Sinking

3:15 PM: Andrew Roscow is walking home after school. Usually at this time, Andrew is at play practice. Andrew had a failing grade in geometry at midterms, and was kicked out of the play. He was trying the hardest he had ever tried to pass the class but he still couldn’t seem to get his grade above the F he had now. The day before, his parents had the usual talk with him about how disappointed in him they were and how they expected so much more from him. He couldn’t really say what he wanted to them: “You’re alcoholics, I’m disappointed in you, I expect you to be better parents than you are!” He could handle it though; he could go on like it didn’t affect him. He’d become a lot better at not showing his emotions, he accredited that to his acting experience, but he was so sick of it. He was so sick of lying to himself, and faking at school. He wanted to be himself and show everybody who he really was. Why couldn’t he do it? Were these things really too overwhelming or was it that he was too weak? He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He called his friend, Joey. Joey and he talked about anything. They were really close. They’d been through everything together since 7th grade. They talked for two and a half hours that night. Andrew felt better after that, but he still didn’t feel like he had much self worth yet.

5:40 AM: The next day. Waking up to a numb feeling in the back of his head, Andrew follows his morning routine which would eventually lead him to his first class. Or so he thought. An announcement over the P.A. system summoned him to the counselor’s office. Upon arrival, he saw Joey was sitting at one end of a long table, with Mr. Larson, the school counselor, at the middle. He was pointed to the other end of the table and sat down. Mr. Larson started the conversation with “Andrew, something’s happened here at school…” and was shortly interrupted by Joey, “Why the hell would you have told anyone that we’re gay?! It’s not true! We are supposed to be friends! What happened to that?” He shouted. Andrew was dumbfounded. He had no clue what Joey was talking about. All he could say was: “What? Joey, I didn’t!” It didn’t seem to help. Joey stormed out, and Mr. Larson told Andrew that he thought that kids saw them together all the time and they were both in theater, so people were starting to talk about the possibility of them being together. Andrew went to first hour, brought down even more by this event. He couldn’t concentrate anymore that day. Between the “fag” and “queer” slurs, he was getting glares from Joey and his circle of friends. Lunch came around which wasn’t any better than walking through the halls. Straw wrappers, empty milk cartons, and anything else that could be flung across to his table landed in front of him that lunch period. His friends invited him to go rock climbing that weekend to get his mind off of it. It wasn’t the first thing on his mind to hang out with friends so he declined. That night was again very uneventful, and this time he couldn’t call Joey. His lifeline had been cut off.

1:30 PM: Geometry. This was the most dreaded of all his classes. Things couldn’t get better during this class, so he was expecting the worst, and hoping for the glimpse of “the best” he still had. Mr. Pickert started the class by assigning a 30 question assignment. He didn’t say anything else. He then walked over to Andrew and pulled him into the hallway with him. He said “Andrew, I know you haven’t had the best week. Geometry is tough. I’m always here to help you get rid of that F. I also want you to know that I hear most of what goes on in the hallways here, and I have heard the rumor going around about you and Joey Parker. I’m here if you need to talk about anything. Ignore people who spread rumors. They are just insecure about themselves. Got it?” Andrew was confused. He was offering to help him? “Oh, and Mr. Larson is always there for you too, it’s his job.” Mr. Pickert added.

3:30 PM: Andrew arrives at home. The smell of liquor is in the air. He can tell his dad was drinking because it was the smell of whiskey and he had never seen his mom drink it. He had noticed before that his mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway and asked his dad where she was. His dad told him she was at the grocery store getting things for dinner, and that she’d be back in 15 minutes. This was not normal, because usually she would’ve bought everything on Sunday of that week, but Andrew didn’t think anything of it. “I got it,” Andrew yelled down the stairs as he answered the phone. “Hello?” Andrew answered generally since he didn’t recognize the caller-id number. “Hi, is this the Roscow residence?” The man on the other line sounded somber. “Yes,” Andrew answered. “Is Mike available?” The man asked, mocking the tone before. “Dad, Phone!” Andrew yelled. “Tell ‘em I’ll call ‘em back!” His father replied. “Can he call you back?” Andrew asked. “This is Holland Green of the Batavia Police force, and we’ve got some urgent news for the head of this household.” The officer said, trying to hint he had something to tell Andrew’s dad. “Well, right now, I’m the closest thing you’ve got.” Andrew inadvertently admitted, since he didn’t know when his dad had started drinking. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that Kerry Roscow has been pronounced dead at the scene of a drunken driving accident” Andrew froze. He didn’t know what to do. Should he breakdown, scream, or keep his cool? He just tried to process what he was just told. His mother had died. What kind of news was this? Why now? How would his dad react? Should he tell him himself or let the officer? Would he rage? Would he be violent? He decided he didn’t want to be the one to tell his dad. He wanted the officer to do that. That was the single worst moment of his life. After the event was over, he went downstairs to a dad who was grieving in the only way he knew how. Drinking. He couldn’t look at his dad drinking, because he knew that’s what had killed his mother. He went to his room and stayed there the rest of the night.

