Lying to the Camera

          "I have to go.  I have to get off the phone.  I have to go.  I can't be on the phone right now.  I don't, I don't I don't know what to do.  I have to go," I stammered.  Before I could even flip my cell phone shut, I felt my legs crumble beneath me as I sank to the floor.  He's gone.  My brain began to digest the news I had just received as I sat there still wrapped in a towel from a hot shower.  I didn't feel warm and energized, ready to start the day; I felt cold and so completely alone.  Suddenly tears began to gush out of my eyes, as if a damn had broken behind them.
          Crumpled on the floor, I attempted to cocoon myself in the towel for comfort.  But comfort didn't come, instead I found myself convulsing on the floor in a fit of sobbing.  No sounds escaped my mouth.  I'll never see him again.  I had no idea what to do with myself.  Lying on the floor amongst shoes and dirty clothes seemed to be the only thing I could do.
          Eyes red and swollen, body weak and tired, I had to mentally talk myself through getting up.  Though I was unable to control the tears, I managed to get dressed and emerge from my room.  One foot in front of the other, just make it down the hallway.  My mother heard me coming and intercepted me a few steps from my bedroom door.  She bombarded me with questions, "What's wrong?  Why are you crying?  Did something happen between you and Chris?  What's going on?"  Don't say it out loud.  If I say it out lough it will be true.  Between sobs I finally composed myself enough to let out, "He's gone, Mommy."
          "Who's gone?  Did something happen to Chris?" she worriedly asked.
          "No, Chris is fine.  He just called me and told me..."
          "Told you what?  I swear if he broke your heart I'll kill him."
          "No Mom, it's not anything like that."
          Don't say it, don't admit that he's gone.  "He's gone.  Sal's gone.  Mommy, he's dead.  Sal's dead.  I'll never see him again.  He killed himself."