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One of the people I often have flashbacks about is Steven. I met him when I was in 8th grade... I am guessing about 12-13 years old.
When I was in middle school and for some strange reason the girl who was the "most popular" in 5th grade was no longer "most" popular and had nobody else to hang out with. I'll call her JM. I never knew what happened to bring this about, but JM began to hang out with the girls on my block who I always hung out with (who had tortured me verbally for years but my parents didn't know that and pretty much kicked me out of the house every day, so I hung out with them). JM was still popular in the sense that she knew everyone in the grade and everyone stopped in the halls to talk to her, but nobody seemed to want to hang out with her (weird).
I always thought that, though I tried very hard to be a good person, I must be a very bad person and G-d was punishing me. I mean, what other reason was there for every word and action (or inaction and lack of words) of mine to be met with abuse and ridicule from my peers? I could never figure out why this was... though it had occurred to me that maybe reincarnation was true and that I was being punished for something I had done in a former life. I was so different from everyone else... there had to be a reason... and the only thing I could come up with was that I was being punished justly for something unknown to me.
JM was in the same grade I was, and we had a few classes together, so I sort of tagged along beside her in the hallways and was pretty much ignored by everyone, unless (when not with her) it was to verbally abuse me... but witnessed a lot of things in the process of tagging along with her since nobody was paying attention to me. I saw the cliques, and I saw how they treated people who were not members of their clique. I got to know who was mean and acted that way, who was mean but acted nice, and who was really nice.
There were few people who actually talked directly to me. One of these was Steven, and a couple of others were his friends. I was too shy to say much to any of them, but they seemed to actually understand that. They were NICE guys... really nice... not 'fake nice'. They were not part of any clique, really... they were a group of 4 guys who were sort of accepted by every clique out there though they were sort of nerdy. It was very strange - it did not fit any of the established patterns. It was as if these guys radiated "NICE" to everyone and nobody seemed to mind them... especially Steven. They seemed to sense my anxiety and shyness and all tried to make me feel comfortable and would put some effort into making me laugh on occasion.
Steven was the nicest of them all... one of the nicest people I have ever known to this day.
While I could not look most people in the eye, I could with him. It always seemed very strange to me. What was the distinction? Why could I look at his face? Why, when I was face-blind to everyone else until they talked, why could I recognize him without hearing his voice? Why could I remember what he looked like when I was not looking at him, when I couldn't even remember the people's faces who were most important in my life, like my parents? Even now, I can remember his face with clarity.
A couple of years later in high school, I did not feel comfortable talking to - well just about anyone in the world. Most kids in high school either did not know I was alive or were pretty darn mean to me. I had gotten very good at blending into the background and not 'being' there to stop the bullies by 10th grade... to limit the meanness. I was as noticeable as a piece of furniture... I was a wall or a chair or a desk - not a person. But Steven and his friends continued to notice I was alive and talk to me, if only to get me to laugh.
The difference was that I could really talk to Steven. He sat next to me in Spanish class in 10th grade and I was not any good at Spanish (AT ALL). His locker was near mine and I would see him in the hall between almost every class. We often would spend any common free-time together, with him helping me with Spanish homework and anything I didn't understand (just about everything).
I never understood why he helped me while it was happening... he was just NICE, that's all, and being THAT nice he must have felt he should help me since he knew what a difficult time I was having. I could not ever expect anything more. I was, after all... ME... I was a chair... and a 'bad person' somehow... how could I expect more?
But... I liked him a lot (yeah, I mean boy-girl 'like') , and I knew he could never in a million years like such a non-person/bad-person as I was.
I was trying to be satisfied with just being able to spend time studying with him. THAT would have to be enough, because there was absolutely no way anything more could ever come of it. I wished things were different, but I would not allow myself to think it was actually possible.
So the Friday before Spring Break, Steven was not around at lunchtime. When all of Steven's friends called me over to where they were sitting during lunchtime, and they told me that Steven 'liked' me... and wanted to know if I liked him... well I sat there silent for a very long time.
My thoughts were as follows:
They are just like the rest of them!!! How could I be so stupid to think they were different? How could I think they were nice?! They are playing this horrible trick on me to make me admit I like Steven so they can ridicule us both about it! How could they do this to him? It would be such a huge joke on him and he would be humiliated by everyone in the school if I tell them the truth! I knew he would have the entire 10th grade laughing about him within minutes, and I could never do that to him. Should I warn Steven about this? Tell him what they are really like? He must be as fooled as I was! Even though it is a lie, I MUST say no, or else he'll be tortured by ridicule for the next 2 years of high school!
So, finally after many minutes of being silent, staring at the floor... I lied. I just said, "NO!" and walked away, locked myself in a stall in the ladies room and cried for the rest of the lunch period.
