"…When he comes around
Do not tell him nothing
Do not make a sound
'Cos if he knows we're there
He might tear his heart out
And beat us to death with it
I was too young to understand…"
--Pete Yorn
A few days later:
"Ephram?" Andy checks his son's room and it is empty. He looks in every room but cannot find his son inside the house.
"I'm out here," Ephram's voice calls from outside. Andy smells the acrid scent of cigarette smoke and follows it to his son.
Ephram is sitting on the steps of the back porch, smoking a cigarette. Andy doesn't scold him, he leans against the railing and looks at his son.
"I used to smoke in New York. Did you know that? A pack a day at one point in my life," Ephram says quietly.
"I didn't know," Andy replies, quietly.
"I went out with this girl named Leslie back then. You would have hated her. She was loud, angry at the world, and very, very disturbed. I loved her. We would smoke her mom's cigarettes and sneak into concerts. Mom even met her once," Ephram speaks quietly, lost in thought. "Mom didn't like her either, said she was a bad influence and would get me into trouble."
"Ephram?"
"Leslie and I broke up over a party. She wanted to go and I didn't. She loved the band that was playing there, she just had to go and I had a recital the next night so I couldn't afford to sneak out and get caught. So she went without me."
"What happened?" Andy asks, sensing the importance of his son's story.
Ephram takes a long drag off his cigarette. He doesn't look at his father. "She died. The guy that drove her to the party got wasted and slammed the car into a guardrail. Kind of like the way Mom died, I guess. No chance to say goodbye."
"I didn't know about that, Ephram," Andy confesses.
"I didn't tell anyone. It was my drama. I got through it," Ephram replies, quietly. "I mean, my friends knew, but they were kids. Besides the "get wasted and stop worrying" remedy, there was nothing they could do either. It was a long time ago."
"It must still bother you, though, to have you talk about it," Andy remarks.
"I told the therapist about it today. She said it was a good start. Like some girl that died years ago is going to help me stop seeing my dead mother," Ephram snorts.
"Ephram. I think what she means is that talking helps. I mean, you honestly don't see anything wrong with keeping things like that to yourself? It's not…healthy, Ephram," Andy states, calmly.
"So I should wander around crying and mourning my loss? I have to move on. Life goes on so we do, too, right? Life's too short…" Ephram finishes his cigarette and stomps it out with his shoe.
"I don't approve of you smoking," Andy says, quietly.
"I'm sorry. I'm just too tired to try and hide stuff from you. I'm not drinking…but I have to admit that I want to…the meds…do you think they're helping, Dad?" Ephram asks, standing up and turning to face his father.
"What do you think?" Andy asks in return.
"I'm…I'm leveled out now, I guess. I'm not spiraling toward the bottom, I'm just hanging there," Ephram responds. "But you think I'm better. I can see it."
"You're talking to me, Ephram, that always lifts my spirits. I don't like you smoking, but if it makes you better, then…I can handle it."
"It doesn't make me better, it just occupies my time. Keeps me busy." His eyes flicker suddenly and Andy realizes that Ephram can still see and hear his dead wife.
"Colin and Amy called again," Andy says as Ephram walks back into the house.
"I might call them later. The therapist says that it would be good for me," Ephram states.
"Ephram. You don't seem too eager to do what the therapist says. You seem like you're just going through the motions…"
Ephram turns to face his father. "You say I'll get better. The therapist and the psychotherapist and the doctors all say I'll get better. I'm trusting that if I keep 'going through the motions' that I'll get better. Right? It's all I can do right now. I'm taking my meds. I'm not drinking. I'm talking again."
"You're trying and that's all I can ask for, but there's going to come a point, Ephram, when you have to tell me if it's helping. You have to be able to tell a difference," Andy replies.
"I can't. I don't see a difference, yet, Dad. I still see her. I still hear her. I'm not distracted by school now, so she's worse…all I want to do is sleep…she's not as bad in my dreams anymore, that's true, but with the new medications, I'm not really dreaming at all. It takes everything I have to get out of bed every morning. I just want to sleep." Ephram's eyes are sad as he looks past his father into the distance. 'I'm going to go upstairs. I'll leave the door open."
