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“Let’s cut to the chase: this is our last session, doc.”
Dr. Torres merely glanced over her thick, horn rimmed glasses at the young man who had been a weekly patient of hers for the past several years. Stanley Marsh was twenty-two years old, and a college graduate as of a week ago. She was about to congratulate him if he hadn’t spoken so abruptly. Though his naturally sensitive, kind nature had been hardened by trauma, he usually kept that outside of the office, rarely snapping at her. So the fact that he started with such a sharpness to his voice was intriguing. She cleared her throat, idly tapping her pen against her clipboard.
“Oh? And why do you say that, Stanley? Your father hasn’t informed me of canceling future sessions.”
“Fuck my dad. I’m a grown man and I’m getting the hell out of this shithole.”
Dr. Torres kept her face calm, studying his body language. He sat in the chair across from her, arms folded over his chest, one leg bouncing rapidly. Every muscle was tense. But he fully met her gaze, his blue eyes set in steely determination. With any other patient, she would have jotted something down about the anger towards the paternal figure, or the sudden impulse to leave, or the radical change in tone. But this was nothing new for Stanley. A lonely boy turned lonely young man, he struggled with severe depression, a growing dependence on alcohol, and a father who preferred to ignore his son following the untimely death of his wife and daughter. It was obvious who he blamed for the tragedy. Dr. Torres refrained from passing complete judgment though. After all, at least Mr. Marsh forked over enough money and the insurance to cover a weekly therapy appointment for his son. At least Stanley had someone to talk to. All that being said, Dr. Torres could see that his heart was set and she didn’t want to attempt to convince him to change his plans. She merely wanted to understand.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Do I have to?”
“We might as well make this last session count,” she made a gesture with her hand, motioning for him to talk, which was met with a long, deep sigh. He broke his gaze away from her, his brow furrowed, and when he spoke again, it was less harsh. More tired and hurt.
“I–I’m done. I can’t deal with him anymore. He doesn’t even refer to me by name anymore. As if I’m fucking dirty or something. I got my degree, I have a car, and I found an apartment. I have enough saved to last me a few months while I find a job. He never has to see me again, wish goddamn granted,” Stan said before adding. “My lease starts in two weeks, but I’m leaving the moment I finish packing.”
“Two weeks?” Dr. Torres raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it a little too soon to move then? To say this is our last time seeing each other?”
“Like I said, I can’t stand it anymore. I’m getting the hell out of dodge,” Stan insisted. “I…I rented a cabin in the woods. For a solo, camping type trip. I guess a sort of graduation gift to myself…” His voice had gotten softer and Dr. Torres straightened her posture. She knew Stanley well enough to know when he was hesitating. There was something more. “...It’s in Colorado.”
There it was. Dr. Torres hummed and settled back into her chair, setting the clipboard down on her lap.
“Is it close to South Park?”
“About a two hour drive…”
“Hmm, that’s fairly close. Do you think there’s a reason you chose there?”
Stan almost scoffed, now muttering. “Only for the fact that my home state happens to have the best forests in the country…”
“I disagree,” Dr. Torres stated plainly, folding her hands neatly over the clipboard in her lap. She prided herself in how honest she was with her clients. It wasn’t always easy, especially while being professional. Stanley was young, troubled, and with a soft, sensitive heart. These aren't inherently bad qualities, but it did encourage her to put more effort into getting through to him. Especially if it was their final session. Who knows when he would open himself up to another person again?
“Stanley, if I may be so frank, I believe you are a ghost.”
“What?”
“A ghost,” Dr. Torres repeated, keeping her voice even but insistent. “And just like any lost spirit, you haunt the world around you – and yourself – because you have unfinished business. South Park was where all your problems began, it was where you lost your family, but it was your home nonetheless. And you were ripped from it, with barely a chance to say goodbye…” She paused, giving Stan a chance to respond. But the young man across from her was silent, stunned. His face had fallen and those previously cold eyes were now a conflicted, mildly offended storm.
Dr. Torres continued, “South Park was the last place you had friends, though in spite of my leading questions, you’ve refused to talk about them all these years. You’ve admitted that you had your first love there, but you won’t say their name. I’ve been unable to get details out of you.” Stan opened his mouth to speak, but this time, his therapist put her hand up. “I’m not asking for any of that now, Stanley. All I’m saying is that this is an opportunity – maybe the last opportunity – to reach out to someone. To get closure, to maybe complete some of that unfinished business. It might finally let you move on from South Park. Just…think about it.”
~
And think about it Stan did. For hours. He couldn’t get it out of his head. Trying to distract himself with packing proved futile and even booze only made his memories drift further into the small mountain town of his childhood. It was painful, but he figured that that was maybe the point. Why else would his fucking therapist bring it up?
By the next morning, Stan had made a decision. A decision that he couldn’t even wait until after breakfast. He couldn’t risk losing his nerve. Because there was something he missed in South Park, someone he never actually said goodbye to. His unfinished business, as Dr. Torres put it. After taking a swig from the whiskey bottle that he kept in his top drawer (some things never change), he sat down at his desk and opened a basic college ruled notebook. It didn’t have to look pretty. Stan wasn’t really concerned about how it looked, only that his old friend actually read it. Which, given how long the guy could hold a grudge, wasn’t guaranteed. Stan wasn’t even sure if his hot-tempered friend still lived at the same address anymore. Regardless, he had to try.
