Turning Away

There wasn’t a whole lot to figure out. Jeff was lying in a heap on the floor next to an empty bottle of Sominex sleeping pills and a Gatorade bottle containing gin that was pinched from the bottle above the sink. The note Jeff had wrote during Economics class was inside his jacket pocket. He had written it while contemplating the afternoon plans. “I’m sorry world,” it said. “I didn’t mean to be such a screw-up.”

Jeff had gotten the news earlier that day. He was in the athletic office, along with his Dad, English teacher, Coach Anderrson, and a guidance counselor. The verdict had been handed down from the A.D.’s office. Jeff's grades had slipped below the “C” average needed to play on the team. He had prayed that there would be some sort of loophole in the rules that might allow him to retain his eligibility, but knew that when the time came, he was history.

No one in the room addressed him directly. “He’s so smart,” they said of Jeff. “How did this happen?” Jeff knew exactly how it happened. There were three group projects he had to do for English, History, and Geography. He had a math teacher with a sadistic streak, assigning homework that almost always kept the average student occupied for three hours. The public library in town closed nightly around 5:00, fifteen minutes before basketball practice let out. The school library didn’t open until second period. His study hall was first period. He had no time to get all the work done.

Jeff tried to explain his malady to every teacher, but their ego's wouldn't hear his excuses. "If I make one exception for you, I have to make one for the entire class. How fair is that?"

Jeff left the meeting with no emotion. He was too shocked. He went to his locker and reached for his school bag, then proceeded to the locker room to clear his locker and see how he was feeling.

It was in the locker room that the emotion became too strong to fend off. He wanted to die, and as he emptied his locker, he found no reason to fight the feeling. He reached into his bag and pulled out the little bag he’d prepared earlier that morning. Armed with the Sominex and gin, he went into the toilet stalls.

He opened the pill bottle and emptied the contents. There were supposed to be twenty pills in the bottle. Two per night were the maximum dose recommended. He thrust the contents of the bottle into his mouth and popped the top from the Gatorade bottle. He paused, trying to give himself one good reason not to do what he was about to do. Finding none, he washed the pills down with the gin.

The taste of the gin almost made him gag. He wondered how anyone could drink that stuff. He fought back his gag reflexes and waited. He just realized what he had done, and it was a weird sensation. He’d just taken enough sleeping pills to knock out an army of horses. The end was near for Jeff. He’d taken the proverbial knee; he was now counting down the minutes.

He waited. And waited. He had sort of expected to keel over and be dead before hitting the floor. It didn’t happen. He waited inside the toilet stall for what seemed like hours. Having nothing left to do, he tempted fate by taking another knock of gin. It still tasted awful, but not as bad as it did the first time. After six sips of gin, it actually tasted good.

Jeff sat down on the toilet seat. He thought of the coach, who fought hard for him, but in the end threw up his hands and said, “The rules are the rules. I’m sorry.” He thought of the guidance counselor, who just didn’t buy into his excuse that he was overwhelmed. “Can’t run away from a challenge,” she’d always say to him. He thought of his dad. He was so proud of him when he made the final cut. He thought of him sitting in that room earlier that morning. He had to take time off from work to be there. How was he going to explain this one to the guys in the office?

Suddenly, Jeff realized he wasn’t sitting upright anymore. He was leaning against the wall of the toilet stall. He tried to straighten up, but wound up falling against the other wall. He rose to his feet and fell out of the stall. He tried to remain upright as he walked towards the door, still clutching the Sominex bottle and half-empty gin container. He staggered past the junior varsity. They didn’t notice him. They were more interested in girls and the TV shows from the night before.

As Jeff got out of the locker room, things became blurry. He was looking at the world through six feet of fresh water. The gin and pills were taking a strong effect on his body. It was nothing like the night at Matt’s house in eighth grade, when they’d each drank the Jim Beam they’d found under the railroad bridge they day before. This sense was not of euphoria. It was something else, too hard to describe.

Jeff made it two feet when his legs gave out. He crashed to Earth hard. He thought he’d landed funny on his left arm, but it didn’t hurt. It felt like it was supposed to hurt, but there was no pain.

No pain. He was numb. He layed in a heap on the floor, thinking of the people he’d never see again. For some reason, he thought of Mike. Mike was the know-it-all jerk in his English class. He came to school every day in Army fatigues, Chuck Taylor high tops, and lavender t-shirts with a peace symbol on the front. Mike was the one who critiqued a poem he’d written last year with two words: “That Sucked!”

He thought of Amy. She was the beautiful brain that sat in front of him in English. He had longed for a moment in time to ask her out, but couldn’t find the right opportunity. They were slated to be partners on the English assignment, but because he felt guilty pushing the work off on her, he backed away from her, opting to let Sarah take his spot. He in turn got Jake as a partner. He was the class slacker, not caring one damn bit if the project got done or not. All he wanted to do was sleep.

The world around him began to spin. Jeff wondered if he was going to get sick. He didn’t feel sick, just tired. Now he knew what Jake felt like in class.

He thought of his parents. They supported his decision to try out for the basketball team. They were so happy for him when he made the final cuts that they threw a party for him that following weekend. Everyone was there, including many of his Dad’s co-workers. One of them, Rick, watched Jeff grow from a small fry into a strapping young man. The happiness flowed from the eyes of everyone there that night, and Jeff felt so good about himself for bringing it to them.

