Falter Kingdom (19 page)

Don't say anything. I don't have to say anything.

“Everything okay, Hunter?”

Everyone is asking me that like it's supposed to help. It's not helping. It's making me lose my mind. So annoying.

“Hunter.”

Man, I wish he'd go. I have nothing to say to him.

Get the hell away.

I hear a crash from downstairs. Broken plates.

I hear my dad mutter, “The hell was that?”

I'm like, “Thanks, H.”

Damn, I didn't realize that I was clenching my phone so tight. I broke the case. The plastic is cracked all the way down one side. I throw the case away and toss the phone on the pillow. I lie down next to it.

A video plays on the laptop.

“Yeah, that one's pretty awesome.”

But it's not enough to get me off the topic of Becca. Nothing helps. I scroll through news stories on my phone. I delete text messages, most of them old ones from Becca, waiting for what it is I was trying to think of to arrive. I wait and I wait, thinking about how we have nothing in common.

Forget the phone. I close my eyes.

No idea what time it is. Don't really care.

The reason she makes me so angry is that while everyone changes, talks about change, and is going on and on about themselves, Becca remains exactly the same. Comfortable. Predictable. She is there to hold me back. She is there to make me feel like I'm small. She's become everything that bores me.

So everyone's talking in the past tense? Well, then it's starting to really feel like I can't see her. I look everywhere but the only way I spot her is if I'm looking back.

The laptop shuts off.

“Thanks.”

Before I finally slip away into sleep, it registers as true.

What I must do.

For me, there's more to this than looking back at things in doubt and confusion, like they'll just go away with time. I'm not seeing how time really changes anything if you're not willing to change with it. You know what I mean? Sometimes, you just have to trust the one that gets
you.
And I mean really gets you. Sometimes you just have to trust your own instincts.

I mean, right?

The dream opens a lot like the end of most movies—darkness and a sound track. The sound track is mostly my thoughts. I hear breathing in the background. Yeah, that's me. I'm fast asleep but still not running through this fast enough. I want to go back to the good parts but I can't find it. So it's the end of the movie and I've forgotten what it is I'm watching.

What am I watching?

I guess I'm watching you.

I'm watching you standing there, a group forming around you. Wait, if that's you, then where am I?

It takes a second for it all to kind of click.

It clicks when I see her standing next to you.

It sounds like I'm talking but those aren't the right words. It's really not what I'm supposed to say. I'm getting it all wrong. What's going on?

People are watching like they belong in the scene. They are extras, faces forming a crowd. They are talking in whispers, and Becca and you are chanting the same short sentences. They're angry, what I'm saying.

What she's saying, it's a mixture of “I'm sorrys.” But she isn't really sorry. She's just saying that. And you aren't falling for it, are you? No, you're not.

You tell her that it's been a long time coming, this moment, this day.

Becca's saying, “This is, like, so unlike you.”

And that's kind of the point.

It's what gets me excited.

That isn't me. But it could be. It really could be, if I wanted it to be me. And she's trying to tell you what you're supposed to say. She's talking to you in that way that she always talks to me. It's annoying, right?

She's saying that it's your fault that I'm acting this way. “It's the demon, Hunter.” Becca's in tears.

We're making a scene, and everyone's watching. Normally I'd care about what they're thinking, but something about the dream seems rehearsed, like you're showing me how it'll fall into place.

I'm standing where you'd be standing. And no one seems to notice that I'm standing right here—
you're
standing right here—the entire time.

Even when there's no activity, you're standing near and within reach of other people's breaths. You can breathe for them, I know
you can. You can breathe just like me. In this case, you are, and I'm sensing that there really isn't a whole lot of difference between the two of us.

Like, you've got to trust your instincts, you know? You need to say what comes to mind.

This is the scene that this entire thing has been leading up to. I know that, and even so, it's like I can't actually say the words.

We're finished.

I can't say them.

I can't say them to her, and definitely not to her face.

