Saving Noah

by Berry, Lucinda

  Noah paced the room, frantically rubbing his hands up and down his arms so hard I was afraid he’d rub himself raw. She didn’t look convinced.

  “If I need you, I’ll call you,” I said, motioning to the door again.

  She backed away cautiously. This time, she left the door open a crack.

  “Noah, please sit down,” I pled in the same voice I used to use when he was a toddler and I had to coax him down from the top of a piece of furniture he’d climbed on.

  He shook his head, breathing in and out rapidly. “Don’t you get it? Can’t you see? I deserve to be dead. People like me shouldn’t be allowed to live.” His face was contorted in agony as if someone was physically hurting him.

  I got up and took a step toward him. “I get it,” I said quietly, keeping my voice even and calm. “Please hear me when I say I love you, and I understand.”

  He leaned over and let out a cry of grief so raw I felt it in my body. I rushed to his side, taking him in my arms like I’d done so many times in the past. But unlike all the times before, I didn’t tell him that it was going to be okay because it wasn’t. He’d always known that. I held him in my arms while he came apart and sobs ripped through him. I refused to let go as his wailing moved from violent waves to soft whimpering, to jerking breaths of nothing after he was finally spent. I guided him back to his chair and delicately sat him in it. I moved my chair around the table to sit next to him.

  He turned to me with tears and snot running down his face. “I want to die.” His eyes were tortured, haunted with images I couldn’t imagine. All the pictures of what he’d done, what he was afraid of doing, and what had been done to him.

  I took his hand in mine. I was out of words to say and done trying to pretend I had any answers.

  “I’m going to do it again. You can’t stop me,” he said.

  Was he talking about killing himself or hurting kids? Did it matter?

  *****

  I made the two-hour drive to the hospital for visiting hours every day. Some days we talked. Others we just sat in silence. Today Lucas had brought Katie to visit. He’d dropped her off in the waiting room and then left, making up some excuse for not being able to stay. It was the first time she’d seen him since he went into the hospital. Children weren’t allowed in ICU and I hadn’t let her visit even after he was transferred to a regular room because I didn’t want her to see him in his catatonic state. It would’ve frightened her too much. The bruises around his neck were fading but still visible so I’d brought him a white turtleneck to wear underneath his hospital scrubs. We hadn’t told Katie exactly what he’d done, only that he’d tried to hurt himself and had to be in the hospital until the doctors were sure he wouldn’t try to hurt himself again.

  They spent the visit playing Uno quietly and coloring in one of her favorite coloring books. She kissed him on the cheek softly when the visit was over and promised to be back soon. Her strength and fortitude moved me as I watched her struggle to keep her tears inside and be strong for him as she left.

  “When did you know?” I asked after she was gone.

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “That you ... that you, um ...”

  “That I was sick?”

  I nodded.

  “In seventh grade.”

  He said that in his note. It was folded in my purse and I carried it with me every day. I hadn’t worked up the nerve to read it again. I wasn’t sure I ever would.

  “You just all of a sudden knew?”

  “Not really. Not like that.”

  “So, then what happened?”

  He raised his eyebrows at me. “Are you really sure you want to know?”

  I nodded, steeling myself for what he was about to disclose.

  He took a deep breath. “Well, it was when all my friends started getting into girls. Kyle was obsessed and figured out all the parental controls on his computer so he could start looking at porn. We used to watch it together.” He turned bright red and looked away. “Sorry, Mom.”

  I wanted to laugh. I wished his problem was watching porn.

  “He’d get so excited, and I didn’t see what the big deal was. Everyone else was the same way. It was like overnight everyone got girl crazy, and I didn’t. Honestly, for a while, I thought I might be gay. God, I wish I was gay ...”

  I did too.

  He stared into space, wrestling with his demons. I waited for him to continue.

  “But then, I started having all these weird thoughts on the bus. I’d be sitting in the back and find myself staring at the elementary girls as they got on. I couldn’t stop staring or thinking about them. I was obsessed. None of it was sexual at first. I don’t know how to explain it, but I wanted to be their friends. They looked so precious and adorable.”

  He looked at me, studying my reaction. I willed my face to remain expressionless and open to what he had to say even though part of me wanted to tell him to stop talking. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what came next. I forced myself to remain calm. I’d spent months trying to get him to talk to me. He finally was, and I had to be open to what he had to say no matter how horrific it might be. I nodded at him, signaling him to continue.

  “It was weird, and I knew it. I was like, what the hell is wrong with me? I’d never paid attention to them before, barely noticed they were on our bus. But all of a sudden, I was so aware of them. I noticed them everywhere I went. And then there was this one little girl who sat alone on the bus every day. She was so cute, but she didn’t have any friends who sat with her. I started fantasizing about her. At first, it was just about being her friend, kinda like her big brother. I thought about going to sit with her in her seat and talking to her about her day. Is this making you sick?”

  I shook my head, hoping he couldn’t tell I was lying.

  “I know when the kids at Marsh used to tell their stories, I’d get sick hearing them. I used to throw up in the bathroom after group sessions.”

