the heel press

I stood there in the hall with the note in my right pocket. I wrote it during class. My head was light and I was slightly shaking.

            Two nights ago I was talking to Leah on Yahoo! Messenger. She said that she was in a bad mood. [Why what’s the problem?] I typed.

            [It doesn’t concern you] she typed back. [You couldn’t do anything about it anyway.]

            [Oh come on babe just tell me. It can’t be that bad.]

            [No]

            We went back and forth like that for a few minutes. I was getting agitated, but didn’t mention it. She was clearly getting pissed when she messaged [FUCKING NO!!!]. I continued messaging until she finally broke down and wrote [I’m pissed off because of you right now. THAT’S why you can’t help!]

            [What did I do?] I messaged, adding a “confused” emoticon.

            Leah explained, in two quick posts, what was wrong with our relationship. We didn’t talk enough. Whenever we’re around each other, all we do is watch movies, play videogames, sleep, and fool around in bed. The one that really shocked me was when she was depressed, she drank and did drugs.

            [Wait a sec] I messaged. [I thought you like to do all that.]

            [No only when I’m depressed]

            We spent the majority of our time at her cousin’s apartment hanging out and partying. She drank and, twice in my presence, smoked weed when we were together there. She would laugh and smile during those times.

            “How’s it going?” she asked, smiling.

            “Alright.” I said, giving a weak smile. A fake smile.

            I took her hand and we started down the hall. Along with the other Alpena High students, we were heading towards the gym. A rally was taking place for the football game tonight. Not counting that one time when a student tackled the mascot, the rallies were usually boring.

            Neither of us spoke. I didn’t look at her. I stared ahead at the gym doors. The shakes and light head were gone—replaced with my heart beating fast enough that it felt like it was going to burst out of my ribcage.

            You knew this wasn’t going to end well, I thought. You knew the outcome since last night. It has to be done.

            The second we pass through the doorframe, I let go of her hand. We walk up the steps and found a seat in the middle of the bleachers.

            Hearts still beating fast. My legs are starting to shake. I slap my hands on my knee’s to keep them still.

            For the next two minutes, we sit in silence, not looking at each other. “Alright, I want to know what the fuck is going on.” Leak broke the silence. I turned my head and looked into her glaring brown eyes.

            My right hand dug into my right pocket. The note is in my hand. The jeans I’m wearing are a little tight, so I have to lift myself up to get my hand out.

            The note, minus the creases created by my fingers, is smooth.

            I hand her the note and go back to watching the school band. The cheerleaders are lined up, ready to do their routines. Out of the corner of my eye I sneak glances at Leah reading the note. The second time I peek she folds the note back together and stands up. “I’m going to go sit up there,” she says, then leaves.

            Amazing. It went much better than I imagined. She didn’t even sound angry. I’m not happy that the break-up with the first girl I’ve ever been truly intimate went well—just relived.

            The rally, like all of the rallies before it, is incredibly boring. I alternated between daydreaming and napping. Anything that gets my mind off of Leah is fine with me.

            “You motherfuckin’ fag,” says someone behind me, “back the fuck off my legs!”

            The person kicks me hard in the middle of my back. I turn around and came face—to—knees with Patrick.

            “Sorry about that,” I mumbled. “But you didn’t have to kick me like that you dick.”

            Patrick: a squat kid who sports a Caesar haircut. He sat at the same table as me and is a constant annoyance. Everyday he asks to see my car keys. I ask him why and he would always say that he wanted to trace the key’s outline. I refused and continued to do so. After he tried to steal my keys from me, which almost escalated to a fistfight, he now gets pissed whenever I refuse him. He then goes on a rant claiming that he’ll get his brothers to fuck up my car.

            Patrick was sitting next to a girl with black hair (highly doubt it’s his girlfriend). He had on the same face as the day of our confrontation. The girl was glaring at me as well.

            “You know what,” he said, “how about you get the fuck out of here. I don’t want you near us.”

            “The chances of that happening are the same as you getting my keys fatty. “I said. I turned around and watched the cheerleaders jump around.

            I tried going around the other side of the buses to avoid being spotted by Leah. When I saw her coming towards me, I knew I failed.

            “Hiding in the snow?” she asks, handing me a note. With that done, she turned around and went back to the sidewalk.

            The rest of the walk to the stadium parking lot had me not thinking of what the note said—but of why I had to go through where the buses were and why didn’t I use the other entrance. You had a nice, clean break up an hour ago, my brain screamed at me. Now you just fucked it ALL up.

            My brain was absolutely right. I knew that whatever this note contained was going to make me miserable and would initiate a lust to do a swan dive off a tall building.

            I got to my car and started it up. It would take a few minutes for it to warm up. The note stayed grasped in my left hand. I released my grip and the note fell into my lap. “Get it over with,” I said to myself. I opened the not and placed it on the steering wheel:

 Dear Floyd, 

I didn’t want it to end this way. It was really shitty of you to dump me like that in front of everyone. It really took a lot to hold back from crying and screaming at you.

           I got some news for you Floyd. You’ll never have a steady relationship if you break up with a girl if you two have an argument. Why couldn’t you have just talked to me? We could have worked it out.

         To me, that’s what love  is. Love is where two people can talk  to each other and if there’s a problem they can work it outBack in October, when I yelled out to you during your visit to my class, the people around me asked why I was trying to get your attention. I told them I thought you were cute and would make a good boyfriend.Turns out I was only right for one of those reasons. 

                                                                                                                                      Leah 

I didn’t fold the letter back up. I placed it on my passengers seat. I was miserable. I didn’t feel like ending myself yet.

Just give it a little time.