But here, in this dream... that person standing there is supposed to be me. He's talking like he's sure about the future. He's talking like he's never been more confident of a decision before. He's talking to Becca like she's the reason he's never changed. He's talking like I should have been talking.

It starts long before the words “We're finished.”

It starts when Becca walks up and says that everything's planned. My reaction, our reaction, it's basically like, “What's planned?”

And then we find out that Becca's planned the entire day: she's spoken with Halverson and gotten permission to leave school early so that I can go get some fresh air, maybe get checked again by a second source. Becca has planned it all out like I'm a kid. She does this. She always does this and it drives me crazy.

Then when it's time to finally say no, Becca acts like I've gone and done it. She acts like I really have gone crazy.

I'm not crazy. I'm not, right? Right.

It seems more like she's the one who's out of her fucking mind, saying all these things, doing stuff for me when I'm my own person. Whatever that means.

Then it's like—I don't let my mom pamper me, why do I let Becca do this stuff? It's true. You're starting to make more sense than anyone else. Everyone else is saying impossible things, like they aren't saying anything at all. But you're saying every single thing for me.

It's a real big help, thanks.

You're really coming out of your shell. People say that, right—“coming out of your shell”? You look just like me and you do a mean impersonation. Becca doesn't realize that it's you that's telling her to go get a life. Do something else for once. How it's insane that she can think that it's okay to do this to a person. How it's what's really insane—the fact that this has lasted more than a few years.

She's repeating herself now. Apologies and then it's “How can I make it up to you?” and “Sorry about the invitation thing,” and also “We don't have to go.”

Of course we don't have to go. I don't have to go anywhere I don't want to. I don't have to ask you to prom, and I don't have to do what you say.

This is all toxic.

If people hold you back, keeping you from being, well, you, shouldn't you fix the problem? Shouldn't you, I don't know, maybe find people who make you a better person? Find people who you can actually relate to?

I don't know, it seems kind of stupid to think that you can just be friends with anyone. Not everyone's the same. Not everyone gets along with each other.

Just like these dreams, no two are the same. They're all different, and yeah, I'm different too.

So then another thing to be said is that we have nothing in common. You tell her that, for me, and it's what breaks her down. It's the one that gets her crying. But I know it's an act. You know that too, I'm sure. It's all an act. She does that to get other people's attention. Becca does it to hopefully make it look like I'm the bad person here.

I'm the one who's “breaking her heart.”

But she's really crying because she knows that it's ending now and there goes her investment. There goes three and a half years of keeping this guy on a short leash. Three and a half years down the drain.

It's a short scene, telling me what I need to do.

It really does seem easy. But I don't know if I can do it alone. I need someone at my side. Someone I can trust. I need to know that I'll be doing the right thing.

This has gone on for too long, I know.

She's going to be broken up about it because it means she'll have to start from scratch. She'll try to fix things, but I can't just get lazy and let it go, just stop halfway, you know? I can't do that. I'm in the situation I am because I never tried to meet people. I just kept whoever was there around. I let other people keep the friendship afloat. I let that all happen on its own.

It's why I'm this way.

And I have to know that it'll change.

It's getting so damn old. Everything's bogus. Everything's a bust.

We're finished.

I can say it.

We're finished.

You're saying it the way I need to say it.

We're finished.

I guess I just need a little support. Friends on my side, but Brad and Blaire and Jon-Jon and everyone else, they're there to watch, not to help. We've never had anything in common except that we needed someone to hang around. It's all kind of a lie, if you really think about it. But this dream, it's the truth. It's telling me what I need to do. It's telling me what I need to hear. It's showing me what I need to see.

And don't think I don't realize that it's you.

You're the one that's making everything change. You're helping me out, and that's awesome. But I need help now more than ever.

I can hear myself saying it in my sleep, “Will you help me?”

Will you help?

Of course you will.

