Chapter Five

Chapter Five

 

 

 

 

    After Alison and I had that night of wonder everything changed. Like I said it was three years before we saw each other again, and over those  three years we grew apart. I finished high school in the summer of 1982. That fall I left for college, I attended Stanford University. Alison graduated that year as well, she left the country for college. Her grades were so good that she had the opportunity to attend Oxford for a year. How could she pass that up? And besides, she would be going to Stanford the next year anyway.

    On my first day on campus I was assigned a room with a person that I would grow to hate in the coming years. Greg Vincent, a rich little s**t from Los Angeles. His father was a Hollywood producer and his mother was an actress/singer/model/call-girl. I met them when they came to visit Greg, they were two of the slimiest people I had ever seen in my entire life. The father had his hair slicked back with mousse, and the mother was wearing one of the tightest dresses ever to be worn by a human being. Every other word out of these ninnies’ mouths made me want to wretch. The father with his “baby” and his “sport” ‘s. And the mother with her “proud of you” and her “don’t waste our money”. Awful people. I can still remember the smell of that crap the father put in his hair. It smelled like he had rubbed s**t all over his head. And I can still remember the sound the mother’s fake breasts made when she moved, the splushing sound they made. Thank God they only visited once.

    The first week at Stanford made me think about how I wanted to be with Alison. Actually, everything made me think about Alison, especially since the night we had. I thought about how she was doing, is she having a good time in London. I never thought about, or questioned if she missed me or not. I knew that she did. About two months after I got to Stanford I received a letter from Alison.

    “Dearest Neil-,” it began “It’s hard to believe that it’s been over two months since we had that amazing night when we became one. It still feels like it was yesterday. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about you, that I don’t miss you, that I don’t love you more. I wish I could be there with you, lying in bed with you. You holding me in your arms, me kissing your lips. I miss your lips Neil, I miss the heat of your body. I better stop this letter now, before I make the both of us too depressed. I will write you again soon. I love you. Alison.” Greg saw me reading.

    “That a letter from your girlfriend?” he said. I looked at him, he had a smug grin on his face, like he couldn’t believe that I could have a girlfriend.

    “Yeah, it is. Why?”

    “No reason, I  just didn’t know that you had a girlfriend, that’s all.”

    “Fine.”

    “So, what’s her name?”

    “Alison.”

    “Nice name.”

    That was the most conversation we had that entire year. That year was almost as bad as the first year without Alison. All I wanted to do was get on a plane and go to London and be with her. I became hideously introspective that year. I began to doubt all things about the universe. God, fate, et cettera. I began to wonder why so many pitfalls kept occurring to Alison and myself. Every single time we got closer together, something would tear us apart. I became very bitter, very angry. Angry that she would decide to go to Oxford instead of being with me, I didn’t even realize at the time just how selfish that was. I began to concentrate more on myself than on everyone else. It was a nasty year. I managed to make it thru though, and by the end of the year I was optimistic about what the future held.

    I went home that summer of 1983 to find my father caught in the clutches of alcoholism. He was now drinking more than his father ever did, and for all the wrong reasons. His inner demons were eating away at him; all the horrible secrets that he kept locked away were slowly killing him. He drank to null the effect, to kill himself before they did. One night when I came home I found him lying on the bathroom floor, unconscious with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. I looked down at my father and I wanted to know why he was doing this to himself. So, the next night during dinner I brought the subject up.

    “Hey dad, can I ask you something?” he wasn’t drunk yet, but he had a bottle waiting to be opened in the fridge.

    “Yeah, what?”

    “Why are you drinking so much these days?” he gently put his fork down and he looked at me.

    “What do you mean Neil?”

    “I mean, why are you getting drunk every single night?” he put his head down.

    “What do you care if I drink or not?”

    “I care because you’re my father. I don’t want you to die dad.”

    “Why? Your mother did. Why shouldn’t I?”

    “What are you talking about?”

    “I think it’s time that you knew the truth Neil. I think it’s time that you knew how your mother really died.” And with those words one of the worst lies ever told by a human being took shape. He told me that after Andrew committed suicide my mother became a “fall down drunk”. He did everything that he could to keep the secret from me, so I wouldn’t get hurt. How noble of him. He told me that the night she died she drank an entire bottle of vodka. He told me that she died in her sleep from the amount of alcohol that was in her blood. She was poisoned. It was a nice story that he told, a story that made him seem like the good guy. At the time I had no reason to doubt him.

