single shitty guy\u2019s attention.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay\u2026 but she\u2019s right.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, she\u2019s right, but that doesn\u2019t mean I want to talk about it for forty-five minutes straight. I mean, analyzing shitty relationships doesn\u2019t really set the mood for a first date. Also, she put ketchup on her salmon. I almost vomited.\u201d<\/p>\n

I hear a loud bang from the back of the caf\u00e9 and see another employee in a blue apron poke her head out the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Anderson? Can you give me a hand?\u201d<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

===<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTheodore Griffin?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is the New York Community Hospital. There\u2019s 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.\u201d<\/p>\n

Shit, I remember Andy asking me if I could be his emergency contact after the falling out with his parents. I never thought I\u2019d actually get a call.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, thank you, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n

The hospital staff hangs up, and I\u2019m left staring at my phone screen wondering what the fuck just happened.<\/p>\n

===<\/p>\n

\u201cAndy? Where did you throw that one blanket?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe one with the purple stripes? It\u2019s on the floor by the TV.\u201d<\/p>\n

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\u2019s 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\u2019s wheelchair as he tugs on the wheels, attempting to move.<\/p>\n

\u201cBro, you gotta unlock it. Otherwise, you\u2019re stuck.\u201d<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck,\u201d Andy mumbles. \u201cHey Theo?\u201d<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I guess you\u2019re not having cereal.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShut up,\u201d he says, hiding his amusement.<\/p>\n

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\u2019t shown to Andy.<\/p>\n

paralyzed. paralyzed. paralyzed. paralyzed. maybe if i write it enough times it won\u2019t look like a word anymore. maybe if i write it enough times it won\u2019t be a thing anymore. maybe it won\u2019t 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.<\/em><\/p>\n

That was three months ago. He\u2019s doing better now, but he\u2019s 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\u2019s getting happier though, a little less defeated than he was in the beginning. My phone alarm goes off and I check the time.<\/p>\n

\u201cAndy, guess what time it is\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

I hear a groan from the living room.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s physical therapy time!\u201d<\/p>\n

I laugh as a pillow suddenly flies through the hallway and past my door.<\/p>\n

This wasn\u2019t exactly the distraction I had in mind all those months ago, but it\u2019s been nice to focus on our friendship.<\/p>\n

===<\/p>\n

things are a bit better now. i mean, i\u2019m 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\u2019t 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.<\/em><\/p>\n

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\u2019s been getting stronger lately, the physical therapy helping him to be a little more independent. I think he\u2019s enjoying that, needing less help.<\/p>\n

I hate feeling as though I\u2019m babying him, like I\u2019ve 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.<\/p>\n

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\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

===<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\u201cAndy, man, you up? I\u2019m gonna get some Lucky Charms, do you want some?\u201d<\/p>\n

I turn the corner to find Andy lying face down on the living room floor right beside the couch.<\/p>\n

\u201cShit.\u201d<\/p>\n

I get down beside him on the floor and flip him over, checking to see if he\u2019s breathing.<\/p>\n

\u201cShit, Andy. Wake up, man.\u201d<\/p>\n

He\u2019s breathing. Okay. His eyes are still closed but he doesn\u2019t look peaceful. He looks like he\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n

===<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019ll be okay, there are no complications with his current condition. However, he\u2019ll likely have a bit of soreness from the impact of the fall.\u201d<\/p>\n

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\u2019s okay. I don\u2019t 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\u2019s bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019re you doing, man?\u201d<\/p>\n

He gives me an amused look and laughs.<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean, I rolled off the couch directly onto my face. I\u2019ve been better.\u201d<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

===<\/p>\n

andy\u2019s been acting strange since his visit to the hospital. he\u2019s still talking to me, but he doesn\u2019t seem to want to. maybe the hospital trip embarrassed him. he probably didn\u2019t like that i had to call an ambulance. i don\u2019t know. but it worries me. he doesn\u2019t 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 caf\u00e9 have vanished, and all that\u2019s left is me. if he pushes me away he might be left completely in the dark, and i don\u2019t think anyone could possibly manage that on their own. damn it, andy. i\u2019ve nearly lost you too many times. i couldn\u2019t handle it if i lost you like this.<\/em><\/p>\n

