The Fifth Circle (19 page)

“…he spent a day in jail…”

More like a day and a half. The longest day and a half of my life.

“…He’s facing criminal charges…”

Jesus, mom. Thanks for reminding me.
My pending court date was never far from the forefront of my mind.

“…no wonder he’s been upset lately… all this will blow over once the legal stuff is out of the way…”

What the fuck was she talking about? I wrote the paper
before
the incident at work. Was she that clueless?

“…it isn’t his fault. He stopped taking his medication because the side effects were worse than the depression…”

I zoned out for a moment, lost in my own thoughts until Mrs. Meeker decided to start throwing her stupid opinion around.

“I’ve noticed there’s a lot of anger there…”

Really? What clued you in, bitch? The paper where I talked about slitting Darren’s throat, or was it when I knocked my chair down and screamed at everyone?
This dumb whore had a college degree? If that’s what they teach you in college, I think I’ll save my money, thanks.

“There are some excellent resources… I could give you the number of a
counseling center…they work on a sliding scale if money is an issue…”

“No,” I said, slapping my hand down on the principal’s desk. “I ain’t seeing no counselor. It’s a waste of time.”

“Honey, it might help. You have a lot on your plate right now…” My mom shut her mouth when I glared at her.

“I’m eighteen. I’m an adult. You can’t make me go.”

“No one is going to make you do anything…”

“Damn straight,” I muttered.

Mr. Long intervened. “Why don’t you two head home and talk this over. If you decide you need a referral, give Mrs. Meeker a call. Sean, I’d like to see you on Tuesday before you go to class.”

A four day weekend. Once upon a time, I would have viewed this as a gift, but now, I could only see the negative in the situation.
I stormed out of Mr. Long’s office, my mom’s high-heeled shoes clip-clopping behind me.

“Sean, I need to get back to work. We’ll talk tonight?”

Without responding, I walked over to my truck, climbed inside, and drove away. I had nothing to say to her—not then, and certainly not later. She’d turned against me, just like everyone else had. Even Alex was against me.

As I drove home, I thought about texting her. Maybe she could skip
the rest of the day and we could spend it together. I felt myself growing hard just thinking about it. Or, maybe I’d wait and see if she even noticed I was gone. Maybe, I’d wait until after lunchtime. If I texted her before lunch and told her I left, she might see it as a chance to hook up with some other guy. A vision of Alex and Darren making out behind the school clouded my mind and my eyes watered in rage.

No. I’d let her sweat it out. I’d let her go to the lunchroom…notice I wasn’t at our usual table. She’d scan the area, searching for me.
Then, when she discovered I was nowhere in sight, she’d call me.

But, what if she didn’t? What if she asked Cole where I was? What if they struck up a conversation, decided they liked each other, left together, and abandoned me
? What if they were already screwing around behind my back and I was nothing but a big, fucking joke?

Tears stung my eyes and overflowed. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was sobbing with rage and misery. This was the beginning of the end. For a while, I had everything: the perfect girlfriend, a decent job, a spot in a TOA quad.
Now, I could see it unraveling: my job was gone, Alex was becoming distant…only Tales of Andrometis remained.

I let myself into my house and went back to my bedroom to turn on my computer. I heated up a plate of pizza rolls, grabbed a soda, then went into my room to wait for my computer to wa
ke up. Brushing tears from my cheek, I popped open my soda and took a drink. The pop-top broke off and the jagged metal pricked my finger. The metallic smell of blood was oddly appealing.

Running the sharp metal across my forearm, I watched while the skin
tore and split, leaving a thin line of blood. Cutting gave me a sense of comfort back in the days before I’d gone to the mental hospital. It gave me comfort again. Running the pop-top along my inner arm, I smiled at the tiny scratches—not enough to scar, but enough to soothe my emotional pain. With every droplet of blood, my anger sloughed away. It was as if all the rage and pain had built up inside me—one giant tumor of agony. It was time to lance the boil of despair, time to bleed out the suffering.

Chapter 1
9- Alex

Therefore stay here, for thou art justly punished

(Canto XIX, line 97)

Sean found a new job a
couple of days before his court date. His mother and I breathed collective sighs of relief—this was one aspect of his life that seemed to be going well. His grades were abysmal, barely passing. After a couple of two-day suspensions from school, the lawyer could hardly expect to use his academic record as an example of Sean’s great life. With no extracurricular activities or impressive interests to speak of, the lawyer had nothing to work with.

Sean’s new job at
a greasy burger joint was the thin silver lining in his stormy, cloudy life. When I congratulated him, he flipped out.

“What do you mean,
I’m so happy for you, Sean
?” His mocking falsetto turned cold. I struggled to figure out what I’d said to make him so furious. With measured steps, he stalked across his bedroom and stood over me, shaking with rage.

Nausea washed over me. What could I possibly say to diffuse the situation? Things had turned ugly very fast, and I couldn’t figure out why he seemed to believe I was his enemy. It had always been the two of us against the world.
Now, it felt as if I were always on guard against his rapidly shifting moods.

“Gee, Sean,” he continued, his face just inches from mine. “I’m
so
glad you’re sentenced to a life of flipping burgers. Oh, well, as long as
I
don’t have to work. I’ll just continue to soak up all your money until I find someone better.” His shrieking, mocking laughter startled me and I moved away from him, skittering across the bed to the other side.

His rage left suddenly, and fear took over. He sat d
own next to me on the bed. “I’m sorry, Alex. I’m just so fucking stressed…I itch all over and I can’t sleep. When I do finally fall asleep, I have nightmares about going back to jail. It was horrible. You have no idea.”

I reached out and held his hand.

