Content warning: Suicide, self-harm, depression, strong language<\/p>\n
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Thorns and Roses<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cJoan? Are you okay? Joan? Mrs. Chrysalis, Joan is really out of it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n A dull thud from the back of the classroom instigates clusters of sharp gasps and gossipy whispers. Mrs. Chrysalis whips her head towards the sound and asks, \u201cCrescent, could you lay him on his back? I\u2019m going to call the nurse.\u201d Quickly rising from her desk, she scans the classroom, phone in hand. \u201cEveryone, get back to reading Chapter Five.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n ***<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re lucky your mother is at work, Joan.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d Water seeps through the ice pack, sliding down Joan\u2019s arm. His fingertips tingle as numbness sets in. In hopes of clarifying his fuzzy vision, he squeezes the bag more tightly against his head. Unfortunately, that invites more water to trickle down and onto his sweatpants. Frowning, he looks down at a now entirely noticeable and infinitely unflattering puddle. <\/span>Crap.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n His grandmother shuts the car door and walks toward the driver\u2019s side. For a moment, she looks outward, hands on her hips, as if searching for something. There is a sober concern on her face, formed with squinting eyes and sagging skin.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I should\u2019ve eaten a fucking granola bar or something. None of this would be happening.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n Joan\u2019s grandmother displays traits characteristic of most grandmothers, with a few deviations. Her hair is a long, natural gray, adding a genuineness to her complexion. Years of labor are remarkably invisible to the eye, as her hands are delicate and her posture remains intimidatingly straight. Despite the weathering of her face, her features exude powerful, ageless strength. Like coffee beans, her eyes are a rich brown, and her jawline is smooth but strong. Most notable, though, are her arms. Intricate tattooing runs from her palms to her shoulders. Each arm dons striking, all-black patterns, detailed line work, and undoubtedly, layers of history.<\/span><\/p>\n Joan sinks in his seat, bargaining with God to let him fall through the floor and melt into the blacktop of the parking lot.<\/span><\/p>\n With an emphatic exhale, she hops in and starts the engine. The car roars to life, causing it to jostle in place. \u201cAre you feeling a bit better now, Joan?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n He stares aimlessly out the window and replies, \u201cMhhmm.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI was talking with your mother, and she said you\u2019re not eating enough. Are you sure you don\u2019t have\u2026 oh what\u2019s it called-?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAnorexia?\u201d Joan turns to face her, choking down a laugh. Or is it a scoff at the suggestion?<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cRight. Well, do you? Because when I read that article your mother sent me I-.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Towards the window, he says, \u201cI don\u2019t, Grandma. Stop worrying.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOkay then.\u201d She purses her lips with that concerned look again before pulling out of the parking spot.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The school remains unchanged and miraculously still. Rows upon rows of cars sit within neat lines. The hedges lining the building are unbothered. Trees stand guard, only moving slightly in the breeze. Each brick on every wall is aligned and content in its placement. All is fine and perfectly ordinary. No crowds, no sirens, no eager students peering out classroom windows.<\/span><\/p>\n Thank God. That would be embarrassing as shit.\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n Despite the school\u2019s orderliness, the sky is a twisted gray, and in it hang heavy clouds. The clouds look as if they are clutching each other, pleading to stay in place. The pools of water that form their very existence also weigh them down. It is in their nature to collapse into pieces and plummet to the Earth. All one can do is wait for the inevitable.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cDarn. I should\u2019ve grabbed an umbrella. It looks like it\u2019ll be pouring soon.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Joan mumbles something beneath his breath.<\/span><\/p>\n Chaos will erupt shortly. All it takes is one drop that cascades into two and then three, four, and five. Soon after, there will be no stopping it. An onslaught of showers will pummel the dirt and drown grass blades. Roads will become rivers and intersections ponds. Rushing from the sky, they will fall.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n As Joan\u2019s grandmother maneuvers the car into the left lane, she reignites the conversation. \u201cHoney, you know you can tell me absolutely anything. I don\u2019t know what\u2019s going on with you, and your mother is worried sick. We want to help.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Finding himself buried in his seat, Joan pushes into his palms, lifting himself to her height. \u201cYou can\u2019t.\u201d He pauses before muttering, \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/span> Is she really that worried? Mom seems more pissed off than anything. Oh, how I love our nightly screaming matches.