On October 19th, a Thursday, I went to work like normal. I slept somewhat better than normal even though I was still anxious every night. I showered, did my hair, got dressed, brushed my teeth, put on deodorant, a little perfume, a touch of mascara, tinted chapstick, and then walked to the coffee shop. I got my iced coffee even though it was cool outside and I was always cold. I never drank hot coffee. I walked to work. I greeted Sasha. I sat at my desk, but I didn't do anything.
This day, twelve years ago, when I was only thirteen and had just entered the eighth grade, my childhood best friend Kenneth killed himself. Kenneth grew up next to me and was a grade higher. He had just started the ninth grade. He was a freshman but he was on the varsity football team because he was so good. Kenneth was naturally talented at everything. He played football in the fall, basketball in the winter, and always starred in the spring musical. He was a straight A student. Everyone liked him. He was nice, despite being so popular. Sometimes it seemed surreal that he was my best friend. I was a dork who didn't know when to stop talking, and yet he still chose to be my friend.
Kenneth had a hard time freshman year, but no one could tell. He'd tell me how much he missed having me attend the same school. He was busy after school and when he got a C on a math test his parents made him have an extra hour of studying. So we weren't able to hang out as much. By the beginning of October, he shut the world out, including me. We didn't talk often. A few days before his last day, he gave me a silver ring he always wore. I remember feeling so special. It felt like a promise ring, that he was asking me to be his boyfriend.
The summer before he started high school, we were hanging out in my basement. At this point, I knew I was gay and I knew I was in love with him. I didn't think he was gay, but on that June evening I kissed him. He didn't shove me away. He didn't call me a name. When I pulled away, he just laughed. He was gay, but he never told anyone. His parents found out he liked boys by seeing his search history. That's another reason why he wasn't allowed to spend time with me, because his parents were worried I was influencing him.
So, in October, he couldn't take the stress of being a perfect son, a perfect student, the most popular guy in school, all while hiding his truth. Late at night, he grabbed the gun out of his parents' safe, and he shot himself in his bedroom. The lights and sirens from the ambulance pounded through my window. I woke up, ran outside, and saw them wheeling Kenneth away in a body bag. I never knew such pain until then. I was so devastated that I had to finish the semester from home. Kenneth and I had been friends since we were toddlers. He was my best friend, my first kiss, my first love, and then he died because no one was there for him. If only I had just told him I was there for him, that his parents just didn't understand, that he was perfect the way he was. Maybe he would still be here.
"Hey."
I looked up, startled by Lafayette, then back down. I didn't hear him come in, too deep in thought. I didn't want him to see me crying. "Oh, sorry," I said.
He touched a finger under my chin, tilting my head up to concur that I was in fact crying. "What's wrong?" he asked softly.
"It's nothing," I said.
"Do you need to take the day off?" he asked.
"No, no, it's fine." I wiped my face. "I'm fine. Just...thinking."
"What are you thinking about?" he asked, perched on my desk.
"Kenneth," I said. "Today is...the day." I swallowed, trying not to tear up. This day was always hard, but I seemed to cry more this year than I have in the past.
"Emmy," he whispered. "You can stay home, it's alright."
"No, I don't really want to be alone today," I said.
"Well, take it easy today, alright? I just have to go over a lot of reports today for the budget approval. Why don't you come into my office?"
I nodded. "Okay, I can do that," I said. I grabbed my work laptop and went into his office. I sat down on his couch while he worked at his desk, reading all of the fancy reports I didn't have any understanding of. I worked on my stuff, but the couch was very comfortable. By ten-thirty, I was nodding off on the couch. My laptop was on the table and my legs were tucked against me. Lafayette was right - his couch was very comfortable. I only slept for about thirty minutes or so, and when I woke up there was a throw blanket over me. I glanced up at Lafayette, who was looking at his computer with tired eyes.
Lafayette was too handsome for his own good. He had such a nice jawline, so strong. He kept it cleanly shaven for the most part, stubble growing slowly. His green eyes were a warm green, almost like there were flecks of gold in them. They reminded me of spring. When he wore his gold rimmed glasses - which he was at that moment - it almost made his eyes look more gold than green. He had a deep brow, which kind of made him look like he was thinking hard all the time, but I still liked it. His brown hair was a light brown, maybe it could've been a dark blonde. He kept it shorter on the sides and styled long on the top. His stoic face was handsome, but I preferred it when he smiled.
"Getting a lot done?" I asked, rolling onto my stomach and tucking my arms under one of the decor pillows.
"Not as much as you," he said, smirking, but still looking at his computer.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep," I said.
"It's fine. You can take it easy today. I just have to get this shit done. It's stupid. I'd rather quit than read all of this," he said, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.
If he quit, he wouldn't be my boss. Would he be interested in me? I shook my head. "How about I get you some coffee?" I said, sitting up with a stretch. "I can go to the shop across the street."
"No, not in this weather," he said.
It was storming. "I can get you something from the restaurant," I said.
"I have an espresso machine here." He went to his cabinet with his goodies, an espresso machine with an attached bean grinder. While the espresso brewed, he sat down on the couch with me by my feet.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Fine," I said. I rolled onto my back and sat up against the pillow. "I just hate grief. I feel like it never goes away, even when you think it does."
"I know how you feel," he said.
"I just always think about the what ifs. What if he lived? Would we have dated? What if I had the chance to do something, to say the right thing? Would he still be alive?"