    “…and that’s how your mother died.” The sad thing was that I believed him.

    “If that’s true, then why are you doing the same thing to yourself?”

    “Neil, I am not going to die. I’m just having a rough time at the moment. You know it’s not easy being here alone all time.” And there it was, he could always make you feel guilty for things that he had done. “So, I drink a little. What, you’re gonna sit there and tell me that you haven’t been to any wild party’s, or that you haven’t gotten drunk?” The truth was that I hadn’t. I stayed in my room most of the time, I was an amazing loser.

    “No, but dad, you can’t just throw your life away.”

    “I’m not throwing my life away. I’m not Andrew for Christ’s sake!”

    “Oh, that’s so f*****g cold dad.” He knew it too. He knew how much Andrew’s death hurt me. “Thank God that mom didn’t hear you say that.” His entire demeanor changed. He became devastated, lost. He looked like he didn’t have a soul anymore, like it had been torn from his body. I got up from the table and walked away from him, that was the last time I ever tried to help him. It was one of the last times we talked for a long time.

    About three weeks into June, Alison came back to the country from her year abroad. She called me the second she got home.

    “So, how was your flight?” I asked her.

    “Long.” She sounded tired.

    “Alison, we can talk tomorrow if you want-.”

    “No, Neil, I need to hear your voice right now, okay?”

    “Okay.”

    “Tell me you love me.”

    “What? Alison what’s the matter with you?”

    “Tell me you love me, Neil.”

    “You know that I love you. Are you alright?” there was a long silence.

    “Yeah, I’m-I’m fine. I’m just really tired.”

    “You sure?”

    “Yeah. I want to ask you something Neil.”

    “What’s that?”

    “Can you come here?”

    “To Maryland?”

    “Yes.”

    “I don’t know Alison. When do you want me to come?”

    “As soon as possible.”

    “Okay, I’ll try to get there this weekend, okay?”

    “Please come Neil. I need to see you so badly.”

    “I’ll be there, I promise.”

    “I love you Neil.”

    “I love you Alison.” Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. I booked the first flight to Baltimore Washington International Airport. She was waiting for me when I got there. She was sitting in the waiting area, her hair was shorter but she was still beautiful. Still the most beautiful thing in the world. When I walked off of the jetway she came running to me. She wrapped her arms around me like she always did, but this time it felt more urgent. More important that she hold on to me, like that night in the police station. It seemed like if she let go she would slip away. She kissed me.

    “It’s so good to see you.” She said on the verge of tears.

    “Alison, are you okay?”

    “I’m fine.” She let go and we walked down to baggage claim, the entire time she held onto my hand. Tightly, she was squeezing it. When I picked up my bags we went outside.

    “Might as well get a cab.” I said.

    “Neil, I have my father’s car.”

    “Oh. That’s better then.” We walked to the car, a Chevy Nova, blue with cloth interior. She unlocked the doors and when we got in the car, she unlocked her emotions. She began to cry uncontrollably. “Alison, honey, what’s the matter?” I said as I tried to console her.

    “It’s my father-.” She said as she wept.

    “Oh, no. What’s wrong?”

    “He’s dying Neil.”

    “How?”

    “He has-something. I don’t know what it is, some kind of virus.”

    “A virus?”

    “He had to have heart surgery in January. After that he just got really sick. He can’t get better. The doctors don’t know what’s happening to him.” At the time no one knew what AIDS was, not too many people outside of the gay community or hemophiliacs even cared about it. It was found out that Mr. Matthews was given AIDS tainted blood during his surgery, one of 50 or so patients who acquired the illness in that fashion from that hospital.

    “He’s not going to die Alison.”

    “Neil, he’s lost a hundred pounds since then. His hair is gone. He has these things all over his body, these purple things.” Lesions. He had KS. “He can barley remember things, Brenda has to remind him that she’s pregnant at times.” Brenda and her un-born child also contracted the disease, both would be dead within two years. “It’s so unfair Neil. What did he do to deserve this?”

    “I don’t know.”

    “Hasn’t he had enough to put up with in his life? Haven’t I?”

    “I don’t know.”

    “Neil, I need to hear something besides ‘I don’t know’.”

    “I’m sorry Alison, but I can’t answer these questions for you. I can’t tell you why things like this happen, so if you’re looking for some cosmic justification from me then ‘I don’t know’ is going to have to do. Only God can answer those questions.”

