The Story of Us

15 - Lance's Flashback

This is a flashback, mostly of Lance becoming how he is. Bulimic, depressed, how he realized anything wrong with him. His suicide attempt. The flashbacks are in italics, while anything happening to Lance in the present are just in normal text. 

I sit on the window sill with Keith, ready to hear a story or something. I know it's probably too much to hope, but I hope Keith tells me more about himself. I don't know how I feel about telling him all of my baggage - I don't want to be a burden - but I guess I'll figure it out on the spot if he asks. 

"Hey," I start the conversation, not liking the silence much. 

"Why are you here?" Keith asks suddenly. Well, time to decide.

"Why are any of us here, really?" I respond. 

Keith rolls his eyes. "I know what you're doing. I also know you know what I mean. But just for laughs, I'll specify: Why are you in the hospital?"

I sigh. "Do you want the reason or the stuff leading up to it?" 

Keith looks significantly less annoyed. He looks...sad, but also worried and maybe a little bit relieved. "Whatever you feel comfortable with," 

I sigh and sit back against the window. 

[Flashback]

Nyma is smiling at me. She's so beautiful. We're sitting in my brother's car, after our first date. I feel something in the air shift between us. I start to lean in, Nyma doing the same, until our lips touch each other's. I pull back with a smile, before kissing her again. Less hesitant this time. 

"Lancey..." she coos in my ear, playing with my hair, "can you do something for me?"  I nod eagerly, knowing that this girl has me wrapped around her finger. 

"Of course. Anything for you Nyma," I respond. 

She whispers he request in my ear, and I can't get to the backseat fast enough. All I remember is that at some point, one of us gets a call right after some...stuff...and I have to take her home. 

The next day, everyone is staring at me. I'm a generally self conscious person, but it's never been a necessarily bad thing before. Now, though, I can feel the eyes of my peers following my every move as I make my way through the hallways. To class. Even when I'm just washing my stupid hands in the stupid bathroom and some stupid guy comes in and stupidly stares at me. 

I just want to cry. Or go back in time and tell myself to tell Nyma to not tell anyone what happened because I'm a private person. It's not about Nyma. I'm not embarrassed of being with her. 

I sit down at the lunch table between her and our friend Lotor. His hair is pulled into a bun and he's chewing on a pen thoughtfully. 

"Does this look right to you?" He asks, showing me a beautifully drawn picture. Lotor wants to be an artist when he gets older. Already, he's working hard on realistic portraits and blending every color imaginable together. I examine the picture. 

"Her neck," I point out where her throat is, "girls don't have such a sticky-outy Adam's apple,"

Lotor looks at what I'm pointing to, nodding and pulling out his phone. I see him snap a picture of his drawing and circle the area where he needs work. He erases the front of the lady's neck and looks at Nyma's neck for reference. 

"Making a move on his girl? Damn, McClain, if you're gonna bring her down so low you might as well protect her!" Some football player shouts, getting the attention of the whole cafeteria.