Looking Through the Lens By Ryan Sylander Online at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/ryansylander/www/ http://storiesonline.net/auth/Ryan_Sylander http://www.ewpub.org/scripts2/libraryframes.php?auth=6347 Chapter 7 A pristine silence woke me up. I lay with my eyes closed, completely immobile, on my back, and feeling nothing. Then my eyes opened slowly. The first thing I registered was a brightly lit, textured ceiling. It looked familiar, which I thought was most odd. The second thing I registered was a strange taste in my mouth. Like I had slept with a pack of spearmint gum in my mouth. Another decidedly weird sensation. The third thing I registered was breathing. I was pretty sure it wasn’t my own, since I was surely dead. I turned my head to the side, and was surprised to see Lara laying next to me. Furthermore, I was in my room, and it was eerily cold, like the windows were open, even though they were not. The room was awash in bright white light. I also noticed I had a splitting headache. For being dead, I sure felt like crap. Not unlike being alive, I thought to myself grimly. I sat up all at once. “Oh my god, Matt, are you okay?” said Lara, springing up next to me. She looked terrible, all red eyes and crazy black hair. I looked around, and saw a lot of snow outside, and a crumpled piece of paper on my desk. Was I still alive? The last thing I remembered was drinking from the bottle of whiskey, and then a cold darkness. “Where am I?” I asked, somewhat confused. “In your room?” Lara looked at me with a worried look. “How do you feel?” “Like shit. What’s going on? Why are you here?” All the events and thoughts of the previous night were still with me, bouncing around like ugly echoes. Apparently drinking yourself to death didn’t get rid of your problems, just as adults had always warned it wouldn’t. “I… I was watching you, and then I fell asleep.” Tears filled her eyes. “Matt, I’m so sorry about last night, if I had known that… ” I waved a hand at her and grimaced. “Stop, stop,” I said dismissively. “Why am I in my bed?” Lara hesitated. “Last night, when I heard your door open, I thought maybe you were going to come talk to me,” she said, letting out a sniffle. “Then after a while you didn’t come, so I came out to see where you were. When I saw you weren’t in your room, I thought maybe you went to the cabin. There were some footprints outside, so I followed them up into the woods.” I rubbed my face uneasily. The realization that I was still alive was bearing down on me like a leaden weight. “I found you laying by the stash, with a broken bottle in your hand.” Lara started crying again in earnest. “I thought you were dead.” Me too, I thought. My stomach felt like a tempest. “But you were still breathing,” she continued hauntingly, almost whispering, “so I made you throw up until all the whiskey was out.” “Okay, just stop, my head is killing me,” I said, feeling woozy. I laid down again on my bed, feeling gloomy and depressed. Lara cried quietly for a while. My head was pounding like a hammer now. I vaguely wondered how she had gotten me home, before drifting off into unconsciousness again. ----- The next time I awoke, Lara was sitting in a chair by my bed, watching me with her stricken red eyes. I stared at the ceiling for a long time. I felt a little more alive, but I still had a giant headache. “What time is it?” I asked, with detached voice. “Nine-thirty,” Lara said quietly. “Aren’t we late for school?” “Cancelled.” Oddly, one wish had come true at least. Reality was sinking in: Lara had saved my life, for better or for worse. “Here,” she said, holding out three Tylenols and a glass of water. “What did our Moms say?” I asked, as I swallowed the medicine. “About what?” asked Lara quietly. “About me.” “Nothing. They left an hour ago and won’t be back till late as usual.” “Well, didn’t they wonder why I was fucked up?” I asked pointedly. “They don’t know anything about it. I covered for you,” she said, almost submissively. “Couldn’t they smell the whiskey?” “I put some toothpaste in your mouth and opened the windows early this morning.” “Why?” I asked. Lara was quiet. “Why did you do all this?” I asked again. There was a long silence. “I was scared for you. I didn’t want you to get in trouble, or get hurt. After… After…” Lara started crying again. I turned to look at her. She regained some of her composure, but didn’t continue. “How did you get me back to my bed?” I asked. Lara swallowed back some sobs. She then spoke slowly and quietly again. “After I found you, I panicked. I tried to pick you up, but I could only sort of drag you a few feet at a time.” “So you dragged me all the way back?” I asked, incredulous. “No, I knew I wouldn’t be able to, so