Broom Hair

(TW: depression, attempted, and mention of suicide)

The ends of my hair look like an old broom. 

My fingers get caught in the tangles in my hair as I run my hand through it. The roots at the top of my hair are slick but as my fingers pull through the knots in my hair locks become dry and split.

I should wash my hair-- probably get a haircut too. 

I move my hand to my teeth. I drag a fingernail across my teeth while the crud gathers under the nail.

I’m sure my teeth as well as my hair wouldn’t mind if I brushed them. The mouthwash too would help from the foul feeling I have in my mouth. 

I should do it. I’ll get up and brush my teeth, maybe even get in the shower. I tell myself: Ten minutes and I’ll get out of bed.

I take my phone off the charger to browse it and wait until those ten minutes give way.

I don’t hear him approach until I feel a soft touch down my hair.

“Hi,” he says in a soothing tone.

I adjust my head to look up at him. “I was wondering when you would be here.”

He continues his tender touch through my hair; it’s comforting. “I’m here now, aren't I?” he murmurs while his eyes study my face.

I reach for his other hand but it’s too far away. “I need to brush my teeth and shower.” 

He stops running his hand through my hair while he stares down at me. “You don’t have to do that. I’d rather stay in bed with you ad not waste our time together.”

“I look gross and probably smell like it too. I’ll be quick-- just let me,” I sit up in bed, “feel like I’ve done something.”

He sits on the bed, his eyes boring into mine. He pulls me into an embrace and I easily let him.

“How about we stay here in bed for a little bit and then you can shower?” His forehead presses against me while his pretty eyes meet mine. It should be a question where I get to choose but it’s not-- it’s a compromise and I’m okay with it.

I don’t respond because he knows he’s got me. He pulls us down on the bed to lay together. He starts to rub my hair while I stare at the ceiling until my eyes start to close. I fall back into sweet oblivion. 

*

It wasn’t love at first sight between us.

 We’ve known each other for nine years. He’s someone I met when I was ten at my mom’s funeral. There were some people at her funeral I recognized and others who I never met once in my life.

He was one of them. I asked him how he knew her and he said they’d known each other for a long time.

I was confused because he looked to be my age but being alive for ten years felt like a long time for any ten-year-old kid.

Throughout the years we’d slowly become friends. We’d hang out every once in a while until it became more frequent. He would always try to stay longer than I wanted but I would eventually have to send him kicking out the door.

My dad wasn’t fond of him though who was my dad to have an opinion on my life? Ever since my mom died, he was the sole caretaker. It was always me and my dad, but mostly just me. 

It didn’t matter if I had a friend he didn’t like because he was around and my dad wasn’t. When my friend wanted to become more than a friend I wasn’t sure if that was our relationship and it could be so intimate but he eventually wore me down until it was yes.

He was ecstatic.

My friends from school weren't. 

It was hard to not make excuses for him but he’s quite possessive. He only wanted us to hang out together and “Nobody else was allowed,” he once said to me. I understood he wanted the special time between us and I enjoyed it but I owed time to my friends.

Though I found the more and more time I spent with him secluded in my room, the less and less I wanted to hang out with my friends.

I knew it wasn’t the best thing but it was so much easier and comfortable in his presence and the exact opposite with my friends. Hanging out with them had become a chore that I was tired of doing.

That’s when my school friends become nothing more than school acquaintances.

*

“My mom died nine years ago today.”

He takes a strand of my broom hair to twist around his slender finger. I didn’t bother to shower or brush my teeth after all. The day was half over, what was the point in trying to? It felt like a waste.

It takes him a second to respond. “A week after that we met for the first time.” He continues twirling my hair.

“How did you even know her?” I try to clarify, “My mom, I mean? I can’t remember how you knew her?” 

He meets my eyes this time and stops the twirling of my hair. “She used to go to Wayward Park and feed the geese. I was always there trying to skip rocks and she got mad at me for inadvertently scaring the birds.”

