This story is a work of fiction and all persons and events are the product of my imagination.
John and I had been friends for as long as I can remember. The group calls him little Johnny, just because he's so big, the beefy kind of guy, ya' know, the jock-ish type. He may look menacing to people that don't know him, but once you sit down and talk to him, you realizes he's the type of person that would do anything to make you happy, even if it means putting himself at a disadvantage.
I was born in southern California, but my dad grew up in a small town, and he wanted me to do the same, so when I was 3, we moved to Camden, South Carolina, which isn't far from Myrtle Beach, the tourist attraction. John and his family lived next door, so it was natural that we got to be friends. Our moms would take turns babysitting for each other, and we'd have sleep overs all the time. My parents were his second family, and his were mine, except that I never really saw much of his father. Over the years we became inseparable, but we gradually stopped hanging out at his house, and started doing more and more at my house. I'd ask him why every now and then, but he'd always just say that there was more to do at my house, so I let it go. At around the time we entered the fifth grade, he started sleeping over my house a lot, which was cool, because we were best friends, and that meant we had more time to hang out together. Every now and then, his mom would come over to get him, saying "I think you need to sleep over here tonight", and he would fight and cry, but he always ended up going home.
It's kind of funny how the things you know now are the things that you needed to know back then, when they really would have been useful. It took me a long time to realize that the mornings after he was made to go home he didn't show up for school, and that when he did come back, he didn't do much when we had free time in school. I'd just go over to him and talk to him, assuming that he wasn't feeling good. The pattern of the going home fights and the day after absenteeism went on for about a year before I asked what was going on. But the second I asked, the tears welled up in his eyes and he curled up into a ball on by bed. We sat there for a good fifteen minutes, me trying to get him to talk and him rocking back and forth sobbing, before he even said a word. He told me all about his dad's drinking, about how his mom could usually keep him calm, and about the times he had gone home and either he or his mother had been beaten by his father. We just sat there on my bed, and I holding Johnny in my arm telling him that everything would be ok. From that day on, I had decided that I was going to do everything in my power to keep Johnny from being hurt. It seemed that he was more fragile than he appeared.
But the knowledge of what was happening to Johnny took a serious toll on me, and the fear I felt for him ate away at me every moment of my waking day. I decided that to make things ok again, to protect Johnny, I had to tell someone. I went to the most powerful person I knew of, the atomic bomb of my arsenal, my mother. Usually when I go to talk to her about something, I beat around the bush a little and she had to drag it out of me, but this time I was getting down to business. I told her everything that Johnny had told me, and watched tears run down her cheeks as I finished explaining what I had heard. When everything was said and done, she reached out and hugged and kissed me a couple of times, like it was her how was abusing me, and she was apologizing for it. "I love you so much, do you know that?" she said, "And you are so brave for telling me. We're going to make sure that Johnny and Helen are safe, and this will never happen ever again."
That day my dad came home early because my mother had called him at work. They sat down at the table and started talking about what they could do to help, strategizing, and reformulating their plans over and over again. After a while they went to Johnny's, and brought him and his mom back over our house. Johnny and I were sent up to my room and my parents talked to Mrs. Helen for a long time. We were supposed to be playing, but Johnny and I both knew what was going on, so we listened at the bottom of the stairs to what was being said. Johnny cried quietly the whole time.
It turned out that Mrs. Helen had already filed for divorce, but when her husband found out he beat her to a bloody pulp and then started on Johnny. She let Johnny stay over as often as she could so his father couldn't get to him, but when his father asked why he wasn't home, she had to come and get him so his father wouldn't get made. My parents called the police, and Mrs. Helen made a claim of spousal and child abuse over the phone, but the police needed proof. Mrs. Helen asked if my dad would go down to the station with her so that the police could see the scars and bruises left by her husband and they left immediately. That was a scariest night of my life. We locked the doors and closed the blinds, preparing for when Johnny's dad came home. Dad and Mrs. Helen were at the police station for a long time, but when they came home, they brought the police with them. The police found Johnny's dad drunk and passed out on their living room floor, and they took him off to jail. Johnny and his mom had to go to court and testify, but we were there for them the whole time.