Staring at the pale blue lines on the white paper in front of him, Stan realized he had no idea what to write. What do you say to a guy who was your best friend years ago, when you were a kid? The guy you told all your secrets to before you understood why you felt the need to keep secrets? The guy who taught you how to laugh? The guy who was the only one who could tell which smiles you faked, even to this day…
Stan had no idea who his former best friend was anymore. He didn’t know what would be the best thing to say. Best to keep it straight forward, blunt, to the point. Pulling out a mechanical pencil, he began to write.
“Kyle,
It's been a long time dude. I hope everything’s good. I don’t know how to write this but I’ve been thinking about South Park lately. I realize I never said goodbye. This is out of the blue but I’m going camping next week. First time back in the state since I moved. I’ve provided the address of the cabin and the dates I expect to be there below. If you want I was hoping you’d join me.”
Stan hesitated as he went to put his name. Reading over his crabbed handwriting a couple times, he decided this was good enough. The offer was put out there, all the important information was present, and any more emotion would make him seem desperate. Even though all he was doing was sitting at his desk, his heart was pounding in his chest. His mind reeled with possibilities, almost making him feel dizzy. What if Kyle was still angry? What if he was sick? What if he didn't even live there anymore? What if he actually showed up?
With that final hopeful thought, his trembling hand spurred into action, signing the letter:
“Your Super Best Friend, Stan Marsh”
The letter was folded, slipped into an envelope, sealed, and addressed in a blur. No point in adding a return address, just a stamp. He was almost holding his breath, knowing that if he paused for a moment – even to breathe – he would rip it up and throw it in the trash. It wasn’t until the letter was in the mailbox and the little red flag was flipped up that Stan allowed his lungs to expand normally. Feeling returned to his limbs in a wave of flurrying nerves as he made his way back inside. He needed to finish packing as soon as possible.
~
The cabin was small, about the size of a studio apartment. Stan couldn’t exactly describe it as quiet, since the sounds of the birds and the squirrels and other critters were constantly chittering all around. Good, he’d always loved animals. The cabin was completely isolated aside from one long, winding dirt road through the thick trees. At least a few miles from any other people in any direction. Not even any cell service, though this was ideal, if you were to ask Stan. He wanted to get away, erase himself from the world before drawing up a new life somewhere else. Somewhere where the past couldn’t follow him, where he could reinvent himself, where he could try to get better.
Stan had only been there a day. Just like he told his therapist, the moment he had finished packing, he was on his way. The cabin had been paid for from his savings for nearly two weeks, so he wouldn’t have to wait to vanish into the woods. So now, he sat on the colorful quilt that had been laid over his bed, leaning against the window frame. He was nursing his third beer, attempting to relax and simply admire nature. But something was clawing at him. Stan had chosen this spot to relax because it gave him a clear view of the road leading to his humble getaway. And today marked the first day he had told Kyle he’d be here. Day one of seven, since Stan had laid out a week for his old friend to visit. Though unlikely as hell, a part of him really did hope Kyle would come visit.
Stan took another swig from the dark brown bottle in his hand, before glancing at the blue and red knitted puffball hat he had clutched in the other. His favorite hat. The one he used to wear every single day, without fail. Before his mom and his sister died, before he moved away, before his dad went from an impulsive idiot to just an asshole. To Stan, it was a reminder that we all grow out of things. And yet, he had never been able to get rid of the damn thing.
Beginning to get lost in his memories, he almost missed the sounds of a car driving up the dirt road towards the cabin. By the time he glanced up through the window, the little sedan was pulling up and parking next to his truck. Stan’s jaw almost dropped. He had been hopeful, yes. But he didn’t actually think it would happen. Getting up from the bed and tossing his cap aside, he forced himself to take slow steps towards the door. He didn’t want to seem too eager, even if his heart was swelling with anticipation. After all these years…was he actually gonna see Kyle again? He might drive his car off a cliff if he walked out there and it was some nobody, or a ranger, or something. Another swig to steady his nerves. Then he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.
The young man stepped out of the car, everything about him glowing in the mid-afternoon sun, and there was no denying that it was Kyle Broflovski. Those bright ginger curls were what Stan saw first, wild and frizzy. The same as they’d always been, but he didn’t try to hide them now. Untameable, yet stunning, like a wildfire. That’s exactly how Stan’s heart felt in that moment: caught up in the warmth and fervor of flames. Stan had never before been so instantly sobered. He wore glasses now, framing green eyes that were brilliant in color and holding such a polished wit. Same hooked nose as his mom, Stan remembered, only his was dotted with a splattering of freckles that spread halfway across his cheekbones. His mind had gone blank as he stared at the person who had defined his happiest childhood moments, taking in all that had changed and grown. It didn’t register for several long moments that he would actually have to say something to Kyle.
Not only had his childhood best friend actually accepted his invitation, but he was the most beautiful man Stan had ever laid eyes on.