What We Stay Alive For

Chapter Eleven: Neil Perry, Bright as Yellow Paint

10 September, 1959. The Second Meeting of the Dead Poets

There is such soundness in the beauty of having seconds. That is what Todd learns from the second meeting of the Dead Poets. Whether it be the seconds counted on a clock, a second try, or a second time: it didn't matter. Beauty was bound to appear.

Todd counts the seconds.

Charlie is reading a Tennyson piece from 'Five Centuries of Verse.' He speaks low and intently, like he's convincing himself of the verse in his hands. "I feel it," he says, "when I sorrow most: 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.'

While Charlie reads, Neil's hand has snaked its way to Todd, where it often is these days. It feels natural and it is.

Todd counts the seconds until his hand moves away. 34, 35, 36...

Tonight, it takes a whole 256 seconds for Neil to squeeze Todd's hand and pull away gently. It feels like an apology when he does, but Todd doesn't try to keep the contact.

Then, Todd tries for a second time.

He makes an attempt to read a poem out loud, like he had one week ago at the first Dead Poets meeting. As soon as he says he wants to try, Neil excitedly shoves the book into his hands.

"There, Toddy, pick something out of here." No risk of forgetting the words when they're printed right in front of you.

Todd nods at Neil, breath caught between his vocal cords and the question "is the book warm because it's leather-bound? Is the horribly mediocre fire Charlie keeps nursing to life? Or is it warm because you touched it?" If it is the third option, if the book holds the heat of Neil's hands, Todd will have to take a moment to retain his balance. The thought threatens to knock him over and catch him on the pages of poetry; hook, line, and sinker.

Because it's so mercurial, it is, connecting yourself, by hand, to the same book spine your friend has. There's a celestial promise in the comfort of human grazing, one that runs just as deep as holding hands. There is a communication unnamed and only described by Todd wanting to ask Neil if he feels the lingering, too.

And Todd reads, for the second time. It's John Keats and he's written something good about fear and the magical hand of chance and unreflecting love, love, love.

Whatever that might mean.

Finally, Todd hears something for the second time.

The Dead Poets have made their way back to their respective bedrooms. The open window in Todd's room lets in a wind that blows like a death rattle under the singing crickets. And, for a second time, Neil gives Todd a proposition. The very same proposition he had given Todd on their first day at Welton Academy nearly two weeks ago. It's after eleven o'clock and Neil asks Todd if he would like to go exploring.

"Psst..." Neil's question hangs from his lips like moss on a brick wall. It slowly peels away, coming out before Todd can fully give it his attention. "There's plenty of time to go exploring before morning, don't you think?"

"So, we've got about half an hour til study group."

"Yes. We do." Todd replies timely.

"Plenty of time to go exploring, don't you think?" His smile widens and Todd feels very, very nervous.

"We won't go far. Promise."

So, Todd follows Neil out of their room. The 'exploring' turns out to result in him and Neil ending up in the exact place they had the first time Neil asked for this. Only mere steps from their bedroom, Neil leads Todd to the study room.