FRANK’S POV

15 YEARS EARLIER

It’s just an ordinary day, nothing special about it.  I guess that’s what’s wrong with it.  Every day here has been the same, nothing seems different or better.  I came to this university hoping for so much, but all that’s over.  I thought that this would be a good place to start over and meet people and change.  I should’ve known that things would stay the same.  I know it hasn’t even been a quarter here, but on the other hand it’s been several months and I’m still alone.  I still continue this existence that no one cares about, that no one will ever care about.

I walked out of my dorm room into the crisp autumn air.  Heading in no particular direction, I wander about campus.  I find myself in the basement of an engineering building, I have some Gen Ed class in here, nothing special.  I amble about the well-lit basement and over to a bulletin board.  I don’t know why I stop to look at it, but I glance over the different ads posted on it.  Something catches my eye, a brightly colored paper with all but one of the phone number tabs taken.  The ad is for a suicide hotline, I guess engineering students are under a lot of pressure.  I take the last tab and walk outside.

I’m not really that suicidal, I just feel so empty.  I’m so sick of everything.  Today’s a Saturday so not many people are out.  I sit at a bench by the large fountain outside the engineering building, at this time of year the fountain is half frozen over.  Without really thinking about it, I pull out my phone and dial the number on the paper.

It rings once before a guy with a melodic voice answers, “Hello.”

“Umm, hi,” why did I call?  I don’t know what to say.

Seriously, the guy asks, “Are you feeling depressed or angry at all?”

I shake my head even though he can’t see, “No, not really.”  I think I’m lying.

“What can I help you with?” his voice is gentle.

“What’s your name?” I don’t really want to say anything personal.

“Gerard,” he pauses, “Can I ask what yours is?”

“I think I made a mistake,” I blurt out.

“Why do you think so?”

“I came here hoping for things to be different, but nothings changed.  Nothing ever changes.”

“Change can take time.  Things don’t happen all at once.”

“I’m just so lonely here,” I murmur.  I’m not even sure if he heard me.

“Meeting people can be difficult, but there are always people out there if you want someone to talk to,” gently, he adds, “Emotional connections take time.”

“I don’t have anyone to talk to,” before he can say some other platitude, I add, “What if I want to talk to you?”

“I’m here to listen,” it sounds as if he’s smiling as he says this.

Anxiety edging my voice, I say, “What if I call another day, will I still talk to you?”

“Every day about this time for an hour, I’ll probably be the first to answer,” he says soothingly, “If I don’t answer, you can ask for Gerard and someone will transfer you.”

“Why do you do it?” my question is greeted by silence, “This job must be so depressing, why do you do it?”

I hear a sigh before Gerard says, “I do volunteer here because if I can help one person I have a better day, than I’ll do what ever it takes.”

I sit in silence after his comment.  I couldn’t do it, in fact, I can’t do this.  Without saying anything, I hang up.  I sit on the bench a little longer before walking back to my dorm room.  I know I have classwork to do, but I just curl up on my bed and shut the world out.  I’m better off alone anyway.

A week later, I find myself sitting on the same bench looking at the now completely frozen fountain.  It was another week of loneliness, of barely going to classes, of struggling to care about anything.  So now I find myself sitting here with the phone ringing, hoping that Gerard will pick up.

“How can I help you?” I hear Gerard’s sweet voice and I can’t help but smile.

“My name is Frank,” is all I can think of to say.

“Ah, decided to call back?” Gerard said, “I’m glad you did.”

“I just think I need help,” I finally admit, more to myself than to Gerard.

“Have you met anyone?” Gerard probes.

“Just you,” I snicker, “I don’t know where to go.”

“Have you tried a club out?  This university has over 800, you might find something you like.”

“A club? Are you serious?” I fail to see how a club would really help me.

“Very,” sternly, he instructs, “Find a club that you are interested in or want to know more about and go to a meeting.  You may meet someone like you.”

“I guess I’ll try it, thanks,” I trail off.

“Frank-,” Gerard starts, but I don’t let him finish. I hang up before he can say anything else.  I decide to actually scroll through my email, looking for all the club messages that I signed up for at the beginning of the year but failed to pay attention to.  Eventually I find a metal music club and decide to go to that since they meet on Mondays.

I sleep away most of the weekend and wake up Monday afternoon.  Great, missed more lectures today.  I promise myself to go to classes tomorrow, but somehow I believe that I’ll mess that up.  It comes time for the Metal Club meeting, so I force myself to get out of bed and get dressed.