And then the next moment I'm calm and smiling. A smile on my face while I dream up that moment when I tell Becca to her face, “We're finished.” I dream it over and over again, a dozen times, until I wake up.

It's because you're helping me that any of this is happening.

I probably didn't even need to ask.

But I know you were waiting.

It's the offer you've been waiting for.

Once I say it, it's like everything clicks into place. There's no more doubt, and I'm really sure that I'm going to be a different person someday. We all change over time. I'm confident that this is necessary.

I can't fill my life with fair-weather friends.

I need to know that I'm doing the right thing.

You make sure that I never lose confidence. You say all the things I'm supposed to say.

And that's when I know that you and I really get along.

It's like you're thinking what I'm thinking, and I'm thinking what you're thinking. It kind of goes in a circle, and now I sense that when I'm not sure, you'll be there to pick up the slack.

Like a true friend, you know?

No, I don't think I'm crazy.

I think we're getting along just fine.

10

WHAT HAPPENS IN A DREAM HAPPENS IN REAL LIFE. IT
makes sense now. I woke up this morning with marks on my arms, just to make sure that I'd remember. Yeah, it's a dream, so what? Yeah, I didn't go through with it, so what happens now? That's a good question.

I look at the marks like they're tattoos. But yeah, they're more to help me remember that it'll happen today. They help me remember to be confident. They help remind me that I've got your help.

“Thanks,” I say on the drive to school.

This happens and that happens, but it's just another day at school until we get to that part of the day. It's actually not that weird, what's been happening to me. Not anymore.

It's kind of magical, like I'm just watching it again for the second time. The second time, it's very different. This time I see it with my own eyes. I have a horrible headache but it's like I'm using the pain as motivation. It's like you're the one moving the body while I keep busy with the conversation.

Sure enough she walks up to me around fourth period, just before lunch, and she tells me, “I got us the day off!”

Say it like this:
“What?”
Almost like I'm stuttering, in shock, but really I'm already aware of what's happening.

I'm holding on to a deadly secret.

We're holding on to the secret. She won't know what hit her.

“Wow, you're looking better today,” Becca says.

I'm grinning wide for obvious reasons.

I nod and say, “It's a beautiful day.”

Becca agrees. “Like, you have no idea. I actually got Halverson to let us out early, on the fact that you're not feeling well. I've planned our entire day. Food, some sun, fun, and all that.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup!” Becca being Becca.

You have no idea what I'm about to say.

“Oh, and I want you to see another priest too. You're not looking good, Hunter. Better today, true, but I'm worrying about you constantly and I just can't let that happen.”

Of course you can't let that happen.

People are starting to form a crowd. It's because of what H is doing. H is making it so that they can't help but stop and watch. Becca notices this and gives this one person a really mean look.

Then I realize this is it. This is the moment. Do it now or never do it at all. But the latter isn't even a choice. It's like you're telling me that it'll be okay.

First line is “Listen...”

But of course Becca isn't listening. She's looking around at the people circling us, all confused.

Now you know how I've felt most times. I used to be confused but that's changed. I know now what I need to do to get things going on the right track.

Next line is “We have to talk.”

That'll get her attention.

Yeah, it does. Now it's a real scene.

Becca, do you know?

“What are you, like, talking about?” she asks.

You do, you know what this is about.

Maybe she's even surprised that it's taken this long for us to actually have an argument.

Then you kind of take over from here. You say the next line: “This isn't working out.”

And the next line too: “You and I have nothing in common.”

I'm still the one who's saying everything, but you're helping me line up the words, the lines, in a way that makes this feel as dramatic as possible for Becca and everyone else watching.

But we couldn't be any further from this day. Moment's a blur but we're having a good buzz.

“I'm tired of being treated like a child.”

That's a good one. That line makes everyone around Becca and me gasp.

She puts up her side of the fight, meaning it's the tears, and her saying sorry and all of that stuff.

