Almost Easy

“When we were seventeen, we were in a car accident. Ty had misjudged the distance on a turn and we ended up in a ditch; upside down. He broke a foot, his wrist, and cracked a rib. I broke three of my ribs, which made breathing near impossible. Anyway, we were sitting in the hospital, waiting for Ty’s casts to be put on and he looked me dead in the eye and said ‘everything would have been so much better if I’d just smashed my head’…” I took a deep breath. “That was the first time that I…I don’t know…understood, I guess. You know? Before then, I always knew that Tyler had some problems. He’d tried to commit suicide a couple of times…a lot of times…but for some reason it just never really clicked for me. You know, that he could…die. That he wanted to. We were so lucky to walk away with such minor injuries…but there he was, wishing he’d smash in his skull so he could have had an easy exit. It fucked me up for a long time. Hell, I’m still fucked up.”
While we were in Ohio, about a week into our tour, Austin had caught word that there was a journalist looking to get the scoop on our band. More specifically, on Tyler. I was remarkably hesitant at first. My last stint with the media specifically about Tyler had not boded well for anyone—I failed to see how this would be any different.
But then I met him. He was kind and sweet and honestly just loved Tyler. He said he wanted to write a book about the faces of depression and the effects it has on all of the people around said faces. His idea was compelling and he was respectful so I agreed.
For the hell of it, I dragged John along. Just in case I flew off the deep end—he held memories with Tyler too. He’d be a good sub-in should shit get weird.
“What was it like when he passed?” the journalist, Chase, asked carefully. “Walk me through it.”
I bit at my lip and picked at the tips of my fingers. I really hated talking about what I was going through—what I’d gone through…but I guess that was the whole point of the interview. I chalked it up to helpfulness. Not for this guy’s career, not for mine. But for someone else in the world that might be facing what I was dealt. Who might think it isn’t okay to ruin their apartment or to burn old pictures; or, alternatively, to accept what had happened. Fuck…to understand it.
I wanted to help someone.
“Well,” I started slowly. “I don’t typically make this stuff public but…I assume you know that I was there. At Tyler’s, I mean…the night he died.”
Chase’s face fell and it ran cocaine white, he shook his head real slow, “I didn’t know that.”
“Well,” I said again, trying to relax my shoulders. “That’s on the record.”
John reached out and grabbed my hand, wrapping it up into his. He squeezed once to let me know he was there.
“Do you mind taking me through it?” Chase asked.
I sighed, “We were recording all day. It wasn’t going well…it was just one of those days where nothing is working out the way you want it to—you’d rather be anywhere else. On those days, you’re presented with a choice: to stay and try and work through it, or to leave and come back to it later. I chose the latter.”
Chase was nodding, scribbling notes into his little blue book.
“Ty was pretty pissed about it,” I paused, Tyler’s angry facing coming back to me vividly.
He’d been so angry with me for leaving. For leaving with Brian. For leaving him there.
I blinked a couple times, “Sorry. Anyway, we had a fight, I guess. That was the last time that I saw him…alive, anyway.”
“What did you fight about?”
John squeezed my hand again. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.
“Brian,” I half-laughed to keep myself from crying. “The fight really isn’t important. Friends fight.”
“For sure,” Chase nodded. “What happened next?”
“I went out. I didn’t get home until late…and then I fucked around at home. I didn’t even know I had phone messages—maybe that’s a lie. Maybe I knew. I honestly don’t remember. The brain is a funny thing,” I paused, I’d made my finger bleed from picking at it so hard. “It blocks out the things you can’t handle remembering.”
Chase frowned.
“So, finally, I get around the checking my messages,” I continued, pushing my finger into my pants to stop the bleeding. “And they’re all from Tyler. There were four or five of them…they started out angry, then apologetic, and then…”
John squeezed extra hard this time. I looked at him and smiled. I was alright.
“Anyway,” I breathed. “Tyler and I had done that particular song and dance many times before. It wasn’t the first time he’d called me and left me cryptic and concerning messages. Fuck…it had happened for almost ten fucking years.”
I could feel it welling up in me. It was difficult to talk about Tyler. Sure, I’d somehow managed to numb my feelings about his passing—for the moment anyway. But to really sit back and reflect on our life together, it was…difficult.
“These messages were different though,” I finished, blinking rapidly to push back the tears. “So, I called the cops and I got myself to Tyler as fast as I could.”
“You know,” John said quietly. “He could have called one of us. He didn’t call me. I wish so badly that he’d called me.”
Chase considered this as John and I stared at each other in quiet consolation, “Was it normal that he’d only call you, Blair?”