I got one of our old sleds and rolled you onto it, and then dragged you back on that.” Lara shuddered visibly. “Then I managed to pull you up the steps and into your bed.” Through the emptiness I felt, I still marveled at her feat. It sounded like something Peter would have done. She was lucky our parents didn’t hear her. I was lucky they didn’t hear. The thought of my friends made me wince. Even though school had been cancelled today, I would have to face them again soon. And a glance at the crushed and crushing letter on the desk reminded me that most everything that was important to me was gone. My girlfriend had cheated on me and dumped me, even as I had trusted her and been faithful. My bandmates thought I was some weirdo, and likely I wasn’t going to be skiing with them or Brian anytime soon. And worst of all, my own sister, whom I thought I could trust, had kept something so unbelievable from me. There wasn’t much left right now. “Matt?” “What.” “Why… Why did you go out to the stash last night?” Lara asked. I didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at the ceiling. “Were you trying to hurt yourself?” she continued. “Was it because of me?” Choked sobs punctuated her questions. I rolled away from her and closed my eyes. Her crying drifted into my ugly dreams. ----- When I came to again, Lara had another glass of water for me. I sat up, and drank greedily. I felt almost human again. The headache had receded, and my stomach was empty but relatively settled. It seemed Lara had gotten to me before the alcohol had entered me fully. Probably I had passed out from exhaustion before I did any serious damage to the bottle. I still felt desolate. I didn’t think anything would make that go away. I sat up at the edge of my bed, acutely aware of my body. Lara watched me intently, but I avoided her look. After an eternal silence, Lara spoke. “Matt, I’m so sorry about last night.” I stood up and walked out into the kitchen. Lara didn’t follow, and I could hear her crying in my room. I felt a slight pang of pity for her, but the emptiness squashed that feeling away as quickly as it had come. I fixed myself a bowl of cereal and ate it quietly at the table, watching the snow continue to fall. At this rate school might be cancelled another day, I thought. It would be wonderful if it snowed for a month straight and I never had to leave the house again. I reflected on my situation. One thing that kept making me cringe was the realization that Brian had been right. I had put effort into writing Julie, and avoided pursuing any one else. And now that was just a waste. I could just see him telling me that he had said so. After some time, Lara came out and sat at the dining table across from me. “Why won’t you talk to me?” I sighed. “There’s nothing to say,” I said. “Everything sucks, alright? My friends are all assholes, and Julie’s gone.” I left unsaid what I thought about her. “Don’t say that. You don’t know, maybe Julie is just in a lull. I told you, she goes through phases.” I looked at her with contempt for a moment. She had no idea what I was going through. I went into my room, grabbed the crumpled up letter, and rolled it across the table to Lara. She looked at it fearfully. I didn’t wait for her to unroll it, and instead went out the back door. I stood for a long time, watching the snow fall, and feeling detached from the world. I didn’t have to look back to know that Lara was reading the letter. I hiked up to the guest cabin, wondering what to do. Out of habit, I picked up my acoustic guitar, and played like I never had. ----- School was cancelled the next day as well. Over those two days, I came to the conclusion that I was pretty much alone. If I couldn’t trust my girlfriend, friends, or even my sister, then there wasn’t much point in trusting anyone else ever again. I would just have to deal with that and move on. I didn’t feel any urge to try drinking another bottle of whiskey. I was in control of my thoughts and body again, and in retrospect I was scared of what had happened that night. I didn’t want to go there again. Somehow a collection of bad events had reached the intersection at the same time and caused a terrible accident. But now it had been cleared, and there was just some broken glass on the pavement, and scrap metal in the dustbins. Every time I saw Lara, she looked at me with haunted eyes. I avoided her, and she soon stopped trying to talk to me. My parents knew something was wrong between us, but we didn’t say anything about it. I could tell they were watching me closely, so I tried to act normal, even though I didn’t feel normal anymore. My only friend was music. Somehow, when I picked up the guitar that day, it spoke to me for the first time. I