I can see that it could be easy to break down too. It could be easy to trade her tears with my own. But instead of crying, I end up laughing at the thought. We're graduating so soon—why does she even care?

It's kind of funny, if you think about it.

Becca doesn't find it funny. Everyone else thinks this is serious.

Becca and Hunter are breaking up! Fresh gossip for the grapevine.

More people crowd around us.

The next line is actually a long list of things I can't stand about her. It's like you're telling me to just let it all out:
You'll feel better later. Let it all out. Tell her how she's ruined the relationship. Tell her how it really wasn't much of a relationship to begin with. Tell her that it all goes down the drain the same way. Tell her that you don't actually know what that means, but then save that line by saying that it's a metaphor for everything that doesn't make sense about the relationship. Tell her that she never saw you as anything more than something who helps her get her way. Tell her about that one time you almost cheated on her. Don't mention what actually happened between you and Nikki, but use it as an example of how miserable she makes you feel.

Go on and on until it makes sense that she's in tears.

She apologizes and says, “We've been through so much. I've invested too much in us to just let it fall apart now!”

That's enough to take it home with the one line that's left:

“We're finished.”

Now it's a dramatic end where I'm looking around at everyone who's watching. I don't care about what they think. I don't care that they're looking at me like I've gone insane. I don't care at all.

I don't care that Becca is trying to hug me, trying to save it. She'll understand it better later. But she'll never understand me.

No one here really gets why I'm breaking up with her.

Later, when I'm at lunch, Brad will act like it was a surprise. He'll say things like, “Damn, bro, all those years just wasted.” Never mind that he was the one who told me to break up with her way back when. Never mind that. He just forgot. It was probably just something to say at the time.

There it goes, forgotten. But Becca won't forget this. I won't either.

I look around at the faces, not knowing any of them. I pick out Blaire in the crowd. I wave to her, all happy that I finally did it. I broke up with her!

But Blaire looks at me like I'm someone else.

I'm waiting for you to tell me why.

I'm waiting for you to say something like I know you can.

But you wait until I leave school for the day. You wait until I'm unexpectedly driving back down that dirt road, getting out of the car, leaving it running. You wait until I'm running through that field, ignoring all the people there skipping school, drinking, and giving me looks when they see me show up, like I just popped up out of nowhere. You wait until I see the black crown, the darkened tunnel, and you wait until I run it again, this time without any hesitation. I just run down that tunnel, not at all worried that it might not have an end. You wait until I'm breaking a sweat, and with the sweat, I lose everything that might have been close to being an explanation.

I don't need an explanation.

I don't need to know why.

But as I run, you wait until I realize that I'm nowhere closer to the end than I was at the beginning.

You change the sound of my voice, making it more monotone.

More than that, you get me to turn and look, and I see that I'm only a few steps from the entrance.

Then, only then, do I hear you speak.

You say, “There's an end to the tunnel and I'm going to show you.”

I'm the one who's speaking.

Somehow that makes complete sense.

It makes sense now when before it didn't. I'm not looking for symptoms and I'm not thinking about how you're nearby.

It's because you're right here.

I hold up my hands, look at my palms.

You are here.

Right here where I'm standing.

I don't think about what everyone's been saying, their worried looks and all of them talking about me like I'm losing. I don't think I've lost anything. I think I've found it.

I've figured it out.

I've found the end of Falter Kingdom.

You're showing me, telling me it's not that far at all. So when I start running again, you're the one that's running for me.

“Just keep running,” you say.

I run for maybe a minute and then I stop. I take out my phone and shine it in front of me. I see it. I see all the things that you've taken from my bedroom and from the house. At the end of the tunnel, there's another bedroom, made from things you stole.

I'm saying, “This is where you come from?”

But that's wrong, because what you're telling me right after is that “this is where I go to be by myself.”

Then why are my things here?

But see, I get it. I do.

You really don't have to tell me.

I say, “Yeah, it's kind of a stupid name. That's why I didn't end up using it.”

