by K. J. Reilly
I am a good person.
I am not a lone wolf or a terrorist or a psychopath.
I’m so sorry.
I am so sorry.
It’s all my fault.
I never thought anyone would find the gun.
I never wanted to hurt anyone.
Please forgive me.
PLEASE LET ME SEE JACEY.
Later, Jace told me that they were all sitting in the sharing circle and then when it was his turn to show-and-tell he ran to the cubbies to get his backpack, which he explained you weren’t supposed to take out of the cubby area unless it was circle time and show-and-tell, and he took the gun out and held it up and then he told everyone in his class, “I found a gun stuck in the bricks in my garage where I hide my trucks.”
Jacey told me that Jeremy Smuts said, “WOW!” And Courtney Ruben said, “My daddy has five guns.” But Mrs. Hanson didn’t say anything, “for like a long, long time,” and then “she looked scared and stood up really, really slow.”
Finally, he told me that Mrs. Hanson said, “JACE, PUT DOWN THE GUN!”
And he told her, “But it’s my turn….”
Then he told me that he was wearing the police badge when he took the gun out of his backpack and that he had worn it all day.
This is what I knew: This was on me. As in completely on me.
But this is where I made the next mistake in my geometric progression.
I told the truth about everything EXCEPT for one thing.
I never told my parents or the cops where I got the gun.
I didn’t want to get Rooster in trouble.
This is what I said instead:
I found the gun on the side of the road. Up on Kennedy Boulevard by the Boys & Girls Club. On the right side of the road behind the speed limit sign if you’re heading from town.
That was it.
A big lie.
Studded with enough details to make it sound true.
And it was the worst mistake in the entire universe.
so I got to see Jace.
He was wearing the shiny police badge when he walked into the interrogation room where I was being held.
It was lopsided and pinned to his shirt.
It was fake.
The sergeant who brought Jace to me told me that.
This is what Jace said when he saw me:
“JJJJJOOOOEEEEELLLL!”
Then he ran toward me and I hugged him and said that it was all my fault and I was so, so sorry.
Jacey cried and I cried and there was a cop in the room with us and then I said I’m so glad that you’re safe and I never wanted to hurt you and you should never touch a gun and why were you in the garage by the bricks and he said, “That’s a secret spot where I keep my trucks sometimes.” And I said you should know better and I should know better and what were you thinking and Mom is going to kill me and then Jacey said, “Joel, I got in big trouble for bringing your gun to school,” and I said, “I know, buddy.”
“I got brought to the principal’s office and the police station and Mrs. Hanson said, ‘PUT THE GUN DOWN, JACE!!!’ And I put the gun down and I didn’t shoot anyone not even by accident.”
When they took Jace out of the room, Jackson asked the sergeant if I was going to be arrested and if he was sure that I didn’t need a lawyer and the cop said, “No, he isn’t going to be arrested.” And then the cop with the mustache said that at this point, as far as they were concerned, this appeared to be a terrible mistake and that for the time being I wouldn’t be charged with anything other than possibly with possession of an unregistered weapon but they were confiscating the gun and would run it through the system to see if it had been fired or had a record and Jace and I would likely be able to go back to school but that was up to the district and it would likely be after a hiatus so they could talk to the other students and the parents who were all outraged and worried. I asked if I could still go to work at the soup kitchen and the cop said, “That’s not up to the police. You’re a free citizen but don’t do anything to hurt anyone.” And I said, “Why would I hurt anyone?” And he said, “Because you had a gun.” And then Jackson said, “Joel, stop talking.” And then one of the detectives said, “Son, you didn’t keep the gun away from a tender-aged child.” And I wanted to say, You didn’t keep the gun away from a tender-aged child MEANING ME or a mentally ill person MEANING ROOSTER and I didn’t know Jacey kept his trucks in the pile of bricks in the garage and I didn’t know that he would find the gun and bring it to school. But I didn’t say any of that. I ReThought and saved it as a draft in my head and stopped talking just like Jackson said. Then everyone said, “Thank God no one got hurt,” over and over again and Jesus, Mary came out of a room with a social worker and Jace and a detective, and my mom hugged me and started to cry and shake and I thought, Thank God I took the bullet out before I put the gun back in the plastic bag the last time I had it out.