11:00 PM: Andrew knew he had a lot of late work to do. He couldn’t do it. He was so concentrated on knowing he would have to do the planning of his mom’s funeral since his father would be drunk for who knows how much longer. He couldn’t get any sleep either. That night he felt himself sink. He knew it was coming but in that specific moment he knew he was in the lowest sinkhole of depression he could be in. He wasn’t in the play doing what he loved; he was failing more and more school daily, his best friend hated him because of a rumor, his mom just died, and his dad was now someone Andrew had to take care of. He felt like there was no way out but he NEEDED to escape. He didn’t know what to do. That night, he planned it out. He stayed up until 3:30 AM planning what would be the end of the pain. He planned, down to every detail, how he would escape the hell that had been created on earth.

9:00 AM: School. One hour and twenty minutes late. Andrew shows up, knowing he wouldn’t just be able to sneak into his class. The principal called down the hall for him to come into his office. Mr. Pickert, surrounded by all of Andrew’s other teachers, was there with his principal. “Andrew, we are deeply concerned about what you are doing here at school.” Mr. Pickert started. “I haven’t done anything!” Andrew attested. “That’s what we’re worried about, Andrew.” His English teacher cut in. “Your GPA has sank down to a .548, Andrew. We know you can do better than that!” The principal said, mocking his parents. Andrew got up, and left. He had no interest in what his GPA was, and he certainly didn’t want to hear it from his teachers, but seeing Mr. Pickert concerned about him reminded him of one part of his “plan” he had forgotten. He needed to thank everyone. He reached in his pocket to add this one small component, but when he felt around it wasn’t in there. Where could’ve gone? Did he leave it at home? No, he remembered specifically putting it in his pocket. Where else had he been? He was in the office; did he drop it in there? Who would’ve read it by now if he did drop it in there? He had to go back and find it, but what would they say if he walked back in there? Would they trap him back into the conversation? He had to hope he dropped it on his way to school, but he looked around the school in case. As he was looking for a folded piece of notebook paper, a strange looking, awkward boy walked up to him, and said, “This is yours.” Andrew looked at the paper and said “Yeah, that’s mine. Where’d you get it?! And how did you know it was mine?” The boy said “I saw you drop it in the office when the principal called you in, and I picked it up. I apologize deeply, but I did look at it. I wanted to know if it was important to you.” Andrew wasn’t upset about this for some reason, but he knew that the kid knew now. “So now you know, what are you going to do?” The boy was looking down at his feet as if he was ashamed of what he had done. “I want to talk to you. I have study hall right now. Are you in a class right now?” Andrew found himself wanting to hear what this stranger had to say. “No, I don’t have a class. Let’s go to the library and talk.” The boy led him to the library, and it was awkward until they sat down to one of the tables. The boy introduced himself, then, as James Phineous, and they started talking about what the boy had seen on the piece of paper. “There are other people who have been in your situation, Andrew, believe it or not.” Andrew replied, “Yeah right, so much has happened to me, nobody understands. I plan on following through with that sheet of paper, because nobody has to deal with me anymore then, I can’t hurt anyone anymore. I’m sick and tired of letting people down.” James wasn’t even fazed by this audacious assertion. He said that he was one of those people who would understand what Andrew was going through. That a lot of things had happened to him that had made him feel the same way he was, and that with help, he could work through it. “You have a problem and you need help, because this is a very serious thing.” James said, and in that moment, Andrew realized that James really cared about him, because he knew what it was like. “I didn’t have anyone there to help me through my situation, and I would never wish that upon you, I want to help you Andrew.” James explained. “I talked to Mr. Larson about what you are going through, and he wants to help you, too.” Andrew didn’t reply to this, he was still hesitant because what are two people caring about him going to do? James took Andrew to Mr. Larson’s office, and Mr. Larson started by saying, “Andrew, there are many ways I can help you, and if you would let me, I want to be a part of your healing process.” Andrew was so hurt inside that Mr. Larson’s and James’ care was confusing him, and all he could do was shrug his shoulders. Mr. Larson took it as a yes, and started in with his ‘healing program’. He gave Andrew a number scribbled down on a piece of paper: Kane County Depression Hotline [phone] and a pamphlet about depression and dealing with it in a healthy way. He also explained to Andrew that journaling his feelings is a healthy way to deal with what he was going through. Once Andrew discovered that both James and Mr. Larson cared, he realized that he wouldn’t have made two great friends if he would’ve let himself fall into the arms of suicide.

Today: Andrew failed junior year of high school, but he passed all of those classes in summer school and is now on track to graduation again. His father and he have grown a closer relationship since his mother’s death, and Joey came to realize that Andrew wouldn’t have started the rumor about them, and they are now friends again. He plans on auditioning for and staying in the play next spring.