  “I’m fine,” I assured him even though I wasn’t.

  “Then, it started to get sexual. Not bad, though, Mom. I swear I never actually wanted to hurt a kid. I just wanted to hug and cuddle with her. But thinking about touching her aroused me. That’s when I knew something was seriously wrong with me. Before it seemed really weird, but once it crossed over that line, I knew it was sick—that I was sick. I’m still sick. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  He wasn’t looking at me. I wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to—himself, the girls, me, the world.

  “That was in seventh grade?”

  He nodded.

  But it was two years until he acted out. At least that’s what he said. Did he hurt other girls? Were there other things we didn’t know about?

  “I swore I’d never touch a little girl and decided I’d kill myself if I did. I focused on school and swimming. I put all my energy into it. Every night, I prayed for God to take it away. Sometimes I thought it worked because I’d go for a few months and wouldn’t have any thoughts. No urges. I thought maybe he’d answered my prayer. But then something would happen, and I’d be hit with it all over again. I tried everything, Mom. I did. I tried thinking about Katie. How I’d feel if someone did something like that to her. Tried pretending they were Katie, because I swear to God, Mom, I was never attracted to Katie.”

  At least I was right about something.

  “And then, that summer, that awful summer ... I should’ve known it was a bad idea to coach the pee-wee league. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He shook his head quickly. “That’s not true. I do know what I was thinking—I didn’t think I was capable of touching a little girl. I knew it was wrong, and it went against every part of me. I know that doesn’t make sense. But then, we’d be in the pool, and you’d have to hold them and help them. Sometimes they’d rest on my leg. And I got aroused ...” His face turned bright red. For the first time since he’d started talking, he looked away. “I had no control of it. My body just did it. I was trapped. I couldn’t jump out of
the pool because then everyone would see. I didn’t know what to do, and then Maci touched it. She touched it and asked what it was.”

  I gripped my chair, afraid I’d fall on the floor if I let go. My entire body swayed.

  “It was so innocent. So sweet.” His face was contorted in confusion. Torn even now.

  “I know what happened next.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I heard the full confession of the touching in court. I barely made it through that time. I couldn’t hear it again. Not from his mouth. It was bad enough when they read it as a formal statement.

  “I told myself I’d kill myself if I ever acted on it and fully intended to do it. I’d lay in my room for hours trying to work up the nerve. Killing myself was all I thought about, but I was so scared. Scared I’d burn in hell. Scared to hurt you and Dad. Katie. Then, I started thinking about what would happen if I told someone. I wasn’t thinking about telling someone to get help. I was thinking about prison. I wanted someone to lock me up so I couldn’t hurt anyone. That’s when I came to you.”

  That night. The one that changed everything.

  “I didn’t want to go to Marsh, but everyone said it would help me, so I went. And then once I was there, I started getting hopeful because Dr. Park said all we had to do was follow their program, and we’d be better. She promised. I did everything, Mom. Every single thing. I wanted to be better so bad. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. I tried so hard, but it didn’t go away. None of it. And then when Rick came to visit and showed me the pictures of his new girlfriend, I knew I was hopeless. That guy was such a loser, Mom, but he’d gotten better. He’d changed and I was never going to. It didn’t matter how hard I tried.”

  “Is that why you took the pills?”

  He nodded.

  “What’d your dad say to you the night you ...” My question trailed off.

  “Have you asked him about it?”

  I shook my head. “We’re not talking.”

  He’d been to visit Noah in the hospital twice, and I hadn’t spoken a word to him. I left as soon as he arrived and didn’t come back until he was ready to go. I didn’t give him updates on Noah. If he cared, then he could check with the medical staff himself.

  “I know you’re pissed at Dad, but you shouldn’t be.”

  “Let me worry about your dad,” I said.

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “I still want to know what he said.” I had to find out what pushed him over the edge. Swallowing pills was emotional and impulsive, but hanging himself took thought, planning, and preparation. He had plenty of time to think about what he was doing and change his mind, but he didn’t.

  “You’re going to get pissed off.”

  “Believe me, I’m already pissed at your dad. I want to know what happened.”

  “If I tell you, then you have to promise not to tell him I told you.”

  Lucas and I didn’t keep secrets. Never had, especially when it came to our kids, but we weren’t who we used to be.

  “I won’t tell him,” I said.

  “He said I should run away. He told me to leave a note for you and Katie and tell you I was leaving. He promised to pay for my plane ticket to California no matter what it cost and drive me to the airport. I have no idea why he chose California. I guess because it’s as far west as you can get without leaving the country. Anyway, he said he’d send me money every month. The only catch was that I couldn’t contact you or anyone in the family ever again. He swore he’d cut me off if I did. He promised to send me money until I was twenty-one and after that I’d be on my own.”

  My stomach churned. Vehement anger shot through my veins. How could he do something like that? How could he exile him away without talking to me about it? What did he think Noah would do after hearing something like that?

  “I’m sorry he put you in that position. No wonder you tried to kill yourself.”