felt like I had been trying to talk to someone who was sleeping, and suddenly they woke up, and there was a conversation where there had only been futile monologue. Playing was still frustrating, since I couldn’t always get the guitar to say what I wanted it to say, but that seemed to parallel the way life went. At least it was talking, though. After two days of barren self-examination, it was time to get back on the bus. Lara stood away from me as we waited. I wasn’t sure if I was going to sit in the front or the back. As I stepped on, I saw Brian, Peter and Carl in their usual seats. I steeled myself and walked to the back. I would at least say my piece, and then whatever happened, happened. If I sat in the front, it was a clear sign that I was going ‘soft.’ I put my bag down, leaning against the window. No one spoke at first. “You can all gloat now,” I said bitterly. They didn’t say anything. “Julie wrote,” I continued. “It’s over. I guess you all were right about her.” More silence. I was acutely aware of every little sound the grumbling bus engine made. Finally Peter spoke up. “I’m sorry, man, that really sucks.” I was surprised to see Carl and Brian nod in agreement. They looked sullen. “Well, it’s over now,” I said. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I suppose it was obvious a while ago, but I didn’t want to believe it.” “Are you still pissed at us?” asked Carl. I felt some resentment at that, but I let it blend unchallenged into the rest of my anger. “I’m pissed at everything right now, man,” I said, “but I’ll get over it. It’s nothing personal.” “I’m sorry about Julie, man,” said Brian. His voice was sympathetic, even as his expression was slightly ‘told-you-so.’ I just shrugged. “Do you want to ski this weekend?” asked Carl. “The snow should be killer.” I looked at him, and saw that he was asking in earnest. “Yeah, let’s do it,” I said, feeling some relief that I wasn’t completely an outcast. ----- I am ashamed to admit the next few months were not my best effort as a human. To put it bluntly, I acted like an asshole on the outside, and I was desperately lonely on the inside. I shut out everyone emotionally. I played my guitar relentlessly, drank and partied with my friends, skied as much as I could, and got to the point where I could just turn off any unwanted emotion. I numbly floated through life looking for the next thrill, and ignoring everything else. Inevitably, I hooked up with Carmen at a party in February. We were both drunk, and she was practically sitting on my lap by the end of the night. I didn’t really like her all that much, but we ended up going into the bathroom and making out for a long time. It was animalistic kissing and fondling. Our relationship, if you can even call it that, was intermittent and mostly physical. I went as far as I could until she stopped me, usually when I tried to unzip her pants. I was mad that she didn’t want to go all the way with me, but then I would come back to try again. It was better than nothing. Whenever she reached for any emotional closeness, I took a page out of Brian’s book and pushed her away with sarcasm. Lara started going out with a junior jock. I instantly disliked him, for no particular reason. Lara and I had several yelling episodes over her relationship with him, ending in slammed doors and crying on her part, and anger and disgust on my part. Over the past month Lara had let her schoolwork slip, and was drinking more than I had ever her seen her drink before. I hardly had a sister anymore; we only spoke to each other if we had to. Our parents tried to intervene several times, but there wasn’t anything they could do. I didn’t want to talk about anything with them. I think for some time they were puzzled by my attitude, since I had never been openly rebellious or resentful towards them. They didn’t know how to handle my sudden anger at everything. They suggested counseling, and just to shut them up and put the pressure off of me, I went a few times to the high school counselor. I just answered his questions as neutrally as I could, blaming everything on Julie. I had a bad feeling this wasn’t going to be allowed to go on forever, though. I hit a new low at a house party in March, when Carmen and I, completely trashed, went into one of the bedrooms and locked the door. I was already in a bad mood because Lara and her boyfriend were drunk and fooling around in the yard. We sat on the bed and made out. I didn’t even know who’s room we were in; some girl’s room, it looked like. As another night of the same old tame kissing progressed, I was getting impatient and frustrated. After a while I got up and told Carmen I had to leave. “Wait,” she said, laughing giddily, pulling on my hand. I