That was a rough year for them, for all of us really. Mrs. Helen had to go out and find work, but they were always over our house, eating dinner or playing board games with us, so I guess we had a little bit of fun. Johnny never heard from his dad after that. My parents said the when he got out of jail he moved to the other side of the country, but I'm still o the lookout for him to this very day.
Middle school and most of high school went by pretty smoothly. Johnny and I got closer and closer, if that's even possible. We were almost connected at the hip. We had the same classes, ate at the same lunch table, and had the same friends. Senior Year was the year I met Colleen, the first girlfriend I had had since those little "dates" we had in 6th grade. I really liked spending time with her, she was funny, she was pretty, she loved animals, and she really liked Johnny, which was one of the most important things to me. Our relationship was kind of funny though. There was something there, or something that wasn't there that made it feel kind of awkward. She didn't seem to notice it though.
That was about the same time that Johnny started to get quiet. He was always there by my side, but he didn't say as much with Colleen around as he did before. I'd kiss Colleen in the hallway, and Johnny would kind of shrink back, kind of fold into himself in a way I can't even describe. It occurred to me that he might be jealous of me, that maybe he liked Colleen too; after all, we were like the same person. I made a mental note to talk to him about it, but that sort of thing doesn't work out for me very well, and I forgot about it.
That thing, whatever it was, was really getting to me, really messing up my concentration. Over the next couple of months I tried every chance I had to intensify my relationship with her. I held her hand every time I walked with her, kissed her when we parted ways, and called her every night before Johnny came over. What ever it was, it wasn't going away, if anything, it was getting stronger. I decided I was going to pull out the big guns, and take her to a special spot. Johnny and I used to go up on the roof of the science building and sit on the ledge during classes we really hated. I took her up there with my backpack full of our favorite food, and watched the stars come out. We made out in the darkness, the empty feeling in my stomach getting bigger by the second. We fell asleep on the roof top and woke up to a beautiful sunrise in the east.
I dreaded getting on the school buss that morning, because I knew Johnny would be hurt when he found out where Colleen and I had been. But I was really surprised when he wasn't on the bus. I think that was the first time in 3 years that I hadn't seen Johnny on the bus and didn't know where he was. I called Mrs. Helen on my cell phone, but she said that she didn't know where Johnny was. As far as she knew, Johnny was on his way to school. That got me really worried. He never disappeared like that, not without telling anyone, least of all me.
I got to school and search around the school, looking in all of our favorite spots to hang out, but I couldn't find him anywhere. I was in the Quad on my second round of the school, when I heard the yelling. Over by the science wing, people were standing around yelling up towards the roof. I ran over there to se what was going on, and that's when I saw him. Johnny was standing on the edge of the roof, his back facing us, his arms out like he was being crucified. Before I could even get a word out to him, to try and stop him, he leaned back and fell through the air. I could see it happening, but it was like I was watching it happen in slow motion from a mile away, but I could see every detail of his body, of his cloths, of his face as he fell through the air. I saw the tears fly from his face, his eyes closed, and he hit the ground.
My heart broke at that very moment. I felt like my chest was collapsing in on it's self, and I could barely breath. I remember pushing through the crowd, knocking people to the ground trying to get to him. I got to the inner circle that was surrounding him, and broke through to the center. Everyone was just standing there, afraid to do anything, afraid to even touch him, but my fear couldn't stop me from getting to him.
I knelt down beside his limp body, scooped him up into my arms, and cried. I remember somewhere amidst the crying I yelled for an ambulance, not realizing in my grief that one was already on its way. His left arm twitched a couple of times and I had never hoped for something so much as I hoped then that he was still alive. I felt the eyes of everyone in the crowd watching me as I sat there rocking him in my arms, screaming to him "Don't leave me Johnny, please don't go!"
The ambulance came and it took help from the people in the crowd to peal me away from Johnny. I remember knocking people to the ground, fighting the people who were taking Johnny away from me, and screaming as the ambulance rolled away without me in it. Colleen fought her way thought the crowd, grabbed my arm hard, and pulled me to her car. The wheels spun on the gravel of the parking lot as we sped away, but I didn't hear it. I didn't feel her hand holding mine; I didn't feel the tears streaming down my face; I didn't feel the air rushing into my lungs as I hyperventilated. My world consisted of flashback after flashback of Johnny's flight through the air, of him hitting the ground, and his broken body lying in a circle of people who couldn't help him.