TEXT FROM JOEL TO ANDY 7:47 p.m.
I found one thing I’m really good at.
Lying.
Jacey and I got sent to our rooms but not before we were grilled on illegal activities and weapons possession by Jackson and Jesus, Mary.
I said I had no weapons in my room or the garage or anywhere else. Jacey said he had a pair of sharp scissors—not the blunt-tipped safety kindergarten kind—and Jesus, Mary said, “Hand them over.”
Then Jesus, Mary had to go because her cell phone was ringing nonstop. All sorts of people were calling from the two schools and the newspapers and neighbors were saying, “Is there anything we can do?” And she and Jackson had an emergency phone meeting with the superintendent of schools on account of the fact that I might have been planning an attack or been part of a plan to do something horrible. Later Jackson explained that state law mandated a one-year suspension if a student brings a weapon to school but since Jacey was only five and the gun was unloaded and he had no intention of committing an act of violence they had leeway in his case. And then he told us that they would have counselors at both schools all day tomorrow and that me and Jace had to stay home for three days so everyone could calm down and he and my mom would have to go address the parents at a special meeting at Shady Brook on Friday to explain that what happened was not what it looked like. And if that went well then we could go back to school on Monday. If not, Jesus, Mary said, we would have to go to Catholic school. And I was thinking, Oh no. Not more God.
Then I overheard my mom telling Jackson that there are two choices: St. Clare of Assisi in White Plains and St. Pat’s in Rye. And she added, “If they won’t take them, then—”
But Jackson interrupted her, saying, “Jesus, Mary, they would have to take them. It’s the church, for Christ’s sake.”
Either way—Catholic school or regular school—we would both have to go to a therapist because the school insisted that there could be psychological ramifications that needed early intervention, plus it was “mandated protocol in situations like this.” I was hoping they assigned someone better than Mrs. Wilson for me, what with how she handled the fight with Mr. Kutchner and my upset-ed-ness over Andy’s death last year.
Later that night Jackson stuck his head in my room and said, “Joel, are you okay?” And I said, “I think so.” And then he said, “Look, at this point, it is what it is. But this could have ended a very different way.”
And we both looked at the floor because we knew what that could have been.
I added, “But you didn’t even yell at me or punish me.” And Jackson said, “This is way too big for that.”
And I knew he was right.
“We’ll talk more tomorrow, and we’ll fix this,” Jackson said, and it was the best thing that my pop ever said to me in my entire life. Then he said that he knew that I would never hurt anyone, especially Jacey, and that I made a terrible mistake bringing a gun into the house and hiding the gun in the garage but that it was fixable and then I cried like I had never cried in my entire life.
Then Pop hugged me a
nd said, “I have to take your phone, Joel. The police asked me to monitor any incoming calls or texts tonight. Nothing official. But just in case.”
I handed it over.
And I said, “I am so, so sorry.”
And Jackson said, “I know you are. But I want you to remember that being sorry hardly ever fixes anything. And that’s worth remembering.”
TEXT FROM BENJ TO JOEL 11:07 p.m.
Joel, my aunt said you might be a school shooter but I know you R
not a bad person.
TEXT FROM JOEL TO BENJ 11:09 p.m.
It’s Joel’s dad. I took Joel’s phone. I will tell him.
TEXT FROM BENJ TO JOEL 11:11 p.m.
Oh. Maybe leave off the part about what my aunt said.
TEXT FROM BENJ TO JOEL 11:12 p.m.
Is Jacey okay?
TEXT FROM JOEL TO BENJ 11:16 p.m.
Yes.