tried to wriggle out of her grip, feeling the anger start to rise up and push through my drunkenness. “I want to do it.” I was surprised for a moment, since she never let me do anything besides touch her breasts. But her words were crystal clear. There was no mistaking her meaning, as it was written all over her eyes. I had been trying to get into her pants for a month, so maybe she was finally ready. I wasn’t in the mood anymore, but the sudden possibility of sex was too strong to resist. “Okay, take off your pants then.” She sat motionless. I stood and pulled my pants down, and watched as she slowly stood up. Here eyes were not as willing, all of the sudden, but she pushed her pants and underwear down around her ankles anyway. I wasted no time, laying her down on the bed and opening her legs. She looked nervous, but I didn’t really care. I felt around between her legs and found her hole. I guided my dick to it, and pushed in. Her eyes went wide with shock and pain. I felt her petite body tense up under me as I bottomed out inside her. Tears welled up and ran down her temples, melting into her hair. I moved in and out of her, as she closed her eyes tightly. I just wanted to cum as fast as I could, so I could stop suppressing my conscience and get the hell out of there. “Okay, stop, stop” she gasped, quietly and urgently. I was close to climax, so I ignored her. I pumped in with one last thrust and spurted into her. “Stop, please!” She pushed on me until I rolled off of her. She was crying. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “It hurt more than I thought it would. I just couldn’t keep going. I’m sorry.” Shit, was she a virgin? I thought Brian had surely had sex with her. But obviously they hadn’t, or she wouldn’t have just said what she did. As guilt started edging its way into my thoughts, I forced myself to push it away. My head was thumping; I couldn’t deal with this. I was on the verge of being destructive. “Oh my god, are you okay?” she asked suddenly. Carmen was sitting up, and staring at my penis. It was covered in blood. For a second, I was in shock. I had heard that sometimes girls bled when they first had sex, but this seemed like a lot. “That’s your blood,” I said, almost accusingly. “Oh, I didn’t know it would be so much,” she said timidly. She suddenly stood up, looking wide-eyed at the bedspread where a dark red stain had formed under her. “Oh, fuck!” I said. I was feeling ill, and needed to wash off the blood as soon as possible. I looked around and found some tissues, and rubbed the worst of it from my penis. I threw the box on the bed towards her. Carmen took some tissues, and she wiped herself while I put my pants on. I pulled off the bedspread and stuffed it under some dirty clothes in a hamper that stood in the corner. “I’ll wait for you outside,” I said, walking out into the hallway unsteadily. I found the bathroom and washed off the rest of the drying blood with shaking hands. My face felt bloated from the drinking as I splashed it with cold water. Had I really just fucked Carmen? And all this time she was a virgin? I looked in the mirror at my deep set eyes, trying hard to focus. They looked back heavily. What was I thinking? What was I even doing here? When had I lost all self-respect and replaced it with selfishness? ----- The next morning I really had trouble keeping my thoughts straight. I had a bad hangover, and all I could think of was how to get a hold of some beer or liquor. Our stash was empty though. When I was sober, it was becoming much harder to avoid thinking about what my life was becoming. I needed to change something, or I was going to go crazy. Again. Before dinner, I watched Lara doing her homework for a few minutes. Was it too late to repair our relationship, I wondered. I slowly went up behind her, intending to ask her to take a walk out back with me. For a long time I just looked at her black hair. Then I walked right by and went to look for a snack in the fridge. I wasn’t really hungry though, just lost in thoughts of a time when life was easier. “Matt, do you need to get something out?” asked Melissa. She had a strange look on her face. I shut the fridge and walked out the back door, patching up the hole through which memories were pouring. That night I was playing guitar in the cabin, when Melissa came in. She sat on the edge of the easy chair with her chin in her hands, and looked at me. I didn’t think she came up to hear me play, but I played on anyways. “Matt, put the guitar down,” she finally said. I trailed off, sighed, and then put the guitar on its stand. I lay back on the couch, looking at the ceiling. “I thought maybe we could talk.” “About what.” “I don’t know, whatever you want. What’s on your