And then you say, “I understand.”

You really do. H—it's not actually that cool of a name. Not that you need it, that name. Mine will do just fine.

You say it: “Hunter.”

Then I say, “You get used to it over time.”

We start working on a way where we can both talk and not lose the point of what we're trying to say a moment later. It's not going to work, I don't think, if we refer to each other as “we,” right?

It will not work.

That's what I thought. I think it's better if we just keep things the same. Yet different. Yeah, well, it really does feel like everything's changing and I'm really happy. I've never felt this happy before, like I can do... anything.

You can do anything.

I know, I know—it feels just like that, you know?

I know precisely what you mean.

That's what's so awesome, I think. I feel, like, encouraged to not hold back anymore.

There is no reason to hold back.

Definitely. Definitely. Not when I feel this good.

There will be problems.

I know. I know there'll be problems, but when aren't there any problems? I think that's kind of why I stuck around her for so long. She was the problem, yeah, but I got used to the problem, and because I did, there was nothing else that really came up. It was always just one big predictable problem.

She needed you more than you needed her.

Yeah, that's true. And it's also like with everyone else... I met people and those people who I met became the people I stayed around. I mean, that's what everyone does. But I did it in a way where it could have been anyone, really. It could be someone else, someone totally random, and I'd end up around them if they were there.

But not anymore.

I kept it all the same anyway... Yeah, not anymore. Things are starting to feel different. I mean, like, one thing that should be bothering me is am I awake or asleep? Does it matter?

It does not.

I guess it doesn't. And then I should probably be worried about what people are saying.

Yet you won't.

No, I won't—I'm like, “Say what you want. I am trusting my instincts.” I get along. This is working. Getting along just fine. I think people don't understand. They don't understand what's going on with me. They could never understand because it isn't actually happening to them.

It is only happening to us.

Yeah, exactly! It's like, it's like... we met in our own way. I know we said not to use the plural “we,” but I guess in this case it works?

It will do just fine.

Cool—and, um, what was I saying? Right! You and I met just like Blaire and I met, and Becca and I met, and Brad—wait, not Brad. But it's true. Sure, we're different, but nobody's the same. We're different but actually I think we get along well. Who cares if what I tell people doesn't make sense? They don't get what we're talking about. But we get along real well.

I think we have more in common than one would expect.

I agree. The strange thing is really just how people see this as so different, so, like, fucked up.

They do not understand.

Like, you make all those crashing noises, and open doors, and do all that stuff because... why do you do that stuff?

I get bored. I get lonely. I want attention too.

Yeah, I can see that. I can definitely see that. But people see it as haunting behavior. They see it as symptoms. They see it as problems that need to be fixed. Everything's a problem to them, ugh. I just don't want to be around people who don't even try to understand what's happening to me, you know?

I understand.

Well, yeah, of course you do. But that's also why people are going to have such a hard time with this.

Many will fail to fathom it.

Fathom, yeah. That's a good word. I like words that start with the letter “f”—“father,” “fixate,” “further”...

“Falter.”

Yeah, that's a good one. Then there's the go-to staple: “fuck.”

Humans love to fuck.

That makes me laugh, man, that really does. And it's true. It's basically written into our DNA or something. Do you ever have those kinds of needs?

No. I experience what I experience, but for the most part, what is felt is what humans define as loneliness. I get lonely, which is precisely why I do the things I do.

Well, you're hanging with me now. You're right here with me. I consider you a friend. No one would have really helped me out the way you did. There's no way I would have been able to break things off with her if you weren't there, even going all out and saying the right things so that I wasn't so nervous.

I am not going anywhere.

Yeah, yeah, exactly. You can stick around. I want you to. I consider you a real friend. And we get along. We're getting along, right?

You invited me. I am not going anywhere.

That's awesome. Yeah, I can count on you. I mean, think of it this way: As long as I get what's going on, nothing else matters, right? Right?