Plastic Castle

The rain poured down on me as I stood at Patrick’s gravestone. I was drenched from head to toe, my hair was soaked and my clothes were starting to stick to my skin. But I didn't care; because if I could see him just one more time, it would assure me that living was worth it. But at this point, I started to think that even if I did see him, I’d realize that we should switch places. I’d give anything to switch places, even if switching meant that I'd be lying underground while he’d be staring at my grave.

Death. It’s a word I was too familiar with, a word that I wish never followed my life.  It comes in many forms, and it doesn’t just knock before entering. It breaks in, steals everything you ever loved and then rips you into tiny little pieces so you’re left trying to put them back together. I know, because I was still trying to put things back together until I was sent back here to where it all happened.

It was summer, exactly four years to the day that Patrick died. The air outside was cool and yet the rain kept coming. That’s how it was in Ohio, it rained randomly in the summer. It was almost like Florida, but not as bad. There were days when it’d be so humid and hot that the humidity would stick to your skin. Sometimes, if it was really hot, heat lightening would appear out of nowhere, just flash across the sky as though the sky was saying: hey world, I'm too hot. Today, the atmosphere decided it was going to rain. I glanced up at the sky, which was covered in an array of dark, puffy gray clouds. The weather today made me think of that summer, that summer when my world had been flipped upside down and inside out.

Patrick and I had this tradition every summer to go to the county fair in Columbus, because it was one of the best. We'd et corn dogs and cotton candy and fried Twinkies all day and then ride the Centrifuge, which was one of those rides spun you so fast and moved up and down at the same time so we'd barf up whatever we'd eat. We'd check out the girls, who were usually hanging around the petting zoo or the barn where the 4H group had their animal shows. Patrick always tried to win prizes at the games, too. His favorite was the kind where you had to throw rings on top of bottles to win a goldfish in a bag. That year was the first time he actually won. I remember him acting like that goldfish was his biggest accomplishment of his life. At the time, I didn't quite understand why. I was seventeen then, and thought that a goldfish was a stupid prize. He, however, was proud of himself.

I sighed. I reached out my hand and touched the gravestone, letting the smoothness of the stone brush on my palm; then I turned and headed back to my car. I had scheduled a session today at Dr. Barrie’s Psychology Offices. He'd be glad that I had come to see him. 

I drove in silence with nothing but my windshield wipers going. A few hours ago I was sitting in my room with a rope in my hand, waiting for the courage to try and hang myself again. But something had stopped me this time from hanging the rope and slipping my neck through it then letting go. It bugged me that I didn’t know what it was, so that's why I had gone to see Patrick. Of course, Patrick couldn't tell me the answer, but I knew that just seeing him, or feeling him around me would. And Dr. Barrie would help me.

Patrick and I were one in the same, but two very different people. We were twins, born on the same day but we don’t look alike at all. Everyone says that Patrick got the looks, and that was true. I was just a scrawny kid who was constantly pale and who liked to have his hair hang in his eyes. I also wore a lot of black.

Patrick would always come out on top. He played football only because Dad wanted him too. He always told me he loved the game of Hockey and even wanted to try for Lacrosse. He tried to keep his GPA up but he struggled with Math. Parties were his joy in life but he hardly ever drank because he knew Dad would kill him if he came home smelling like alcohol. He was deathly afraid of Dad, as we both were.  And we had a reason to be.

Dad was a hardcore Christian. We were forced to go to church every Sunday and volunteer for at least two events a year. These usually ended up to be soup kitchens or charity races. He read a passage from the Bible every night and made sure that Patrick’s girlfriend was from a good Christian family like ours. But there was a dark side to Dad that only I experienced. It was the kind of dark side that I couldn’t tell anyone of because it would threaten his reputation. When Patrick died, I didn’t give a damn about his reputation.

I shook my head, snapping out of my thoughts as I realized I passed Dr. Barrie’s office. Grumbling, I made a quick U-turn and pulled into a turn lane that turned into the parking lot of the plaza. I turned off the engine and sat there for a moment before I decided to go in.

Drenched from the rain, I walked inside and shook myself off. The receptionist, Nancy, looked up from her computer and peered at me from her thick-rimmed glasses. I had come to Dr. Barrie’s the first time I tried to hang myself. Its not that I wanted to, Dad had forced me to go because he didn’t want it getting out. Everyone spreads rumors in this town, he said. I had had three sessions with him before I skipped out of town and booked my own flight to California with my Dad’s credit card. But Nancy remembered me, I could tell by the grin on her face. It was a smirk, really.

“Good afternoon, Conner," Nancy sneered. “Dr. Barrie will be with you in a moment.”