mind?” “Just playing my guitar.” “Do you have any thoughts?” “No, not really.” There was a long silence. I tried not to breathe. “I want you to tell me what’s going on,” she said. Her tone had changed for the worse. “With what?” I asked evenly. “With you.” “Nothing,” I said, like every time before. I didn’t think I would get away with that today, though. Only a few times had I seen the look that my Mom had on her face right then, and she obviously was at the end of her rope. “Matt, I don’t want to hear that anymore,” she said, her voice getting suddenly heated. “This shitty attitude has to end, and it has to end now.” “I can’t help it if I feel like this,” I said. “No, maybe not, but that’s not an excuse to treat your sister, and your mother, or even me like you have been. I know you are angry about what happened with Julie, but why are you taking it out on your family?” “This isn’t just about Julie,” I said. “Then you better tell me what it is about.” I sat quietly for a while. So far, this was a repeat of a dozen other conversations I had had with them. “I’m just not happy.” “Why not? What’s missing, what do you want?” “I don’t know.” Melissa let out a loud breath of frustration. She stared at the floor for a while, and seemed to come to a decision. She stood up wearily. I was ultra-tense on the couch, hardly breathing. “Well, if you want to keep playing that game, then there are consequences. No more going out to your friends’ at nights, no more skiing, no more band practice. I don’t want to do this, but your mother and I don’t know what else to do.” Her voice softened some. “Matt, we love you. Your sister is really taking this hard. Whatever is wrong between the two of you, and it’s affecting her school, and her attitude too.” “That’s her problem,” I said with a shrug. “Fine, Matt, then you heard what I said,” she barked, voice hard again. “No more going over to Brian’s. No more coming up to the cabin to play your guitars, no more skiing.” “Fine,” I said, trying to act unimpressed, although my insides felt very empty. Melissa looked at me. “Get back down to the house.” I didn’t move. “NOW!” “Alright, I’m going.” I got up slowly, and walked out, not waiting for her. She didn’t come down for a long while. ----- Over the next few weeks, I was withdrawn as I withstood the grounding. It was difficult not playing my guitar, especially as I had made such progress in the last few months. But I didn’t feel like talking to my parents any more than before, so nothing changed. I did, however, have time to do some reflecting, and one thing I did was to tell Carmen I didn’t want to be with her anymore. I felt cruel as I did so, but I couldn’t treat her in a good way. Brian and Carl had infected me with relentless sarcasm and detachment regarding her, and it wasn’t going away easily. If I liked her more, I might have made the effort, but I just couldn’t invest in the relationship. She was obviously crushed, even though I was sure, somewhat sadistically, that this was actually for her own good. I didn’t ever say anything about the night we had had sex, and neither did she. I also put out of my mind the possibility of her being pregnant. My friends were puzzled at why I couldn’t ski or play music anymore. I blamed it on my grades, but they knew something else was up. They didn’t press, and I didn’t offer any information. Our friendship since that terrible night had been much more hedonistic than it had been before. As a result, I could detach from them as necessary. The lack of anything else to do allowed me to do homework and study more. My grades went up, and I read a great deal, losing myself in the science fiction world of Tolkein. April came and went in a barren emotional state: I felt like a machine when I wasn’t reading. Lara broke up with her boyfriend messily. But I didn’t even care what she did anymore. We had settled into a position of non-relating housemates, even though sometimes I wished I could be friends with her again. But I put those thoughts away as fast as I could when they came up. The skiing season had ended, and spring was seeping through the valleys and starting to crawl up the mountains. My parents had planned a weekend camping trip to Lake Placid in mid-May with a couple of friends, and originally they were going to leave Lara and me home alone during their trip, with an occasional check in from neighbors. However, they decided that we would be coming with them instead, and all my curfew limits were still in place. I couldn’t bring my guitar, either, something I always enjoyed doing on camping trips. What at first looked like a miserable three-hour-plus car ride each way, with a lot of reading and fishing in the middle, ended up being a turning point in my life.