I WILL NEVER GET OVER THIS.
I know this to be true now, but I also know that not getting over it doesn’t mean I won’t someday be able to move on and live. Mr. Beaumont has helped me figure that out; I’ve been going to see him every week for the past year, and it’s been a good thing. Mom was pushing for a real shrink for a while, but she’s come to a couple of sessions with me, and I think she can tell that Mr. Beaumont is helping, so she’s let it go. “For the time being,” she says. I think she likes him; she gets kind of awkward around him in a way I’m not used to seeing her. I’m almost hoping that once I stop seeing him they might get together. It would be weird, but possibly also okay.
It’s been a full year since Hayden died. I made it through the rest of sophomore year alone, burying myself in schoolwork, trying to get back into losing myself in books instead of in computer games, and though it was hard to concentrate for a long time, it got easier. I avoided Astrid and her friends, which wasn’t all that hard; switching lunch periods made it easier, and I went back to my old habit of walking the halls looking down most of the time. It was different now, though—before I’d done it without thinking, because I didn’t know another way. Now I was actively avoiding a life I knew might be out there. But it was my choice.
I visited my dad in California for the summer, which helped. He’s still a d-bag, but he’s my dad, and it was nice to get out of Libertyville. He lives near the water so I spent a lot of time at the beach, and I met some kids there who were pretty cool and welcoming, and it made me think that Hayden wasn’t the only real friend I would ever have. There was even a girl I hung out with for a little while, though I never felt for her even a fraction of what I’d felt for Astrid.
The plan was to do the same thing junior year, to focus on academics and getting into a good school so I could get out of Libertyville and never come back. But loneliness is a thing that has weight, and it gets heavier over time, and it soon became clear to me that having friends for a summer was making it harder to function in a place where I had none.
I reached out to Damian first. Damian, the first one I’d been able to picture as my friend. I knew he’d been involved, but not with the worst of it. He told me it had started out as a prank; he hadn’t realized how much things had escalated. He was still friends with them, but he’d pulled away a little, and we started hanging out. He wasn’t Hayden, but he was a nice guy, and he was the one who was into graphic novels, so we got to talking about whether the movies based on Alan Moore books were any good. He showed me the stuff he’d been working on, and it turns out he’s really talented. It’s been nice having a friend again.
I’ve talked to Eric once in a while, too. I understand how mad he must have been about what happened to him, and even though I wish he’d done something to stop Astrid, I understood why he hadn’t. I get that he was probably relieved that someone had decided to do something, even if it wasn’t how he wanted it.
I still haven’t figured out how I feel about Astrid. I know from Damian and Eric that she still wants to talk to me, and I know it doesn’t make sense that I’d forgive them and not her. I just can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that she was responsible for the whole thing, that she felt like it was her job to avenge everyone’s wrongs—Eric’s, Jess’s, hers, mine. Hayden’s. There are days when I can almost grasp it, when I can feel understanding just ahead of me, and I can imagine forgiving the lies and the half-truths that kept me in the dark. Almost.
I know she catches me watching her every so often; she must be able to tell how hard it is for me not to run up to her every day and tell her I want to try again. And if she sees that, she must also see that in the battle between my impulses and all that lingering sadness and confusion over what it means to trust someone, even someone you haven’t known very long, the confusion has won every time.
So far.
I ran into her in the cafeteria the other day; we still have the same lunch period sometimes. Often I’ll see her across the room and she’ll give me a little wave. Almost like a question that I’m never sure how to answer. That day, for the first time, I waved back.
My sister graduated last spring, and so did the bully trifecta. Rachel stuck with Jimmy until they both got into different colleges. He was my favorite of all the guys she ever dated; I’m hoping she gets back together with him someday. As for the bullies, Jason never came out, and he used his church scholarship to go to a little liberal arts college in Oregon. I’m sure he won’t be back. Trevor healed surprisingly well, and he’s at the state college, hoping to walk on to the hockey team. Ryan surprised me and didn’t follow Trevor there; he went to a school back east, where I heard he wasn’t playing football. I hoped it was because he’d chosen soccer. He never did come over to look at Hayden’s shirts, but I hadn’t really thought he would. They were all pretty quiet for the rest of the year, and word of all the things that had happened got out quickly, which seemed to make a difference. The lines between the social groups got pretty blurry; Eric started an LGBTQ/PFLAG group and more people joined than I would have thought. For most of the past year, Libertyville High has been at peace.
I’m hoping to get there myself someday. It took a while for me to feel comfortable using my computer again; I wasn’t sure I wanted ArchmageGed to come back. Eventually, though, I got back on; in talking to Mr. Beaumont I’ve come to realize that ArchmageGed wasn’t real. He was just something I made up to help me deal with everything. After all, he never really told me anything I didn’t already know, whether I wanted to admit it or not. And given that getting regular sleep has made me feel like a different person, I have a better understanding of what not sleeping can do to someone. There had been something comforting about the idea that it was really Hayden, that he was still with me, creepy as it might be, but I think that was just something I needed for a little while. I’ve put the wizard figurine in a box for now, too. I’m glad I bought it, but I’ve stopped worrying about needing something to remind me of Hayden. He’s here with me all the time.
These days I spend most of my time on the computer listening to music. I decided to retire Hayden’s playlist. It never really solved the big mysteries for me, and I’ll never be able to hear any of those songs again without going back to last year. But if it did anything for me, it was to actually get me to start talking to people. Or, rather, start listening to them. If there’s one thing I learned from the playlist, it’s how important listening to people can be. I like to think I’m getting better at it.
Hayden’s playlist did make me feel connected to him, and it also opened me up to a lot of stuff I hadn’t heard before, and I started looking for new bands, things I liked that I’d found on my own, not through Hayden or Rachel. I’ve even started making a new playlist myself, one more upbeat than the one Hayden sent me but maybe not as overly ecstatic as the ones he and Jess shared, one filled with songs that are bright and hopeful. Songs Astrid might like.
Maybe someday I’ll give it to her.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MICHELLE FALKOFF’s fiction and reviews have been published in ZYZZYVA, DoubleTake, and the Harvard Review, among other places. She is a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and currently serves as director of communication and legal reasoning at Northwestern University School of Law. Playlist for the Dead is her first novel.