“Hey, Nancy? Those glasses are from like the 1970s. Don't you think it’s high time you get some new ones?” I asked, grinning. She pointed to a chair without an answer, demanding I sit and be quiet.  She knew that I just liked to push her buttons. I think I have only made her laugh once, and I felt like that had been some great achievement for me.

I took a seat in the chair that she pointed to. The thing about Dr. Barrie’s waiting room was that it was decorated like an asylum. The white walls blinded me with pure, intentional boredom. Half his patients were crazy, so I never understood why Dr. Barrie didn't put up some artwork or something to brighten up their lives a little bit. If his patients weren't crazy before going to him, certainly a few moments sitting in the room would make them go bonkers. There was also no music, so the silence in the room would make a person go deaf. I used to whistle until Nancy gave me that look of death because I annoyed her.

Beside me on my right was a table of magazine from 2001. Time and Highlights were the choices. Dr. Barrie never renewed his subscriptions, so covers of Osama Bin Laden and the Trade Towers glared up at me. If his patients weren't depressed before they came in, just looking at those covers would make anyone feel worthless. I rearranged the magazines and put the Highlights on top.

To my left was a fish tank. It was nestled in the corner of the room, and every time I looked at it I could swear that nothing lived in there. The tank was filled with blue and pink colored rocks. There was a plastic castle and next to that, a scuba diver that was waving. Green algae was starting to fester at t he sides of the tank, and something else that looked like puke was starting to emerge from the top. I stared at that tank for what seemed like hours each time I came here, but there was never anything in there. It was an empty tank of decorations.

“Hey, Nancy?” I said. She looked up at me again, pursing her lips. “Are you sure there's a fish in that tank?”

“Yes, Conner. It's probably hiding somewhere. Dr. Barrie hasn't gotten around to cleaning the tank yet.”

“I'm pretty sure it's been like that for the past few years,” I persisted.

“Conner, I've seen a gold fish swimming in there. Maybe it just hides when you come in.”

I grin. “Touché, Nancy.”

I was still unconvinced that there was any sort of life form other than the plastic scuba diver in the tank, but I couldn’t argue anymore. I was actually surprised Nancy had any humor in her. Most of the time she was like a monotonous robot.

It was then I saw Dr. Barrie come around the corner, holding my file. I cringed as I saw it. It held everything that I had told him a few years ago. He glanced up at me and smiled. “Hello, Conner. I’ll meet you in my office.”

I nodded and stood, giving a salute to Nancy as I headed around the corner, down the hallway to his room at the end. I walked in and shut the door behind me.

His office had more color to it, but it was that same brown and green mixture that painted the fish tank in the waiting room. Obviously, Dr. Barrie didn't hire an interior decorator. And if he did, he never checked her credentials first. Shelves of books lined the walls, most of which were old and their withered and worn bindings blended in with the dark oak wood of the shelves. I read most of those books, since Dr. Barrie let me borrow them and had known my passion for reading. He had books like Moby Dick and Catcher in the Rye and a Tale of Two Cities and Frankenstien. Dr. Barrie told me once that I reminded him of Holden Caulfield. I always thought that I was more like Frankenstein.

“Well, Conner. It's nice to see you again," Dr. Barrie said as he came in and shut the door behind him. “How are you today?”

“I'm not sure, doc,” I answered. “That’s why I came here.”

He took his usual spot on his brown leather chair and grabbed the pad of paper from his desk. He flipped to the first page. I always wondered what he scribbled on there while I talked.

“Why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. You do a pretty good job of it,” I replied.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve last seen you.  A few years, maybe?”

I frowned, then sat back on the couch and spread my legs to get comfortable. “Yeah, I know. I guess I just stopped coming.”

Dr. Barrie nodded. “I was told by your Dad that you were sent to California to live with your aunt?”

I blinked.  I guess Dad had figured out when he looked at his credit card statement that I had bought a one way ticket to California. Just one way, because I didn’t think I was ever coming back. “Uh, yeah. He thought it’d be good for me.”

He scribbled something down. “So why are you here today, Conner?”

I play with my fingers for a few moments, trying to figure out the answer to that question. “Today is the anniversary of Patrick’s death.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

I groaned. I hated that question. I also hated “why?” and “what do you think?” I got good at making up some bull shit answers because I never knew the real ones. But I should have known he’d ask me that question.

“I almost did it again,” I answered, staring at the yellow carpet. “But I couldn't go through with it.”

“Why do you think that is?" Dr. Barrie replied, writing something down. He peered at me like Nancy did, over the rim of his glasses. I looked up at him and studied him for a moment. When I first came to Dr. Barrie’s, i was always afraid to talk to him because he reminded me of my father. Telling Dr. Barrie that I was gay was frightening since I felt like I was telling my father all over again. He had the same bone structure, the same stern look. I told Dr. Barrie that once, and he said just to imagine him in a chicken suit. For some odd reason, that totally worked.

