While You're In The World

Sweet 16th

I learned very early on that Neil liked to keep to himself. He was outgoing, there was no doubt about it, and he definitely didn't mind being the center of attention. But when it came to personal things, he was a bottler. I knew this about him because I was the same way. But that was the only way in which we were alike. I was very much not outgoing, and absolutely dreaded having even a shred of attention. I was allergic to the spotlight, and if I never had to talk to anyone ever again, I likely wouldn't.

Except for Neil, I could talk to him forever. Although Neil did most of the talking, I mostly liked to listen. It didn't take him very long to pick up on the fact that I didn't like to talk very much, but he never made a point of it. He was always more than happy to make up for it. That boy could talk for hours on end, about anything and everything. He liked to talk about his favourite books, The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton and A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle. He was really into music too, rambling on about Bowie, Nina Simone, and Carol King. And I always felt welcome to give my feedback.

He just made it so easy. I never worried about saying the wrong thing, or stumbling over my words. I could say things to Neil that had been on the tip of my tongue for years, and he never made me feel stupid for them. Like when I told him about one of my favourite books, Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, by Judy Blume. It was about a young girl going through puberty and learning about her family's religion, nothing that pertained to my life exactly. But there was something about it that just made so much sense to me. And although I was nervous to tell him about it, he just sat there, really listening as I talked about Margaret and her friends, and how they always made me feel less weird, and then he insisted I let him borrow my copy. He didn't judge me or think I was weird, or call me queer like the boys at school had done when they'd discovered the book in my bag while dumping it's contents out onto the hallway floor. Providing the origin for my dreaded nickname for the rest of the school year, Margaret, and where the bullying really began. But those boys were gone now, and I had Neil, my first friend who actually cared what I thought.

Of course, there were things that I did keep from Neil. Because no matter how understanding he was about a lot of things, I know for sure he'd never forgive me if I told him some of the stuff I hid deep down. But I also knew there were things he kept from me, too. 

I'd learned from some of his other friends that he didn't have the best relationship with his father. I never thought much about it, because who does have the best relationship with their father? But then he came back to our dorm late one Sunday evening after having spent the weekend home, and he had a big bruise across the right side of his abdomen. He'd been taking off his sweater when his shirt stuck to the knit, yanking it up a little bit. And although I was trying my best not to look, I happened to catch the deep purple discolouration of his skin.

"Oh my God Neil, what happened?" I asked jumping off my bed. Almost like a reflex, he pulled his shirt back down and stepped backwards.

"Nothing Todd, it's fine."

"That doesn't look like nothing Neil."

"I just fell on the stairs, that's all," he exhaled as he turned away from me. "I missed the last step, you know how fast I take the stairs sometimes. Landed on my mothers gossip bench, got me pretty good." He laughed, although it wasn't very convincing.

But when he came back from his last home visit with a black eye, I knew something was wrong. His father liked to keep him home a lot of weekends, driving all the way out to Welton late on Friday evenings and driving back out on Sundays. He liked to keep tabs on Neil, liked keeping control over he things he did. Neil told me it was because his parents cared, though I was beginning to think it had nothing to do with how much or how little his parents cared for him, and everything to do with how much power Mr. Perry had over Neil, and how he maintained it.