It's Leo, Not Leonard.
I didn't think about it much back then, but Leonard was a good kid. He didn't do drugs, he didn't smoke, he was a virgin (as far as I knew, or wanted to know). Sure, he was flaming gay, even if he didn't come out and say it. Face it, he knew it. We did too. And maybe I should have told him, how much he impacted me before he died. But I couldn't. I didn't realize it until he was gone, up there in heaven somewhere. He was embarrassing, I'll give him that. I didn't like going out places with him. But I worried about him. Like the night he said somebody followed him after theater practice. I wouldn't say it, but I did worry. There was a lot of crap I wouldn't straight out say.
Like how I maybe really liked Travis a whole freakin' lot, even after he killed my cousin. Maybe. Even I don't know how to feel about that one. I want to know... to know why he killed him. Hit him in the head and drowned him in that goddamn river. I might not ever know. Maybe eventually, but not any time soon. I don't think Leonard would want Travis to be put to death. I'm sure they were friends. Whatever twisted meaning that word had to those two boys, I couldn't tell you. But I know one thing, Travis didn't lie. About the money clip, that is. I'm sure he lied about plenty of other things. But he and my cousin were connected, that much I know. Funny thing is, I can't hate him. I've tried. I visit him sometimes. He still won't tell me why. He probably won't ever get out. I don't think he deserves too.
I don't think Travis was homophobic. I think he was just a fucked up kid. I can't say that I don't blame him... I do. But I can't say I want the worse for him either. I'm a complicated person, with a complicated mind. Most people would think "He killed my family, my blood. Burn him at the stake!", am I right? And I would think that too. But Leonard changed me. He got his sneaky, weird, quirky thoughts in my head. And they wrapped around my brain like a boa constrictor, until my thoughts gave way and let him in.
That stupid platform sneaker. What. The. Hell? Sometimes I think it would be better if the shoe didn't wash up on that ladies lawn. We wouldn't know, we would still have some shred of hope that our strange relative might come skipping up the porch singing show tunes from "Chicago". But because of that sneaker, we knew. We found his cold and gray body, anchored down at the bottom of that god forsaken river. I wanted to puke, when me and my mom had to ID his body. I remember the way my stomach twisted, I wanted to hit something. But I couldn't move, my body numb from the shock of actually seeing someone dead that I loved way more than I would be willing to admit, to anybody.
I haven't seen my dad in a long time. It's for the best, after what he did to my sister. I still don't really know but he did, but I'm sure it was sick as hell. I don't want to be anywhere near him. Once I reflected on it, I realized that's why my sister changed. Why she let her hair be cut so short, why she was always sulking in her room. I always blamed teenage hormones, or my mom, or whatever. I was wrong all along, I still somewhat can't face the truth. Being clueless is much easier. "Ignorance is bliss." as they say.
Sometimes I look through Leonard's old notebooks, the ones that aren't too horribly water damaged. I kept the note that Travis wrote to my cousin, the one about the money clip and "being his friend". I laughed every time I looked at the paper. Out of spite, out of irony, I really don't know. But the rumble starts in the pit of my stomach and climbs out of my throat, low and condescending. I thought about what Travis' words meant all the time. I wouldn't kill my friend. Something had to have gone wrong. Did Leonard make a pass at Travis? It's possible, but I couldn't be sure about that explanation. I didn't think Leonard was idiotic enough to hit on Travis, no matter how close they were.
I started to write, too. About my feelings, however corny that sounds. Sometimes, it helps. Sometimes it makes me cry. Some of the pages are hard to read because of the salt water that started in my tear ducts, slid to the tip of my nose, and dripped one by one onto the stark white paper that I spilled my heart onto. I write about Travis quite often. I don't like it, but I do. I can't say why, but the words flow out like that. I read Edgar Allan Poe a lot. "The Cask of Amontillado" I had read over and over again. It made me think about the possibility that Travis could have planned the whole murder. Manipulated his little henchman, lured Leonard to the river, taken advantage of his weakness, and brutally killed him. I hate thinking of it like that, but maybe Travis was the Montresor of the story, and Leonard might be Fortunato. How ironic, because Leonard was not "fortunate" in the least.
Leonard's grave is something that the boy himself would hate. The meaningless gray color, the meagerness of its size surrounded by countless other tombstones. He would want something colorful, lots of flowers and gifts. Something that stands out like he did. I'm going to visit his grave soon. And when I do, I'm going to take some duct tape. I'm going to cover up the "nard" part of his first name. He wanted us to call him "Leo" and I refused. But now that he's passed on, I think it's only fair that he is remembered for himself. Not Leonard, another tragic case of a boy whose life was cut short by murder. He is Leo, the amazing, wonderful, bright, unique boy that changed everybody's lives in the town of Neptune, New Jersey. In pace requiescat.
xxx
Sorry if you have no idea what I'm talking about. You need to read "Absolute Brightness" by James Lescense. It's an amazing book. This story takes place after the end, because it left a lot of questions. Sorry if it sucks. Ah well.