Death by a Thousand Cuts
[Memory, Senior Year, November]
Brad had been easy, as far as gift-picking went. And it had given Lyn the perfect opportunity to offer the Fosters a token of his gratitude. He smiled as he pictured the look of surprise on Mrs. Foster’s kind face when he handed them the cruise tickets. Brad didn’t take much after her, as far as facial features went, since he was the spitting image of his father, but there was definitely something in his mannerisms that made him his mother’s son. Such as the cheerful, sunny disposition which helped a lot with chasing the dark clouds in Lyn’s sky away. These months hadn’t only been bearable because of Brad’s family, they had been… healing.
Alexander, however, was a different matter. Ever since he’d returned to school for good – no ski trips anymore – he had remained dark and moody. Brad acted like nothing was wrong, always getting Alexander involved in their usual activities, but it felt to Lyn like their shared friend was only going through the motions while remaining out of sorts.
Any attempts at honest conversation had been met with sarcastic replies and frowns. Alexander wasn’t the type to overshare. Heck, he wasn’t the type to share at all. Lyn found himself in the impossible situation of trying to find a way back to his friend.
Were they still friends? The question had been plaguing his mind so much lately. To anyone looking at them from the outside, yes. But there was this newly developed chasm between them that didn’t make sense. Lyn had gone over his actions again and again, trying to discover the tiniest clue that he’d insulted Alexander by accident. Nothing seemed likely. And Brad only kept on assuring him that His Majesty was his usual self, only stressed over having to study to get through senior year with flying colors.
Overachiever that Alexander was and all that, Lyn still didn’t think so. What could he do to break through Alexander’s armor? He had this crazy – no, downright foolish – idea that his friend was hurting badly on the inside for reasons he couldn’t share with his best friends.
Lyn wouldn’t allow his mind to conjure up scenarios, either. They all headed toward the darkest pits of hell. He imagined Alexander weakened by a terminal illness, wasting away in a hospital; or that someone close to him was dying, which made him feel hopeless and useless. Death, death, and death again; that was where his mind took him.
But would Alexander continue to study assiduously instead of fixing his health or spending the precious time he had left with the loved one who, in Lyn’s depressing imagination, was close to death?
It made no sense. No, Alexander had to be in this dark mood for a completely different reason. It was the only way Lyn had at his disposal to avoid spiraling into a deep sadness of his own.
So, it had to be somewhere around here. Lyn walked down the narrow street, reading every sign carefully. He was about to give up and check his phone again when he noticed the faded letters above a door that had seen better days.
This was the place. He pushed his way in, a tarnished brass bell announcing his arrival to the shopkeeper.
Whoever was in charge, however, didn’t hurry out to meet their would-be buyer, which gave Lyn the time he needed to study the many curiosities crowding the shelves, from sinister-looking surgical tools to nautical instruments and sharp letter openers.
Lyn leaned over and looked at a small case in which a pocket-size contraption lay on a beautiful crimson-red piece of velvet. According to the Internet, this had to be the item he was looking for. Since Alexander never responded well to gushing affection and heart-to-heart attempts at conversation, maybe something cutting would do. Also, it fit the bill as far as Lyn’s planned expenses went. The quicker he got rid of that cash, the better.
The sound of shuffling steps warned him that the shopkeeper had finally arrived.
“Hello,” he greeted the old man right away. “We talked over the phone. About the scarificator. This is the piece, right?”
“Ah, a young man with an eye for rare pieces,” the shopkeeper commented. “Do you know what a scarificator is?”
Lyn only knew what he’d read on the Internet. “It was used for bloodletting by surgeons in the 19th century.”
“Yes,” the shopkeeper confirmed as he opened the case and took the piece out. “They used to think people got ill because of bad humors accumulating in the body. Especially in the blood.” He admired the piece, his trembling fingers moving slowly over the floral pattern on the side. “Surgeons today might permit themselves a little chuckle at that sort of ignorance.”
Lyn grimaced. “So, it’s not ideal as a present for a future surgeon? The person I have in mind is not big on gag gifts.”
The old man turned sharply toward him. “Gag gifts?!” he exclaimed, taking Lyn by surprise with his sudden burst of energy. He started putting the scarificator back in its case.
“I apologize,” Lyn said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just that I really need to find the perfect gift for this person.”
The shopkeeper held the item protectively close to his chest, while measuring Lyn up and down with his eyes. “This one is a rare piece,” he said, his chin still trembling in outrage. “It belonged to a private physician. English made. I have papers proving its authenticity.”
Lyn understood where his mistake lay and hurried to correct it. “It looks beautiful.”
“And it’s still functional. Look.” The old man activated the small lever at the bottom and a set of sharp knives popped up through the top, making Lyn wince. “This, young man,” he continued, “is a testament to human ingenuity. Surgeons and medical historians alike would love such a gift.” He leaned forward, staring at Lyn through his thick glasses. His voice dropped to a whisper. “According to rumors, the private physician who used to own it used it on himself, that is how far his trust in his tools went. Or as penance, some say.”
If the intended recipient of the gift in question had been anyone but Alexander, Lyn would’ve bolted out the door that very moment. But the grim, fascinating story behind the scarificator held by the shopkeeper convinced him.
“I’ll take it,” he said.
The shopkeeper held the antique close to his chest. “Do you have that kind of money?”
“I do,” Lyn replied. For a moment, he had the absurd idea that he might have to fight the old man to get the scarificator away from him.
There was no need for any such exertions. The shopkeeper proceeded to wrap the antique in heavy brown paper, without another word.
