Don't Cry ➳ a.i

[four]

It was Saturday again. This time Ashton looked depressed and serious rather than his usual perky self. There were new people here: the only person I recognized was Ashton. He got up to talk.

"My brother. . . Was a soldier in Iraq. He came home one day, paralyzed. They couldn't use him in the war anymore. He was 'damaged' to them. Walker was depressed. He was always drinking. . .He was just. . . Never himself. One day, I thought. . . Maybe he would want to play catch with me. I was nine at the time. But when I knocked on his door, he didn't. . . He didn't answer. . ." tears filled his eyes. "I walked in, assuming he was asleep, but he wasn't. Walker was a well-built guy. He had muscles in his arms that could carry himself times ten. When I stepped through the doorway, I saw his wheelchair in the middle of the floor. I looked up and. . . He was. . . Hanging from a tie." He burst out crying. In between sobs, he said "He left a note telling me and my parents that he loved me, but he couldn't. . . He couldn't bear to live paralyzed." Ashton picked up his leather jacket and left.

I wanted to go after him. He was looking at me the whole time he was talking. Was he telling me? Why would he do that?

-

On Monday, Ashton's smiling face joined me at my lunch table, like nothing had happened last Saturday.

"Wh- What was that all about?. . . At group?" I asked.

He gasped. "It talks!"

After a while, he saw I wasn't amused by his comment, so he answered my question "Well, I saw you rolling your eyes at the stories of me sleeping with girls, so I decided I would open up and tell you what had actually happened to get me into the group." He shrugged, like it was no big deal.

Now I understood why he slept with all those girls. It was his way of making him feel better.