“Patrick wouldn't want me to.”

Dr. Barrie nodded and scribbled something else on the pad of paper. “Tell me about your brother, Conner. Maybe talking about him will help you open up.”

I laughed. Sometimes, the things Dr. Barrie suggested I do were crazy. “He tried to be a good brother,” I said. “And he was, I know that. He tried to protect me from everything but he couldn’t.”

“What couldn’t he protect you from?” Dr. Barrie asked. He looked at me now like he was interested. Or concerned, I couldn’t tell.

“Dad,” I answered flatly. “He couldn’t protect me from Dad. “

“Your father is a good man,” Dr. Barrie replied. He put his pad of paper down on his desk and leaned forward, making sure he was meeting me at eye level.  “What did you have to be protected from?”

I covered my face with my hands and breathed in deep. It’s been four years, I thought to myself. Why can’t I come out and say it still? I ran my hands down my face and then raked my fingers through my hair. “You don’t know my father like I do,” I answered. “He’s like the Hulk. When he gets angry, he gets angry and you don’t want to be in his way.”

“The Hulk?” Dr. Barrie said, leaning back in his chair. “You mean the comic book character who turns into the green monster when he’s mad?”

“Exactly that one,” I said. “He doesn’t show that side to society.”

“Go on, tell me more about Patrick,” Dr. Barrie said, waving away the conversation about comic book characters. I thought it was a pretty good analogy. “How did your father take Patrick’s death?”

“Not well at all,” I said. “Patrick’s death was like an earthquake in a third world country. Devastating. He wouldn’t eat, sleep or do anything for days. I tried to show him that I was still here, that I was still his son and I existed.”

“And what did he say?”

“He told me I wasn’t his son,” I answered. I shivered. “Patrick’s death was hard for both of us.  He held on to Patrick like he had been the only thing he had left in the world. “

“Tell me about the relationship you had with Patrick,” Dr. Barrie said, grabbing his pad of paper again. “What was it like?”

“It was great, for the most part,” I said, leaning forward. I placed my elbows on my knees and stared down at the carpet while I spoke. I didn’t like looking Dr. Barrie in the eye. He reminded me too much of my father. “We told everything to each other. He’d always seek my approval, and I would always seek his. We had the same circle of friends so we always hung out together. I mean, we were normal.”

“What changed?” Dr. Barrie asked. I could tell he was interested now. He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, like he was thinking hard about how to evaluate my situation.

“I don’t know,” I said. I crossed my arms against my chest and sighed heavily, wishing I knew the real answer to that question. “He wanted to join the army.”

“And you didn’t want him too?”

I shook my head.



Dr. Barrie nodded his head. “You have, but that's okay. Tell me again, maybe you'll remember things you haven’t told me before.”

“We had a going away party for him because he got accepted to the University of Cincinnati,” I began slowly, drawing in a deep breath. “God, my father was so proud.”

“Did that make you jealous?” Dr. Barrie asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged. “Maybe. It wasn't law school, but it was my father's alma mater. Patrick didn’t even have a four point oh at the time, “ I said. “But he was so proud of him, nonetheless.”

“I’m sure he was proud of you too, Conner," Dr. Barrie replied.

“I don’t think so, doc. I was a disappointment.”

Dr. Barrie frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“I focused more on theater and art then what he wanted. I didn’t want a girlfriend, and going to med school wasn't part of the plan.”

“Were you afraid of your father?”

I was silent for a moment. “Both of us were, but me more than Patrick. At the party, he ousted me in front of everyone and my father was there.”

“Why do you think he did that?”

I still remembered that day. It was after the fair, the one where he won the goldfish and he figured out that I was gay. He stood up to make his speech, and it was a speech I'll never forget. I supposed he was a little tipsy at the time, but that wasn’t an excuse.

“Friends and countrymen, lend me your rears,” he had said and laughed. He thought he was hilarious. “I would like to thank everyone for coming today, especially my brother, Conner.” I remembered he looked straight at me then and raised his cup up to me. “I don’t care if you're gay, Conner. No matter what, you're still my brother.”

I remembered how my heart stopped beating afterwards, and how the whole audience turned and looked straight at me. Dad was giving me the look of pure death, and after Patrick took a drink he realized what he had said. Then Anna, my best friend, who’d I'd known since birth and who was active in our church youth group, broke the silence when she came toward me, slapped me in the face and told me to go to hell. then someone pushed me in the pool. Iremember Patrick trying to grab my arm to talk to me as I stormed out, completely humiliated and embarassed.

“You ruined my life!” I shouted at him when we were inside the house. “What could possibly make you think it was okay to tell everyone?”