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n She stops at a red light, sighing. \u201cCan you at least tell <\/span>me <\/span><\/i>what\u2019s going on? This is the second time you\u2019ve fainted at school, you hardly leave your room, your friends haven\u2019t been by the house in months, your grades are dropping-.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHold on-.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAnd you\u2019ve been fighting with your mother, Joan,\u201d she adds tersely.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Silence lingers, weighing on Joan\u2019s chest. <\/span>Why is this such an issue? Everyone\u2019s in interrogation mode all of a sudden. I mean, why shouldn\u2019t I be pissed off? They both need to just leave me the fuck alone.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s going on, Joan?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Joan chains his gaze to a telephone pole on the side of the road. He stares as if it would rescue him from impending doom.<\/span> Maybe I could climb one of those, swing on the wires, and see how far I could get before my nerves fry.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n \u201cJoan?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Unmoving, he observes the enchanting features of the pole.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cJoan?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n The graffiti really highlights the missing persons\u2019 posters. Captivating.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n \u201cI know you\u2019re vaping.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Whirling around, he faces her, wild with fear. After a few seconds, he shrinks inward and looks away, groaning. \u201cShit,\u201d he says under his breath. He brushes his hands through his hair and rubs his forehead. \u201cOh my God, please don\u2019t tell Mom. I\u2019m begging you. She\u2019ll kill me. Does she already know? Shit. God, there\u2019s no air in here. Please tell me she doesn\u2019t know.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cShe doesn\u2019t know.\u201d After a moment, his grandmother says, \u201cAnd if you tell me what\u2019s going on <\/span>and <\/span><\/i>promise to throw that thing out, I won\u2019t say anything to your mother.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll throw it out as soon as we get home, I promise,\u201d Joan says with trembling hands. The familiar click of the turn signal settles in his ears, accompanied by the pounding of his heart.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span> They park in an abandoned lot. The yellow lines are patchy, having long since faded into the pavement. The ground is best likened to swiss cheese, sporting massive holes and thick chunks of uprooted gravel. Vines and overgrown foliage line the edges of the property. The abandoned building itself is uneventful, aside from some artist renditions of a particular body part. Along its walls is the occasional shard of broken glass or slab of peeling wood. They sit there, mute.<\/span><\/p>\n Joan shuffles anxiously in his seat. By the second, the pit in his stomach enlarges, causing acid to creep its way up. He clears his throat. <\/span>Shit. Where are we? Maybe I should book it and find a dumpster to dive in and die in?<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n \u201cJoan, you\u2019re a good kid. You know that, right?\u201d His grandmother turns to face him, but he avoids her delicate eyes. \u201cSo, what\u2019s going on with you?\u201d She lifts her hand and gently places it on his shoulder. \u201cI mean, how many times am I going to have to ask for you to just tell me?\u201d she asks with an exasperated laugh.<\/span><\/p>\n Joan shifts to look at her. To keep the thoughts from spilling out of his mouth, he holds the air in his throat. <\/span>Fuck.<\/span><\/i> He looks to the window, hoping to find a haven from this invasive inquisition. Though, considering he was comatose on a gum-adorned tile floor thirty minutes ago, it is proving difficult not to give in. Finally, the fuzzy pounding in his head compels a cough.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cJoan.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know!\u201d Joan pants. \u201cGod.\u201d He lets out a sigh and rests his head on the window. \u201cI don\u2019t know. I can\u2019t sleep. I can\u2019t eat. And the fucked up part is, I don\u2019t even know why. I\u2019ve been stuck in this limbo of not feeling anything for years and it scares me that I don\u2019t even care anymore. Maybe I never did. I should be happy right? Or at least I should <\/span>want <\/span><\/i>to be happy but I\u2026 I don\u2019t want that.\u201d He shifts in his seat before continuing, more softly this time, \u201cI don\u2019t know what\u2019s wrong with me. I\u2019m tired of pretending like we all live in this magical fucking kalediscope when everything is so\u2026 grey.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n He swallows dryly. \u201cI don\u2019t want to be here. Or anywhere. Not dead or alive or in some weird in-between. Just nowhere.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Joan shifts roughly in his seat, avoiding his grandmother\u2019s eyes. Barely audible, he starts, \u201cAll I-.\u201d He exhales sharply. \u201cAll I want is to climb a tall building and jump off,\u201d his breath hitches.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Why did I say that? Shit. Now I\u2019m going to be forced into a fucking mental hospital, and I\u2019ll have to make a pact with a serial murderer and a quirky side-character there for comic relief to help me break out after I grant them my chocolate pudding stash.