1.

 

            Payton Frost was twenty-three when he first tried to kill himself. He was unhappy. He didn’t feel he belonged at all, anywhere. Luckily for Payton, he failed. He failed to end it all. Because, as he would learn soon, his life still had much to live. And it would be these next four months that would define the importance of his first twenty-three years.

            It was a normal, fall day when Payton’s best friend, Chase Nathans, entered the apartment they shared after returning from work. Chase heard “What Difference Does it Make?” by The Smiths playing softly from Payton’s room.  Chase walked into the kitchen, put his keys on the table, and then walked into the bathroom to see Payton bleeding out, lying in the bathtub.

            When Payton woke up, he was lying in a hospital bed, his arms bandaged well, with Chase and his parents all standing around him, watching intently to see if he would wake. When he finally woke up, his mother screamed, and covered her mouth, his father sighed and grabbed Payton’s hand, and Chase grinned widely, and lightly tapped Payton’s shoulder. Payton didn’t understand, because he didn’t remember trying to kill himself.  He had somehow lost his memory of the last day, including what had made him want to finally end it all.

            Payton had struggled with depression his whole life, ever since his parents first divorced when he was seven. After that, Payton had only made one friend: Chase. He had been recluse, and no one ever pried in to see if he was alright. Chase had stuck by him, but he was it. Both of his parents were enveloped in work, and assumed that the other would properly raise him, so Payton had to raise himself, and his younger brother, Brock. He sometimes wondered if he hadn’t told his parents that he found his brother’s body hanging from the living room ceiling fan, whether they would have ever known he had died. That was when Payton was twelve.

            Having to spend time in the ICU, under serious watch, Payton had a lot of free time on his hands. Chase would come and visit him most days, but Payton was there every day, all day, for close to a month. He was running out of daytime television to watch. After a week, Chase brought him his laptop.

            “I want you to do something for me,” said Chase, “I want you to make a profile on this dating website.”

            Payton protested: “I don’t want a dating profile- its all algorithms and benign quizzes and what not. It’s a waste of time.”

            “Payton, please. We’re not getting any younger, and I won’t always be here. I’m going to want to move on with my life! You need to meet other people. Specifically, a woman, to be with!” pleaded Chase.

            “Fine, I’ll do it,” agreed Payton reluctantly. He opened up the laptop, and logged onto the site. He began quantifying his personality. He had never been asked what his favorite movie was, or where he had lived in his youth, or what he thought about contraception- mostly, because, he had never thought about it. Chase had known him long enough to not need to ask those kinds of questions.  

            “Also, your parents want you to enroll in a council group for people with depression, to help you,” said Chase. Payton looked up at him.

            “I don’t need that, I’m fine- I don’t even remember why I wanted to kil-“but Chase cut him off.

            “I don’t need to hear that, man. Just go to the meetings- what’s the worst that can happen?” asked Chase.

            Payton thought about it, and he couldn’t come up with a good excuse not to go, so eventually folded and agreed.

            Chase said he had to go, and then patted Payton on the leg, and got up and left. Payton was alone yet again. He stared back at the screen of different faces all staring back at him. All different women with different hair colors, personalities, favorite movies, and views on contraception.

He put his headphones in and listened to some music. His favorite artist was The Postal Service. The song “The District Sleeps Alone Tonight” began to play. Their music made him feel. That was something he wasn’t used to doing. He had spent most of his life pretending to be someone else or something else. He was never him. Because he didn’t know how to be himself. Payton Frost was a name, an identity of the public. But there was nothing behind the face. He was an empty shell.

And now, Chase wanted him to talk to people about what he felt. Didn’t Chase understand that he felt nothing? That’s been the reason for his depression for some time now. Payton put up a good visage of content though. No one had any idea that he was close to suicide until he tried it. Why was that? Why couldn’t anyone tell? Or why didn’t he let anyone know? Payton sat back in his hospital bed, listening to the soft sounds emitted from his laptop.

        

 

            Chase walked home alone, as he did every day, after visiting Payton. He thought about how he was leaving his friend alone. He thought about how he was pushing him to meet new people. Make new friends. How selfish that was. Chase was only doing it because he didn’t want to take care of him any longer. But, Payton needed to make new friends! What if he had worked late that day? Payton could be dead now- Chase stopped. He didn’t want to think about that.

            Chase’s life hadn’t been easy either. It hadn’t been as bad as Payton’s, but it still wasn’t easy. Chase’s life was perfectly normal until he was thirteen, and his father killed a woman and her six year old son, while inebriated behind the wheel. His father had suffered from paranoid schizophrenia, and often mixed alcohol with prescription drugs.  His father went to jail, and his mother and he were hated by the whole town. Chase didn’t have any friends. Only Payton had stayed by his side. Even all the way through college. Because of this isolation, Chase had struggled with a mild case of depression as a teenager. He began to cut himself, until he opened up to his mother about it. She got him tested and discovered that he might grow up to have symptoms similar to his father. So Chase was put on medication. Finally, after college, Payton and Chase both moved in together, and moved away from that town. Chase could move out of the shadow of his father’s mistakes. He could move on the prescription drugs that he had taken for the past decade. He could be his own person.

            This was Chase’s chance. To live his life. He had never been able to do that until now. He was always a living reminder to everyone, but especially himself, of what his father had done. He had never been Chase Nathans. He had been Patrick Nathans’ son. Now he could be Chase.

        

           

            After a month, with no suicidal tendencies and no responses to his dating profile, Payton was released from the hospital. He had his first group therapy meeting that evening. He was not looking forward to it.

