The art of getting better.

Chapter 7.

October 3rd, 1998.

As my eyes awake I feel a heaviness in my chest, not a soft lovesick heaviness that usually overtakes my body, but a weakness I haven't seemed to get rid of since that sombre September night and with that the sense of never wanting to leave my bed accompanying it. I need to shower. It's been 4 days... I think, and my hair is greasy. But I don't care. I need help, someone to sense my pain before I do something stupid. Theoretically, if I did do something stupid and I could be with. I stop myself because I'm not going to off myself. Because he wouldn't want me to die, so instead I get up and exchange my underwear for a fresh pair that my mom has folded on my office chair. I dawn them along with a pair of sweats and head to the bathroom. Turning on the tap I look at myself in the mirror. I see someone I don't even recognize, the person staring back at me looks tired, exhausted really, he looks malnourished and shaky. And looks like he needs a hug.

Opening my car door 30 minutes later; Rob's Vermont sweater fills me with warmth even if it doesn't smell like him anymore. My hair is still damp and I feel clean, which is good. Driving around Moncton is only ok when you don't live there, when you live there it gets a little repetitive, alive by pearl jam is playing through the speakers of my car and I'm taking it as a sign. To stay alive, driving to the end of town and back and around. I've been everywhere at this point, not even paying attention to my dwindling gas. After driving around the same old Moncton, down Main Street, through mt road and going down Magnetic Hill where Ethan Booth lives, I finally get to where I want to be,  I see Clint Anderson sat outside his house in the cold autumn air, My car pulls into his driveway as he gets up.
"Hey!" he says and I turn down my music to lean out the window, as I do this he leans in and we accidentally get extremely close.
"Sorry!" I say falling back into my car,
"Tommy shut your mouth up. There's nothing to be sorry about,"
"Force of habit," I say as he moves from my side to the passenger side before he falls onto the seat, manspreading a little.
"So where to?" he asks looking at me
"I thought you made a plan!" I say jokingly as I put my car in reverse.
"I do, I was just wondering if you wanted to do anything first, you are driving me everywhere."
"Clint you got into a car accident I think it's the most I can do,"
"The most you can do was find me when you did."
"Shut up," I say jokingly
"No seriously, I would have died."
"It wasn't that bad, you're just dramatic."
"My body still hurts like a bitch." I laugh and pause for a second. More like a few minutes. I've been planning this for weeks now, to tell him.
"I gotta tell you something, and you can't tell anyone." he's being open and emotional and so am I. And it feels oddly right.
"Okay, swing!" I pull over to the side of the road because this is going to need all my concentration, we're on a side street so there's no traffic which is normal for Moncton, I've never really done this before. I mean I told luke and technically I didn't tell Rob we just kinda hooked up and started dating. So this is still entirely new to me, and I'm scared.
"Never mind," I say and he laughs a little,
"Really? You're gonna pull that card on me,"
"Oh, I totally am,"
"Ok Tommy, I see how it is," he says and he moves his hand ever so slightly closer to my hand which is located on the gear shift. Maybe this is him being braver than I'll ever be. Of course not he's as straight as they come, he's just comfortable in his sexuality. So much so that he'll move ever so slightly towards my hand. even if he knew I was interested in men I don't think he'd truly care all too much. As soon as he begins he ends; taking his arm and moving it away from mine, in a delayed response I move my hand to my thigh trying to play off this awkward experience. He's dressed in a jean jacket and a striped t-shirt paired with a pair of dark washed jeans. Why am I so nervous? It's not like we've never been alone together, it's just a new experience.
"Hey I have a question," he asks after a moment's pause.
"Yeah shoot,"
"Oh actually never mind." His voice mocks my exact tone in delivery.
"Ok, that's rude."
"I'm joking, actually I wanted to ask you about the night of the party,"
"Yeah, what's up?"
"Do you know where he went after he left that night,"
"No I don't, he was really mad at me though,"
"Why?"
"It's a long story."
"Maybe you'll tell me when you tell me about the other thing."
"You just wouldn't understand the situation I'm going through," my voice doesn't even sound like my own.
"I can if you'd just tell me what's bothering you," what does he want me to say? I'm in love with him and that I'm gay? I don't think that would even board well in my head let alone out into the universe. Whatever I'm done hiding.
"I'm gay clint! And Rob was my boyfriend, but that ship sailed when he caught me having sex with Beth, that never even went anywhere! And the worst part is that he'd still be here if it wasn't for my drunk horny ass." I just said that. I can't believe my self, what a fucking idiot.
"Oh wow. Tommy that's a lot to unpack, do you wanna talk about it?"
"Nah it's ok, I've been dealing with it mentally for a month I think I can handle it."
"Well that's not healthy," he stares at me with wonder and I can see the sympathy in his blue ocean eyes. "Anyways mental health aside, you can tell me anything and the gay thing doesn't bother me. It's not that big of a deal,"
"Yeah," I say laughing a little "so where to first?" I say, trying to change the subject. driving down the road my heart skips a beat as I see Rob, or at least I think it's Rob, tall, brawny, adorable. I nearly swerve into traffic before I catch myself and notice that it's in fact a brawny man but he has lighter hair and he's skinnier, and he's wearing black, not green. I'm finally losing my mind, this is my last resort.
"We can go to the store first if you want," Clint says and it brings me from myself. And I feel normal again,
"Yeah, sure!" I say taking a left at a stop sign, if I wasn't staring at that stop sign I would have missed it, the small spray-painted words saying "it wasn't an accident" it reminded me of the note that haunts my mind, I still don't know who sent it, and I forgot about it until now, it wasn't an accident. Rob was murdered. I already knew this from the bloody rock that was used to bash his head in, along with a knife that brutally disrupted his life. And made it end 83 years too soon. Because in my mind he would have lived to be a crisp 100. Not anymore.