Cut him down. I hear the words. They are coming out of my mouth but I am unaware my lips are moving. Cut him down. Those words again. What do they mean?

We had all out earlier that night. Our usual group. We were drinking, dancing – having a good time. Aaron excused himself, said he had stuff to do, he’d see us later.

We were all supposed to be going back to his place when the bars closed, so I followed him out to the parking lot. He turned when I said his name. He smiled at me and stopped. I said I just wanted to make sure we were still on, if he did not make it back,
were we still supposed to come over?

He said yeah, come to the patio doors, his mom would be asleep upstairs.

He kissed my forehead, told me to go back inside. I turned when I got to the bar door, he was still standing at his car, watching me. He waved. I went back inside.

Two hours pass, he did not come back. We figured he was scoring some weed, he must have lost track of time no big deal. At last call we did as stupid kids all too often do; half lit we piled into cars and headed out with the other drunk drivers.

We played car games like slowing down, speeding up, stomping our brakes to mess up the cars behind us. We were young and believed ourselves to be invincible. We pulled up to Aaron’s house, parked and piled out of the cars. We walked to the back of the house, slipping down the slope to get to the walk out basement doors. Laughing and sshing each other – that crazy mock quiet drunks try to do – the loud stage whisper yelling at each other to keep it down.

The doors slid open with a thud. We push in – Tom and Brad falling on their face as the rest of us push from behind. Everyone tried to get through the door at the same time. I stepped over them and turned and walking backwards I laughed at them. I kept walking until I found myself standing in Aaron’s bedroom doorway.

I turned, I think, because of the sound. It was a muffled sound, kind of gurgling. I turned and flipped on the light.

Aaron.

Purple faced, hanging from the rafters. He was not even struggling. His hands were to his side. I still remember that. He was serious. He had not changed his mind. His only mistake was he was over six feet and the rafters were only a little over eight feet off the ground. He could not get the fall to break his neck he was just hanging there.

Cut him down. It is all I can say. I can not move – they have to push me out of the way to get to him. We woke up his mom. No one calls an ambulance. We just get him down, he starts breathing again on his own.

His mom breaks the silence. She wants us out. She saw her son hanging from the ceiling and she is kicking him out.

We are all sober now. We load up some of his belongings, his mom still screaming at us to get out, she has had enough. She is spewing all of her single mom angst – it is her time now, she needs a life of her own and she is not going to deal with this.
Ranting like a mad woman.

I am numb, dumb struck. I realize my teeth are chattering.

We leave. Single file this time. We get into our cars and drive off into the night. Aaron sits next to me. My hand is on his leg. He looks out the window. No one says a word. Nothing. We have never spoken about it. None of us. Ever.