            Payton had “Tomorrow” by Silverchair playing in his head as he was getting out of his car. He imagined that sometimes his life was a movie, and the songs in his head were the background music for that movie. He liked to soundtrack his life. It was usually pretty mellow and depressing music though.

            He entered the room, which was small, white room that had a ring of ten or so chairs, with one lady with a clip board, and a few people already sitting, scattered throughout the chairs. The lady looked at him, and asked if he was here for the group therapy. Payton said yes, and sat down in one of the chairs, sitting next to a man in a red velvet jacket. The man instantly looked over at him, with a grin on his face, and held out his hand.

            “Hey- my name’s Floyd. Floyd Masterson,” said the grinning man calmly. Payton shook his hand, and replied:

            “Payton Frost”

            “Nice to meet you, Payton” said Floyd contently. Payton looked at him peculiarly. Either Floyd had mastered hiding his problems, or he did not belong in this group. Either way, Payton wanted to befriend him.

            “Hey Floyd, have you been to this group before?” Payton asked.

            “Oh yes! I’ve been here for… three months now?” Floyd asked himself. “Yeah, three months.” He confirmed. “Is this your first meeting?”

            “Yes, it is. I just got out of the hospital” Payton replied. Floyd leaned in very close to Payton.

            “So how’d you do it?” asked Floyd quietly. Payton looked at him perplexed.

            “How’d you… you know… try and do it?” asked Floyd. Payton stopped, and then nodded his head in understanding. He pulled up his sleeves to show the bandages still covering his forearm. Floyd looked and then looked away, nodding to himself

            “Interesting… Interesting” said Floyd.

            “What is?” Payton asked.

            “You can always tell something about someone by the way they try to do it,” said Floyd. Payton frowned for a second, and then looked at Floyd.

            “What does it say about me?” asked Payton. Floyd looked at Payton.

            “I dunno-you tell me!” said Floyd. Payton was going to ask what that meant, but the meeting was beginning.

            “Welcome to group therapy, everyone! We have a new member today- please give a warm welcome to Payton Frost” said the group leader, and everyone clapped. Payton was gestured to stand up, so he did, but he didn’t know what to say. The room got quiet and suddenly twelve or thirteen pairs of eyes were all staring at him.

            “Go on- tell us a little about yourself!” encouraged the group leader.

            “Uh… Hi… I’m Payton Frost… and…” Payton looked to Floyd, who was just staring at him. “And I… am depressed?” Everyone clapped, and Payton sat done. He was confused.

            “Thank you Payton. And now that we’re on the subject, does anyone want to share how they’re feeling? Or anything that has been bothering them this week?” asked the group leader. Payton looked around at all the other people in the room. A girl raised her hand, and stood up.

            “A boy touched my shoulder… and it reminded me of when… He… touched… me” she began to sob violently, and had to sit down. Everyone clapped, and the group leader thanked the girl for sharing herself. No one else raised their hand, so the group leader told us to do one-on-ones. Floyd grabbed Payton’s arm, and pulled him over.

            “I don’t trust anyone else here” whispered Floyd as he pulled me over.

            “Are you sure you aren’t paranoid?” Payton asked. Floyd looked at Payton suspiciously.

            “What if I was? Wouldn’t I feel threatened by you asking?” asked Floyd. Payton nodded in agreement. Floyd smiled: “Lucky for you, I’m not- but let’s get out of here. These one-on-ones never do anything for anyone.”

            Payton followed Floyd out of the building, and they went to a diner. They sat down, and Floyd stared at Payton for a second.

            “What?” asked Payton.

            “Are you really depressed?” asked Floyd.

            “How can you ask that?” asked Payton angrily. Floyd sipped some chocolate milk, not breaking eye contact.

            “You don’t seem depressed. You seem numb. You seem… empty” said Floyd. Payton stared back at Floyd. Floyd had figured out what no one else could figure out, and he had known Payton for an hour. Floyd knew Payton better than his parents ever had. Even more than Chase.

            “I think you’re right. But then why did I try and off myself?” asked Payton. Floyd thought about it for a second.

            “The pain you inflicted on yourself is more feeling than you have ever had with any other emotion your entire life” said Floyd forwardly. Payton stopped for a second. Bull’s eye.

            “How… could you possibly know that?” asked Payton. Floyd laughed.

            “Look at me- I’m right there with you! Pain, love, pleasure, death; I’m just as numb as anyone else,” laughed Floyd.

            “So, I showed you mine… How did you try and… you know?” Payton asked. Floyd stopped. He looked down and got very solemn.

            “Don’t… Don’t ask me that…” said Floyd softly and slowly. Payton didn’t pry.

Floyd was a rather forward person, but he never talked about how he felt. Payton quickly realized that Floyd was very private. He never spoke up in the group meetings. He would always stay quiet, and if was ever asked directly, he would say “pass” or “next time”. No one knew what happened to him or why he was there. This made Payton think more and more that he didn’t belong there. That or he belonged there more than anyone else that Payton knew.

            Payton and Floyd left the diner, and Payton was about to get in his car, when Floyd shouted:

            “Hey- you coming to the next meeting?”

            “Yeah, I’ll be there!” shouted Payton.

            “We should hang out some time! You’re first person at these meetings that isn’t so boring that I want to finish what I started!” shouted Floyd. Payton cringed at Floyd’s dark humor, but chuckled because he knew Floyd didn’t really mean it. 

            “Yeah! That sounds good!” Payton shouted back. They exchanged phone numbers, and Floyd gave a thumbs up, and then got in his car and left. Payton got in his car and went home.