===<\/p>\n

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\u2019s past 7 pm, but I don\u2019t see any dishes in the sink and the dishwasher isn\u2019t running. Andy must not have eaten yet. I walk into the living room and see him sitting in his wheelchair, watching TV.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey man, if you haven\u2019t eaten yet I can call for some takeout. What do you want?\u201d<\/p>\n

He doesn\u2019t turn toward me, just keeps watching the TV.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care. Whatever you want, Theo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI chose last time. Where do you want to order from?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI said I don\u2019t care. Whatever you want.\u201d<\/p>\n

His tone takes me by surprise. Sure, he\u2019s been pissed off at me over dumb shit before, but he\u2019s never been passive-aggressive like this.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, what\u2019s wrong? I texted and said I had a late class today. I thought we could just get some food and watch the SNL<\/em> episode I recorded. Is something up?\u201d<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\u201cFUCK!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAndy, it\u2019s okay, I\u2019ll go get the broom. Go back into the living room and I\u2019ll make something for dinner if you don\u2019t want takeout.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Theo, stop. I\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you\u2019re not fine. What\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\u201cTalk to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck off, Theo. Let go of me. It\u2019s not your job to baby me all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay. But if you need someone to talk to, I\u2019m here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut it\u2019s not your problem, it\u2019s mine. This is my life, and it isn\u2019t going to change. You shouldn\u2019t have to deal with it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stare at him in disbelief.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want to be here, Andy. I want to help. You\u2019re the one who suddenly doesn\u2019t want anyone helping.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I\u2019m 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.\u201d<\/p>\n

This stops me dead. Charity case? Is that why he thinks I stuck with him all this time? Out of pity?<\/p>\n

\u201cAndy, I\u2019m doing great in school. The only time I wasn\u2019t was when you got hurt, and I couldn\u2019t fucking focus because I wasn\u2019t sure whether or not you\u2019d be okay\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAndy, please don\u2019t push me away, man. You are getting better but you can\u2019t just isolate yourself from the world. You\u2019re allowed to need help. It\u2019s okay to rely on people.\u201d<\/p>\n

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\u2019m with him. How I want to protect him. Is this what it feels like? Is this what \u201clove\u201d feels like? Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my backpack beside the fridge. My backpack. My notebook. I probably wouldn\u2019t even be here if Andy hadn\u2019t found my notebook that day. If he hadn\u2019t read my thoughts when my depression was at its worst.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you remember that day you found my notebook? The bad day?\u201d<\/p>\n

His expression softens.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEven though I hated you for it, you got me help. I didn\u2019t want it. But you knew that I needed it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay\u2026 what does that have to do with this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt made you feel better knowing that if you helped me, eventually I would be better off. That I wouldn\u2019t die. Right?\u201d<\/p>\n

He stares at the floor. He won\u2019t look up at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cAndy, you are my best friend and you kept me alive. You continue to do that every day. Now it\u2019s my turn.\u201d<\/p>\n

He finally looks up from the tile floor, his eyes full. Goddamn. Did I make him cry?<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, shit, man. Don\u2019t get all emotional on me now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Andy laughs and runs his hand over his face.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry. For yelling. And for not realizing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI understand how hard it\u2019s been. You\u2019re allowed to be frustrated. Just know that I love you and that\u2019s why I\u2019m here.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looks at me for a second, his brow furrowed.<\/p>\n

\u201cRelax, Andy, I\u2019m not gonna make out with you or anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShut up, Theo,\u201d he grins, \u201cI\u2019m too cute for you anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

===<\/p>\n

i\u2019ve been doing better lately. so has andy. we\u2019ve just been rolling along and it\u2019s kinda nice. i haven\u2019t been thinking about that empty feeling as much, and i haven\u2019t slept anywhere except for my little bed in andy\u2019s 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\u2019m beginning to feel kind of okay with that.<\/em><\/p>\n

it\u2019s a start.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":114,"menu_order":5,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":["meghan-dewar"],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[50],"contributor":[77],"license":[],"class_list":["post-191","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless","contributor-meghan-dewar"],"part":77,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/191","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/114"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/191\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":275,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/191\/revisions\/275"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/77"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/191\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=191"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=191"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=191"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.upei.ca\/artsreview-xii\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=191"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}