Part One // Part Two // Part Three
Isn’t it amazing how life works? How someone you care for so deeply can be ripped away in the blink of an eye? I guess I should clarify that I do not use ‘amazing’ in a positive context here.
I’m still in disbelief. I’m baffled, laughing like a maniac to keep myself from crying. Because if I didn’t laugh, I would never have stopped crying since I heard the news.
Mr. Harris, the man who continually showed me that life is worth living, was dead.
How could the universe do this to me? To all of us? This was a man more deserving of life than anyone else I have ever known or probably will ever know! Is this what growing up is like? You get close to people only to have them snuffed out of existence? Are these the facts I have to face in order to survive into adulthood?
I don’t have any answers to these questions yet. Usually, this is when Mr. Harris would come in, reassuring that life has more in store for me than sadness. But he’s not here–and that advice doesn’t work so well when it comes from my own head.
What hurts me the most is that I had been sick for a few days before it happened. By ‘sick’ I mean playing hookey.
Now I really am ill, but this time with guilt and anger. I could punch myself in the face for this, I really could! But Mr. Harris wouldn’t have wanted that. Instead, after I learned about his death, I cried and cried to my parents until I fell asleep.
***
Me and my stupid self, feigning illness because I couldn’t deal with high school. All because some of the other students found out that I’m asexual. I just couldn’t deal with the questions, the jokes, the confused stares.
“Asexual?” said one jerkass. “Does that mean you reproduce by spores?”
Maybe I should be glad they got so creative with the insults. I guess I would’ve found it funny if I hadn’t struggled with this identity for, oh you know, years.
I had only recently started dealing with it thanks to Mr. Harris. I am not a religious person, but I swear to you, if angels exist, he was one in the flesh. We talked a few times a week, mostly him reassuring my insecure self that I was not a freak of nature, that my biology wasn’t working against me to make me miserable forever. In other words, he gave me hope.
He gave me the hope to pursue friendships with the other kids at our LGBT gatherings and GSA meetings. This is how I met Arthur, Cassie, Mike, and Quinn – all people whom I love dearly, especially Arthur. I’m definitely guilty of having a squish on Arthur. It’s like, I respect his intellect, his sense of humor, and his empathetic side. I don’t want romance or anything like that; I just love to pick his brain and see everything he is capable of.
Too bad he’s busy crushing on Cassie. I’m not jealous, I mean he has romantic feelings for her, and I could never return those even if he did have them for me. Well, it’s not like she returns Arthur’s feelings either, but that’s another matter. And I guess not my business.
I just wish our conversations didn’t always revert back to how pretty her hair or eyes looked that day. We talk so much, but I have a hunch he doesn’t find me anywhere near as interesting as I find him.
I swear, it really isn’t jealousy. I don’t think biology granted me that type of emotion, and honestly, I’m glad for it. When he comes around me, I am so glad to see him. It’s because he has such a kind heart, and I think also because he gets so down on himself. I see the beauty in the person he is, and it hurts me to know he thinks nothing of himself. Since Mr. Harris’ death, you can see the constant pain on Arthur’s face. I hate myself for not being able to help my friend more.
This sums up the whole of my past squishes. They aren’t crushes because I don’t have some secret wish to elope with my squishes or be romantic with them in the least. I guess you could compare my feelings to that of a close friend. I want my friends to succeed; I cherish them so much.
This is why I feel defective. No matter how much I love them or how deep of a squish I have, the romantic feelings just don’t come into play. And I swear, this has caused me problem after problem. And those aren’t all just because of me; sometimes it’s other people’s reactions.
Let me give you an example. Last year, when I was in 10th grade, I had a squish on my best friend Damon. He didn’t know I was asexual… and I didn’t even know there was a word for how I felt! This led to nonstop confusion. Damon knew I felt deeply about him, but he assumed our feelings were the same. Maybe I should’ve been more open, maybe then the situation wouldn’t have gotten so messy. But it did, and I can’t do much about that now.
It all escalated way too quickly. It is even hard for me to talk about this now, but I will try.
