But it was appropriate and to the point.
That was more Conner than anything. No dilly dallying. No standing for some man giving a speech no matter how provocative it was if his idea would not be given until the last sentence. No stopping to think. It was quick quick snap snap rush. Breathe and repeat.
He was moving slower today. Mr. Greer wrote this down. After spending one hundred and two days with this 17 year old he still could never predict his next move.
Though Conner could predict his…
In truth the only one who ever did understand Conner was Matt. His best friend. His only friend that knew. But, Conner didn’t want to talk about Matt. Not now, nobody talked about Matt anymore. Nobody talked to Matt anymore. He had paused again to think about this. Mr. Greer was now worried. This was not Conner. This was not Conner. This was not Conner. And Conner thought again. He slowed down the normal tempo at which he led his life for this one day. This one morning. He paused to repeat himself every other sentence. Every other sentence.
He had recognized environment, situation, and emotion before, but never like this. Never had he had the chance to pause it and question it, except for the time before, when he was with Matt.
Mr. Greer again disturbed Conner’s wandering mind, and after tugging on his shirt Conner caught up with reality and realized that he was remembering more and more. This time it wasn’t as simple, this time there was more things he noticed.
His counselor’s face went pale, and he reached for his pager, “No Mr. Greer it’s not like last time! I don’t even know what’s happening today, only up until when I leave-.”
Mr. Greer set his pager down. This had been the first time he had threatened Conner with calling security. Of course, this was only the second time Conner had begun the day with such behavior. He looked out the window, and saw the dead trees, and saw the same place where he had fallen twenty one days earlier, “I – it’s just, I bet you remember what happened right before the day before they closed the school, how I acted. But I doubt this is like that. I mean, I learned I could dream about anything, but my last was just way too crazy to be real, otherwise everything I dreamed would – well you know.”
The adult was taking notes faster than Conner had seen him ever before. As he paused and saw Mr. Greer was still writing, he noticed something for the first time, “You’re left handed.”
The pencil stopped and Mr. Greer looked up, “You never noticed?”
“No, I guess I never dreamt about it either.”
He reached for his pager again, “What?!”
“You’re just – there’s something quite different about you today? Are you sick? I can send you to see Ms. Janess-.”
“No, I’m, I’m fine. Today I am fine,” Conner seemed annoyed now. His counselor made him feel like he was going to be suicidal this time.
He never was though.
“So anything new? Anything I should be concerned about?”
Conner shrugged, “I don’t know, tomorrow’s day ninety-five. I guess that’s exciting.”
Mr. Greer was once again wildly jotting down anything Conner spoke (or thought he could be thinking even). Unlike Conner, today Mr. Greer was as he was every other day of the week. He was attentive, soft when speaking, and he always wore, as Conner often said “the lousiest tie he could find in his drawer that day.” This was true. It made Conner think about what had made this irrelevant yet in so many ways important factor in his life come to be this way. There were reasons for everything, some smooth and casual, while others were extravagant or meaningful. Which inspired Mr. Greer’s tie selection? he often thought.
“Are you going to finish talking? Or do I need a longer list of daily questions to ask you?”
“Oh, sorry.” Why do I keep doing that?!
Mr. Greer pointed his pen to the notebook which still rest on Conner’s lap, “what was your reason for shuffling through your backpack to find that?”
Q – D
Conner looked down at the journal and opened it to a page that was labeled at the top Monday, Day 89. Conner read aloud to the counselor a conversation between the two of them. He described all events up to this point, and stopped.
“I read from the journal the day up to when he begins reading. Then he stops and sees Mr. Greer flicking his pen in his left hand.”
At that moment Mr. Greer lowered his pen. This boy was confirming the discussions of the past ninety three days.
“Mr. Greer lowers the pen awkwardly, and then the bell rings.”
Three high beeps came from the loudspeaker in the corner of the room. Conner placed the journal back into his bag, and stood up, “This has been weird. But it’s almost over – I hope.”
“Yes it has,” Mr. Greer seemed uncomfortable, his voice louder than usual. Conner shook his head, this wasn’t right. It wasn’t normal behavior. Responses were off. The atmosphere was different from the last time Conner had experienced it.
“Well after tomorrow, I guess you can keep the journal.”
Mr. Greer put his eyes on the clock, and stood up, “No, you keep it. Keep writing in it until it’s out of pages for you. Then, I’d like it.”
“Alright, that’ll work,” Conner headed toward the exit.
Mr. Greer looked more excited now, “I almost forgot! Conner-”
The 17 year old turned to his counselor and sighed, “Yeah?”
“-Are you suicidal at all?” This time Mr. Greer had a strange intensity in his voice, as if he was expecting a different response today.
Conner pulled his backpack up on his shoulder and took a last look at the chairs he had spent an hour in each day for ninety four of them. His mouth opened, “I-.”
And at that moment he woke up.
Day One
HE ROOM WAS BLISTERING HOT. This wasn’t normal, as his mother had usually turned on the swamp cooler long before anyone would wake. Conner slowly moved to his alarm clock to turn it off, but then noticed that the swamp cooler was on. Then what the hell was making him so hot?
As he sat on the edge of his bed, Conner remembered the dream, and to his surprise many of the details of it. He had remembered the hoodie, and recognized it hanging over the railing of his headboard. But, what had been the journal he was showing that man in the other chair? Who was that man in the chair? What were they talking about?
