The One He Let Go

Dean

((TW: mention of cutting and depression))

When we were kids, me and Jimmy liked to play ball. Football, baseball, soccer.. Neither of us were ever really good at basketball, but hell, we played that anyway. Jimmy made this rule for himself: Don't be out any later than seven o'clock cause, well, he worried about his mom. I was so used to this rule he had, that I pretty much lived by it too. In fact, I'd gotten so used to it, that maybe a week after the "football-through-the-window" incident, I didn't even have to wait for him to tell me to check the time. By 6:30 every time we hung out, I'd already be there, and checking my wrist every five minutes after that too. Then it'd get to about ten to seven... "Jimmy," I'd tell him. "time for you to go home." At first, he'd say, "Okay. Thanks, buddy," but then it came to kind of be a natural thing and he'd just give a little nod, and we'd be heading back to his house. I always made sure he'd be back in time. I felt responsible for Jimmy. No one else was gonna be, so why not me? I always wanted a little brother, and me and that kid were inseparable.

After Jimmy would get home okay, I'd usually just head back home too, but sometimes, I'd hang out with the other neighborhood kids. Yeah, sure, they used to give Jimmy a hard time, but after I told them to knock it off, they didn't bother him again. Didn't exactly get them to like him, but they left him alone. The other kids weren't like Jimmy. They were a lot like me before I met Jimmy. Just normal kids who didn't know much about anything; just played games and bought candy with any money they could scrap from their mediocre chores. Whenever I hung out with those guys, it was all just games, fun, and talk about TV shows. Hanging out with Jimmy was way different. We had fun too, but for a kid, Jimmy was wise beyond his years, like from the start, he always had sort of an old soul. When we would hang out, we'd play like the other kids, but we always had these talks... At first, they were kinda weird to me. Seemed too grown up for a couple of little boys to talk about, but Jimmy really knew what he saying. Or at least, he sounded like it. I wouldnt'a known, I was just a kid! He'd talk about his mom, how he never had a dad, or much of a family or friends (besides me, of course), the news, and, well, church. He was a sad, dorky, little guy, and I never was good at giving any advice when we were younger and have these little talks, but I always listened. It was the least I could do for him, and it always seemed like it was enough for him, which was fine by me.

One time, Jimmy and I were climbing a tree and having one of our little talks. This one was about his mom again, but it was different. Things weren't lookin' so good with her. I hadn't seen Jimmy that upset before, but as always, I sat and listened. He was a couple branches above me, swinging his feet in the air as he spoke. He's always been a quiet, soft-spoken kid so I really had to sit still and listen hard so I could hear him. Told me that when he went home the day before, his mom was acting weird, and not the depressed kinda weird she always was. She'd usually be sitting on the couch or laying in bed when Jimmy got home. That's what he'd tell me, but that day, she was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a box cutter in her hand. Jimmy was telling me all this, feet still swinging, and his voice was calm. He took a breath and that's when I realized I was holding mine. I let it out and waited for him to continue. He didn't say anything for what felt like a long time so I checked my watch. 6:37. I wanted to tell him the time so he knew, but I didn't wanna interrupt this talk we were having, especially since I just knew he had to finish. If he didn't, he wouldn't leave it for another day, he'd just leave it. I knew Jimmy. He'd be the type to do that. I mean, he always did that if it meant he'd get home on time; drop the story early and never take the time to finish it, so I kept my mouth shut and waited. This talk was important. It's heavy stuff for a little kid to find out his mother does some damage to herself. His voice was still calm when I heard him continue. He said he saw cuts across her thighs and blood streaming down them. She didn't even hear him come in. She didn't even see him until he said something. He paused to take another deep breath. When he started again, his voice got even quieter and his feet stopped swinging.