“Didn’t you say there’s a flea market around here on Saturdays?” he asked as we did the dishes. I washed while he dried.
“Yes.” I handed him another plate.
“Can we go tomorrow? We can grab breakfast beforehand like we used to do.”
“Sure.” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. I wasn’t sure what I expected us to do when he got home, but it wasn’t flea market shopping. It was such an odd choice. Whenever we went before, I hunted for things for the house while he dug through clothes, searching for vintage t-shirts. What would he buy now?
The next morning he skipped through the market, searching for hidden treasures like we used to do, finding little knickknacks for the apartment, and bringing them to me as if he’d found a prize. I watched in bewilderment as he pawed through the piles of clothes. He walked with a confidence in his body that hadn’t been there in so long. It was as if he’d been an empty balloon and someone filled him with air again. He made eye contact with people and smiled easily. He was like the Noah I remembered—the little boy I dressed up on Halloween, whose knees I kissed when they got skinned, and whose pillow I slid money under from the tooth fairy long after he believed in her existence—the one I’d given up ever getting back.
I was even more shocked when he wanted to go to mass on Sunday and insisted on bringing Katie with us. I was surprised when Lucas answered the door dressed in a collared shirt and tie. He sheepishly looked down and shrugged his shoulders.
“She insisted I go,” he said.
We hadn’t been to church as a family since before Noah’s confession even though we used to go every Sunday. I kept stealing glances at Lucas while we drove, wondering what he was thinking. Did he have any idea what we were planning? In our entire marriage, I’d never kept a secret from him. Not even anything small. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt.
I scanned the sanctuary as we walked in and breathed a sigh of relief that I didn’t recognize anyone. It was a small church, not like our old church in Buffalo Grove. Most of the rows were filled with senior citizens and not the rows of families we were used to. I dipped my hand in the holy water out of habit, making the sign of the cross without thinking. It was incredibly disorienting to be doing something we used to do so regularly back before everything fell apart. We slid into our seats, Lucas and I bookends on each side of the kids. Katie hadn’t let go of Noah’s hand since we stepped out of the car, and she cuddled up next to him on the pew.
As the liturgy of the readings began, the words that used to roll so easily off my tongue were gone. I couldn’t bring myself to say, “Thanks be to God.” The whole point of saying thank you was to acknowledge all God has done for us and his ability to speak through his Word. God hadn’t done anything for my family or me in a long time. I listened to the chants around me, but the proclamations of faith didn’t bring me any comfort. They were empty recitations with no meaning.
Unlike me, Noah’s voice joined the congregation with force and confidence. He didn’t miss a beat when we shifted into the hymns and moved his finger along the lines so Katie could follow along with him. She beamed. Both of them were tone-deaf, but they belted out the notes anyway.
I robotically followed the service, moving up and down on cue, but was remote and distant from the ceremonious rituals that used to fill me with peace and purpose. My eyes were drawn to the center stone of any Catholic church—the giant Jesus on the cross with a crown of thrones around his head and limbs nailed to the wood with spikes. Was everything I believed about God wrong too? My religion felt foolish, like I was a kid who found out Santa Claus wasn’t real. I wanted to get up and never come back, but both my kids were happy, and their happiness had always been so much more important than my own, so I followed through each step, even receiving the Eucharist at the end. It left a bitter taste on my tongue.
Katie wanted us all to go out to lunch together, but Lucas couldn’t get away from Noah and me fast enough. He looked like he wanted to jump out of his skin throughout the entire service.
“Please, Daddy,” she begged, pulling on his arm as we walk to the car.
He wiggled his arm loose and tousled her hair. “I have lots of work to do today. We’ll do it another time.”
“But I’ve barely got to spend time with Noah, and I never get to see him.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry, kiddo. Not today. Can you get in the car?” His face was pinched.
She folded her arms across her chest in a huff. “I hate this!”
Noah knelt next to her. “How about we all spend the day together next Saturday as a family? Mom and I were talking about going to the Navy Pier. It’d be really fun. We haven’t gone in a long time.”
Katie jumped up and down, squealing. “Please! Please! Please! Can we have a family day, Daddy, please?”
Lucas glared at me. I shrugged my shoulders. I hadn’t talked to Noah about how we’d talk his dad into spending the day at the Navy Pier. Maybe this had been his plan for today all along.
“Fine, we can go,” Lucas said.
“Promise?”
“Katie, come on. We need to get home.” He opened the back door and motioned for her to get in.
She shook her head and crossed her arms across her chest. “You have to promise.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay. I promise. Now get in the car.”
*****
I crept into Noah’s room that night.
“Noah? Are you awake?” I whispered in case he was asleep.
“I’m awake.”
I moved my way to his bed as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I took a seat on the end of his bed, smoothing out the comforter. I’d never gotten around to buying him a new one. Now I never would.
“Are you scared?” The darkness fell like a blanket over our conversation, and it was easy to ask him in the dark when I couldn’t see into his eyes.
“I was, but I’m not anymore.”
“Where do you think you’ll go?” I might have lost my faith in God, but I hadn’t lost my fear.
