“That’s fuck you in any language,” Jonah said. “Not really, but it should be.”
The water boiled. I ripped open two packs of hot chocolate mix, poured them into mugs, and added water.
“I have a confession to make,” Jonah said. “I purposely busted up your Alonso’s date with Garber.”
“I thought so,” I said.
“It wasn’t a total fake-out. I really did find Matthew’s card when I got home that day. And I really was excited. I needed to see you. But pulling you away from Garber didn’t bother me much.”
“You did me a favor.”
“You want to know the real reason I don’t like him?”
“Yeah,” I said. I gave him his mug and a spoon and sat down at the kitchen table with him.
“Garber is the one who started that whole g-g-g-ghost thing,” Jonah said. “In seventh grade he started a rumor that I was dead. I don’t know why. Then, when I showed up, he screamed like he was seeing a ghost.”
“Anne told me about that,” I said. “On the first day of school. But she didn’t tell me that Garber started it.”
“He held a mock funeral for me. He gave this ridiculous joke eulogy about how no one would miss me because I’d never really existed in the first place.”
“That’s awful,” I said. “Why was he so mean to you?”
Jonah stirred his hot chocolate. “I don’t know. People did a lot of mean things in seventh grade. Not just Tom, and not just to me. And in a way, secretly, I kind of liked it. That funeral brought me more attention from the other kids than I’d gotten in years. Then they forgot about me and moved on to other targets.”
“You liked it? I don’t believe you.”
“No, really. Part of me felt like, Matthew died, and now I’m dying. It’s the way things are supposed to be. I forgot that after you die, people forget about you.”
“Not everyone forgets. You didn’t forget.”
“That’s why it surprised me,” Jonah said. “When they forgot.”
“Well, I’m glad you told me, even though it’s too late,” I said. “Tom already burned me.”
“You wouldn’t have listened to me before.”
“Maybe I would have. But thanks for trying to protect me, anyway.”
“I wasn’t just trying to protect you,” Jonah said. “I was jealous too.”
I focused on my mug, trying to keep my face from showing my surprise. “Jealous?”
“Not like that,” Jonah said. So he wasn’t going to confess his love for me. I felt relief and disappointment, mixed. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear a confession of love, but it would have given the night a dramatic kick.
“I was jealous as a friend,” Jonah said. “An all-consuming friend. I don’t want to share you with anyone, not even your parents. I know it’s weird and not fair, but that’s how I feel.”
“I want you all to myself too,” I said. The two of us in that kitchen felt more like a family than I’d ever been with my parents.
He laughed. “Don’t worry. You have zero competition.”
“Except Matthew,” I said.
Jonah laughed again and nodded, as if the idea of competing with Matthew were ridiculous. But it wasn’t.
“These curtains are hideous, by the way,” he said, tugging on the chickens.
We stayed up the rest of the night listening to psychics on the radio make predictions for the coming year. An earthquake. A celebrity wedding. The comet. Then we fell asleep on the living room couch, curled up together, half covered by an afghan, as the first day dawned gray, pink, and frozen.
JANUARY
CHAPTER 15
The day of the big comet disaster, January 23, came and went without fanfare. No comet crashed to earth. The coasts of the great continents were not deluged, no plagues sickened the world’s people, no alien fascists invaded the planet. Not on that day.
Herb:
How do you explain that, Kreplax?
Kreplax:
I must have miscalculated the astronomical date. I’ve never been good at math—
Herb:
You might have told us that before you scared us all with your predictions of doom.
Kreplax:
Yeah, I might have. But then you wouldn’t have listened to me.
Herb:
I believe that’s my point…
Jonah picked that day to visit Matthew again. He had tiptoed around the idea with his father, who firmly repeated that there would be no visits to St. Francis. So Jonah had to be careful not to alarm Dr. Kramer or anyone else at the institution. He wanted them to think it was okay for us to visit, that we had Mr. Tate’s permission. If Dr. Kramer called to check and Mr. Tate forbade our visits, they would end.
I knew that would crush Jonah. After so many years without his brother, one half-hour visit had reawakened some lost part of him. Jonah showed an easy, unqualified affection for Matthew that I’d never seen him show for anyone else. Including me.
This time Jonah brought the Evil Miss Frankenheimer with him. She was much less worn than Catso. While the Evil Miss Frankenheimer had sat in Jonah’s closet all these years, Matthew had carried Catso everywhere with him. The nurses at St. Francis patched him up to keep him together. It seemed that if Catso fell apart, Matthew would too.