“You’re the only good thing going in my life. You’re the only person I can trust and the only one on my side. I’d probably kill myself if I didn’t have you.”

What could I say to that? I couldn’t tell him that I thought about breaking up with him almost daily. I couldn’t tell him that he scared the
crap out of me. Sean had crossed a line a long time ago, and there was no going back. I loved him, but I didn’t feel comfortable around him. I was always on edge when we were together—and sometimes, even when we were apart. I was afraid to do or say anything because I never knew what would trigger his rage. At no time did I feel relaxed or safe. My life had become unbearable.

H
ow could I say any of this to Sean? He needed me, and I needed him. Despite everything we’d been through lately, he was the only person I could trust, the only person who knew the truth about me. Other guys would probably turn away from me in disgust if they knew what I’d done—been forced to do. Sometimes, I couldn’t bear to live with the truth about myself. Sometimes, I just wanted to die.

Like now.

Nothing in my life was going as planned. Planned? That probably wasn’t the best word to use in regards to my life. I never planned anything, never set any goals. I did my chores, did my homework, and did what everyone expected me to do. But to actually sit down and make plans for my life? No. I’d never done any of that.

Each time I thought about taking my life in my own hands—of refusing to go with the flow—my own sense of sluggish helplessness got in the way. There was always a reason w
hy I couldn’t do what I should, or always some challenge that stood in my way. Like Scarlett O’Hara, the mantra
I’ll think about it tomorrow
had become my worst enemy.

“If I have to go back to jail…” Sean said.

Was it wrong that I felt relief at the thought of Sean going to jail? That I felt giddy the way one feels when they’re staring down the barrel of summer vacation?

“
If I have to serve time, I’ll get through it because I know you’ll be here waiting for me,” he said. “You will be waiting, right?”

I couldn’t disappoint Sean. He’d been my lifeline, my one true friend. He loved me and I owed him my loyalty. Just because he was having a hard time right now didn’t mean I could leave him. If you loved someone, it should be unconditional. You didn’t just cut someone loose because they were struggling with legal or mental issues.

“I’ll always be here for you,” I said as a weight of impending doom settled, crushing me.

“I love you,” he wept. I patted his shoul
der while he cried and knew I did the right thing. How could I leave someone who needed me the way Sean did?

***

Three days after the initial court date, Sean lost his job flipping burgers. It wasn’t his fault though, so no one was mad at him, though I suspected the lawyer would probably complain. His mom and I weren’t upset—we knew how stressed and on edge he’d been. He hadn’t slept much in the days prior to his court appearance, so it was only natural that he totally crashed afterwards. I tried to wake him up so he could go to work, but in his exhausted state, he cursed at me and lashed out. His mom called his work and told them he was sick, but I guess they didn’t buy that excuse, so they fired him.

Of course, Sean blamed his mom and me for not forcing him to get up, but that was just the stress talking. Sean didn’t realize how difficult he could be when he was in one of his super-sonic-sleeping phases. I still felt guilty for ruining his
fast-food career before it ever really started.

“If you want me to get a job, I will,” I offered.

“What the hell good is that gonna do?” he asked, running his fingers through his hair. His mom made him cut it before he went before the judge, but somehow, Sean’s hair always looked unkempt. Maybe it was the cowlicks that made it stick up at odd angles. Or, maybe because he had a habit of messing with his hair when he was nervous.

“I know that,” I replied, trying to remain calm. “I just meant, I thought maybe I could get a job to help out with money.”

“Are you saying I can’t take care of you?” His voice rose dangerously.

“No. You’ve been taking care of me all this time, so I thought it was only fair that I should help out for a while. The sooner we get your lawyer paid off, the sooner we can start saving for our future.”

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “I’ll think about it.”

He was calm once again. I did well. I validated his bel
ief that he was my caretaker, while still making my case for wanting a job. Plus, I reaffirmed his plans for us to get a place together and stated my allegiance to him. It was very important for me to remind him that I was still on his team. His feelings were easily hurt, especially right now when he was so insecure about everything.

I’d learned to be careful a long time ago. My mother’s interactions with my dad had taught me a thing or two. Growing up, I’d had years of practice at escaping my dad’s bad moods and flying under the radar. I never thought I’d be in my mom’s position—that I’d be the one who had to soothe damaged egos and calm erratic tempers.

Sean wasn’t anything like my dad, though. Sean didn’t drink. His bursts of temper were due to extreme stress and his mental disorder, so it wasn’t his fault.

The next day, Sean and I went out job hunting together. He was
beyond pissed when I was offered a job at the taco shop and he wasn’t.

“Those motherfuckers only hired you because you’re hot. They shut me out
because they know you’re with me and they think they’ll have a chance with you if I’m not around.”

No. They hired me because they were looking for a cashier and Sean told them he didn’t like working with people. But, I didn’t tell Sean that
. It was better to let him believe what he wanted.

“Fine. I won’t take the job. You’re right—they’re assholes,” I said. Sean nodded grimly, evidently please
d that I was able to see things his way. I breathed a sigh of relief. Another crisis averted.

***

As the deadline for submitting my research paper approached, I thought I’d finally found out what Dante was thinking about when he put the wrathful and sullen together. Sean was either full of wrath, or sinking "into a black sulkiness which can find no joy in God or man or the universe." I could hardly use Sean’s behavior as a reference to prove my theory, but at least I’d nailed down part of my thesis.

Dante chose to place the sullen and wrathful together in the Fifth Circle of Hell because the two behaviors are mirror images of the same emotion.
It was a start. Now, I just had to prove my theory by dissecting the Cantos and finding a few good sources to back up my claims.