Flipping the Coin
CHAPTER 5
A FAILED ATTEMPT
When Carl came home from school on Monday, he ran up the stairs to my room. “Mitch,” he said, “it’s all over school that you and Roshan were beaten up last Saturday by some boys who caught you kissing. Is that true?”
My heart, which was already pretty low, sank lower. “Damn,” I thought. I imagine I turned bright red, because Carl said, “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, dammit. How did the kids find out?”
“I think the guys who did it have been bragging about it.”
“Do you know who they are?”
“I can guess, but it would only be a guess.”
“Shit! If Father ever finds out, I’ll be dead meat!”
“He may well find out, because the fathers of some of the boys I suspect work with him.”
I knew this was the end. My only way out was to die. I had been thinking about it for some time, ever since I began to feel really sad, which was probably nine or ten years ago. Despite knowing and loving Roshan, I hated myself. I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I knew I had to do it.
That evening I wrote notes to Mom, Carl, and Roshan. I was crying all the time I was writing, and some of the drops fell on my notes. After that, I went to bed. I couldn’t even get it up for one last, satisfying jerk-off.
In the morning, I got up and went through my usual routine so nobody would suspect what I planned. I took a shower, being careful to keep the cast on my broken arm dry, and went downstairs for breakfast. Mother wondered why I wasn’t eating much. Carl just looked at me. Father, as usual, didn’t pay any attention to me at all. My mother announced that she was staying home for the morning but would leave around 2 o’clock to do some errands. I was frustrated. I wanted to do it right away, but I had to wait until the house was empty.
I spent the morning in my room aimlessly listening to music until the doorbell rang. A few minutes later, one of the police officers from Saturday night came into my room. “Hi,” he said. “How are you?”
“Lousy!”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
I told him about me and Roshan being behind the store and the older boys coming back there and beating us. When he asked what we were doing back there, I just told him we had something private we wanted to talk about. He asked if I recognized any of the boys or heard them use names. I told him I didn’t. Then I asked him if he knew how Roshan was. He said that he knew Roshan was conscious, but the police weren’t allowed to interview him until the next day. He said goodbye and left.
A little after 2, my mother called upstairs to tell me she was leaving. When I heard the door close, the first thing I did was to take my knife and cut off the part of my cast near my wrist. I removed my clothes, went into the bathroom, and started the hot water running in the tub. While it was filling, I went into my parents’ bathroom, got what I needed, and returned to the tub, which was now almost full.
Sobbing, I forced myself to get into the tub and lie with just my head above the water. I took my father’s razor blade and, holding my breath, I slashed my wrists. That hurt like hell! Blood started flowing out of the gashes and slowly began to color the water. I watched, hypnotized, as my life flowed into the water. Eventually, I began to feel a little dizzy. The blood flowing into the tub seemed to grow distant, hazy, far away. That’s all I knew.
*****
I vaguely became aware of a light which was slowly becoming brighter. Someplace in my subconscious, I recalled that people who were dying thought they were moving towards a light, but I wasn’t moving towards this light. It was above me and getting brighter. The next thing I became aware of was voices, although I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Was I in heaven? I wondered.
The first words that I heard and understood were, “He’s beginning to come around.”
Oh God! Don’t tell me I’m still alive!
The voices became more distinct, but I kept my eyes closed pretending I couldn’t hear them. Finally, I couldn’t pretend any longer and opened my eyes.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” said a doctor. “Perhaps you’re not too happy to be here, am I right?” I only nodded. “Well, I have no idea why you did this, but that’s something we’ll have to find out before you leave the hospital. Would you like to see your mother and your brother?” I shook my head. “You’re sure?” I nodded. “Okay, I’ll go out and tell them you’re okay but you’re not ready to see them yet.”
While he was gone, I looked at my wrists, which had gauze and tape on them. They still hurt a lot. I wondered if that was my punishment for doing what I did. I had gotten my cast wet in the tub, so it had been replaced with a new one. There was a nurse standing beside me fiddling with an IV and I asked her what the next step was. “You’ll be admitted to the hospital,” she said. “I imagine you’d better get used to the idea of being here for a little while.”
“You know what?” I asked through my still swollen lips.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m still a failure, even at this.”
“Oh dear,” she said. “I’m sorry you feel that way. You’ll need to talk with your doctor about that.”
But I had no intention of talking with my doctor about anything except getting out so I could try again.
Eventually, I was wheeled out of the ER, onto an elevator and then down a corridor in a part of the hospital I had never been in before.
In the afternoon, a doctor came into my room and introduced himself as Doctor Goodwin. He pulled a chair over beside my bed and asked how I felt.
“Angry.”
“Oh? Why?”
“Because I failed.” Then I asked, “How long do I have to stay in this bed?”
“You don’t. Why don’t you pull up the other chair?”
“Huh? But, if I don’t have to stay in the bed, why am I here?”
“Because you have some unfinished business we need to take care of.”
I got up and went to sit in the chair, which gave me a minute to think. I took the minute and then said, “But I’m missing school.” I guess I felt that if I could come up with something important I had to do, I would be allowed to leave.
“Your life is more important than school.”
Without thinking, I blurted out, “My father certainly doesn’t think so!”
“Oh? Tell me about your father.”
Oh shit, I thought, This guy’s a psychiatrist! Aloud, I said, “I don’t have to, and I don’t want to. In fact, I don’t have to answer any of your questions.”