***
At least he wasn’t wearing black turtlenecks anymore. Lyn looked at the two buttons open at the top of Alexander’s shirt and stared at Alexander’s throat as he groped for the right words to start a real conversation with his strangely estranged friend.
“This is for you,” he said abruptly, pushing the package against Alexander’s chest.
“Come in,” Alexander said. “You don’t have to buy me birthday gifts, you know.”
Lyn followed Alexander inside his Spartan room. Hopefully, Alexander wouldn’t feel tempted to use the scarificator for penance like its previous owner had.
“It’s not for your birthday,” Lyn said promptly. He pretended to look around, as if he was seeing Alexander’s room for the first time in his life.
“What is it for then?”
“For your darkest of dark moods, which you’ve been wallowing in lately,” Lyn said.
He could hear Alexander unwrapping his gift but didn’t turn around.
“Ha. A scarificator,” Alexander commented.
Of course, he’d know at a glance what it was. No surprise there.
“I have a feeling this is an apropos gift.”
“Yes, it is,” Lyn confirmed. “You’re a future surgeon, and according to the old man I had to fight to the death to get it from,” he joked, “all surgeons and medical historians are crazy about this kind of thing.”
A soft chuckle from Alexander tickled his ear. Now that was a sound he hadn’t heard in a long time.
“I was thinking of something else,” his moody friend said. “Death by a thousand cuts.”
Lyn turned on his heel abruptly and stared at Alexander with wild eyes. “What? Give that back. I should’ve known better than to take a risk with this new weird you.”
He went for the scarificator, but Alexander held it aloft, making Lyn jump fruitlessly into the air in his attempts to get it from him.
“Lynton,” he teased, “do you really think I’d use this on myself?”
“I have no idea what you’re thinking or what you’d do.” Lyn continued to jump up and down. “I thought you’d find it grim and fascinating enough to get you out of your funk, not that you’d think to use it for penance or whatever else mad surgeons do when they lose it.”
To his dismay, Alexander began laughing out loud. Lyn finally stopped jumping, breathing hard.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“It’s perfect,” Alexander said, still holding it up.
Lyn grinned. He hugged Alexander abruptly. Although his friend didn’t react, he continued to hold him.
“Can someone really die? I mean, death by a thousand cuts, is that a real thing?” he asked, maintaining eye contact with the demon.
“If you know where to cut,” came the natural reply.
“So sorry for the dark gift then. I didn’t mean to say you were dark or anything.”
“Maybe I am. Why are you hugging me?” The smile on Alexander’s face was not all shadows now.
“I don’t know. I just think you need it. I know it’s awkward and weird, but just go with it, dammit. And I’ll take the gruesome gift back and get you something else.”
“No. It’s fitting. I’m not going to give it back to you. How long are you going to hug me?”
“This long should be long enough. You’re not sick, right?” Lyn finally let go. He knew he was doing the wrong thing by expressing his concern, but he couldn’t help it. Not right now.
Alexander’s face softened. “I’m not.” He ruffled Lyn’s hair. “Were you really worried about me?”
“Yeah. I mean… you’ve really been in a dark mood lately. You’re my best friend.”
“Really? I’m your best friend, not Bradley?”
“He’s my brother,” Lyn said solemnly. “Don’t be jealous,” he added quickly.
Alexander looked pleased. “I’m not. I’ll settle for being your best friend for now.”
“Look, if it’s a secret, and you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I won’t ask you what’s going on. But please, don’t stop being my friend. Unless it’s about me. Then you should tell me.”
Alexander became somber once more. His hand was still on Lyn’s head, caressing it slowly.
“Thank you for your concern, Lynton. I appreciate it. One day, maybe I’ll tell you all about it. No, I definitely will. But we’ll be a little older when that happens.”
“I’m fine with that.” Lyn pressed his lips against Alexander’s cheek for a moment. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Alexander wrapped one hand around Lyn’s neck and rubbed the skin below his ear with his thumb. The look on his face was wistful, but when had Alexander ever been that?
***
“This mofo,” Brad exclaimed, startling both of them and plopping down in the seat next to Alexander. He grabbed his friend by the back of his neck and squeezed. “Keeping secrets, huh?”
Lyn’s eyes shot to Alexander, then at Brad. “What secrets?” he asked, his throat dry.
“He,” Brad began, emphasizing each word, “has a girlfriend. Like a girlfriend-girlfriend. Almost a fiancé.”
“A fiancé?” Lyn studied Alexander, who had his lips pressed firmly together and looked rightfully annoyed with Brad’s outburst.
Completely oblivious to Alexander’s reaction, Brad continued: “I mean, do I really have to find out about something like that from other people? They saw him,” he added, looking at him triumphantly. “Holding the car door and acting all lovey-dovey with this chick.”
Lyn snorted. “Alexander simply knows how to act like a gentleman around the ladies, unlike you, buffoon.”
Brad wasn’t bothered by the insult and only laughed loudly. “No, man, I’m telling you.”
“There’s no way,” Lyn protested. “Alexander would tell us a big thing like that. Right?”
Alexander didn’t seem to notice Lyn looking at him. He appeared bored and annoyed with Brad’s insistence.
“Do I look like the marrying kind?”
Lyn studied him without adding a word.
“Exactly,” Alexander said, continuing to peruse the textbook in front of him.
Alexander had always seemed like the type to do things only because he wanted to do them. Did he want this girlfriend Brad was talking about?
Lyn was inclined to think not because the stern expression on his friend’s face gave nothing to suggest he’d found the one for him.
TBC
Thank you for reading! Happy Holidays :)
@Derek - Lyn is taking big steps, I agree! But it won't be over until the fat lady sings... or something like that, lol!
@Buchanan - thank you! Alexander will speak his mind, eventually!
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