Colleen woke me out of my nightmare when she stopped in the emergency entrance circle, and I ran inside, knocking people out of my way. I reached the desk and almost couldn't think straight, but managed to ask here what had happened to Johnny. She told me that he had been rushed right into the emergency room and it would be several hours before I would hear anything about him. The gang came in and took me over to a chair and sat me down. They tried to tell me that Johnny would be ok, that the doctors would be able to save him, but I didn't hear any of it. I just sat there hugging my knees up against my chest, reliving my nightmare over and over again. I could see their mouths moving, and I watched them all shuffle around, taking turns trying to talk to me, but it was like watching a silent movie that you can't pay attention to. Thoughts flashed into my mind as I watched Johnny fall over and over again. What if he doesn't make it? What pushed him to do this? Was it me?
The time crept by slower that any time I can remember, but I didn't notice it at the time. It was dark outside by the time someone came out to talk to us, and by then almost half of the school had showed up, along with Mrs. Helen and my parents, and all but a few of us were asked to stand outside. The surgeon told us that they had been saved him, but the head trauma caused his brain to swell and he was in a coma. He wasn't breathing on his own, so he was on a ventilator, and he had broken his back, some ribs, an arm, and his legs, all of which were repaired without crucial damage. If Johnny ever woke up, he would be able to walk again, though he might need to use a cane for the rest of his life. The only thing we could do was wait.
My parents helped Mrs. Helen and I into the recovery room where Johnny was, and I remember blacking out when I saw him wrapped up in bandages with the tube down his throat. I woke up on the floor a few seconds later, my head pounding from the contact with the floor, but all I wanted was to see him. My dad picked me up and guided me over to sit next to Mrs. Helen at the side of Johnny's bed. There was a lot of crying that night, but none of us left that room. Someone was sent to tell everyone outside what was going on; I guess it was one of the nurses.
The next couple days I spent all of my time at the side of Johnny's bed, except to go to the bathroom I never left his side. I couldn't eat, and refused to go to sleep for fear that something might happen to him while I was out. Sleep overcame me though, and I found myself jerking my head off the side of Johnny's bed a couple of times.
After a week, my body gave out, and I found myself waking up on a cot in the corner of the room. My dad took me home with him so I could get cleaned up and get some sleep, but I couldn't handle not being at Johnny's side, and he finally brought me back to the hospital with a suitcase of my cloths. Two and a half weeks passed by with me living out of a suitcase at the hospital, eating the food people brought us, sometimes eating the hospital food, but not really eating much. My dad took Mrs. Helen home a couple of times so she could try and get some sleep, but I was always there, by his side, incase something happened.
Sometimes I slept on the cot, but mostly I slept in the chair by his bed.
I remember so clearly, the day that I truly knew that Johnny would be ok. I fell asleep talking to him like I had been doing for the past few days, and remember lifting my head up off the side of his bed, and straightening up in the chair after having slept for hours in a slumped position, but my hand was pinned down to the bed because Johnny's was laying overtop of mine. I wanted to jump up and tell everyone what had happened, that Johnny had woken up enough to grab my hand, but I also didn't want him to let go of my hand; of me. I decided that I could wait to tell the others when they came back in, but in the mean time, I was going to be there for him the only way I could at the time; I grabbed his hand, interlocked our fingers, and held on tight.
It was a few days after the hand incident that Johnny woke up, and you would have thought the US had won a war or something. People were running around talking to each other about what was happening with Johnny, and practically everyone came to the hospital to see him, but I was always there with him, by his side, incase he needed me.
Every couple of hour a nurse would come in and take a blood sample, or give an injection, and he would grab my hand when the needle came. He'd hold my hand tight when he got poked, and would let up when it was over, but he didn't always let go completely. It was kind of weird at first, just sitting there holding hands, but it was like "Hey, this is Johnny, my best friend. Who cares?" and the more we held hands, the more it hurt when he eventually let go.
Wait a minute! What? How is that right? What's going on here? When did I start feeling that way? Huh? I'm so confused!
I didn't know what was happening anymore. All I knew was that when I was there with him, everything was ok. It was like we were kids again, sleeping over at my house, talking and laughing and just having a good time together. But nothing could prevent me from having my nightmares, and I had them a lot. Every time I closed my eyes and wondered off I could see Johnny fall. He flew from that roof with the grace of the ballet, stars flying past him as he fell through space, until he shattered into a thousand pieces of glass on the sidewalk, the glitter-dust that was his form scattered to the wind. Always the same dream.