It didn’t matter now, though. In a few minutes, the disappointment would soon turn into sorrow. Only in death would they see how letting them down hurt him.

His mind wandered back to Mike again. It was only two days ago when Mike sat in the back of the math room spouting off against the “Jocks.” “What a bunch of doofuses,” he said, attempting to entertain the rest of the dope-legalizing punk crowd in the room. “You know the assistant coaches do their homework for them ‘cause they’re too dumb to do it themselves.” Hearing that bit of information, Jeff wanted to march into Coach Anderrson’s office and demand the thesis on Thoreau that was three days late.

The more Jeff thought of Mike, the madder he got. On top of all the stress was some self-described misfit shooting his mouth off about something he knew nothing about. Jeff wanted to get up and chase down the freak, but he was dying in the hallway and couldn’t do it. Mike’s attitude wouldn’t change just because he was dead, that’s for sure. Jeff laughed to himself as he thought about coming back from the grave to haunt Mike.

Suddenly, Jeff heard a loud voice. “HEY!” it yelled. “WHAT IS THIS? YOU’RE GOING TO THROW AWAY YOUR LIFE BECAUSE YOU FAILED IN AN ATTEMPT TO IMPRESS A BUNCH OF JERKS THAT DON’T GET IT? COME ON, GET UP! WE CAN'T DIE NOW! WE GOT SOME LIVING TO DO!

Jeff recognized the voice. It was his own, begging him to live.

Was it too late? Had he taken too much? He’d heard of many people surviving suicide attempts and going on to lead great lives. Suddenly, he wanted to undo what had happened. He wanted to live.

He tried to get up. He couldn’t. Everything was still spinning around him. It was beginning to get dark around him. His heart raced, trying to keep him going.

He pushed away from the floor with all his might. He succeeded in getting to his knees, but that was as far as he got. He fell to the floor again, hard. He hit his nose on the cold tile. That’s when he began to pray.

“Oh God,” he whispered. “If you get me out of this, I promise to live life to the fullest. I don’t wasn’t to die anymore. Let me live. I swear…I don’t care what happens to me, just let me live. I made a mistake. I want to live…I want to live…”

Jeff closed his eyes and relaxed his body. He was fighting to breathe. Everything he did was a struggle. He tried to hold on. It was all he could do.

The ear-splitting scream came from outside his body. He recognized the screech as that of Heidi, the captain of the cheerleading squad. Then, he felt footsteps approach. “Oh NO!” said a deep voice. It belonged to Mr. Duke, his math teacher. Things began to fade in and out, but he did hear Mr. Duke instruct someone to dial 911.
Things faded out again. Jeff felt like he was on a boat. He felt the sensation of swaying and bouncing along the water. He felt so at ease with himself. Jeff’s mind was clear, and he felt free

Then, he faded back into reality. “JEFF!” screamed Mr. Duke. “Come on, Jeff. Stay with me here. You’re gonna be fine. Just hold on, buddy!” Jeff could hear people crying in the background. Then he heard Dave Thomas cry out in horror. “Oh Shit! Mr. Duke, look at this!”
Mr. Duke turned his attention to the empty Gatorade bottle. Jeff slumped back to the floor. He heard Mr. Duke ask for something, then shouted “Well God Dammed, go find them! Each second counts! Go, Go, Go!”

Jeff began to fade out again. Mr. Duke slapped him back in. “Come on, Jeff!” He shouted. “Don’t leave! You gotta stay with me!”

Hearing that, Jeff began to wonder why. As bad as he wanted to live, there was a part of him that knew what was coming. There were bound to be endless speeches and “This-Is-No-Way-To-Solve-Your-Problems”- remarks from every know-it-all present. He wondered what the over/under would be on the number of kids who would claim to have seen it all.

What got Jeff was Mr. Duke. Up until now, Mr. Duke didn’t even pretend to know his name. Since when were they buddies? His ridiculous demands were part of the reason he was in this predicament. Did it matter? Jeff wasn’t so sure he cared enough to see it through.

What he did know is that he was fading fast, and time was running out. He had to decide if living was worth fighting for. Surviving this meant having to look people in the eye and tell them he wanted to give up. He was an underachieving jock according to the general school population. They could now add “quitter” to that resume. People would think of him as a psycho until the end. He was damaged goods, the way Ann Alberts was after she got pregnant. The shame would follow him to the end, or at least until graduation

So what? Was that so bad? Jeff wondered what was the worst thing that could happen now? Maybe if he got all caught up, they’d let him back on the team. Hell, if they didn’t, he might still get to play with the guys during the summer. What more could they do to him? Could they bar him from the gym, or the entire west wing of the school? Would they cut his left foot off? The worst was over now. He could reset his entire life and get it together.

He’d have to live with the mess he’d made for himself in class. It would take time, but it might be possible to catch up on all of it. After all, he wasn’t some sort of idiot. In Sixth Grade, he was one of the top students in his class. His lack of academic success could be largely attributed to a lack of time and energy, not a lack of brains. He might even be able to earn himself another chance in the AD’s office.

Who said he’d have to come back to this school? For that matter, who said he’d have to go home? His Uncle Kenny said he could live with him on the ranch outside of Fort Worth anytime. He could get out of that damn high school and its ridiculous demands. A fresh start was a phone call away.

Jeff felt his body rise. He was on the move. It might have been a ride to the waiting ambulance outside, or it might have been The Last Ride. Whatever. Jeff felt at peace for the first time in months.