Free Last Night I Sang to the Monster by Benjamin Alire Sáenz Page B

hands moving and he was trying to explain something to me. And then I realized that there wasn’t anything wrong with Adam. It was me. I’d gone deaf. I hated that dream.
    And what was Adam doing in my dreams? I mean, wasn’t it bad enough that he was always trying to get inside my head? And who wants to see what’s inside of my head anyway? There’s all these words blowing around my head right now: Zach winter remembering dreams summer forgetting blood Adam change change change.

REMEMBERING
    In winter we yearn for summer. That’s what Rafael whispered last night as he watched the snow fall. He went with me to the smoking pit. He was talking more to himself than to me. He held his hand out and tried to catch the snow.
    I knew he was remembering. He looked sad and alone and I knew he was far away.
    “What were you like when you were my age?”
    “Like you,” he said.
    “Like me?”
    “I think so. Yes.”
    I offered him a cigarette.
    He shook his head. “I quit ten years ago—and I’m not going back.”
    “Was it hard to quit?”
    “I’m an addict. Everything is hard to quit.” He laughed. He looked out at the falling snow. “When I was your age, I used to loiter around the liquor store and talk someone into buying me a pint of bourbon. I’d walk around and smoke and drink. I really liked doing that—especially in the winter when it was cold.”
    “Why did you drink?”
    “Same reason as you. I was in pain. I just didn’t know it.”
    I wanted to ask him why he was in pain—but I didn’t.
    “Life hasn’t been easy on you, has it, Zach?”
    “It’s been okay.”
    “That’s a lie.”
    “Yeah, guess so. Not that life’s been all that easy on you either.”
    “That’s no excuse for becoming a drunk.”
    The way he said it—like he was done with drinking. But he was also really angry with himself. “Maybe it is,” I said.
    “No, Zach, it isn’t.”
    “Does it have to be this hard?”
    “You’re a sweet kid, you know that?”
    I wanted to cry.
    “Sorry,” he whispered. “I know you don’t like compliments.”
    That made me laugh. I don’t know why, but Rafael was laughing too. Maybe just to keep me company. “Does it hurt—to remember?”
    “Hurts like hell, Zach.”
    “Will it ever stop?”
    “I have to believe that it will stop.”
    I wished to hell I could have believed him.

SUMMER, WINTER, DREAMS
-1-
    I wasn’t hungry. I went to breakfast anyway. I was late so the place was pretty empty. There was a guy sitting by himself at one of the tables. I decided to sit with him. I mean, it would’ve been uncool not to sit with him. I went into my head and tried to retrieve his name: Eddie. I was good at remembering names. The guy was about Rafael’s age and he’d only been here a couple of days.
    I put my plate across from him and sort of smiled. “Hi, Eddie.”
    “Hi,” he said. “Forgot your name.” He sort of frowned.
    “Zach.”
    “Yeah,” he said. He did not seem interested. I should have left the guy alone. Shit. Too late.
    “So what group are you in?” It was the best I could do to start a conversation.
    “I’m in the I’m-Leaving group.”
    “You just got here.”
    “This place isn’t my brand of gin.”
    I guess I just didn’t know what to say. I decided right then and there that I was going to make a list of people who came and stayed here less than a week. I mean, I guess I just didn’t get that. It sort of made me mad. But maybe it made me mad because they were doing what I wanted to do. Maybe they were doing the brave thing. They were going back home. I mean, what was keeping me here? I know I’m still a high school student, but I’m eighteen—and that makes me an adult. What was keeping me here? Why notjust go home? Maybe I was just hiding out here.
    The guy looked at me for a while. “What the fuck are you doing in here anyway?”
    I didn’t know what to say so I didn’t say anything.
    “Do you believe in Jesus, kid?”
    I thought that was a