Girls of Summer(28)
“Truthfully? It was cool. But not for me. I don’t want to get addicted. I want to get better at surfing this summer. I—”
Atticus interrupted. “You know what? You are the most boring guy I’ve ever met. Screw you.”
“Wait, what?” Theo asked.
But Atticus had ended the call.
Theo was miserable all that Sunday, wondering if he should call Beth and tell her what happened, then hating himself for using Atticus as a reason to call Beth, and wondering if he should just go over to Atticus’s house and talk to him, but remembering the times Atticus had been in a funk before, and nothing but time had cured him.
“Is anything wrong?” his mom asked late in the afternoon.
“Yeah. I’m worried about Atticus. He’s kind of depressed.” Theo seldom talked intimately with his mother these days, but he thought he might explode if he didn’t.
“Yes, we’re all worried about him,” his mom said.
Theo, who’d been slumped on the sofa, watching TV, sat up straight. “You are?”
“Sweetie, it’s no secret that Atticus struggles with depression. It’s not anyone’s fault. He might need to be on some kind of medication.”
He is on some kind of medication, Theo thought. But he didn’t tell his mom that. He didn’t want to rat out his friend.
* * *
—
Theo was too busy with sports to see much of Atticus that spring and in a flash, high school was over. The high school graduation ceremony was liberating and terrifying, like being pushed out of a plane for a parachute fall when you weren’t quite ready to jump. Atticus graduated, but he didn’t show up at the ceremony or the parties, and he never answered Theo’s calls. Theo was pumped to go out to California for surfing and college, and he was pretty much all about himself and getting off the island. So he gave up on trying to connect with Atticus.
That summer, Theo got a job at Young’s Bicycle Shop on the strip. He liked the work. He was good at fixing bikes, good at dealing with people. On his time off, he surfed, when the waves were good enough.
One hot summer day when clouds turned the sky gray and it was one hundred percent humidity but no rain, the kind of day that made everyone grumpy, Theo was working and he saw Atticus walking by himself.
“AT!” he’d yelled. “Atticus!”
It was around noon. Most people had rented their bikes and most wouldn’t return them until later, and plenty of other guys were working there, so Theo raced off down South Beach Street yelling Atticus’s name.
He grabbed his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, wait a minute!”
Atticus stopped.
Theo got a good look at him. “You look like Edgar Allan Poe,” Theo said.
“Thanks,” Atticus said, but a bit of his mouth turned up in a grin.
“What’s going on with you, man?” Theo stationed himself in front of Atticus, making Atticus face him.
“Bad patch,” Atticus said. “Just going through a bad patch. I broke up with Beth.”
“You did? Why?”
Atticus shrugged. “She was getting on my nerves.”
“Be serious.”
“I am. It’s for her own good, Theo. I’m no good for anyone these days. She’s all excited about going off to college. I can’t find the energy to write my name.”
“You should see a therapist.”
“I am. He told me to exercise. That’s what I’m doing. Walking.”
“Your parents—”
“They’re doing their best. Mom smiles so much I bet her face hurts. Makes my favorite dinner every night, and I can hardly eat it.” Atticus looked down at the pavement. “It’s the oxy I want, Theo. I need more oxy.”
“Sounds like you need rehab, not more drugs.”
“Oh, man, don’t get on me, too. Be my friend, okay?”
“Okay. Sure. What can I do?”
Atticus looked up, his face hopeful. “Get me some oxy?”
“Come on, Atticus. Man, you don’t want to keep on this way. Tell me what I can do to help. I’ll quit my job and shadow you every moment of your life, telling you jokes and making you surf and we can get drunk and you can get off the oxy.”
Atticus smiled. “You’re the best.”
“So let’s—let’s meet for burgers at the Jetties tonight, okay?”
“Sorry. I’ve got a date with a dealer.”
“Atticus, stop it!” Theo held his friend by the shoulders. “You’re better than this.”
Atticus kept smiling, a strange, dark, dead-eyed smile. “Actually, Theo, I’m not.”
Theo dropped his hands.
Atticus walked away.
And why had Theo let him go? Why hadn’t Theo done something to keep Atticus alive? Atticus was so obviously caught in the claws of a depression—or an addiction—and still he let Atticus walk away.
A few days later, Atticus committed suicide, overdosing on OxyContin. He was smart enough to know how much oxy was too much, so anyone who knew Atticus would have known he’d overdosed on purpose. And his parents informed the police and their friends that Atticus had left a suicide letter.
Theo had been grief-stricken and furious at himself and at his friend. He burned the anger and the time away by working two jobs that summer, drinking enough to help him sleep at night. In August, he drove clear across the country to attend the University of California at San Diego. He’d chosen the school because it was a short drive to some of the best surfing in the world. He took the necessary college courses, only barely passing them, because he was concentrating on surfing. Still, he graduated. Barely.