Darkthorn’s Blog

We were sitting there, in his bedroom listening to music, It was good music: I had brought my CD’s with me all the way from Victoria. He shared his room with his older brother, but it looked like his room. When I had entered the room, what had struck me was the tidiness of it. There were no socks on the floor or clothes poking out of the dresser drawers. The dark theme of it suited my mood – navy-blue curtains and bedspreads, blue carpet and dark-stained wooden table. He was sprawled on his bed, his shirt all rucked up on one side. When I had first arrived in his house, I was wearing my shirt from the United States. My older brother had bought it for me. It said “don’t be offended if I just turn around and walk away.” As soon as he had a moment, he went and changed his shirt so that we both had sayings on our shirts. His said “I love animals. They’re delicious.” I wasn’t sure whether he was mocking my depressing t-shirt, or just trying to be a bit more like me.

Earlier in the evening, we had eaten a traditional Sunday roast with his family, and my mom and dad. We had sat next to each other and played footsies all through the meal, smiling at each other and laughing together. I was also sitting next to his younger sister, who couldn’t understand why we were having so much fun at the dinner table. Judy, his mother, had invited us to go to Church. Me? Go to Church? The horror of it had tingled down my spine. The thought of going to Church had disturbed me. I had known Judy hadn’t liked me, but not that much. She should have known better than to ask me to go to Church, that place of lies and deceptions.

I studied him carefully – spiky black hair, glossy in the light of the touch, soulful brown eyes, a full mouth with silvery braces showing frequently as he smiled. I felt something stir within my heart that I had not felt for a long time – a feeling of love and connection. Not of a sexual kind, but a kinship. I wondered if he felt the same way. His bedroom had many shadows and I felt like my secrets were waiting to be blurted out. But then, he moved, blocking the light and a halo appeared around him, highlighting his hair with bluish streaks. He looked so innocent, so unworldly. In that moment, I remembered all the times we had shared as children, playing in his backyard, going to the park together, even our first meeting at home-schooler’s group. Then he spoke, his squeaky voice breaking into the piece.

“Do you have any Death Metal?”

It shocked me that this innocent boy knew that such music existed.

“Yes,” I said. “I listen to it a lot these days.”

He looked at me inquiringly, but I didn’t know how to respond. I just shrugged, and the moment was lost. If only I had spoken, maybe things would be better now. No more feeling alone at night or crying, seeing others having a good time. He was a best friend I could trust with my innermost darkness.