TEXT FROM BENJ TO JOEL 11:23 p.m.
Is Joel okay?
TEXT FROM JOEL TO BENJ 11:30 p.m.
Everyone’s okay.
Are you okay, Benj?
TEXT FROM BENJ TO JOEL 11:33 p.m.
I think so.
* * *
TEXT FROM ELI TO JOEL 11:37 p.m.
Are you ok? I’m worried.
TEXT FROM JOEL TO ELI 11:41 p.m.
It’s Joel’s dad. I have his phone. He’s ok.
TEXT FROM ELI TO JOEL 11:42 p.m.
Thank you, Mr. Higgins. I’ve been praying for all of you.
and everyone forgot about the fact that Jace brought a gun to school and no one really thought I was hoarding weapons or starting a militia or going to show up and shoot up the school anymore.
Jace had to go meet with a therapist two times a week and he could never remember her name, so Jackson started calling her Dr. Crayon on account of the fact that Jacey said all they did was color pictures together. But apparently there was “reason to be concerned” according to Dr. Crayon, who said that when she asked Jacey to draw a picture of his family he always drew Jackson and Jesus, Mary and himself way smaller than me. Dr. Crayon was worried that this was indicative of my “dominance over the family,” and Jesus, Mary was reporting all of this to Jackson when they were standing in the kitchen and acting like I wasn’t there. As Jackson looked at the pictures Jace had drawn, he said, “Jesus, Mary, that’s a bunch of psychobabble bullshit!” Then he yelled, “Hey, Jacey,” and Jace ran into the kitchen and Jackson held up one of the drawings of me looking like the Incredible Hulk and them looking like little ants with giant eyes and hands and said, “Hey, Jace, why is Joel so big in this picture?” And Jace took the drawing from him and looked at it carefully and then said, “Because, Jackson, he’s my BIG brother and that’s how big brothers look! They look BIG.”
We all just looked at him and then he said, “Can I go now?”
Jesus, Mary kissed the top of his head and said, “Yes, you can.”
Jackson said, “See? Psychobabble bullshit,” and then he went to work.
I had to go to therapy with Mrs. Wilson two times a week and the deal was that if she wrote up a good report at the end of the year basically saying that I wasn’t messed up and wasn’t likely to kill anyone then I wouldn’t have to see her next year if I didn’t want to. Mrs. Wilson had concerns, though. She asked me if I knew what post-traumatic stress disorder was and when I told her that I did she sat back in her chair and said, “Tell me.” And I said, “PTSD is when you’ve been to a real traumatic place and it hurts your brain, not in a physical way, but a psychological way that makes coming back to normal really hard and it can manifest as panic and anxiety and sometimes as flashbacks and delusions that can be triggered by anything, a loud noise or a memory flash or even a feeling.”
Mrs. Wilson looked rightfully impressed and she said, “Nice, Joel.”