“I don’t think I’m going to hell if that’s what you’re asking me. I’m not saying I’m getting into heaven, but I know if there really is God, then he’s got to know my heart. And he knows I’m doing the right thing, that I’m protecting lots of people from getting hurt.”
Relief washed over me. I was glad he’d thought about this part. It made me feel better that he wasn’t afraid of the afterlife even if I was terrified.
“I know we all have to pay for our sins. I totally get it, and it’s right. We should have to pay, but I’ve paid for mine. If anyone’s paid, it’s me. But I shouldn’t have to keep paying, and other people definitely don’t need to keep being punished for what I’ve done and who I am.”
I always thought suicide was the most selfish act a person could commit, and that it was a complete disregard for others and the effect it would have on the people who loved them. I assumed people who did it were only thinking about themselves, but it wasn’t the case with Noah. As I listened to him talk, I realized he wasn’t just thinking about himself. He was thinking about everyone he cared about. Me. Katie. Even his dad, even though his dad no longer cared about him. It didn’t matter. He still wanted good things for him. And he wasn’t just thinking about us. He was thinking about people he didn’t even know, nameless girls he might potentially harm.
“I want you to be proud of my choice.”
I reached for him and brought him close to me.
“I am,” I said. I’d never been more proud or loved him any more than I did at that moment.
19
“Did you get it?” He pounced on me as soon as I opened the door before I had a chance to set the bags of groceries down.
I shook my head.
“What happened?”
“I got scared. It didn’t feel right.”
I hadn’t been able to call in the prescription. I spent all day while he was at the hospital staring at my phone. I picked it up over
ten times but couldn’t bring myself to tap my doctor’s name.
“I’ll do it tomorrow.”
He shrugged. “Okay. I guess it doesn’t really matter as long as we have it in time.” He reached out to grab my bags of groceries and started helping me put things away. He hummed while he worked.
“How was therapy today?” I asked. “Was it weird to be back there?”
“Not really. It was nice knowing I didn’t have to sleep there tonight, but group was pretty interesting. They got a bunch of new patients in over the weekend.”
I stared at him like I’d been doing all weekend as he launched into a description of the new patients in the hospital. He was so happy. This morning he’d asked if we could go swimming at the YMCA and had called to find out the open swim times during one of his breaks at the hospital. How could he want to die when he was feeling so good? When things were so much better?
And then it dawned on me like I’d been stunned with a Taser gun. His excitement and zest for life weren’t about being out of the hospital and feeling good again. He was happy because his fight was almost over. He was going to die soon and he couldn’t wait. He acted like he did as a kid during the last two weeks leading up to Christmas when he counted every day and marked them off the calendar until the night Santa would arrive and deliver his presents under the tree.
It broke my heart that the only thing bringing him happiness was knowing he was going to die. He didn’t just want to die—he was ready. My last bit of resistance dissolved. I called my doctor as soon as I dropped him off at the hospital the next morning. He listened patiently while I described Noah’s hospitalizations.
“I haven’t slept more than a few hours in a week. The Ambien has almost no effect on me anymore,” I said just like I had practiced. “I’m sure it’s because of everything going on with Noah again, and I’ve been taking it for so long that I’ve developed a tolerance.”
“I totally understand.” I could sense him nodding his validation through the phone. “What were you thinking?”
My heart banged in my chest. “I was thinking maybe I needed something stronger, just for a couple of nights so I can sleep. Maybe we could try a small dose of Seconal? If that doesn’t work, then I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to sleep again.” I forced a laugh, hoping it sounded real.
“Are you sure you want to have that in the house? I mean, with Noah being so suicidal?”
“Believe me, I’ve thought about that, and I’m not letting it out of my sight. Every pill in the house is locked up. Anything he could hurt himself with is hidden where he can’t find it. I feel like I’m living in a psych ward myself, but I’m not taking any chances.”
“That’s smart. Really smart,” he said. “Can I do anything else for you? Anything to make this easier for you?”
“Thank you, that means a lot. We’ll get through this.”
“Okay, so I’ll call this in today. Let’s check in at the end of the week to see how you’re doing and make sure you’re not having any side effects.”
“Absolutely. Thank you.”
My heart pounded so loudly while I waited to pick it up at the pharmacy that I was sure people could see it through my clothes. I was covered in sweat on the short drive home and certain at any moment the police were going to pound on the door and put me in handcuffs.
Noah ran out of his bedroom. “Is that it? Did you get it?”
I nodded, throwing the white bag on the table as if it would burn me if I held it much longer. He skipped over to the table, ripped open the bag, and pulled out the pill bottle. He twirled it around in his hands, marveling at them like he was holding a million dollars. A wide smile spread across his face, exposing his perfectly straight teeth from the years of braces. He set them back on the table and bounced over to me. He threw his arms around me, lifted me off the floor, and twirled me around.
“Thank you, Mom. Thank you so much.”
“Put me down now.” I couldn’t keep my anger out of my voice.
He set me down, staring at me with confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“You don’t have to be so happy about it.” I turned and ran to my room before he saw my tears.
