Break

by Hannah Moskowitz

  thirty-six

  NAOMI CALLS WHEN I’M IN THE LOUNGE AFTER lunch. We’re all crowded around the armchairs, worrying about Leah, when IMOAN appears on my caller ID.

  “Hey, babe,” I say, smiling at Mackenzie as she takes her post behind the desk.

  Naomi’s voice is comforting in its coarseness. “Well, you sound cheery.”

  I admit that, despite all the shit with Jess and Leah and the psychologist, I feel sort of cheery.

  “I heard she’s in the infirm,” Belle announces on her way upstairs.

  Tyler groans. “She better not have had a heart attack.”

  Stephen throws his hands over his head. “Tyler, don’t say that.”

  “Anorexic girls have heart attacks all the time. It happens.”

  I try not to listen. “How’s school?” I ask Naomi.

  “Fine. And Jess is great,” she adds before I can ask. “I’ve been keeping an eye on him.”

  “He’s eating?”

  “Yep. He kicked ass in the hockey game, honestly. He’s doing great.”

  “That’s awesome.” I cover the mouthpiece and catch Annie’s eye as she comes in from the courtyard, shuffling her feet against the ground. “Any news?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Jesse misses you,” Naomi says. “Every time I talk to him all he’ll say is how much he misses you.”

  “He’s healthy.”

  “Yeah. And sad.”

  Belle runs in from the hallway. “She’s in the infirmary.”

  “What happened?”

  Her face is all red. “She broke her arm.”

  I drop the phone. “What?”

  thirty-seven

  THE DOCTOR GATHERS US ALL TOGETHER IN THE common room because he thinks we’re worried about Leah.

  “Because of her weight, her bones break very easily. Think of an old woman’s.” He straightens his glasses. “It’s unfortunate, but not shocking, and she’s going to recover just fine.”

  God, I’m like the angel of bad health. I leave, and Jesse gets well. I come here, and Leah breaks her bones. I wonder if there’s an angel of bad health in the Bible, and I wonder if he got swallowed by a big fish or shoved from place to place like a pinball.

  We’re sitting in a circle in the lounge. I stare at my lap, but I know everyone’s watching me.

  Tyler mumbles, “For the good of the group, right?”

  I shake my head. “That’s not what I meant.”

  I feel so shaky and sore I think I’m going to pass out. My broken hand is throbbing.

  “Leah should be home from the hospital tonight. Hopefully she won’t have to coincide with any of those Halloween burn victims.” He smiles, and Stephen and I flinch because we don’t like the words “burn” and “Halloween.”

  “You’ve all got exercise period in ten minutes,” the doctor says. “Why don’t you go get changed while I speak to Jonah?”

  I clasp my hands between my legs while the others clear the room. Tyler squeezes my good shoulder on his way out.

  The doctor scoots close to me. It’s the first time he’s managed to make me feel honestly comfortable. “You know why I want to talk to you, right?”

  I nod. “I didn’t tell Leah to do it.”

  “But you understand how this looks.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Could you have said anything? To encourage her to do this?”

  “I . . . explained to Mackenzie. She overheard.”

  “Mackenzie?”

  “One of the volunteers.”

  “Right. Right.” He chews his lip. “The principle of this home is that you help each other heal, okay? If there’s a chance you could be interfering with the recovery of another patient . . . you understand that we have to take that very seriously.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Just . . . be careful, all right, Jonah? We don’t want to have to put you in isolation.”

  I look up.

  He smiles. “Just watch yourself, all right? Everything’ll be fine. Leah’s gonna heal up nicely, and you’ll be home in no time, all right?”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  Annie’s waiting for me in my room.

  “Hi,” I say.

  She hands me a little slip of paper. I read the note: I believe in you.

  I spin from the shoulders up. “Thank you.”

  I think.

  My nausea claims get me out of exercise period, but they still drag me out of bed for art and dinner. All I want to do is sleep. The psychiatrist lets me out of our session early so I can rest, and I crash until Mackenzie comes in to check my vitals.