Andy watches his son walk away. He wonders when his son shattered, was it when his wife died or was it before that. He wishes he had paid enough attention to know.
*****
"…You killed the feeling
but the pain's still alive…"
--Cold
Ephram takes a deep breath. He calls the Abbott's number. He isn't sure what he is going to say to Amy, but he knows that he should say something.
"Yeah?"
Ephram recognizes Bright's voice. "Yeah. Is Amy home?"
"Is this Brown? What's up, man?" Bright sounds surprised. Ephram can hear Amy's voice in the background, questioning.
"Not much," Ephram replies.
"Hang on," Bright says, and there is a pause as he passes the phone.
"Ephram?"
"Hey, Amy…"
"You're talking?" Amy asks.
"Yeah. More."
"Good…I can't wait to tell Colin. Are you feeling better?"
"Sure."
"Ephram?"
"No."
Amy is quiet.
"Sorry, Amy."
"You tried to kill yourself, Ephram?" Amy asks, quietly.
"Not exactly. Sort of," Ephram responds. "It's complicated. I'm…I'm going crazy, Amy. There's really no way around it."
"You're not crazy, Ephram," Amy scoffs. "You're just going through a rough time right now."
"Guess so," Ephram mutters.
"You want to talk about it?" Amy asks.
"I guess I owe you an explanation."
"No, Ephram, but I am worried about you. I've been so wrapped up in Colin that I didn't realize that…that you were sick," Amy admits.
"I'm good at hiding things. I let myself get sick. Dad says I speeded up my break down." Amy is silent so Ephram continues. "I stopped eating. I started drinking. Then I lost it. I sliced myself up pretty good…I wasn't thinking clearly. Maybe…maybe I was trying to kill myself, but I was really just trying to make it stop."
"Make what stop, Ephram?" Amy questions, not wanting to upset Ephram, but wanting to know.
"Amy…"
"Ephram, you're my friend. Nothing that you say is going to change the way I feel about you."
"How do you feel about me?"
"What?" Amy asks, unsure that she heard him correctly.
"See, I can ask hard questions, too."
"Ephram…"
"No, I'm sorry. I'm just a little stressed out. I'm better now, with the meds, but it's still hard," Ephram apologizes.
"It's okay, Ephram. I'm sorry I was pushing too hard," Amy responds.
"It's not something that I want everyone to know. It was hard enough for me to talk about in the first place…"
"It's okay, I promise. You've told me lots tonight, Ephram, I'll accept what you can tell me for now. What can I do for you?"
"Nothing. I'm all fucked up right now, Amy…"
"But when I was all fucked up over Colin, you were there for me…can't I be a friend to you?"
"It's okay, Amy. I know you're around if I need you," Ephram replies, honestly.
"You're eating now, right? And not drinking?"
"Yeah. Dad's got me on lockdown. Delia's at our grandparents' house. Dad says he might let her come home next week if I…if he keeps thinking I'm getting better."
"You don't think you're getting better?"
"I don't feel better. Sure, everything's clearer now, but…not better."
"Ephram…"
"Sorry, Amy. I would lie to you if I thought you'd believe me. I am trying…"
"Are you really?"
"I'm talking again, aren't I? Believe me, it's much easier to be quiet," Ephram replies.
"Okay, Ephram," Amy sighs. "Thanks for calling. Can I come visit you tomorrow? If you're up to it? We'll do something non-stressful like watch cartoons or something."
"I don't know what cartoons you've been watching, but they can get pretty stressful," Ephram replies.
"Was that a joke, Ephram? See you are getting better!" Amy smiles.
"Whatever, Abbott. I guess I'll call Colin. So he won't feel left out," Ephram sighs, exhausted.
"Everything's going to be okay, Ephram."
"That's what everyone keeps telling me."
"Then you should listen. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"
"Thanks, Amy."
"For what?"
"For still being here."
"I'll be here, Ephram."