“Conner, I'm sorry, I didn’t know what I was thinking!” Patrick cried. “Look, it’s not a big deal-”

“Not a big deal?” I was shaking uncontrollably; adrenaline was rushing through every vein in my body like a river after a storm. “Dad’s going to kill me!”

“I'll tell him I was joking and it's not true, come on Conner!”

He followed me through the house as I searched for my keys, wanting to get away from there. “Dad won't believe it, Patrick. He’ll see right through you, trying to protect me!”

“You mean it's true?” Patrick stoodfor a moment, gathering it in. And then it hit me. He had been joking in his speech. He hadn't known that it was the truth.

I didn't say anything; instead I stormed out of the house to the driveway. Patrick ran after me. I got into th car and he still followed me, getting into the passenger seat. I was livid. I had never been so furious. I peeled out of the drive way as Patrick buckled his seatbelt. “Where are you going?”

“Away from here,” I growled. “I wish you hadn’t followed me, bastard.”

‘Jesus Christ, Conner!” Patrick shouted. “It won't be that bad, I promise you! If you just calm the fuck down, we'll go back and talk to Dad.”

“I don’t want to talk to Dad!” I shouted back, making a sharp right turn out of our neighborhood. Tears stung my eyes and I couldn’t breathe. “He's going to literally kill me, Patrick. Don’t you understand?”

“No, he won’t! Conner, I’ll be there with you and we’ll explain everything-”

“There’s nothing to fucking explain, Patrick. I hate you. You think you can just say anything y ou want and then turn around and fix it with a few backwards words. That’s not how this works.”

“What I said back there, Conner, its true. I don’t care if you're gay, or whatever you are. I wanted to let you know that you're my brother, no matter what. I'm leaving for colelge and I'm scared shitless, Conner. I want to know that you'l lbe there.”

“You ruined my life!” I shouted. My foot pressed down harder on the pedal. I hated how calm Patrick was. “I can’t believe you’d think I'd be there for you after this. I fucking hate you!”

“Didn’t you hear a word I just said?” Patrick asked, gripping my shoulder. “Conner, watch your speed-”

“Don’t tell me what the fuck to do!”

And then it happened. Before i knew it, I had lost control of the wheel. The car spun of control and hit a tree.

“Conner?”

I snapped out of my reverie and looked up at Dr. Barrie. I could fear a tear stream down my cheek and I wiped it away, hoping that Dr. Barrie hadn't noticed. Crying in front of your shrink wasn't exactly something I wanted to have written down. it’s embarrassing, almost more embarrassing then talking about how you feel.

“Why do you think he told everyone?" Dr. Barrie repeated.

“He um, he didn’t know it was true.” I sat up straight on the couch. “After he died, the bullying began, as you know, since that's the reason why I'm here. Today, I just wanted to switch places with him.”

“But you couldn't go through with it,” Dr. Barrie concluded. “That’s a good sign, Conner.” He put his pad down on his desk and leaned forward to look me in the eyes. “I think you're beginning to realize that you can't run away from who you are. Patrick is gone, yes. But it’s not your fault. It's not his fault, either. You can't keep blaming yourself for something that happened four years ago. You have to move on.”

I nodded, knowing that what Dr. Barrie said was true. After all, he was a psychiatrist and was supposed to know what he was talking about. “I visited Patrick's grave today,” I said. “I guess I felt I had to see him one more time, you know? And I guess it made me realize that despite everything, he's till my brother. You’re right doc. I can't be mad at him forever.”

Dr. Barrie smiled and sat back in his chair, then scribbled something once more. “It’s difficult for people like you to understand where they fit in, Conner. But in the past four years you've been coming to me, I've seen you progress in a way that most do not.  I've seen you rise above the bullying, Conner. And with what you told me today, I think you’re starting to accept who you are. Have you?”

I cocked my head to one side and looked at Dr. Barrie, raising my eyebrows. Sometimes I ignored his evaluations and put them aside, believing it was just a bunch of bullshit that he had to tell me as part of his job. But what he said made sense. The bullying had ceased, and even though Anna still thinks I betrayed her and won't talk to me, I know that we could become friends again. I hoped, at least. I guess, in a way, Dr. Barrie was right.

“I guess so,” I said with a grin. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t go through with it.”

“I think that’s a fantastic observation,” he replied. He stood, and I knew our session was over. “We made a breakthough today, Conner.”

“I guess we did, doc,” I said as he shook my hand. he then beckoned me to follow him out the door.

“I’ll have Nancy make your next appointment,” he said. “And Conner?”

I looked up at him. “Yeah?”

He pointed behind me. I frowned and turned to see where he was pointing. I followed his finger to the fish tank, and my jaw dropped to the floor. Emerging from the plastic castle was a gold fish. it had a gimpy fin and was all alone, but he swam freely around in the mucky water without a care in the world, because he knew he was a gold fish. And he was damn proud of it.