I had to know, it has killing me not knowing. Why? Why did he jump? But it wasn't in me to bring up that horrible subject. It turned out that I didn't have to.
A week after he had woken up, when everyone had left for food, Johnny asked me
"Do you know why I jumped?"
I felt my stomach shrivel up and tie itself in knots. I told him I thought it was because maybe he was jealous of me having Colleen, or because he was mad that I took her up to our secret spot, but that no, I didn't know why.
He sat there in bed looking down at his broken legs covered by the sheets. He knotted the cloth up in his fist, and spoke started to speak, but stopped before a sound came out.
"You can tell me, because whatever it is, it's ok. You know you can tell me; we're best friends, remember?"
With shaky voice he spoke.
"I didn't jump because I was mad about our spot, or because I was jealous of you having Colleen. The truth is, I was, and still am jealous of Colleen. I see her with you, and I see something that I can never have. I've loved you for longer than I can remember, and I wanted to tell you for the longest time, but I couldn't. It hurt so bad to see you two together and it got worst every day, until I just couldn't take it any more. I know it's kind of scary, and I'm sorry you had to find out, this way or any other. I know you and Colleen are together, and I'll be ok if you decide to go. It's not your fault. It's mine.
The tears were flowing down his face and were making his gown all wet, but he didn't look up, couldn't look up at me. He just stared down at his legs.
This was the moment of truth. I had to lay all of the cards out on the table and tell him how I felt. "Look at me." I said, but he didn't listen to me. "Look at me!" I said again, this time with a little more force. When he wouldn't look, I reached over and grabbed his chin, pulling his face to look into mine. He was flushed, and his eyes were red from crying.
"I don't really know what's been happening these past few weeks, and I don't really know why, but you're the most important thing in my life right now, and I have a feeling that it's going to be that way for a very long time. I've been confused as all hell these past few days, and I'm not sure, but I think I'm finally realizing that I love you, and I probably have for a while. I get something from being around you that I don't get from anyone else. And as far as Colleen goes, there was something about her that wasn't sitting right with me. It's been like that from the beginning. She and I can never have what you and I have, we just fit together, ya' know?
I love you." I said with my eyes welling up with tears. I could feel a smile crossing my face, the kind of smile that you get when you confess something that's been bothering you for a long time; A kind of nervous, but happy at the same time kind of smile.
I saw that same smile cross his face too, and we both just started laughing together. My laughter died down as the butterflies fluttered in my stomach again. I knew what I had to do. I got up from my seat, put one hand behind his head, and kissed him. This was no ordinary kiss though; this was a kiss that shook the earth were it stood; the deepest, most heartfelt kiss there ever was, and maybe ever will be. Unfortunately, it was also the kind of kiss that your parents walk in on; the kind of kiss that leave them rooted to the spot; the kind that no child ever wants their parents to see them having. But ours did.
It took a lot of explaining. I had never thought about how hard it would be to explain to my parents that I was gay, because it had never occurred to me that I might be. They didn't say much, didn't argue; didn't really do much of anything. I think they were shocked, as any parent would be, but I think that they were content that I had someone I cared about, and down the road they were probable glad that I was with someone they knew really well. I hoped that they could be happy for me, but it was my happiness that I really wanted, and I found it in Johnny.
Two months after the accident, or what ever you want to call it, Johnny and I returned to school, together. Yeah there was shock, and of course there was talk, but none of that mattered to us, at least not to me. Our friends stuck by our sides, and everything worked out ok.
After graduation, Johnny and I both went to New York State College and had a blast there. We went to parties, we went to bars, and we went to night clubs. We rolled with a few different crowds, and never hid what we felt from any of them, which is how it's supposed to be. Unfortunately, it caused some problems.
Johnny, the love of my life, made a run for some sodas during one of our late night study sessions, and was beaten to death by a gang of Straight Pride enthusiasts. Their ignorance, their blind hatred, took two lives that night. One was Johnny's, the other was mine.
Thank you so much for reading my story. Any comments can be sent to Johnny_Vengeance@yahoo.com