    “Yeah? Well God’s not answering either.” We went back to her house in Annapolis and I saw first hand just how awful the disease was (and is). Her father looked like a zombie, like he was already dead. In a way he was. He had lost his job, most of his friends and everyone else had turned their backs on him. Everyone except Brenda and Alison. Alison walked me over to her father, who now needed a respirator to breathe. “Daddy, do you remember my friend Neil?” He nodded his head. He made a motion to take off his mask. “No, dad, you can’t take it off. Don’t you remember?” he took it off anyway.

    “You’re the-you’re the boy-who-who saved-saved Ali’s life.” He said with a raspy tone.

    “Yes, that’s right dad.” she said

    “Did I ever tell you-how much-this girl-loves you?”

    “Yes, sir, you did.” I replied

    “Oh. My memory’s not what it-used to be.” He looked terrified. “Are you two-together now?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Good. Neil, you take good care of-of my little girl.”

    “I will Mr. Matthews.”

    “Call me John.”

    “Okay daddy, it’s time to put your mask back on.” He wrapped the thing back around his head. Alison sighed. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She walked out of the room and went outside on the patio. She sat and cried. I felt it best that she was alone at that moment, she didn’t need me telling her things that weren’t true. Things like ‘things will get better’, and ‘everything will be alright’. Because I knew that they weren’t going to be alright. I knew that her father was going to die. I knew that Alison’s life was falling apart, and nothing I did could ever put it back together again.

    I spent the rest of the summer with Alison and her family. I was there thru it all, I was there when things seemed to be getting better, and I was there when they kept getting worse. I was there as her father kept wasting away, and I was there when he died on the tenth of August 1983.

    He had been progressively getting worse that summer, there was a time in early July when it looked like he was getting better, but that changed really quickly. He had become even more unrecognizable than he was the first time I saw him. He could barely speak now, at the most he could say three words and then he would get tired. I can still remember the night he died. It was unseasonably cool that night, in the fifties. There was a full moon that night, the light shone thru his bedroom window reflecting off a mirror, illuminating the entire room. I was sitting on his left side, Alison on his right. Brenda, who was beginning to develop symptoms, was asleep on the couch outside in the living room. For most of the night he drifted in and out of sleep, every time he would open his eyes he gasped for air. He had terror in his eyes, I could tell how afraid to die he was. Then at around midnight the death struggle began. He began breathing less and less.

    “Neil? Check his pulse?” Alison said quietly. I put my finger on the side of his neck, I couldn’t find a pulse at first. And then-

    “I’ve got a pulse, very faint.”

    “It won’t be long then.” I was inspired by Alison’s strength that night. She was a stronger person than I, that’s for sure. My mind was filled with thoughts of eternal gratitude to this man. If he had never told me how Alison felt about me, then who knows where the two of us would’ve ended up.

    “If it wasn’t for him, then we might never have been together. You know that?”

    “Yeah.” He began wheezing, he couldn’t breathe. “Oh, God. It’s happening.” He struggled to breathe for about five minutes. Then, all of a sudden, he stopped.

    “Alison? Neil?” he said.

    “We’re here dad.”

    “I’m so scared.”

    “I know dad.”

    “Life is so short, make the most of every second you have. Never waste one. Never take it for granted, because you never know when it’ll be over. I love the both of you very much. I love Brenda, and my baby. I don’t want to go. Please let me stay.” He was no longer talking to either one of us, it was clear that he was begging God for mercy. “Please let me live. Please. Please….please.” His eyes began to close. “Please.” His eyes shut, he stopped breathing. I checked for a pulse.

    “I’m sorry Alison, he’s gone.” She wiped away the tears from her face, I did the same. Just then a thought entered my mind: he died begging to live. In that moment, no God, no God would let a person suffer like that and then ignore their pleas. I concluded that there is no God, there couldn’t be. I felt sick to my stomach; I was going to throw up. I got up and I went into the bathroom and I put my head in the toilet. I wretched, I vomited, I cried. Alison came in a few minutes later.

    “Neil? Why are you crying?”

    “I’m crying for you Alison.”

    “What?”

    “I’m crying because you’re too strong to. I’m crying because I loved your father for what he did for us.”

    “I know you did.”

    “I can’t think of anything more unfair than this. He was begging. Right before he died, he was begging God to let him live. For the sake of his daughter, his wife and his unborn child. And did God listen? Does he ever listen?”

    “Apparently not.”