I was satisfied that at least I had saved Steven from humiliation, but I felt horrible that I had been tricked into thinking these boys were "nice"... and more than a little sad that they had picked the one thing to use for this trick they were trying to play that I really wanted to be true.
Spanish was right after lunch... and Steven wouldn't even look at me let alone talk to me. I tried to get him to talk to me, but he just would give me one word answers and not look up. I was very confused. After much reflection it seemed he was acting embarrassed?
Then suddenly it hit me... WAS HE IN ON THIS??? Maybe this wasn't to humiliate Steven, maybe I was not only wrong about his friends... was I wrong about ALL of them, Steven included? Or was the object of all this to humiliate ME???
NO... I couldn't believe that Steven was part of all this! The only thing I could think of was that they told him later and he was embarrassed by what his friends were trying to do. But the whole world felt like it was turning round and round for me during the rest of Spanish class and the next class.
I saw him in the hallway again, and the same thing happened... so I asked him what was wrong... he said "Nothing" never looking up at me.
I was pretty much devastated.
I told JM later a little bit of what was going on because I was so confused, and since I don't think like other people I thought maybe she could shed some light on what had happened. Her first reaction was that he DID 'like' me, but I told her I did not believe that was true... so she promised to one of the other boys to find out the 'truth'.
I didn't find out till I got home that JM had been told that what the group said was supposedly the truth and Steven was too embarrassed to talk to me!
Could it be possible? They had to be lying to JM, too, right? I mean... I was ME... there was no way I deserved this wonderful boy's attention in any possible way... I was lucky to have his help with Spanish and lucky to actually be able to spend some time with him... he could NOT really 'like' me. That was impossible!
It was Spring Break and I had time to think about all this... two weeks to figure out what I should say the next time I saw him. But I kept coming up with the same conclusion. This HAD to be some sort of joke and I was determined to find out what had really happened, no matter who I had to talk to in order to accomplish this.
During Spring Break that year (April), we had a horrible snow storm which ended up in around 24 inches of snow - totally not expected that time of year.
Then JM's father saw the article in the newspaper... Steven had been hit by a car and was in bad shape. We did not know how bad he was injured.
I knew that one of the boys he hung out with had a phone number one away from mine because people from school often called my number by mistake - so I called him.
He said they had been to a party and were hungry so they went to McDonalds afterward... the snow was piled up on the sidewalks and median of the road they had to cross, so they were riding their bikes on the main road. A probable drunk driver hit Steven and he went flying across the pavement and landed on his head. The driver left the scene (turned himself in to the police more than 24 hours later) and the boys ran to an apartment building to get someone to call an ambulance.
He did not tell me any more... we just sat there on the phone in silence. After a while, I asked if Steven would be ok? He just said he didn't know then he hung up.
Ok... so Steven was hurt. I didn't understand how bad this was, and was in complete denial of where this could lead. THIS boy, THIS good, nice boy... why did this have to happen to HIM? But, he would get better, right? He HAD to get better!!!
That was all I would admit to myself.
I spent the next few days in silence. Though my parents still made me go out and hang out with the girls, I just sat there, staring. I had to make it through to the end of Spring Break to find out how Steven was.
The school had a trip scheduled during the break to a huge amusement park, and my parents had paid for me to go. I didn't want to go if Steven was not going to be there, but my parents and the girls convinced me to go. I was a statue on the bus on the way there, staring out the window. When we got there, I looked around for the boy I had called and he wasn't there. I don't know where I found the nerve, but I started asking people who knew him why he wasn't there... nobody would answer me.
THAT is when the girls I hung out with decided to tell me before anyone else did...
Steven was dead.
He had died the day before, but nobody wanted to tell me.
I screamed a scream I had never even heard anyone scream before, and broke down completely hysterical.
This was not possible... but I knew it was true. How could this happen???
I think to keep myself sane as long as possible I started to concentrate on - HOW could ANYONE have convinced me to go on this trip KNOWING he was dead? WHY would they think I should be going anywhere? WHAT was all this about? HOW could anything matter anymore?
I followed the group into the park, found a bench near every ride the girls went on and just sat there like a zombie.
Yeah... I was a zombie for a very long time after that... except at his funeral... and except when I was alone. When I was alone, all I did was cry.
Nothing else mattered except that Steven was dead.
JM found out that Steven really did like me. The other boys did not lie... they were not being mean... they were not trying to humiliate anyone.
And Steven was so upset that I said I didn't like him... so embarrassed that the other boys told me... THAT is why they went to that party that night... to try to cheer him up.
If I had told the truth, he probably would have been hanging out with me that night instead.
I killed Steven.
His friends all blamed me, and I blamed myself most of all.
At the funeral, the very first funeral I had ever been to, someone that I didn't even know knew my name dragged me into a room and introduced me to his parents.