And then I said, “It’s because when you go back to the place that is supposed to be your home after being in an emotional atrocity, sometimes it doesn’t feel like home anymore even though you speak the language and you lived there your entire life. You have everything there, your family is there, and maybe you even have a girlfriend who is waiting for you but it’s just that when you are traumatized and go away and come back like that, it can seem different, so different, when you return. And not so much because home changed but because you changed. That place you were, even though it was more awful than you could have imagined and there was horror going on, now it can feel more like home to you in that bad place than it does in your real home. That bad place makes more sense to you now that nothing makes sense plus your buddies were there and you miss them and sometimes when you come home from horror and your girlfriend wants you to look at wedding dresses and she says, ‘Which one do you like better? The one with the pearled bodice or the one with the long train?’ or she tells you that her friend got a new car or that her boss eats the same sandwich every day you just look at her with a blank stare because she never saved your ass when a bomb was about to go off and everything she is saying sounds like something that you can’t understand and you want to tell her that there are places, the places you have been that are covered in sand, so much sand that you can’t see clearly or breathe anymore. And when you are there in those bad places you can’t shower for weeks and if you sit too long in the same position you can get deep vein thrombosis and a clot can travel to your brain or your lungs and kill you, and you learn on day one that a soldier’s creed is no man left behind and that you should chamber your last round so you can’t be taken alive and the first thing you do if your hand is blown off is apply a tourniquet so you don’t bleed out and you are never safe in those places even when you are sleeping and things can just blow up around you with no notice because everyone looks like a civilian but they might be carrying guns or planting improvised explosive devices and there are little kids running around and you can’t tell who to save because they all look the same to you because they are just people and you can’t tell who is an enemy. And you want to tell your girlfriend this in a language that she can understand because she can’t understand so you say to her, ‘Imagine that you are at Target or Kohl’s and you are pushing your cart around and trying to decide if you need to buy a garden hose or new sheets or you are wondering if you are out of paper towels and then there is an explosion that is so loud or maybe it’s just inside your head but either way now you can’t hear anything anymore and yet you feel it reverb in your chest like your ribs are splitting open and then there is a second blast, this one is maybe in the sheet department or maybe it’s just inside you and no one else feels it and then there is another explosion in the toy department and then the sporting goods department is on fire and then the whole store is just gone and you are gone or maybe just some of you is gone or maybe it looks like you are all there but then the doctors say they don’t have the parts they need to make you whole.’
“And then your girlfriend just looks at you and you know that it will never be the same with her because even though you are both speaking English, you are not home. PSTD is like nuclear fallout and radiation and it can do that kind of shit to your head.”
Mrs. Wilson sat back in her chair.
I sat back in my chair.
Neither one of us talked for a long time. Then Mrs. Wilson said, “Joel, I think you are going to have to see me in the fall.”
I said, “I agree.”
And then I said, “Can I go now?”
came into the soup kitchen just like he had been doing every other Wednesday and he stood inside the doorway like he usually did waiting for me to walk toward him so I could go watch his stuff.
I saw that Eli stopped what she was doing and she came over and whispered, “Joel, I see the bear,” and I said, “Me too,” and then she went to make him a plate of food. Normally people had to get a tray and get in line but Eli always brought Rooster a tray of food herself to entice him, and Mrs. T looked the other way and she never said anything about us breaking the rules or anything. Rooster was weari
ng Benj’s orange socks on his feet and had Benj’s blue socks on his hands like they were mittens. I stood by the kitchen door watching and I saw Benj eyeing him with a dumbstruck look on his face like he had just solved a puzzle that had been bugging him for a while as he stood there putting two and two together and getting exactly four. He came over to me and said, “Joel, are those…” but he must have ReThought it because after a minute he just walked away without finishing the sentence. Then Rooster took his hat off and I noticed that he had a gash on his forehead that was bleeding and then I saw Mrs. T heading over and she pointed up at his head and Rooster started to get upset. He pulled away from her a bit and started walking backward like he was going to leave and I went over to try to coax him back and then Eli started walking toward him with a tray of food.
I said, “Here you go,” taking the tray from Eli and putting it down on a table near the door and then I said, “Why don’t you sit here and I’ll go watch your stuff?” Rooster looked at the exit and then at the food and then he sat down and I went outside to babysit his cart.
Mrs. T followed me outside and I waved at Rooster, giving him the thumbs-up when I got to his shopping cart. Mrs. T said, “Thanks for that, Joel. You handled it well.” She looked like she really meant it and I nodded my head and then she said, “Look. I think that cut of his needs to be looked at. I can call the police and they’ll send the paramedics over and they can treat it right here. Assuming he cooperates.” She looked at me for a minute and then added, “What do you think?”
I said, “I think it’s a really bad idea.”
She said, “But that gash looks like it might be infected and it could need stiches.”
So I said, “What if we asked him first?”
“I just did.”
And I said, “We could try again.” Then I added, “Can I do it?”