Rebecca sat on the edge of her bed, hugging her stuffed kitten close to her thin, wraithlike chest. She was slipping again, so soon after that wonderful R.E.M. concert where she and her friend, Julie had had seats so close to the front of the stage that Rebecca had caught Michael's eye on more than one occasion. Oh what a glorious high that had been. Rebecca had yelled ecstatically to her companion, "He notice me!! He looked right at me!!" And her seventeen-year-old heart fluttered with pure joy and the reckless abandon of youth.

Rebecca was a very pretty girl, in the Liv Tyler mold--tall, slim and with raven-black long hair and eyes as dark as a starless night. Oh but that concert, that wonderful night where absolutely everything had gone right, seemed now like a faded and dying memory.

Rebecca suffered from Bi-Polar Affective Disorder, more commonly known as Manic Depressive Psychosis, and she had been ill for nearly a year, a year in Hell. She would swing to dizzying, glorious heights where the youngster figured she could jump off the Empire State Building and land intact, to the dark, dismal and despairing mood she now experienced. Rebecca tossed the stuffed kitten with its silly smiling face onto the floor and began to rock rhythmically back and forth on the bed, humming incoherently. Rebecca was making plans to destroy herself, either with her father's hunting rifle, a few bottles of pills or a straight razor.

Suddenly, as if on some myserious cue, Rebecca's younger brother, Simon came slinking slowly into his sister's cluttered, dusty bedroom. He normally had little to do with her, particularly after she became ill, entered a psychiatric hospital and turned the entire family upside down. Lately he found himself resenting Rebecca and hiding away in his fourteen-year-old world of Nirvana, Kurt Cobain and a heavy adolescent crush on Courtney Love. He used to listen to R.E.M. with Rebecca, but now she had gotten so very, very weird that he didn't even bring any of his friends over anymore. It was just to much of an embarrassment if his crazy sister came racing downstairs stark naked and laughing her head off at nothing, or else sitting off in a distant corner, rocking and singing to herself with black eye shadow plastered over her eyes.

"Hey, Becky...You okay? You really seem down these days". Simon was a rather chubby kid with a bad case of acne but a kind expression in his green eyes. He ran his nervous fingers through a mop of red hair and stared blankly at the shell of what had recently been his sister, friend and companion. Was that simply a year ago?

"Go away! Get the hell out of my room, Simon and LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"

"I can't do that, Becky. You got that look on your face like you did when you slashed your wrists six months ago.I'm scared...I'm gonna go and get Mom".

"NO! Don't you DARE get her into this!! It's MY life and if I want to put an end to this freaking Hell on earth then that's MY choice!! Get it, twerp?"

Simon winced. He moved over to Rebecca's CD player and picked up R.E.M.'s "Automatic For the People". "Hey, wanna listen to "Everybody Hurts"? You loved it when they did it at the concer. I heard you telling Julie that someone even lent you a lighter and---" Truly panicked now, Simon reached for the phone and without even having to think much about it, looked up the number of R.E.M.'s Offices in Athens, Georgia. That was only about eighty miles from where he and Rebecca were in Atlanta, so the call wouldn't be that expensive. Simon shakily dialed the number, chewing the inside of his mouth as he waited for someone to answer, and glanced over at the bed where Rebecca had been. She was gone. She had just quietly gotten up and left the room."Becky? Becky I have the R.E.M. office on the line...hello? Is somebody there?"

A soft-spoken female voice answered, "R.E.M. How may I help you?"

Simon was so nervous that he feared wetting himself. "Um, this is Simon and my sister is going to kill herself. Is Michael there?"

