keeping on keeping on

02. WILL GRAYSON¹

"My mother taught me this trick

If you repeat something over and over again it loses its meaning

This became my favorite game

It made the sting of words evaporate."

- Phil Kaye, Repetition

I wake up to birds chirping and our neighbour's dog barking, which somehow felt wrong until I realized I should've woken up to the sound of my alarm clock blaring. Shit. I'm late for school. Hastily, I roll over in bed, pull on a pair of sweatpants, and bolt towards the kitchen.

Surprisingly, I find my Mom cooking breakfast. She nods toward the living room and I shoot her a questioning glance before making my way to the living room. I find my Dad standing in front of the tv, a rolled up newspaper on one hand and the remote on the other, changing channels until it switches to the local news.

"Classes are suspended until further notice," My Dad says as he sets down the newspaper on the table. "The police closed off the street your school's in."

Confused, I say, "The police? Why would the police be there? What happened?" A thousand thoughts fill my brain. I make a mental note to ask Tiny how he is. Maybe I'll ask Jane too, if I remember to. Not that I care about her. Not that I like her. Maybe I do. I don't know. Rule number 1. Don't care too much. Care, care, care, care, I repeat in my head.

Ever since I read Phil Kaye's "Repetition" last semester, my way of adhering to the two rules have changed. It's still the same two rules, I just choose to repeat it again and again. Rule number one is don't care too much. Rule number two is shut up. His poem allows the repetition of words to be a way to lose its meaning. Personally, I find it works. Maybe I just need to repeat care whenever I see Jane, it'll work. Maybe.

The methodic honking of a car outside pulls me out of my stupor. I recognize this sound. Tiny Cooper's car shares the same characteristics as its owner, loud, grand, and extremely annoying. I shout a quick goodbye to my parents and jog towards the front door. As soon as I step out the honking stops.

"What is wrong with you?" I grumbled as I get into the passenger seat of his mother's Mercedes. "One, can you stop honking so loudly? Two, can you stop stealing your mother's car when you run out of gas?"

Tiny waves his hand dismissively and says, "Do you remember Tom? Will's new boyfriend?"

"The other Wi-", I stop myself from correcting him. Only then that I realize the quaver in his voice. I look up to see Tiny Cooper with a somber expression. Something isn't right. Tiny Cooper wouldn't look this sad unless something happened. In fact, Tiny Cooper wouldn't be this early in bothering me if there's no classes. Something's wrong. Slowly, I say, "Yeah dude, we spent the whole break with him and his brother. Why?"

Tiny starts the car and drives out of our street, completely silent. After a few minutes, he says, "He's gone, Will." Gone, gone, gone, gone. What? My brain tries to comprehend the information and fails. "What do you mean gone?" I ask.

"Last night a shot was heard near the high school, they heard some kind of noise beforehand, but they didn't see what happened." Tiny sniffles. "Early this morning they found Tom. The news said it was some kind of hate crime."

By now, we're a little past the Little League, and I recognize the route we usually took to Tom's house. We pass by the high school and the first thing I notice is the yellow tape secured in front of a line of police cars. I can still hear Tiny sniffling in his seat, I haven't done anything to comfort him, not that he'd ever needed it before. My mind goes to Justin, Tom's little brother. I wonder how he's taking everything that's happened. I can't help but feel some kind of sadness for the kid, he was always close to Tom. He used to hang out with us, luckily his brother didn't mind.

We reach Tom's house a little while after. For a while I can't move, and Tiny looks as if he's going to puke. I take a deep breath and open the door. Tiny follows me as I make my way up the front door. Justin sees me from where he's sitting by the stairs. Soon, tiny arms found their way to my waist and I can feel Justin shaking as he cries. I see Tiny whispering words to Justin, standing up to find their parents as soon as Justin nods.

"Hey Justin, it's okay, it's okay, we're here." I whispered, unsure if I was trying to console him, myself, or both. In all honesty, I admire Justin. He's gone through a lot and yet he knows who he is and stayed true to it. I hope that never changes. Phil Kaye was right, fate really is a cruel and efficient tutor.

As I pat his back comfortingly, I repeat, "It's okay, it's okay" hoping that maybe this time, repetition would bring comfort, rather than lose meaning.