“That’s weird. She took me there all the time to feed the geese, how wouldn’t I have seen you?” I contemplate while he stares at me, not ready to give an answer I wanted. “I mean I know she probably went alone sometimes but she almost always took me. That used to be our spot until…” I didn’t want to finish the thought. Nine years might've passed but on the date, it happened was like nine years ceased to exist and it just happened. 

He shrugs his shoulders. “I never saw you, I guess?” He smiles slightly at me examining my face. “You look just like your mom; your eyes are so similar.”

“We don’t even have the same color.”

“No, it’s the expression in your eyes, that’s the same.”

I sit up, starting to feel uncomfortable in my skin. “I should go for a walk or even maybe a run. I know my mom would already be let down that I quit cross country.” I stare down at my bare nails were under my fingernails there’s dirt and on the other hand, there’s Cheeto dust from my only meal of the day.

I hadn’t felt like making anything to eat and he agreed that I shouldn't. He did let me grab the Cheeto bag because it wasn’t too much work. 

He grabs my arm, not violently, but gently, “You quit cross country for a reason; it was making you tired and you lost interest in it.”

I shake my arm out of his hold. He lets me. “You told me I should quit. It… it wasn’t completely my choice.”

“It’s always been your choice between us.” He tries to hug me again but I side-swoop and get up. 

“I seriously do need a walk, I’m going to change and then get going.” I am unsure If I should invite him. I start to change clothes into ones that are presentable for the outside world.

It doesn’t matter what my opinion is because he starts to follow me. Maybe, it would be nice to have the time to myself and only myself. 

“How about you stay here? I’ll only be gone for thirty minutes at the most. I just want to spend some time with my mom alone.” 

“I’d rather not, I’m worried about you.” He follows me down the stairs and watches as I put on my sneakers.

I try to put every ounce of sternness into my voice as I say, “Seriously, I just want to be alone.” I open the door and the day has come and gone almost. I check my phone and it’s quarter to midnight. My dad should be home soon. I turned back to him, “Please- just stay here.”

I shut the door on him and head towards the sidewalk not wanting to hear his response because I know he’ll find a way to convince me not to. He’s pretty persuasive or I just give in to it too easily. 

 I think I know where I want to go. It’s a mile and a half away. 

I hadn’t been there in years but I might as well now. There was something that felt right. 

The night is as silent as my room. I’m not stupid to think he wouldn’t follow me. Maybe at a distance so I can’t see him but he’s always lurking there. 

I tried to start running but my body was no longer used to the constant motion it had once adapted to. I could only make it a couple of minutes before my body was screaming at me to stop.

The frustration and tiredness were gathering up in my throat ready to burst from the seams. I slowed my breathing down and focused on clearing my mind.

It felt like for the first time in ages, my mind was free of whatever shielded it. This was the alone I wanted and I was going to use it.

Since my mom died I slowly became a waste of space and he made me feel like I mattered in a world of seven billion people. 

Or maybe it was just the opposite. 

Sometimes my relationship with him felt there was never going to be an end in sight. Not that that was a bad thing but I’m young and when I try to envision a future without him it doesn’t exist. Maybe I should want more for myself beyond our relationship but there was a part of me that felt like I deserve him.

The thoughts of the serene night carry me towards the approaching sign: Wayward Park.

I head towards the pond-- our spot. If I hadn’t been in such a rush I might’ve brought some bread for the geese but I had grown accustomed to forgetting things. 

I stare out at the lake. The last time I was here with my mom she was holding my hand guiding me around the lake carefully so I wouldn't accidentally drown while we fed the geese together. 

She drowned in this lake, nine years ago, and it wasn’t an accident.

The clarity in my mind I had minutes ago ceased to exist again. Though it was night time there was a shadower darker than night itself feet away from me. 

“I helped your mom exactly nine years ago.” I knew that voice like I’d know my name. “And if you just let me help you the way I helped her,” his voice becomes louder as he approaches me, “You could see her again.”

He’s side to side with me now. I feel a tear escaping from my eye, there’s no point in wiping it away. I hated crying, he knew it too, but I don’t bother wiping it away; another pointless thing that wouldn’t change anything.

He puts his mouth next to my ear, “You know what I did to help her out? She was struggling just like you; I took care of her. I told her that her daughter would be better off without her. Her husband would remarry and find somebody better.”