  “You’re the talk of the nurse’s station,” she says.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. Everyone’s gossiping about your little mission.”

  “It’s not a mission,” I slur, my head in my pillow. “Just a few broken bones.”

  “Are they hurting you?”

  I hold up the hand. “Just this one.”

  “Want anything for it?”

  I shake my head.

  My blood pressure’s low, and I’m staring to wonder if it has anything to do with my stomachache and headache and overwhelming dizziness.

  “You’re not feeling well,” she says. “Do you want a nurse?”

  “I just want to sleep.”

  And I do, and then I wake up to the welcome home party for Leah. I stumble out of my bed into the common room, barefoot, scrubbing my eyes with my pulsating hand.

  “Jonah!” Leah throws her broken and unbroken arms around my neck. “Look!” she shows me the cast, the marks where Tyler and Stephen and Belle and Annie have already signed their names.

  I sway and they pull me onto the carpet.

  “I feel so much better,” she says.

  I say, “The point isn’t to feel better.”

  “But I do.” She flexes her good arm. “I feel . . . stronger. Don’t you guys? I did it for you guys.”

  Everyone nods.

  Leah’s smile grows. Her mouth is too big and she’s all lit from inside. She looks like a jack-o’-lantern.

  “Not feeling well,” I mumble.

  “Oh, Jonah.” Leah collects me from the floor and steers me down the hall to my room. The hallway stretches in front of me like a tendon. “You’ll be okay,” she says. “It’s just been a while since you’ve broken anything, yeah? Feeling a little withdrawn?”

  “Don’t need to break anymore.”

  “Shh. It’s okay.”

  I sleep like a tiger and then someone’s hands are on my shoulders, and I just want them to leave me alone. I don’t want to think about this. I’m so sick of thinking.

  “Jonah. Jonah.”

  It’s Tyler. I sit up. My eyes sting like I’ve soaked them in acid.

  Tyler’s a film noir character in the half-light from my window. “Look,” he says, and holds out his hand.

  His ring finger is bent and swollen.

  I grab his hand and dig around in my backpack until I find a roll of medical tape. “You’re going to be fine,” I say. “Don’t let the doctor see. Please. Please don’t let him see.”

  He smiles like a maniac. “Jonah,” he says. “The good of the group, right? You’re a fucking genius.”

  Then it’s Halloween.

  thirty-eight

  JESSE. I WALK OUT OF ARTS AND CRAFTS THE NEXT morning, not perfect, but not altogether worse for wear, and there he is, chatting with Mackenzie at the desk while he signs the visitor’s clipboard.

  I approach him. “You skipped school to be here?”

  He shrugs. “At least there’s no chance of Mom and Dad bothering us. And there’s a notable lack of shrieking babies.”

  “Rather extreme, brother.” I remember last time and say, “You want to go outside?”

  I take him through the back doors, out to the courtyard. We sit on the rickety bench, and Jesse drags a stick across the ground.

  “They really give you a lot of freedom, here, don’t they?”
<
br />   “Yeah.”

  “Couldn’t you just run away?”

  I point toward the gates that block us from the real world and shake my bracelet. “Sensors go off if I get too close. It’s an illusionary freedom. How’s everything?”

  “Fine.” He takes my arm and compares my crazy-bracelet to the med-alert tags on his wrist.

  “Healthy?”

  “Yes, Jonah.” He shakes back his tags and spies the basketball by the side of the court. “Hey, you want to play?”

  “Is this just revenge for asking if you’re healthy? Okay. I didn’t mean it. I don’t care if you’re healthy. Want a peanut butter sandwich?”

  “Shut up.” He stands up and throws the ball at me. “Let’s go.”

  Jesse got taller than me when we were six and seven. That was also the last year I could beat him in any kind of sport. But I give it my all, just like always, because it’s what he expects even though I’m not feeling very basketbally at the moment. And it’s not as if I can move much.

  He fakes left and almost sends me toppling. “Reflexes, brother. Haven’t improved, haveya?”

