The Choir He Wanted, The LIfe He Had

Wednesday, March 8, 1935

The teacher was reading a book, but I didn't care about the story, so I zoned out. I found Roger in the group of children sitting on the floor and went to sit next to him.

"Hey Jack," he said.

"Hi Roger," I said.

"How are you?" Roger asked.

"Bored," I said.

"Same here," Roger said.

"I've heard this story so many times," I said.

"Me too," Roger said. He looked around, then turned to me and asked,

"Do you need a toilet?"

"No," I answered.

"Now you do," Roger said. He raised his hand and said he and I needed to go to the toilet. The teacher let us, and the two of us rushed out of the classroom as if we really needed to use the bathroom. When we were in the hallway, though, Roger stopped.

"We have a few minutes," he said. "What do you want to do?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused as to what else there was to do.

"Let's just walk around," Roger said. "It beats listening to that story again."

Roger started walking down the hall and I followed him. We walked down a few long hallways and eventually ended up at the bathrooms anyways.

As we walked past the bathrooms, now going back to the classroom after realizing we had nothing else to do, Ralph walked out of the boys' room. He stopped when he saw us, and we stopped as well. The three of us looked each other over, and the way Ralph looked made me feel extremely bad for him.

He looked disheveled. His eyes were red and puffy, a sure sign of several long stretches of crying. His hair was messy from having been gripped in his hands in stress or anger. The worst thing was his clothes. Not only was there a large dark spot on the bottom of his shirt, but it was clear that he had, at one point, soiled himself. After a few seconds, Roger laughed.

"What happened to you?" he asked, even though it was strikingly obvious.

Ralph looked like he was about to cry. He breathed in deeply and straightened, trying to gain his composure.

"Nothing," he said, his voice surprisingly strong. "Nothing happened."

"Are you sure?" Roger asked. "Because it looks like you peed yourself, and you got...something...on your shirt."

Ralph blushed deeply but stayed strong. I guessed that he had probably had a few confrontations with Roger; he seemed to be handling it well.

"Leave me alone Roger," he said.

"Roger, go back to class," I ordered.

"Why?" he asked, looking at me.

"Do it," I said. My voice sounded threatening. Roger noticed this and left reluctantly. When I was sure that he was far enough away, I turned back to Ralph. He was trying really hard not to cry, but tears were beginning to fall down his face in steady streams.

"What happened?" I asked. Ralph breathed in deeply, then began crying silently. He put his head in his hands and sank to his knees. I kneeled down in front of him.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "Why did you pee yourself?"

"I don't...want...to talk...about it," Ralph answered, still crying. He seemed distressed, but I didn't know how to comfort him, so I asked if there was any way I could help.

"No," he said. He was crying harder now, and after every few cries, he took a sharp breath. I realized that he cried a lot in the time I had known him, but I didn't understand why. I didn't really think it mattered, though.

"Are you sure?" I asked. Ralph hesitated, and even his crying turned into sniffles and a series of sharp inhales. He was still covering his face with his hands, and in that pause, he moved them away from his eyes so that he was looking at me. After a while, he said,

"You...wouldn't...understand."

"I still want to help you," I said. Ralph didn't respond, and instead began crying again.

"We need to go back," I said. "We've already been gone too long." I held out my hand to him, and he looked at me, still crying. Without hesitation, he grabbed my hand and I pulled him to his feet. I put my arm around his shoulders and together we walked back to the classroom.

By the time we got back, Ralph had stopped crying and was wiping the tears from his eyes. When I was sure that he had regained his composure, we walked into the classroom together. The whole room was buzzing with activity. All the kids in the class were running around, chasing each other and shouting. As we walked farther into the classroom, a kid came out of nowhere and nearly ran Ralph over. I happened to grab his arm and pull him back just in time, though. The kid apologized as he ran away from us.

"Thanks," Ralph said.

"Yep," I replied.

Just then, a group of boys called Ralph's name and ran over to us. Ralph gripped the bottom of his shirt with both hands, obviously trying to hide the stain on it. When the boys got to us, they asked Ralph if he wanted to play with them. Ralph hesitated for what felt like a long time, then he said,

"I'd love to, but I'm not in the mood right now."

"Okay," one of the boys said. He didn't seem disappointed, though, and instantly the boys ran off, laughing. I looked at Ralph. He was watching them leave, but he wasn't saying anything.

"Why didn't you go with them?" I asked. Ralph shrugged.

"I just don't feel like it right now," he replied.

"Do you want to sit with me?" I asked. "We could...draw, or something."

"No thanks," he said. "I think I'm going to lie down somewhere."

He walked away from me, and I watched him for a while. He went over to a table and climbed underneath it, then he laid down, pulling his knees to his chest.

I wondered again why he seemed so distressed.

What was happening to him in his life...

And what could I do to help him?