“Well, that’s your choice of course. But the longer you don’t answer my questions, the longer you’ll have to stay here.”
“You can’t keep me here against my will.”
“I’m afraid we can. You’ve been committed here.”
I was furious. I didn’t know just what ‘Committed’ meant, but I gathered it meant I couldn’t leave. “By who?” I demanded.
“Your mother. If she hadn’t the state would have.”
I sat there, fuming. “What’s to keep me from just walking out?”
“Locks,” he said. “You can try, of course, but it wouldn’t do any good.”
All this time I was getting more and more angry while he was staying very calm and sounding very reasonable.
Finally, I sat back in the chair and exclaimed, “DAMN!”
He just smiled his little smile which was becoming infuriating. “I’m sure you feel that way, and you have a right to, because you’ve lost all your independence, and I know that’s a very helpless feeling. As far as things go now, the only choice you have is to talk to me or not talk to me, and I’m sure that’s pretty maddening.”
After thinking for a bit, I finally said, “I have three questions.” He nodded as though to encourage me. “Why didn’t I die in the tub, when can I see my mother, and when can I have my phone back?”
“You didn’t die because your brother found you in time. As for the other two questions, the answers are up to you. It could be as little as a day or two or it could be weeks. I’m going to leave you now. Think about what I’ve said. Have a good night and I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, he put his chair back where it had been and left the room.
I waited about fifteen minutes before I left my room and walked down the corridor. I passed a couple of nurses, but no one tried to stop me. When I got to the doors at the end of the corridor, I pulled on them. They were locked of course. I hadn’t really doubted him, but I did have to see for myself.
Returning to my room, I sat and thought. I was between a rock and a hard place, and I could see no solution but to cooperate—within limits. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him I was going to try again.
That night I tossed and turned. Hoping I could at least jerk off, I started masturbating thinking of Roshan as I had seen him, naked. Nothing! Absolutely nothing happened! Lying there, I wondered if that was because of a medication I was being given. Finally, I slept fitfully until morning.
In the morning, after I had breakfast, I tried to watch TV, but the morning shows, which I had never seen before, were boring.
About 10 o’clock, Doctor Goodwin walked in, said, “Good morning,” pulled a chair up, and asked how I was.
“Well, my wrists are still hurting.”
“I’m sorry about that, but that wasn’t really what I was asking about, and I’d be willing to wager that you knew that.”
I nodded. Inside, I smiled a little, because he really seemed to have my number. “I’ve decided I’ll talk to you, because I want to get out of here. But there may be questions I won’t answer.”
“Okay. Good. Yesterday you said that your father would not agree that your life was more important than school. Can you explain that?”
I sighed before I said, “He would probably think that almost anything was more important than my life.”
“So tell me about him.”
I did. I started slowly, not planning to say much, but eventually I found myself telling him everything—the top of the stairs, the closet, the beatings, the constant put-downs—everything. He listened carefully to my whole recital. Occasionally, he nodded; occasionally he wrote on a pad. But he never interrupted.
When I finished, he asked, “And he was never reported for child abuse? Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess at first everyone was afraid of him. and then it just became the way things were.”
“Mitch, as a matter of law, I’m required to report the abuse to the police.”
“No!” I pleaded.” My father will just take it out on my mother and Carl!”
“I think the police can see that that doesn’t happen. They can either remove him or them from the house for a few days.”
“I never should have told you! I hate you!”
“Be that as it may, I still have to do it. I have no flexibility here.”
I was furious, both with him and myself. Fuck! I thought. I am such a loser!
In the afternoon, two police officers came to see me and asked about the abuse. I refused to tell them anything. They told me that my father had been removed from the house until the matter was settled.
Oh, shit! I thought. He’ll be furious. Finally, I asked if they could protect my mother and my brother from him if I talked to them.
When they told me they could, I sighed and told them the whole story, bit by bit. Occasionally, they asked a question, but most of the time they just listened while one of them took notes and taped what I said. When I finished, they thanked me and left.
Later in the day, Dr. Goodwin returned and asked how it went with the police. I was still furious with him and said nothing. He just sat and waited. Eventually, he shrugged his shoulders and left.
In the morning, I decided I was being childish, so when Dr. Goodwin returned, I told him about the police and what had happened. He said that I had done the right thing.
Up to that point I had only told him about my father. In the next couple of days, I told him about my mother, my brother, Roshan, the school bullies, being gay, catching butterflies, even Orion.
When we talked about my future after I left the hospital, I said, “The only thing I can think about is keeping away from my father. It’s such a relief to be away from him here. But if he’s in the house, I have nowhere to go, and I can’t stay here forever.”
“No, you can’t, but perhaps things will change. We won’t be sending you back into a situation where you’ll be in danger.” I wondered how anything to do with my father could change. Then he smiled and said, “I think you’re ready to have a few visitors and to get your phone. Can you give me a list of whom you’d like to see? You don’t have to see anyone you don’t want to.”
So I told him my mother, Carl, Roshan and his parents, and Orion. He smiled and said he’d have to figure out how to get Orion in, but he’d work on it.
He left and I sank back, exhausted. I had told him much more than I ever intended to. Of course, I hadn’t said anything about trying to kill myself again, but just getting away from my problems for a few days seemed to make that less important. Perhaps I’d put that off for awhile and see how things went. If I could only stay away from my father!