His mother looked at me, said my name with this shocked look on her face... looked at the girl who had introduced me and said my name as a question... the girl nodded... and then his mother broke down in hysterics... literally crumbling into a heap of sobbing flesh on the floor though several people tried to hold her up she slipped through their hands onto the floor... and then his father yelled to someone to "Get HER out of this room, NOW!" pointing at me.
Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me from the room.
This set it in stone. I knew the truth now. He must have been talking to his mom about me.
I killed Steven. I killed the nicest boy who ever lived. Even his parents blamed me.
He was so smart and wonderful - he would have contributed so much to the world if he had had the chance. How could this happen???
My lie killed him.
The other boys never talked to me again, except one - but I could not talk to him for years. I was a complete zombie for the rest of the year.
I promised myself never to enjoy one minute of my life ever again... never to enjoy anything that I had taken away from Steven as a self-induced punishment for killing him with my lie.
I began having vicious arguments with my parents over church. They wanted me to go, but how could I go to church when G-d killed the best person who ever lived because I lied once? I was so furious with a G-d who could do such a thing - punish ME if I am a bad person, not everyone else who would have benefited from Steven's living.
Every night, as I cried myself to sleep for various reasons (always including that I had killed him), I talked to Steven - apologizing for killing him.
I kept the promise "never to enjoy anything again" for a while, but after high school was over I decided that Steven probably would not want me to live like that. I started drinking and that helped me become a little more social... and began to allow myself to enjoy life once in a while.
But I have never forgiven myself for what I did.
One day when I was in college, the friend of Steven's who did not seem to blame me and would talk to me came up to me as I stood outside of a classroom waiting for the previous class to let out. I had never seen him there before and never saw him after that day, though with my face-blindness, plus the fact that I kept my eyes on the floor most of the time, he might have passed me every day and I did not notice. He said hello, asked me what my major was, I asked him the same... then he said, "It's been almost 4 years" and we both stood in silence for a few minutes, both of us staring at the floor... then he said goodbye and walked away.
Years later, when I was engaged to my husband, I was working at a department store in the handbag section. A couple came in and they looked familiar. I KNEW I knew them from somewhere, but I didn't say anything. I had my script and always stuck to it. Perhaps they had been there before?
The husband was buying an expensive handbag for his wife and I could tell this was a very special occasion for them by the way she was reacting. He handed me his credit card...
I walked around the showcases to the cash register and then it hit me like a punch in the face... the last name on the card... these were Steven's parents!
I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My eyes filled up with tears and I couldn't even blink them away.
I really don't know how long I was standing there like a statue before I came to my senses...
What should I do? Should I say something to them about who I am? A confession?
I rang up the purchase, ran the credit card through the machine and waited for approval...
I looked up at them through my tears... they kept chatting and looking at each other... they looked so HAPPY... this was NOT the time to be interrupting this special event with confessions that were guaranteed to spoil their day...
So I finished up the purchase, wiped my tears away and handed them their stuff. I couldn't talk, couldn't even say my scripted lines for ending a purchase. I would not have made it through a word without breaking down into tears.
They never looked at me, they only had eyes for each other. I was glad they didn't look at me because they would have KNOWN... I was sure of that.
I almost broke off my engagement... because Steven could never be happy again, could never find love, could never be engaged, could never be married... and it had been my fault because I lied.
But I decided to wait a couple of days and think about it. I decided again that Steven would not have wanted me to... selfishness, I suppose.
Years after that, I went to a psychic. It was something work-related, a fundraiser. I could have just paid and not gone, but I went because the office manager asked me to help her with something. I could not have actually sat down with the psychic, but I thought it might be fun... and we had been trying to get pregnant for years at that point and I figured it couldn't hurt to ask her if I ever would.
After I sat down, she said she was in contact with someone who had passed on and then started to describe Steven perfectly, right down to the shiny hair (I always wondered how he got his hair to shine like that)... and described his death in detail... the accident and what happened afterward. OMG! I was in shock and sat there holding my breath, with tiny gasps in between just to stay alive, because I knew I would completely freak out if I said anything, or even tried to breathe normally.
She said I had to stop talking to him (I had NOT told her I was talking to him) because I was holding him back from 'moving on to the other side'. She said he was stuck in between. She said I was doing the same to my grandparents (who I did NOT tell her had died). I HAD to let go of them, or they would never move on.
Geeze. Like I didn't have enough guilt about this? Not only had I killed Steven, but I was holding him and my grandparents from moving on to what I imagine is 'heaven'?
So, that night, I talked to all of them for the last time. I said my goodbyes... and I let go.
At least I hope I let go, though I wonder if the flashbacks count???
And so, I have gone on with my life in this way, having Steven pop into my thoughts every day for the past 27 years... having detailed flashbacks, including all of the emotions related to all the above.
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