An apology for Graham

By Chie Theresa Fujioka

This is not fiction.

Four years ago, in 1997, when I was a lonely seventh grader, fairly fresh to the state of Louisiana, I met a boy. Being homeschooled, my mother sent me to an astronomy class arranged by the local homeschool society. It was there, at the Trinity Methodist, where class was held, that I met Graham. Immediately, perhaps in my middle school star-struck solitude, he became my second "crush." Tall, sandy haired, and kind, he was indeed a contrast to Michael.

Michael was the pastor's kid whom I had met in Arkansas. Michael's brother Jonathon was my sister's boyfriend, but that didn't prevent me from liking him. He had dark hair and eyes which my friend Julia summed up (wrongly, i thought) as "ugly." Just the summer before, at SYC camp at Twin Lakes, Mississippi, the week's events had convinced me of his affection. And as the months flew by, even the marked dwindling and then absence of his promised "daily" emails could not keep "I love michael" from being scrawled repeatedly into my diary.

Who could blame even the kindest heart for not loving me. I was "the girl who never talked," yet simultaneously "tough girl." I didn't wash or brush my hair, often tying it up in bandanas. Stress from late nights doing homework left my face greasy and pimple ridden. I didn't care about clothes. My caustic sarcasm and arrogance was initially attractive, but eventually tiring. I was the epitomy of the indifferent nucleus which inside me, still burns.

Thus it followed that I did everything and said anything to impress Graham with my "unique" qualities. Sometimes, my mother would visit his house, and I would play computer games with his sister. I can remember the giant exploding banana throwing gorillas...

Finally came the last days of the class. I still remember going out to Forest park near my former highschool... and his house... and shooting rockets. Stomp rocket or chemical rocket, I was not afraid like the other girls. Yet, for the weakness of my femininity, my eyes too often rested on the central focus of my thoughts.

Afterwards, we, as a group, went to the children's museum near the river, and participated in the Challenger Mission. Graham was my partner. (I still even have the assignment sheet.) ISO 1... was rigged so that the job couldn't be properly done - an attempt to simulate the problems that *could* happen on a spaceship. The desk found itself hit with my fist more than once. During the intermission, I stayed around him, under pretense of discussing the mission.

Of he and I, someone had even taken a great picture... a picture I ordered, but never received, and have always wanted. For, unbeknownst to the rest of us, his father was abusive, and a divorce had been formulating. In eighth grade, my father was accused of an enviromental felony, arrested, released, and then put on a 3 year hold. It was some time in the third year that I learned. And his sister was found to have scoliosis. And all this time, despite the ninth grade first boyfriend, the breakup and despair, he, like Michael, lingered in me like ghosts.

I have several diary entries noting a recurring dream. In it, I'd be in a room with Graham and Julia, it would be late, and cold. I'd cover him with my blanket, and then sleep on the floor. And yet, each time, I awoke where he had been, under my blanket. And he was gone without a trace. I guess I missed him.

My mother's visits to the household became somewhat more frequent as she tried to help with vitamins. With each visit, I would play with the cats, hoping Graham would see me. Once he was mowing the lawn, but I never knew whether he'd be there are with his father. Eventually, the sister had surgery and rehabilitated.

The shocking news came: we were moving to Japan.

I email, hoping for a reply and yes! he replied suggesting getting together for a movie. This was July. After a NJROTC trip to california, I had picked up my second boyfriend... As cruel and thoughtless as it is to say, the attraction between us was not equally mutual. And because I wanted to spend another evening boosting my sunken self-image by using the second... I failed to meet Graham.

Why have I told you this?

Graham had mentioned he was depressed... recently he had lost his "only love" among other things. (It was curious, he thought I was starting college too. Alas, I am but a Junior.)

Yesterday, I was informed by his mother that he had died.

Today, I found out that he had shot himself on my birthday.

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