Impossible

Fade to Black

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.”