Dear Albert: Shades of Gray

A half hour ago I was thinking about putting my own slimy tongue in Anna Ingram’s mouth to express my affection. Now that just seems like some bizarre contrived ritual—foreign, creepy, meaningless. Because now, right now, in this hospital waiting room, I’m wondering whether my best friend is going to die.

And everyone—me, Gil’s dad, Gil’s mom and her new boyfriend, my mom, Mr. Daley, the police—is thinking one thing: What. Happened.

All they found was a smashed window, a broken skateboard, and Gil, bloody and unconscious.

Bleeding from the back of the head.

“So you heard people running nearby?” a police officer asks Mr. Daley, and everyone looks at him. Gil’s mom whimpers into her boyfriend’s jacket. Mr. Daley shakes his head. He looks like a child.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, and slides his head through his hands. “Everyone was running out of the building. There were footsteps everywhere. I just thought I may have heard someone running when I came out. But it all happened so fast.”

He looks at Gil’s dad. “I’m sorry,” he says, and then, for some reason, looks at me. “I’m so, so sorry.”

The minutes tick on, and I say nothing. The two police officers leave at some point, saying they can’t get a read on the situation until Gil wakes up.

If he wakes up.

My jeans knaw at my legs. My sweater becomes itchy. It’s as if there’s a new layer on top of my skin—a layer of guilt—and it’s making every fiber of fabric that touches me feel like needles. How could I have been thinking about a kiss when my best friend was about to end up in the hospital? Where are my priorities?

What does it mean—really—that all I can think about is falling in love when there are problems and pain all around me? Is that what a human life is for? To well up with anticipation and excitement, even in the face of ugliness?

Without looking at anyone, not even my mom, I force myself up. I walk to the empty bathroom, into a stall. I lean against the door, resting my scarred forehead on my arm, and cry.

For the last year, my whole life has been about a secret existence. I never questioned the morality of it. Only wondered about constructing jokes and self-serving witticisms—never looking at the bigger picture. Why am I even answering these questions? Is this what teenagers should be thinking about? Are we all kidding ourselves? I never wondered this, not until now.

My mom is waiting for me in the hall when I finally emerge. She hugs me hard. Usually I hate this sort of thing, but right now I want to crawl inside her jacket and never come out. I squeeze back with everything I’ve got.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks.

There’s no way I can put this into a complete thought. But somehow, words tumble out of my mouth.

“Am I doing life wrong?” I ask. Hearing the words, I feel even more guilty. This is about Gil, not me.

My mom pulls back, resting her fingers on my elbows. Her hands look old.

“Look at me,” she says, and I do. “’Wrong’ is not a word that applies to ‘life.’ Life is a jumble of all types experiences and feelings. Nothing is black and white.”

The way her eyes are searching to connect, I know she has no idea how much I needed to hear that. How much I get it.

“Shades of gray,” I say, and look around. There is no color, not today.

“Shades of gray,” she says, and then Gil’s mom’s boyfriend Russ appears.

“He’s awake,” Russ says. “And he’s asking for Sam.”

My hands shake as I push open the door and find Gil weakly perched in bed. After everything that’s happened, it’s funny to see him in a hospital gown. Like someone dressed him up as an angel when he was just trying to be Gil. We look at each other for a moment.

When I finally find my words, they come out of Gil’s mouth at the exact same time.

“What happened?”

We look at each other, stunned.

What is Dear Albert? It's a fiction experiment on SparkNotes about a guy, Sam, who writes a secret advice column under the name Albert. The "experiment" part is this: His story is a mesh of pure fiction, and YOUR input. Want to participate? Leave a question for Albert in the comments (real, or totally fake)!

Click here to read the whole series!