"What did you say? She's really going to do that? Listen, get off the phone and dial 911. There are people who can help you. We're here in Athens..There's---"

"Hey, lady!! You don't understand!!! Rebecca will talk to Michael. I know she will! If I call the cops they'll just stick her back in that horrible hospital!! Please, we have a gun here, and pills and sharp knives and---"

"Just a minute", the secretary said evenly, trying to calm the hysterical kid on the other end of the line. "Michael just walked over to his office. Now whatever you do, please DO NOT hang up! Get your sister and bring her to the phone NOW! I am going to have to put you on hold for a minute or two but please don't hang up this phone!:

"Okay I won't". Simon dropped the receiver and ran tearing around the house looking for his troubled sister. He realized, with the illness and death of his hero, Kurt Cobain, that Rebecca couldn't help being the way she was. Simon also realized that if she did not get on the phone now with Michael Stipe he would probably hear a terrifying gun shot. "Rebecca!! Becky!! Michael's gonna talk to you NOW!! Where ARE you??"

A small, quavering voice answered from the bathroom. Rebecca had taken three full bottles of her prescribed drugs, including the Lithium, and had subsequently swallowed all of them with a tumbler or water from the tap.

"Oh my God! NO! Please come to the phone now!! Or should I call the cops?? Tell me what to do!!" Simon was crying bitterly now as he stood there watching his sister self-destructing.

Suddenly, from across the room where the receiver was , came a small, tinny voice. Rushing over to grab the phone, Simon yelled, "Hello???Is somebody there?? PLEASE????"

A soft-spoken, gentle male voice was on the other end."Who am I speaking to? Is this the brother? Listen, I have been told about your sister. Has she done anything?"

"Yes. She took a whole mess of pills-----Michael, is that you?"

"Yes. Now listen very carefully. My secretary figured the situation with, what's your sister's name? Rebecca? Well, we have notified the police in Atlanta after this call was traced. But I would like to talk to her. Is she in any condition to speak coherently to me?" Michael's voice was filled with compasssion and worry. Somehow, Simon managed to drag the semi-drugged Rebecca over to the phone and placed the receiver firmly in her cold and clammy hand. "Now you TALK to Michael. He's good enough to do this, so don't blow it!! Do something for yourself for once, dammit!"

When she saw how upset her brother was and realized what she had done, Rebecca started to snap out of her downward spiral and began talking into the phone.

"H-hello? Michael? Michael Stipe? Is that really you?"

"Yes", came his familiar voice with just a hint of a Georgian accen."I hear you aren't feeling very well. Kind of down and depressed?"

"Yeah, you could say that..I---I took some pills...." Rebecca was finding it difficult to formulate sentences. Here she was, talking directly to her idol, and her stupid tongue wouldn't co-operate. She did manage to say a few things: "Michael, you really don't want us to kill ourselves do you?" She was starting to lose consciousness.

"No. I think it's just awful that so many of you kids are committing suicide. That's why I wrote "Everybody Hurts". I guess it isn't doing you much good though, is it?" Michael was obviously stalling for time.

"No, I always thought you were kind of pa-patronizing us...with..with that song...like kind of patronizing us, kinda...."Rebecca barely knew what she was saying and would kick herself later.

"I wrote the song to try to reach you, the best way I knew how, and that was straightforwardly. The other songs aren't like that. They are more intricate and complex.But I had a particular audience in mind and didn't want to complicate things by writing a puzzle of a song. When kids are hurting as badly as you obviously are, don't need to try to figure out all kinds of symbolism and what everyone calls "Stipean philosphy".

That was the last thing Rebecca remembered until she awoke in the hospital, hooked up to machines, wires and tubes. It had been a very close call. She reached over to one of the get-well cards near the bed and looked lovingly at it. She was still deeply deeply depressed but no longer wanted to kill herself.

As Simon sat nearby, Rebecca read the card out loud. It was from Michael. It said simply, "Please hold on. Love, Michael".

Rebecca never thought negatively about "Everybody Hurts" again. She was going to make it. Things would be difficult and there would always be the possibility of a relapse, as happens with her disorder, but Michael Stipe had taken the time to save a stranger's life. She lay back down on the bed and managed a weak smile.

"Welcome back, Becky", Simon said softly.

This story is for my friend, Merideth J.Fine. With love, from Jane.