Three Little Birds

Wednesday Pt. 1

By the time Tuesday night rolled around, Mykel's depression of the following day's anniversary had set firmly.

Unlike he had the previous week, or even the previous night, when he came home he was devoid of any smile, any jovial moods, and to say he was laconic that night was to say he was talking too much. 

We heard him open the front door, Liz and I, engaged as we were in our nightly cooking lesson. We each gave pause, her mid-instruction, myself in mid-application, and we shared a glance at one another. 

We had earlier discussed our theories on how tonight was going to turn out. Liz had more of a hypothesis than I, being as how she'd been there each of the five years previous.

He came into the kitchen, as customary, and grabbed a drink before turning to Liz. 

"I'm not really hungry. I'm gonna go lie down for a bit."

His eyes were downcast, looking through the bottle of Simply apple juice he held in his hand, then he turned and stalked from the room. He never once made eye contact with me.

I sighed lightly, exhaling through my nostrils before turning back to Liz. 

"Well...that was more than I thought he'd say." She looked sadly in the direction he had gone. Upstairs I could faintly hear the sound of the door click into its closed position.

Liz and I ate our dinner in heavy silence, each listening with our ears bent around the corner for sounds coming from Mykel's room. We heard nothing. And somehow that scared me more than if he had have been throwing things and shattering his belongings.

It was more than an hour later that I finally gained up the courage to heat him a plate of dinner and bring it to him.

I knocked twice, soft and unobtrusive. Loud enough that if he was awake he would hear, and low enough not to disturb him if he had fallen asleep.

He opened the door slowly, his eyes reddened and swollen. He still had not looked at me, his eyes focused on the floor under our feet.

"I brought you some dinner," I whispered to him, lifting the plate that I had slightly. I smiled in an awkward discomfort, not knowing what to do. 

I had convinced Liz to allow me to take the food to him. She was dubious to say the least, having been screamed at, cursed at, ignored completely. Had his anger fully thrown at her in full flames of glory. But I honestly had no concern over him hurting me physically, and any emotional damage I might incur, well, I would take my chances and sort it out later.

"I'm not hungry." He walked away leaving the door open in invitation. I followed shutting the door quietly behind me. I set the tinfoil-wrapped plate alongside the apple juice. It had been left untouched, condensation dripping down the plastic bottle.

He sat on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting against his knees. I sat on the floor at his feet, my crossed legs drawn up and resting against his shins. I placed my hand gently over his. Under mine his hands were clasped so tightly that I could see the white in his knuckles between my fingers.

I could feel the slight, but constant ripples vibrating through his body where my legs touched his. I looked into his face and could see the repressed pain that seeped through the cracks of the mask he had cloaked himself with.

I ran my hands slowly up his forearms before going back down again, repeating this a few times. His skin was cold. Too cold for the temperature of the room.

"Is...is it really my fault, Mattie? Did I kill him?" His voice was hoarse, raw emotions failing to be hidden. Liz had told me that he had never shown any emotion about Kaiden's death but to her.

Even as children they had been exceptionally close, confiding in each other even their deepest fears.

The question took me off guard but I considered the answer.

"Do I think it's your fault? No. But what really matters, Mykel is why you think it's your fault."

He looked at me then, his eyes red and brimming, but tears unshed. He looked then to his right, staring hard at the top drawer in his nightstand. 

Slowly I opened the drawer, revealing a folded piece of paper. A feeling of foreboding engulfed me as I picked it up and unfolded it. But the wear and tear of the edges informed me that it had been unfolded and refolded many times over the years.

The slight wet splotches that dotted the page informed he had read it recently. I read silently, the words pouring over me, searing my flesh as if gripping hot coals, and I could see. I understood his perception of blame, but it is not what I gathered from Kaiden's final words.

How can I explain to you the madness that plagues my mind? I hoped that you would see how much I needed you tonight. I couldn't ask. I couldn't reach out. 

As the door shut behind you I knew that I was holding you back. Like I've always held you back. Since we were kids. 

I don't blame you for leaving tonight, despite what you'll think once you come home. 

I just can't do this. I can't feel alone anymore. I can't handle the feeling of my father's fists anymore. I'll never be anything but a punching bag to him. He was right. I'm nothing. I've always been nothing. And I can't stop the creeping darkness anymore. I know you've been worried, I've seen it in your eyes when you look at me when you don't think I'm paying attention.

I can't keep crying myself to sleep at night wishing you'd wake up and hold me. Wishing I could wake you up to make the request. 

I'm sorry, Mykee. I'm sorry I couldn't be more for you. I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger for you. My only hope now is that you'll eventually move on. That you'll find someone who deserves you. Who can love you in ways I could only dream of. 

I do love you, Mykel. My whole life I've loved you. You and Liz are the only people in my life that ever really cared. Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her I love her and that she's the best sister I could have ever hoped for.

I love you. Please don't forget me. When you find love and are finally happy...think of me sometimes. 

You're the only light I ever had in my life. The only real love I ever knew. My only regret is that you'll never really understand my motives. I'm sorry, Mykee. I love you. More than you'll ever know. 

Please don't hate me.

I folded the sheet of paper gently as if it were a great treasure, fragile and bound to shatter if handled too carelessly and placed it back in the drawer before slowly pushing it closed.

Liz had told me there hadn't been a note. Looking at him then I knew that I was the first person to read Kaiden's final goodbye. For six years he had kept this a secret and he could bear it alone no longer. 

He took a shaky breath and ran his hands over his face, hiding in a faux pas moment of solitary to gather himself.

"I shouldn't have left that night. I should have seen how close he was to the edge. I was so wrapped up in the surface matter at hand I couldn't see how much he needed me.

"And what did I do? I walked out. I walked away. I left. And he f*****g died. If I hadn't had left...if...I used to think that I knew him better than anyone.

"That I could see his feelings even through the thickest mask..." He paused in his ramblings and wiped his eyes. "I failed him. I failed him in the most unforgivable way."

I nodded silently as he spoke, watching as he tried and failed to keep control of himself, playing with my fingers before linking together our hands once again. He did not want me to see him in such a state of vulnerability. But I could tell by his grip that he also did not want me to leave.

"Most people who commit suicide don't actually want to die. They just want the pain to end.

"He was in a lot of pain. That wasn't your fault. And sometimes no matter how much we love someone, the pain in our own heart, the scars that haunt us when we close our eyes...we can't escape the darkness. And sometimes it's too thick to fight through any longer."

He nodded and squeezed my hands, closing his eyes against my words, against the familiar tone of my voice. That knowing tone of experience.

"Did you...I mean...have you ever..."

"Yes. Well...almost. I was eight. My parents had left me in a pool of water on the bathroom floor. I had had enough. My sister found me as I was putting the blade I pulled from our mother's razor to my arm. I hadn't made that deep of a cut yet when she stopped me. I never tried it after that. She...ran away not too much longer after that. I haven't seen her since."

I kept my tone devoid of emotion even as I felt the pain pierce my heart at the mentioning of my past. Tonight was not about me or my pain, but about reducing his. 

"I'm glad you didn't. I'm glad she stopped you." He ran his thumb lightly over my knuckles as he spoke.

"Me, too," I said with every bit of sincerity I could muster.

"I've never shown anyone that...letter. I never told Liz about it. I...it's my own cross to bear."