Lafayette moved closer, putting a hand on my leg. "It doesn't work like it does in the movies, you know? In the movies, a suicidal person has one person be nice to them, restore their faith in humanity, so they don't kill themselves. It's not like that in real life. That's why a lot of times people don't see it coming. For me, to everyone in my life, things seemed normal. Some days were even fine, but it was everything going on in my head. It's hard to pull someone out of the dark thoughts in their mind. It would take a long time to do that." He looked at the ground, probably thinking of his sister. "Of course, I'm a hypocrite for saying that because deep down I'm convinced I could've done something to save my sister."
I sat up and put my hand on his, out of instinct. "Faye," I said.
"It's alright," he said. "This isn't about me. What can I do to make your day better?"
A flurry of thoughts rushed into my mind. Let me take your worries away. Squeeze my hand and kiss me. Bend me over the desk. "Probably nothing," I said, pulling my hand away. "It's just one of those days I have to sit with my feelings...but what you said helped." I never had suicidal thoughts. What Faye said was actually comforting, but still sad, to think that Kenneth had been suffering for a long time. Then I thought of Faye suffering for a long time. What about his sister? She was so young.
"What did your sister look like?" I asked to distract myself from Kenneth, but then again - maybe asking about his sister wasn't a smart idea.
"We looked the most alike," he said. "She had the same color of hair as me and also had green eyes. The rest of my siblings have blue eyes. Clovis and Axelle have my mother's bright blonde hair. Claude actually has black hair like my father. Delphine and I, we got stuck with whatever this color is." He stood up and went to his cabinet. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a photo album.
I sat up when he sat next to me. "Are there photos of you as a kid?" I asked, smiling.
"There might be some," he said. "I haven't pulled this out in forever. I didn't put it together and I can't remember who did. Probably my mother."
The first page of the album was a photo of Lafayette when he was a child. He said it was his kindergarten photo. His smile was beaming, so genuine, the true innocence of childhood abundant on his face. The second page had a photo of him when he was in his early-twenties, with bleach-blonde hair and more piercings. He was smiling, Michael and Emilio sitting on a couch next to him.
"I think I was only twenty in this photo," he said.
"You had an eyebrow piercing?" I asked, a little excitedly. I always thought eyebrow piercings were kind of hot.
"Yeah, kind of made me look trashy, huh?"
"No, not at all," I said. "I mean, it was popular for the time. All the bad boys I knew in high school had eyebrow piercings."
"Oh yeah? That's the type of guy you went for?" he asked, smirking, flipping the page to another photo of him in his early twenties. He looked to be in California.
"Well, I never went for anyone in high school. However, the year after I graduated and I was still living in my hometown, I did secretly date a guy who was in a grade higher than me. Jeremy Dehart. He was so hot, but he didn't have an eyebrow piercing. He had those snakebite piercings, you know, very scene or whatever at the time. He was a troublemaker in high school, but secretly bisexual. We didn't last very long. We dated for about a year."
"Well, I never had snakebites. I did have a lip piercing, eyebrow piercing, and a nose piercing, plus a handful of ear piercings," he said. He flipped the page again.
"Is that Carla?" I asked, looking at a photo of a younger Carla with super long hair and a pair of drumsticks on her lap.
"Yep, that's Carla." He turned the page. "This is her and Marion." The photo showed Carla sitting on one side of Lafayette and Marion on the other side. Marion's hair was curly and down to his shoulders. Another photo showed Lafayette with a guitar and Marion with a bass.
"Were you guys in a band together?" I asked. I knew he played guitar based on the one I saw in the townhouse.
"Yeah, kind of, nothing too serious. We would jam out together, but played a few gigs before," he said. "I used to want to go to school for music, but I chose not to." He turned the page again.
"Who's that?" I asked, pointing to an incredibly hot looking guy sitting between Lafayette and Michael.
"That's a model named Marcus," Lafayette said. He paused. "He's my ex-boyfriend from a long time ago." He turned the page again.
I tried not to let my expressions show too much on my face, but Lafayette just confirmed that he had dated a man before. Was he gay? Was he bisexual? Would he date a guy like me? Or was he only into models?
"Here we go, here are some family photos," he said. "That's Delphine when she was ten." He pointed to a little girl that did look a lot like him. She was sitting on the edge of a stoop, halfway smiling at the camera. He turned another page to a photo of all him and all of his siblings in their Catholic school uniforms. None of them were smiling. "We weren't the happiest of kids, I suppose."
"Don't say that," I said. "It's gonna make me cry again."
He smiled, nudging me. "It's alright," he said. "I almost forgot about my espresso." He stood up and went to his espresso machine. He poured it over some ice and water, shaking it up. When he saw my quizzical face, he said, "It's called a freddo espresso. It's popular in Greece, alright? It's basically a shaken Americano."
"Have you been to Greece?" I asked.
"Just once, four years ago. We went to Mykonos, the group of us. Have you been?"
"No. The only time I've been out of the country is that one time I went to England, to see Whitney Houston," I said.
"Well, next year I'm planning on doing some traveling. I haven't traveled much as of recent, but need to get back out there. I plan on opening a few stores up globally. So you'll have your chance to travel then. You should actually get your passport updated sooner rather than later, if it expires next year," he said.
"So I'll get to go with you?" I asked.
"Of course. You're my assistant. If anything, you'll have to go with me whether you want to or not, but it sounds like you want to?"
I nodded, smiling.
"Good. Get your passport updated."