  “Oh, hush.”

  He holds the ball over his head. “No toes. Can’t jump.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Don’t.” He dribbles right and throws the ball toward the hoop like he’s punishing it. It sinks right through the net.

  He smiles and flicks a bit of sweat off his forehead.

  “You terrify me.”

  He retrieves the ball and offers his other arm to me. “Want to go? I’ll pick you up.”

  “You could not pick me up with one arm.”

  “Hell yeah, I could.” He grabs me around the waist, under the sling, and lifts me a full foot off the ground. “Hurting your ribs?”

  “Uh-uh. Holy shit, you’re strong.” I take the ball from him, balance it in my one hand, and shoot. “Score.”

  “Yep. Putting you down. Watch your toes, okay?”

  He could keep playing for ages, I know, but he senses I’m getting tired and guides me over to the bench. “How’s everything here?” he asks.

  I consider telling him about Tyler and Leah, then decide that would be a really, really bad idea. “Fine,” I say. “The people here are wearing on me. I kind of want to come home.”

  “Kind of?” He stretches his legs out. “I miss you like fuckass.”

  “I know. But you’re doing okay without me.”

  “Stop saying that.” Jess’s cell phone timer goes off and he pops a few pills into his mouth. “You look exhausted.”

  “I haven’t been sleeping much.”

  “Yeah, me neither.” He shifts and pulls his legs onto the bench. “So when are you coming home?”

  “It’s sort of hard to say. The psychiatrist doesn’t think I’m ready.” I pull on my fingers. “Doesn’t believe me when I say I’m not breaking anymore.”

  “But you aren’t, are you?”

  I shake my head.

  “But he doesn’t believe you?”

  “He said nothing’s changed. Said there’s no real reason for me to change my behavior, and that people don’t just change without motivation.”

  “He’s keeping you here to spout philosophies at you?”

  “I just don’t understand what he expects me to change. That’s the whole damn problem, is that I can’t change anything.”

  Jess scratches his cheek. “Maybe I could talk to him. Tell him we need you at home?”

  “Stop scratching. And you’re not going to convince anybody. You got to just wait it out, Jess. They’re treating me well. Give me, like, a week to convince them I’m not crazy, and I’ll be at home making you sick just like always.”

  He scratches his wrist. “What’d you say?”

  “Nothing. Why are you scratching so much?”

  He shrugs.

  “You okay?”

  He shrugs again, and I know what that means. And he starts clearing his throat. Shit.

  “All right,” I say. “Come inside and wash your hands. You probably just touched something.”

  He nods. He’s making those I-trust-you eyes.

  “You have the Epi? Just in case?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “All right. Come on. You’re okay.” I haul him up and lead him through the doors. “Mackenzie,” I say. “Do you have a bathroom on this floor we can use?”

  She makes speed-of-light eye contact with me. I bite my lip.

  She says, “Just bring him upstairs. It’s fine. I’ll clear it.”

  “Thanks, you.”

  She nods.

  Once we’re in the elevator, I give Jesse a real examination. His eyes are red and swollen, but he’s not too broken out. “I think you’re allergic to this building.”

  He squeezes his runny nose. “What a surprise.”

  I bring him to the bathroom I share with Tyler and help him splash his face with water.

  “You’re wheezing a little bit,” I say. “Is this going to be a big thing?”

  God please no please no please no not again.

  He inhales, slowly. “Just let me sit in your room for a while, okay?”

  I bring him into my room and we sit on the floor, our backs against the bed. He puts his head on my shoulder and closes his eyes.

  Tyler peeks in, his taped-up fingers on the door frame. “Hey,” he says.

  I give him an apologetic smile and mouth, Go away.

  He points at Jesse. “He okay?”

  “He’s great. Can we get a minute, Tyler?”

  He nods and whispers, “Sorry” on his way out.

  “Who was that?” Jesse asks.

  “Tyler. Just one of the boys here.”

  “What happened to his hand?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I feel Jess’s heartbeat on my shoulder, and it’s slow and steady. Which could be good or bad, depending on how serious this reaction is. “You’re fine.” I grip his hand. “Everything’s fine.”