I nodded, “He told me once that he was embarrassed of who he was. That if the others really knew what was going on…what had gone on…they might look at him differently. He didn’t want anyone to look at him like he was broken.”
“You know we wouldn’t have,” John defended lightly.
I nodded, “I know that. Tyler didn’t see it that way. It’s not an insult…it’s just…what it is.”
Chase waited until he was sure that John and I were done with our debate. John was saddened and it was obvious. I hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings or make him feel like less of a friend…he was important. I felt awful that I’d made him feel like he wasn’t.
“So what happened when you got to Tyler’s?” Chase began cautiously.
I took an extraordinarily deep breath, “Um…there were lights flashing everywhere. I mean, maybe I remember it differently than what it truly was but I just remember blue and red beating against the side of his building. I think I knew the second that I saw all of the lights…but I just…I couldn’t…I don’t know.”
The memory plagued me. Like a bad tattoo carved into my chest. Sometimes I’d catch a glimpse of it and its quality would torment me. It was all that I wanted, to have it removed or to have it covered up. Maybe in time it would be. But for a while, I’d just have to live with it as part of me. Even underneath a disguise, it would always be there.
“I climbed up the stairs to his floor…but I didn’t make it to his apartment,” I said aloud as I ran through it in my mind. “There were two police officers that blocked my way…one of them pulled me aside…honestly, this part is just a blur. I don’t remember what we talked about, I don’t remember what I was thinking…”
I was pushing myself to remember. But, like I’d wanted, it had hidden itself away in the deepest recesses of my mind. There it would live forever—one day I was sure it would creep out from the shadows and make a beast of itself in the light.
“I remember being outside,” I said then. “Looking up at the sky just…in awe of how many stars I could see. They were swirling around overhead…I felt so small. So fucking insignificant.”
John was hanging on my every word. He’d been let in on the gist of what had happened that night but I’d never gone into detail. I’d never told anyone what really happened except Brian…he was my secret keeper and he’d done me proud.
“Someone was talking to me,” I was focusing on the memory, trying to pull it forward and out of the darkness. “I don’t know who. I don’t know what they said…and then they wheeled Tyler out. He was on a stretcher and…it was, um, you know, covered with like a bag or whatever…”
The rapid blinking started again. John was welling up, dabbing at his eyes with the corners of his sleeve ends. His grip on my hand tightened as I walked myself, and the others, through my brain.
“I remember losing it,” my voice trembled as I spoke. “Just…it was like the weight of the world had collapsed itself onto me. It brought me to my fucking knees.”
I swallowed hard, looking to John to try and console him. He wouldn’t look at me. He was facing the other direction now, his shoulders shaking. I reached over with my free hand to rub at his arm. He flinched but didn’t stop me.
“I got up and I ran,” I continued, trying to slow my heart rate. “I couldn’t help myself, you know? It’s like…you can see your friend drowning in the river but you don’t know how to swim. You know you won’t be able to bring them to shore but you have to fucking try. So that’s what I did. I tried…”
Chase was looking horrified. It was the same look that Brian had plastered across his face when I’d recounted my tale to him. But Brian looked to be full of sorrow, saddened by my anguish. Chase was interested. There was a huge difference.
“Someone caught me just as I made it to Tyler,” my eyes were leaking now. “I, um, I was screaming…I don’t know what, I just remembered the tearing in my throat,” I rubbed at my neck with my hand without thinking. “They pulled me away…holding me back while they loaded the stretcher into the back of an ambulance…I just…I wanted to say goodbye, you know? I needed to tell him that I was there. That I’d come. I don’t know what I thought it would do…”
“It would give you peace,” Chase suggested with a half-smile.
I shrugged lazily, “I don’t know about that. I promise you there’s no peace in here,” I pointed to my skull.
John nodded, finally turning to face the group again, “You are, hands down, the toughest human being I’ve ever met.”
I scratched at the back of my neck, uncomfortable with being praised for my ability to withstand my friend’s death. I didn’t think that should be something complimented.
It wasn’t something I was proud to have endured…to be enduring…it was just what had to be done to keep from losing my mind. To keep from joining my friend.
“I’m so sorry you had to be there, Blair,” John frowned at me.
“That’s awful,” Chase added. “How are you doing now? It’s been—”
“Two months, two weeks and five days,” I interrupted.
Chase nodded solemnly, “Has it gotten any easier to deal with the loss? Is it the same?”
I sighed, “Okay. I’m going to riddle you with some truth here. It’s not easier. It’s not easy. It’s really…It pulls the life from you.”
John was nodding in agreement.
“If you’re not careful, it’ll take you out,” I finished limply.