\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n Silently, Joan sits and lets the words hang in the air, waiting for them to harden and crush him.<\/span><\/p>\n After what feels like hours, Joan turns to observe his grandmother\u2019s expression. Surprisingly, she looks calm. Then, it hits him: She gets it. She knows these words swimming in stale car smell.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Her eyes meet Joan\u2019s before she pulls him into a hug. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry you\u2019ve been dealing with this. I know how difficult it can be.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Over her shoulder, Joan\u2019s face is stricken with confusion.<\/span><\/p>\n Sighing heavily, she asks, \u201cHave you ever wondered why I have these tattoos?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Joan pauses, then his face curls with discomfort. \u201cOh Jesus, Grandma. I just assumed you had them because you wanted to be \u2018not like those other grandmas\u2019 or that you made really poor life choices in your twenties or something.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n His grandmother chuckles, \u201cWell I\u2019m flattered that you thought that and, for the record, I\u2019m not like other grandmas. I\u2019m cool and you can\u2019t fight me on that.\u201d She nudges him affectionately to relieve the tension. \u201cSo, you can guess where I\u2019m going with this but I think it\u2019s important that you know.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhen I was in high school, things got difficult for me and my father. Your great grandmother had just passed before the summer of my senior year. As you know, my father took up drinking and he wasn\u2019t always pleasant to be around. Things got dark, and I didn\u2019t see a way out.\u201d Her brown eyes dull, and her skin pales at the thought. \u201cI tried to take my own life. But, thank God, your great grandfather found me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cShit, Grandma.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cShit indeed. But I just want you to know that I\u2019m happy I\u2019m here today, telling you this. I would have never met you or your mother. There are so many moments in life that make it worth all of that pain. You just have to be patient and know that things will get better. Do you understand what I\u2019m saying?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI guess so.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAlright,\u201d she says, pursing her lips definitively.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI do have one question though,\u201d Joan says.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cDo the tattoos mean anything or are they just to cover up the scars?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWell, this large one right here,\u201d she points to the center of her right arm, \u201cis a rose covered in thorns. Your great grandmother adored her rosebush. She tended to it everyday. I had never seen her so full of joy as she was with those roses. It reminds me that you can\u2019t have those extraordinary moments without some bad ones. To embrace the struggle of life is to find beauty within it, even where you thought there might be none.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n She squeezes Joan\u2019s shoulder and says, \u201cI love you and I want you to stick it through. It\u2019s okay to feel low. Even when there may not be a clear reason for it. But I need you to know that you bring a lot of happiness to my life in spite of those thorny parts. And, even though it might not seem like it, your mother loves you more than you could ever imagine. You\u2019re her rosebush.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n A tiny water droplet strikes the gravel, leaving a perfect circle. Then another. Another. Another. A chain reaction begins in the sky as thousands drop to the Earth. The dark clouds hang low, heavy but lifting, as they release piece after piece of themselves.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Grandma. For everything.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou are very welcome. And\u2026 if you think therapy would help, we can do that. Or, if you just need someone to talk to, I\u2019m retired,\u201d she says, laughing.<\/span><\/p>\n Joan smiles with relief.<\/span><\/p>\n Suddenly, a small creature materializes, flying through the storm. A small mourning dove lands, lightly chirping as it finds sanctuary. It shakes its feathers beneath a rotting piece of plywood propped against the abandoned building. Although the current state of the world should inspire fear in the little bird, it hops around, pecking curiously at the wood fibers, unaffected by the loud crashes and vigorous rain.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI think that bird has the right idea. Why don\u2019t we drive around the corner and get milkshakes to wait out the storm?\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThat sounds great, Grandma,\u201d Joan says sincerely.<\/span><\/p>\n Reaching over, she ruffles Joan\u2019s hair and starts the car.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n Please reach out if you or someone you know is in immediate danger or experiencing suicidal thoughts.\u00a0You are not alone.<\/strong><\/p>\n 911<\/p>\n 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline<\/p>\n CAPS After Hours Urgent Support: 734-764-8312<\/p>\n UM Psychiatric Emergency Services: 734.996.4747<\/p>\n UM Sexual Assault Prevention and Awareness<\/a>: 734.936.3333<\/p>\n D<\/a>epartment of Public Safety and Security<\/a>: 734.763.1131<\/p>\n National Suicide Prevention Lifeline:\u00a0<\/a>1.800.273.TALK (1.800.273.8255)<\/p>\n