  Noah shook his head. “No, he was right. That’s not why I tried to kill myself. I thought about he suggested and I agreed with him. It actually made perfect sense. I’d wrecked all your lives, and it was never going to get easier. You were going to give up your entire life to take care of me and Katie would lose out. She’s already missed out on so much. She’d never get to have a normal life, and she deserves a normal life. You and Dad were going to split up eventually. I know you try to pretend like it’s not my fault, but you guys would be happy if it wasn’t for me.”

  “That’s—”

  He raised his hand. “Mom, stop. You don’t need to keep trying to protect me. I’m okay with the truth. Let’s just tell the truth. Okay, please?”

  I hung my head.

  “It was the one thing I could do to make things better. But, I was afraid of what I’d do out there on my own. Not that I wouldn’t be able to make it. I would’ve found some way to support myself, but I was terrified of touching a girl again. I swore before that I’d never act on my urges, but then I did, and I couldn’t stop, so how could I trust myself? I can never do what I did again. Ever.”

  I grabbed his hands, gripping them both in mine, and peered over the table at him. Our noses almost touched. “So, then you won’t. You never have to do that again.” I drew each word out, stressing never.

  He pulled his hands away, moving back in his chair. “I can’t say I won’t do something again. I just can’t. I don’t know for sure.”

  I shook my head with fiery determination, refusing to accept his truth. “It’s possible. People refuse to act on their urges all the time. Look at drug addicts. They’re faced with temptation every day and choose not to act on it.”

  “It’s not that simple. There’s so much more to it than that. I hate myself. Every part of me, even the parts that used to be good. I meant what I said in my letter. I was doing what was best for everyone in the situation and if you think about it, Mom, it really is.”

  I shook my head. I wouldn’t hear of it.

  “You can’t stop me. I’m going to do it again.” His eyes were set with determination. This time, there was no mistaking what he was talking about.

  “Noah, no. Please, stop. Don’t talk like that.” An image of him hanging from the balcony flashed through my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, trying to make the picture disappear. “You’re doing so much better than you were.”

  The team of psychiatrists and doctors responsible for his care had been giving me positive reports. They were pleased and optimistic that he’d turned around and begun to take steps toward his healing. He was participating in group, something he hadn’t done up until this point, and responsive in his therapy sessions whereas before he sat curled up in a ball in his chair, staring, and mumbling his answers. At times, he was incoherent. They attributed his turnaround to the antidepressants finally taking an effect. They were hopeful he’d continue to make gains.

  His eyes flashed with anger. “Do you know why I’m doing better?” He put air quotes on “doing better.” “I want out of here, and that’s not going to happen unless they think I’m not suicidal. I’m not an idiot.”

  One of the staff members peeked her head into the room. She was the dark-haired nurse who worked most days. I was beginning to recognize all of them.

  “Sorry, visiting hours are up,” she said with a smile I’d never seen her without. I didn’t know how she stayed so cheerful in a place like this.

  I couldn’t leave. Not now. Not after everything he’d shared. What if he did something tonight? I furtively looked around his room, searching for anything he might hurt himself with. There was nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe as long as he was in the hospital. I just had to find a way to keep him there.

  15

  “Thanks for taking the time to meet with me,” I said as I took a seat in Dr. Phillips office. It was the first time I’d been in her office. Most of our conversations were on the phone or standing in the hallway outside of Noah’s room. Her office was cramped with a large oak desk that was too big for the space. Bookshelves lined the walls o
verflowing with self-help titles like Healing Your Emotional Self and The Anxiety Workbook for Teens.

  “I’m sorry it’s such a mess. I usually don’t hold meetings in here.” She’d agreed to squeeze me in on her lunch break and took a bite of her Subway sandwich. “What’s going on?”

  I didn’t want to waste any time. “I’m worried about Noah. I’m afraid he’s going to kill himself when he gets out.”

  She wiped her face with a napkin. “That’s a totally normal reaction. Every parent who’s been through what you’ve been through would feel the same way. It’s a terrifying experience to almost lose your child.”

  “Yes, it is, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” I hesitated for a minute. I didn’t want to betray his confidence, but what choice did I have? “He told me he’s going to try to kill himself again when he gets out. He’s only pretending to be better so you let him out.”

  She set her sandwich on the desk, taking a drink of her soda. “He said those exact words?”

  “Basically.” I wrung my hands together on my lap.

  “I’m surprised by that. Today in group he agreed to attend a support group for teenagers who’ve tried to commit suicide. He told me in our session yesterday that he wants to start having Skype sessions with the psychologist he worked with at Marsh to process some of the struggles he’s still having with his sexual urges. All of that is very significant.”

  “He’s only saying it so you’ll let him out.” My voice rose. “You have to keep him in the hospital. You can’t discharge him. You just can’t. He’s not ready.”

  “We’re not saying he’s ready, but he’s taking steps in the right direction. We can’t keep people in the hospital who are no longer a threat to themselves.”

  “But he is! Even if he says he isn’t, he is!” I could no longer keep the hysteria out of my voice.

  “Have you thought about getting some help for yourself? Someone you can talk to about your fears?”

  “They’re not fears.” I bit my cheek to keep from crying.