John frowned, “It’s something I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”
I agreed, “That said, I need to say that I get it. You know? Maybe it’s because I’d known Tyler for basically my entire life. I knew him better than I know myself. I knew what he was, who he was…I knew his demons. He’d spoken so fucking candidly about his desire to end his life. Not even to end it. Just to die. He just…he wanted to die. There was nothing I could to do change that. No one could change that…it was, like, encrypted into his soul.”
Chase was scribbling notes again. He’d been respectful enough not to do so while I was recanting my memories of the night Tyler died. Instead, he’d just listened. But now he was back to being a full-on journalist.
“I’m okay,” I managed awkwardly. “I’m not okay all of the time…but I’m okay. I’ve gotten to this place where I just…I get it. This is what he wanted. This is how he wanted things to go for himself. He’s at peace now…so I need to find a way to be too.”
John cringed subtly, “I’ve never thought about it that way.”
I shrugged, “All I do is think about it. Maybe it’s just…a new coping mechanism. I feel like I change tactics daily…but so far it’s working. Maybe I’m closer to finding peace. Or maybe I’m just so fucked that my brain is blocking itself out.”
The interview had left me feeling void and empty. I couldn’t bring myself to speak on the ride back to our bus. John must have been feeling the same way because he didn’t even try to bridge the silence between us. We stared out our respective windows and waited for the world to pass us by.
When we got back to the bus, we were greeted with a couple, “are you okay”s and “how did it go”s. John was feeling good enough to respond. I was not.
I climbed into my bunk and wrapped my body around one of my pillows. With my eyes pushed firmly closed, I tried my hardest not to fall apart.
“Blair?” Brian called into my bunk.
I sighed, “Yeah?”
He climbed in and laid himself behind me, resting his arm across my waist. He didn’t speak at first, instead he just laid with me. Breathed with me.
“You good?” he asked me from somewhere nested in my hair.
“Not really,” I answered honestly.
“Where’s your head at, Peterson?”
I rolled over to face him. His big, beautiful eyes were boring into mine, searching for an answer to a question I didn’t want him to ask. He was looking to read me, to find a way to soothe my soul. All he wanted was a way to ease my pain.
“I have a lot of regrets,” I told him, playing with a piece of his hair to keep myself from crying.
He frowned, “We all have regrets.”
I nodded subtly, “I wish I could go back. You know? I just want to hear his voice one more time. I just want to hear him tell me that it will be okay.”
“I know,” Brian breathed. “It will be okay.”
“Okay,” I answered weakly.
“You know,” Brian looked down from my eyes. “He did tell you it would be okay…”
I furrowed my brows, “What?”
“In his letter…” Brian replied quietly, still not looking at me.
He was trying to help, I reminded myself. He was trying to help me. He was trying to offer me a resolution to my issue. Maybe he’d forgotten that we’d thrown that letter away out of some ridiculous rage that had built itself up in me.
“I don’t have it anymore,” I said, trying to hold back my frustrations. “Remember?”
Brian bit at his bottom lip, flashing me one quick glance before ducking out of my bunk. I couldn’t help but think what a weird fucking response his absence was. He was really strange…sometimes more apparently than others.
But he came back within an instant, holding out a piece of crumpled paper to me with shaking hands. He looked really nervous as I surveyed his hand and then his face. My heart stopped beating.
“Is that…”
He nodded, “I know you said to throw it away. I know you said you didn’t need it anymore…but I don’t listen.”
The feelings. So many feelings. They bubbled up and out of me, relentless in their descent. But it wasn’t my typical break down—this was…lighter? Relieved? I don’t know what it was but it was okay.
“I’m sorry,” Brian tried sheepishly.
I shook my head, trying to smile, “No, it’s okay. It’s…it’s so okay.”
I took the letter from him, hugging it to my chest dearly. So grateful to have my friend’s last words to me back in my grip. What had enraged me before was now offering me more comfort than I’d thought imaginable.
Brian half-smiled, watching as I wept—but was actively trying to pull it together. My hands tightened on the letter. My heart swelled for Brian. He’d had the foresight to anticipate that I might want this back. That my soul might eventually relent on its anger and need to read Tyler’s words in order to repair itself.
I looked at Brian and I finally smiled, he smiled back, “You’re not angry at me?”
I couldn’t help but laugh, and in the moment all I could think was the opposite.
I crawled over and planted a firm kiss on his lips. As a thank you, as an I love you, as an I’d be lost without you. I could never repay Brian for the work he’d done to bring me back to life. He’d been so patient and unwavering with me.
“Thank you,” I whispered as we parted, my lips still lingering around Brian’s.
He smirked, “You don’t need to thank me.”
I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, looking up into his beautiful brown eyes and I did it, I said, “I love you.”

Notes

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