I didn’t come out of my room for dinner. He knocked at my door, but I told him I had a headache and needed to rest. There was nothing left to hold on to. I was losing my son for good. I was going to live the rest of my days never seeing his face, hearing him laugh, or the sound of his voice. I’d say his name, and he’d no longer respond. I was intensely aware of the hole he’d leave in my heart when he was gone, and it filled me with excruciating pain.
Sometime during the night, he crept into my bedroom like I crept into his a few nights before. He curled up next to me in my bed. His body longer than mine.
“I’m sorry, Mom. This has to be hard on you,” he whispered.
I stifled a sob. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
This time he was the one to hold me while I came apart in his arms.
20
The day was here. There was no going back. I didn’t need to set an alarm clock because I hadn’t slept, just paced the small apartment back and forth, treading a path across the worn carpet. It was like standing on the train tracks and bracing myself for the train about to hit. I kept checking on Noah, but he slept soundly with a peaceful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I spent hours during the night watching him sleep like I used to when he was a baby. He made the same grunting noises he made then.
I hadn’t taken my eyes off him all weekend. During our family trip to the Navy Pier on Saturday, he took everything in like he was experiencing it for the first time. He gulped it all in hungrily like he was taking pictures to bring with him. The lake. The sun. Feeling the water on his skin like he did when he was a baby. He was completely enthralled. I’d never seen him look so alive.
We packed as much as possible into the day. Noah and Katie shared their comic books pages in the backseat as we drove, their endless chatter and laughter the soundtrack for our ride. We ate breakfast at the small diner right next to the pier before any of the tourists showed up. Noah scarfed down his pancakes and eggs. His appetite had been insatiable, and he’d added a few pounds back on his wiry frame. His cheeks no longer looked sunken in, and some of the color was back in his face. Lucas and I had coffee as we watched them eat, an unspoken understanding to get through the day with civility.
We hit all our favorite spots. We spent the morning at the Children’s Museum, and even though Noah had long outgrown the activities, he walked Katie through each one like he was experiencing it for the first time. Lucas and I trailed after them like casual observers. We’d lost the ability to make small talk with each other, choosing instead to be silent. It was less awkward that way. By the time we finished the museum, it was time for lunch, and we let Katie pick the spot.
She chose pizza, which was no surprise since she’d eat cheese pizza for every meal if we let her. We took our slices with us and strolled down the long boardwalk, munching away as we walked. Lucas bought Katie a purple balloon—her favorite color—when she finished and helped Noah tie it on her wrist. We followed her as she skipped down to the beach.
We spent hours combing the beach for shells to add to our collections, competing for who could find the best one. Our house held jars of shells from different vacations we’d taken over the years. We made it a point to stop at beaches no matter where we vacationed. The kids waded into the water even though it was freezing and it’d be a long time before the water warmed, but it didn’t matter to them. I sat on a rock and watched them frolic together, my recording brain taking it all in like I’d been doing all week.
We made our way back up to the boardwalk and watched as they jumped over the spouts of water shooting out from the sidewalk, strategically timing their jumps in an attempt not to get wet and failing miserably time and time again. Their love for each other encompassed them. You could almost reach out and touch it. Their smiles were better than any of the
ones on the postcards you could buy in the shops lining the lakeshore.
I looked at Lucas. There was nothing that could move us more quickly to tears than watching the two people we loved more than anyone else in the world be completely in love with each other. We’d shared so many of these beautiful moments. The unspoken understanding of the innocent love we were witnessing always moved one of us to reach out for the other’s hand—no need to speak, in case we broke the spell—to share the experience together.
I’d instinctively reached for his hand like I’d done so many times in the past. Our fingers used to slide together effortlessly like putting on a silk glove, but my fingers caught his the wrong way, and they twisted awkwardly with each other. He pulled his hand away without looking at me, stuffing both of them into his pocket. His face was stone.
“This is your last chance!” I wanted to scream so badly. The words threatened to spill from my mouth in a fiery tirade. “This is it! There aren’t any more days!”
I wanted to save him from the agony that would come when he found out Noah was gone. When the news was delivered, and he was hit with the realization that he could have been in this moment. Everything that was in it and he’d missed it.
But I couldn’t warn him. I could never let anyone know I played a role in Noah’s death. Not even him. He couldn’t have any part of it because of the remote chance they investigated Noah’s death. Still, it didn’t stop the impulse of wanting to shake him. Slap him. To wake him up to see what was right in front of him. What he was missing.
I didn’t know if it was my imagination or not, but Katie held him longer than her normal, peel-her-off-him hug, as if somewhere in her unconscious she knew it was the last time she’d see him.
We spent yesterday like it was a normal lazy Sunday, which only increased the weirdness of the waiting. We did laundry, and it seemed absurd to fold his underwear and put it in his drawers, but I didn’t know what else to do with them. We tidied up the house, but I refused to let him clean the bathroom even though he volunteered. Once his hairs disappeared from the sink, there would be none to replace them, and I couldn’t bear the thought of washing him away.
Saving Noah Page 18