  I feel my heart going double time to his.

  Please be okay.

  Please be okay.

  He sneezes into my shirt. “Please be okay,” I say.

  “Okay.”

  “God, Jess, I’m sorry. Wait.” I find an extra dose of Benadryl in my backpack and make him take it. He keeps snuffling for a few minutes, but his breathing comes back and the whites of his eyes lighten and I see the reaction slow and then stop.

  “Y’okay?” I say.

  “Yeah.”

  Fuck, why did I make him come here? He was perfectly healthy, and I drag him here when I know this place is bad for him. I could kill myself.

  “You sure you’re going to be fine?”

  “Positive. But I should probably go.”

  “Of course.”

  I get Jesse off the floor and dust him off. I put my hand on his chest and make him breathe, check his jaw for hives, make him open his mouth so I can look at his throat . . . just all the shit you have to do.

  He’s fine.

  “You should probably just call next time,” I tell him, and my stomach hurts.

  And he looks like his does too. “I need to see you.”

  “I know you do, Jess, but—”

  “Jonah!” Mackenzie’s voice rings through the hallway like an alarm bell. I hear every muscle clenched in her throat. “Jonah, come here!”

  She’s in the hall on her knees, clutching her arm. Her wrist is swollen and turning purple.

  I say, “Did you . . . fall?”

  Jesse skids beside me. “Oh my God.”

  She keeps sputtering.

  I drop to my knees next to Mackenzie. “What did you do?” I grab the tops of her arms and shake her. “What the fuck did you do?”

  “I slipped,” she says. “It was an accident! It was just—”

  Jesse’s white against the wall. “Oh my God.”

  I shout, “Jesse, sit down!”

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  The unfamiliar voice breaks up
all our screaming. No one speaks while I turn around.

  A nurse stands above us. Her huge eyes dart from Mackenzie’s broken wrist to illegal visitor Jesse. To me.

  I’m crazy dizzy and I barely remember to tell the nurse not to touch Jesse as she forces him downstairs.

  I’m crazy dizzy and I don’t know what happens to Mackenzie. I just know the psychiatrist stands over me and smiles this wicked smile and says, “Well, well, Jonah.”

  I just know they take me in the elevator and hit the 3.

  thirty-nine

  IT TURNS OUT ISOLATION IS WORSE THAN ELECTRO-shock therapy.

  I feel like Rapunzel. Except no long hair.

  And there is one door and one window. But the door is locked and the window is high and instead of curtains it has bars.

  And through the window all you can see are skeletons of cherry trees. This is what they were hiding behind those trees. Third floor.

  I hope Jesse’s okay.

  This room is much bigger than my last. There’s no carpet, just an empty bookshelf and a cot. A tiny little intercom. Just tile floor and bare walls.

  I sit on the floor with my shirt off, hoping the chill off the plaster can cool me down. And every time I worry about Jesse I start shaking even harder.

  I’ve got to get out of here.

  Jesse had hives when he left. He could have been driving home and his throat could have closed up and he could have crashed and it could have been all. My. Fault.

  This room would be so much less scary if it were smaller.

  I pound my cast against the floor. My swollen hand fights back. “Tyler!” I shout. “Tyler, I’m in fucking isolation! Get me out of here!”

  The intercom buzzes and the psychiatrist says, “Jonah, quiet. It’s only a few days.”

  I’m trembling so hard I hear my backbone hitting the wall.

  “We can’t take the risk of you hurting more people,” he says.

  I think if I’m going to keep on living, everyone’s just going to have to accept that I am going to hurt people.

  I start crying, and the tears are even hotter than my face. “It’s not on purpose!” I shout. “Tyler!”

  “He can’t hear you,” the intercom says. “You might as well just quiet down and try to get some rest.” The microphone clicks off.

  My parents would come down with a fucking lawsuit if they knew what these people were doing to me. I wonder what everyone downstairs would say. I wonder if they know.