    “That’s because there is no God. It’s all a f*****g lie. Man created God, man created heaven, and man created the lie. All to make people not be afraid of death. ‘If you’re really good you get to go to this magical, invisible place in the sky. You’ll get to see all your loved ones that have been dead for years. It’s the best place in the universe.’ Nice story, shame it’s a crock.”

    “Neil, I don’t-.”

    “Why don’t they just tell people the f*****g truth? There is no God, there is no heaven, there’s no great cosmic plan. That it’s all a lie, it’s the biggest lie ever told?”

    “Neil, I don’t think that my father would want either of us thinking this way.”

    “Of course not. Cause he bought into the lie, that’s why he was begging. It was his last chance to see if it was the truth or not. Well, he found out alright.”

    “Neil!”

    “I’m sorry Alison, I-I just don’t understand it. I just don’t understand.”

    “Neither do I Neil, but you don’t see me mulling over it do you? You don’t see me debating the ways of the cosmos on the bathroom floor, do you?”

    “No.”

    “You know why?”

    “Why?”

    “Because I’d rather remember my father.” I was amazed by her strength. She didn’t shed one tear that night, none that I saw that is. She was stoic and inspiring at the funeral two days later. I was in awe of this amazing woman, I loved her so much and her strength made me love her even more. After the funeral the entire Matthews clan went back to the house. It was then that Alison’s strength began to crumble. As her family ate and told stories about happier days Alison slowly lost control. I found her in the backyard in her father’s tool shed. She was sitting at his workbench, holding a piece of wood. She held it close to her heart.

    “Alison?” I said “Are you coming back inside? Your Aunt Fran has been asking for you.”

    “Uh, yeah. I’ll be in, in a minute okay?” Her voice was cracking, her spirit was on the verge of breakdown.

    “Alison, are you alright?”

    “Do you know how many times I’ve been asked that question today Neil?”

    “No.”

    “Forty-seven. Twenty of those times by you.” She said as she turned to face me.

    “I’m worried about you.”

    “Neil, you know me better than any of these people. But if you ask me if I’m alright one more time-.”

    “Alison, where’s all this coming from?”

    “I’m not alright Neil! Is that what you want to hear?”

    “No.”

    “The other night I wanted to cry so badly-.”

    “Why didn’t you?”

    “Because you did all the crying for me. Then you told me how strong I was for not crying.”

    “Was that so wrong of me to do, Alison?”

    “Yes Neil, it was. You didn’t know how I felt inside, you didn’t know how much pain I was in!”

    “Yes, I did.”

    “Neil, I know that you love me, I love you too but you have no idea what I feel inside. And don’t ever assume that you do.”

    “I’m sorry Alison-.”

    “Stop apologizing for everything! You did it when the other night, you did it when my mother died. Just stop alright?”

    “Alright. Are you coming inside?”

    “I don’t want to go back in there. I don’t want to listen to those people, most of whom barley knew my father, talk about what a great person he was. Who did you say was asking for me?”

    “Your Aunt Fran.”

    “That’s his sister. You know what I heard her say a little while ago? How could my brother have died of a f****t disease? So that b***h can f*****g go to hell!” she pushed over the stool. “Why did this happen Neil? Do you remember what I asked you in the car that day at the airport? I asked you what he did to deserve this. And you know what? I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night, about how there is no God. I think you’re right Neil. What kind of God would let this happen? What kind of God would let my mother get her throat cut out by some drugged up f**k, and then has my father die of some f*****g disease that nobody’s ever seen before?! What f*****g kind of God lets that kind of s**t happen?! What kind of heartless, piece of s**t God allows those things to happen?!”

    “I don’t know.”

    “And if there is a God, if he can hear me then he can go f**k himself! Son of a b***h!” she began to trash the shed, she threw everything off of the workbench. “God damn it! F*****g god!” she had broken down. She kept screaming and throwing things, and all I could do was watch her fall apart. She finally stopped when she picked up the side of a crib that her father had been making for the baby. “Oh my God.” She said as she held it in her hands.

    “What is it?”

    “It’s a crib. He must’ve been making this for-.” And that’s when it happened, that’s when she finally cried. The tears flowed freely as she looked at the forever-unfinished crib, for a child who would also die from that very same disease not even two years later. She looked so lost, I walked over to her and I put my arms around her and I held her. I said nothing, I just let her cry.

    Two weeks later Alison and I left for Stanford, when we got there our lives would never be the same.