“Just like her,” He grabs a lock of my hair, “You’re not deserving of anybody’s love but mine.” With his other hand, he starts to pull something out of his pockets. 

I don’t say anything as I let the tears stream down my face as he starts to put rocks in my pocket. “Remember what I said? It’s always been your choice and I’m here as a friend to support it.”

The rocks start to weigh me down but I try to spit out of my mouth. “You didn’t give her a choice. You never let her or me try to have one.”

He ignored me. “You know how I did it? How am I going to do it again?”

I don’t respond but the rocks are becoming overbearing. I don’t take them out but I sit on the ground.

He starts to rub the top of my head. “You hear me speaking- my voice? Isn't it familiar? I don’t have a unique voice like everyone else. I mask my voice as everybody’s when I talk to them; I anchored mine to your mom’s. She thought she heard herself thinking those thoughts when in reality it was me.”

I stare at the ground. My eyes are puffy and it makes me more tired. Almost tired enough that a swim with rocks in my pockets doesn’t sound so bad. 

“She blamed herself for my intrusive thoughts in her head-- like it was her fault she couldn’t get out of bed to make you a lunch for a school or forgotten her anniversary. All she ever wanted was to be enough for you and your dad but I told her she wasn’t.”

“So this is why I was here nine years ago and I’m here now. I’m here to remind you of who you are.”

I close my eyes as I lay flat out on the ground. Maybe, it was time to go. My life would be short the next one would be better if was another life after this one. The rocks in my pocket start to feel like a device meant to aid me out of existence.

Suddenly, I hear a squawk that brings me out of my current state. It’s a group of geese.

I look at them, it’s a family- a mother guiding babies around the water protecting them. 

That's all my mom ever wanted was to be a good mom but she never felt like one because of him. It was him who took every choice from her so much that drowning herself was the only choice she left. The only choice that she thought would make her a better mother and wife.

I turned to look at him and where the void of emotions ceased to exist in me one came to fruition: anger. 

“I don’t need help nor do I want it from you,” I spit out.

His eyes falter for a second but he gains his confidence back. “If you don’t want me to know, that’s fine, but I’ll be back. I always come back because this thing we have, it’s not something you let go of so easily.” He says it with such conviction in his voice it makes me angrier. 

It makes me mad enough that I throw a rock at his face and the sharp side scratches him. I then decide to throw every rock at him I can while he doesn’t even flinch.

 I can’t say it bothers me to see the blood run down his face as the tears did on mine.

He smiles at me, the blood falling into his mouth as he does, covering his white teeth as he tips his head at me in a goodbye. 

He disappears into the darkness.

I don’t how long I sit at the lake until I hear the sound of footsteps approaching and quickly turn around. 

It’s my dad. The sight of him is enough to let more tears fall from my face. Not tears of sadness but relief. 

“How did you know where I was?” I say while he comes up to squeeze the life out of me. 

I can tell he’s shaking as he holds me. “I didn’t, I always come here every year to talk to her but I’m you’re here”

I come out of the hug because I have to tell him what my mom couldn’t. Those thoughts, his thoughts aren’t meant to keep to ourselves.“Dad, I’m suicidal and I don’t want my life to end like hers but I need help.” My hands start to shake as I say, “I almost just did it,” pointing my eyes at the lake, “I miss her so much but it’s not my time I know but it's hard to stop those thoughts.”

He closes his eyes as he looks down at me with tears escaping from him. He doesn’t say a word but nods in not just understanding but gratitude. 

Next thing I know he’s carrying me in his arms like he used to do when I was young. The swaying of the action and silence of the night lull me into an almost sleep.

The weight on my shoulders is still heavy but now it feels a little bit lighter than it has been. 

In the car, I notice he passes the street our house is on. I don’t question where he’s taking me because I already know. 

I’m fine with it-- more than fine. If it keeps me away from him the more the better. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice in the side pocket there's an array of stuff. Hair Ties, candy wrappers, and even a little comb I left in there.

I decide to grab the comb and run it through my hair. 

Nobody wants broom hair, especially me.