I get to the meeting 15 minutes late and I can hear that the meeting has already begun.  I slip in quietly, no one takes notice of me.  I hang in the shadows near the door, just listening the people talk.  But then a voice catches my ear.  I’ve heard that sweet, melodic voice twice before.  Gerard is here.  His voice is coming from the person directly in front of me, his back is to me, but I can tell he’s the one talking.  I step out of the shadows and a young woman with dreadlocks smiles and waves me over, “Sit down.”

I cautiously walk over and take a seat that’s right next to Gerard.  Nervously, I glance at him, but quickly look away.  The woman with the dreadlocks smiles, “What’s your name?  I’m Ellen, club President.”

“Frank,” is all I say.

“Nice to meet you,” she says graciously, “We were just talking about some of our favorite Metal moments, do you have a favorite band?”

I shrug.  I’m actually not that into metal, “I like Metallica.”

Gerard smiles at me.  Other people in the group go on to talk more and about halfway through someone starts playing some music on an iPod.  Before I know it, the meeting’s over and I’m walking down the hall and away from the room.  Gerard jogs to catch up to me, I look at him but keep walking.  After a moment of walking in silence, he breaks it, “Decided to go to a club meeting after all?”

“I guess I finally saw the point in your advice,” I smile but continue to avoid eye contact with Gerard.  After a pause, I add, “I wouldn’t have expected to see you at a metal club.”

Gerard smirks, “I like the ballads.  There’s depth to the music.”  Gerard puts his hands in his pockets, “What are you studying?”

“Undecided,” I give a uncommitted shrug, “What about you?”

“I’m a grad student in bioengineering,” he shrugs.

“Interesting field,” I can’t think of anything good to say.

“There’s a lot of interesting research going on,” he smiles at me again.

There’s a long silence as we keep walking, I’m not sure either one of us can stand the superficiality of our conversation.  I’m not sure where Gerard is going, but I keep walking towards my residence hall and he keeps walking with me.  When we get close, I stop in the middle of the path.  I’m not sure what makes me speak or where it’s coming from, but I say, “Do you think there’s really hope?”

Gerard cocks his head to one side, “Yes, I believe there is.  Hope is a means of keeping going, of surviving.”

“Okay,” I try to smile.  We end up just standing there for a while, looking at each other.  I finally can’t take more awkwardness, “I… I have to go.”

I turn on my heel and walk briskly back to my dorm.  I can feel his eyes boring into back the whole way.  But I keep walking and rush inside when I get to my residence hall.  I don’t know why I felt so hurriedly, but I couldn’t keep talking to him.  I should just be alone.  Always and forever.

Tuesday, not much happens.  I make it to some of my classes but can’t focus on anything.  I walk out of my class and immediately start walking towards the fountain.  I sit and the bench and sit there for 15 minutes before I can resist no longer.  I call Gerard, but someone else answers.  I hang up and call again, I don’t know why, but I don’t want to talk to anyone but Gerard.  The phone rings and this time he picks up.  Lively, he says, “Hello!”

“I hoped you would answer,” I can’t help but smile.

“Did you have fun yesterday?”

“Yes, but that was yesterday.”

“Need someone to talk to today?” Gerard probes.

“More or less,” I pause, “We should talk in person again… I’m on third floor Terry Hall, you could….”

I can hear him giggling, “Is that an invitation?”

I choke, “Maybe.”

“I’m flattered,” Gerard pauses.

I speak before he can continue, “There’s a ‘but’ isn’t there?  There always is.”

“No, no,” Gerard tries to appease me, but it doesn’t work.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine, I just shouldn’t have said anything,” my smile fades and my expression falters, “I just thought… I shouldn’t bother you.”

“You don’t bother me, Frank,” Gerard insists.  I can hear worry creeping into his voice.

“No, I won’t.  And I won’t bother anyone anymore,” I’ve made a rash decision in my mind, but I know I’ll keep it.  It’s really been building to this for a long time now.

“Frank, no, don’t do that,” Gerard guesses what I have planned.

“Goodbye,” I mumble.

 “Frank, no!” Gerard yells, but I just hang up.  Calmly, I walk away from the fountain.  I walk down the crowded pathways of campus, not noticing all the people around me.  I feel utterly calm and resolved about my decision, like I’m finally doing what’s right.

 I go back to my dorm and vaguely walk back to my room.  My roommate’s out, so I have privacy.  I open the window and take a deep breath of fresh air.  I take out my Swiss Army knife and slice my arm open.  I stand there looking at the trees and old buildings as I bleed out.  I hear a commotion behind me but I don’t turn around, it’ll only spoil this moment.  I begin to feel faint and begin to fall back, but someone catches me.

 I look up and into Gerard’s eyes.  His green hazel eyes are wet and edged with fear.  He’s on the phone and in the distances of my mind I hear ambulances.  He leans his head against mine, whispering into the phone, “He’s still breathing, he’s still breathing.”