We walked home together that day because I’d asked Damon over to study. In his mind, that must’ve meant I wanted to fool around. I guess that’s what ‘study dates’ are for, but I didn’t know that.
We were sitting on the couch alone, since my parents weren’t home from work yet. Damon started touching me – first rubbing my thighs, then putting his arm around me, and eventually he was trying to touch my breasts. I started crying. He looked horrified and immediately left.
We didn’t talk for weeks, then I found out from Mike that Damon had been telling everyone we slept together. Mike had to defend me against our classmates calling me names. What sad, sad irony. Here I was, a girl who had never even experienced romantic feelings or the desire to have sex, and I was being ostracized because I was apparently a slut!
***
This is when I first turned to Mr. Harris. I had nowhere else to go – surely if I talked to my parents, they’d think that their daughter was broken. I loved talking to him about school, and he usually helped me with my homework. I knew he was the LGBT group leader and that he was a caring and empathetic person. I decided to stay after school and bear my soul to him.
I was scared, afraid of his silence after I told him. He seemed to be thinking deeply about what I said. I mistook his silence for confusion. What it really meant was that he was thinking as hard as he could about a solution to the problem.
“Jesse,” Mr. Harris had said, “there is nothing wrong with you. What Damon did was out of line. I’m going to talk to him about it, if that’s okay with you? I won’t tell him what you told me; I’ll tell him another student came to me about these rumors.”
Normally I’d be hesitant to trust any teacher with this kind of thing. After all, Damon might just lash out even worse… but I believe in Mr. Harris. I could tell from his eyes that he had seen it all.
I had asked, “Do you think that will work?”
“Absolutely. I’ll reason with him. We’ve talked before, so I have a feeling he’ll listen to me,” Mr. Harris said. “In the mean time, I’d love for you to come to our LGBT meetings. You don’t have to tell others how you feel about intimacy or relationships, but over time, you may want to. Our group is full of understanding and intelligent people, just like you.”
“But,” I said, hesitating, “I’m not gay.”
Mr. Harris had smiled then. It was so full of warmth. He said, “Jesse, the LGBT spectrum is growing even wider; we’ve even recently started calling it LGBTQIA. You know what the ‘A’ stands for?”
I had no idea.
“Asexual,” he said. “You’re really not alone in this.”
***
And just like that, Tony Harris came into my life full force. Damon stopped spreading rumors. Mr. Harris was unstoppable; he was a mentor, a friend, a father figure… he was my white knight. No matter what problem came up, he had an answer. He saw in me what I was too blind to see in myself.
In my mind, I can hear Mr. Harris saying, “Don’t feel guilty, Jesse. You didn’t know this would happen. Missing a week of school to take care of yourself doesn’t negate all the progress we’ve made in the past year or two. Keep your chin up. You have so much life ahead of you and enough potential to do whatever you want.”
Is this voice his or just me trying really hard to think of what he’d say to me? I don’t know if it even matters now. All I know is that Mr. Harris wouldn’t have wanted his death to be in vain.
This is why, when I finally see everyone at school, I hold back my tears. I put on a face that will give me the strength to help my friends. I give everyone hugs – something I haven’t been able to do since the Damon incident.
I can’t let Mr. Harris die and have his life and his efforts be for nothing. I can’t let our group’s meetings end. In my head, I’m freaking out and trying to decide what we can do.
Then I overhear Megan telling Quinn he should run GSA. I decide not to jump in then, but it had me thinking.
The truth of the matter is that each of our loves for Mr. Harris is so strong that there’s no way we can give up easily. There will be more tears to come for all of us, but I have a feeling we’d make it out okay; after all, that’s what Mr. Harris would have wanted.
He never disappointed us, so I figure we all should return that favor.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR – Kelsey Anderson lives in Oklahoma, where she has studied Latin, Spanish, and Russian. She is incredibly passionate about words; she has written a multitude of short stories over the years for clients and leisure. You can read her poetry at http://subterraneanlibrarian.wordpress.com!