Lyrik
“What are you doing here? In my house? How did you get in? Did my parents see you? You know you’re not allowed over here, so why did you come?” I fire off questions as soon as I see Anson at my bedroom door.
He looks worried, an emotion I’ve never seen on his face. It makes me uncomfortable, maybe something happened with his parents. Maybe they knew that my parents were addicts and they were going to call child protective services, and then I’d be taken away and I would never see Anson again.
We wouldn’t see each other in school again, we wouldn’t play outside in his tree house, we wouldn’t stare at the stars together, and we wouldn’t have any more letters written between us, because he wouldn’t know where I was. He wouldn’t be my best friend.
I would have no one.
I would be all alone.
“Lyk, look at me.” Anson calls through my dark reality, “I saw you through my bedroom window pacing, I had to come over. I needed to know that you were okay, I came in through the back door. Your parents didn’t see me, and mine don’t know that I left, they won’t find out. I promise. Why are you crying?”
“I was just thinking about what would happen if your parents found out. If they discovered everything. I wouldn’t live here anymore. I wouldn’t be you friend and I would never see you, they can’t find out Anson. Promise me now, you won’t tell them anything that I tell you ever, even if you feel that you have to, you won’t say anything. Promise me!”
“I promise Lyk, I’ll never tell them anything. You can’t move. So, tell me, why are you upset?”
“I can’t say it out loud yet. I just can’t speak the words, because then it makes it true. Once I say it, then it’s the truth and that’s the way it is.” My words hang in the air.
I can’t let my parents being addicts become my truth. I have to hold out as long as I can, because once that becomes the truth it makes it real and being real means that my parents chose a drug over me.
That they chose a chemical that’s temporary over a real life, a life that they created, a life that they had wanted at one point, and that life no longer included me. That life no longer included a family or goals or a future.
That life was only guaranteed to include pain and suffering and sometimes death.
That’s a life I hadn’t wanted just yet, so I needed to wait a little while longer before declaring it my present.
Writing it down though in the form of a letter doesn’t make it real, yet. It doesn’t make it my truth, “Give me a second, I’ll write it.”
Anson nods his head. He knows that this is what I need, even if I can’t say it. I grab my worn notebook, the one that I’ve written letters to Anson in since the beginning of this school year. I’ll splurge on notebooks when the store puts them on clearance. Sometimes writing means more to me than my next meal. It feeds my soul, my heart. For me that is worth more than anything else. My closet is filled with written in notebooks, so worn that the wire spiral is stiff and puts up a fight every time I want to re-read letters to new ones that smell like fresh paper that are still begging to be written in.
I grab a new one, because it happens to be sitting on my dresser, that way Anson doesn’t see how messy my closet is or the black tinged mold that’s crawling its way down from the ceiling headed straight for my floor. I’ve washed it six times so far with watered down bleach that I stole from Anson’s house and every time I think it’s gone away for good it comes right back.
I can’t let him see what I live in, daily.
He sits on my bed while I stand at my dresser and begin writing.
Dear Anson,
You’re my best friend and because you are I am about to tell you something that might change your world. Or maybe your life, it has mine. As your best friend, I have to remind you that you just promised me that no matter what I tell you, you can’t tell anyone else. Ever. Because if you did, they would take me away and I would never see you again. I need you.
You promised!
I found a needle tonight. Yes, a needle. All this time I thought that my parents were so exhausted and sickly looking because they were working so hard to pay all the bills, but they aren’t. They look and act that way because they’re addicts. My parents are drug addicts Anson. I don’t know what I am going to do, but you can’t say anything. I can’t even speak of it. Maybe I can find some way to get them help, but not tonight. I just can’t say it out loud yet. But I promise that when I can I will talk to you about it. Thank you for coming over.
Love,
Lyrik Everly
Anson reads it, slowly. My hands begin to shake, the nervousness of waiting for him to read the letter puts me on edge. When he finally finishes, he remains speechless, for a time. He sits on my bed beside me staring at my face.
“Are you going to say anything?”
“Lyk, I–”
“Just say it, this one time, say whatever you want to.” The anxiety coursing through me is too much.
“Lyk, I love you and I don’t want you to live here with them anymore. But because I swore not to say anything I won’t. I just want to know that you’re safe, and you won’t be here with them alone and messed up. I’ll look out for you though, I’ll make sure you’re okay until you can do something about it.”
“You’re the best friend in the entire world. I love you, too.” I hug Anson.
Because I have no one else to hug and right now I just need one.