We were led to the dayroom. This time, the patients listened to music while nurses and aides moved their arms and legs around for them. A workout of sorts. When exercise period was over, we approached Matthew. He seemed less lively without a pile of clay in front of him. He slumped in his chair, a thread of drool trickling down his chin.
“Hi, Matthew,” Jonah said. “Look who I brought.”
Matthew lifted his head. I don’t know if it was the sight of Jonah or the Evil Miss Frankenheimer, but he brightened. Jonah walked Miss Frankenheimer up Matthew’s leg and made her kiss Catso. “Oh, Catso, I missed you so much,” Jonah said in a girl voice. Matthew gripped Catso as if he were trying to move her, but couldn’t. Or maybe he was clinging to her, trying to protect her.
“You know what I missed the most?” Jonah said in his Frankenheimer voice. “The sword fights!”
He bounced Miss Frankenheimer around, attacking Catso and making funny fighting noises. Matthew’s mouth fell open and his head dropped back.
“I’ve never seen him do that before,” the nurse said.
“He’s laughing,” Jonah said.
It was hard to tell what Matthew was doing. He wasn’t shaking, the way most people do when they laugh. But he kept dropping his jaw open in an expression of glee. And every time the nurse picked up his head, he tossed it back. On purpose.
“Stop picking up his head,” Jonah said to the nurse. “Let him do it.”
“I don’t think it’s good for his neck,” the nurse said.
“You don’t think laughing is good for him?” Jonah said.
“I’m not sure that’s laughing,” the nurse said gently.
“You don’t know him at all, do you?” Jonah said. “He’s lived here ten years and nobody really knows him.”
“Jonah—” I touched his shoulder. His voice was rising.
“You heard what she said,” Jonah said. “She’s never seen him do this before. And I’m telling you, this is how he laughs. That means in ten years, Matthew has never laughed. Not once.”
“I’ve only worked here for two years—” the nurse said.
“Even so,” Jonah said. “Two years. Can you imagine not laughing for two years straight? What kind of hellhole is this?”
“I think you’d better calm down,” the nurse said.
“Is there a problem here?” A large man, an orderly, came over and set his hands on his hips in an intimidating way.
“This visitor is causing problems,” the nurse said.
“I’m causing problems? I’m causing problems? Did I put my brother in a wheelchair? Did I lock him away in this place? Did I neglect him so much he looks dead in his eyes, until he sees me? Those are real proble
ms. Not a little noise!”
The orderly took him by the shoulders. “Come on, kid. Time to go.”
Jonah struggled, but the orderly was strong and used to manhandling difficult people. “No! I’ve got fifteen minutes left in my visiting session!”
“You just forfeited them. Next visit, don’t give the nurse a hard time, or you’ll be banned forever. Hear me?”
“We hear you,” I said, taking Jonah by the hand and leading him away. “Come on, Jonah, we’ll be back soon.”
He looked back at Matthew, whose head had dropped forward again, eyes shut. His body went slack, except for his left arm, which pounded Catso against his cheek.
Someone from St. Francis made a call to Jonah’s father. They told him that Jonah had visited and upset the nurse, the orderly, and Matthew.
“What bullshit,” I said.
“He was so pissed,” Jonah said. “So pissed. I haven’t seen him that pissed in a long time. Usually he’s just calm and cold, like a big scary iceberg.”
“What did he say?”
“He said I’m not allowed to go to St. Francis ever again. He told Dr. Kramer to make sure I was kept away, even if they have to post a mug shot in the front office. He said I have no business butting into Matthew’s care. I should do as I’m told, stop worrying about Matthew, and worry more about myself, because I’m in danger of turning out to be a huge loser if I don’t buckle down and concentrate, make some friends, go to college, et cetera, et cetera. All in a voice of doom at ear-splitting decibels.”
I couldn’t imagine Mr. Tate yelling like that. He’d seemed so controlled when I met him.
We sat in the courtyard outside the Upper School building, shivering in the weak winter sun. The bell rang. It was time for Assembly.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Jonah said.
“About Matthew.”
“Oh. I don’t know.”
But I knew him, and I knew that now that he’d found Matthew, he wouldn’t give him up. Somehow, Jonah was going back to St. Francis.
“What are you doing after school?” I asked Jonah at the Morgue one Friday. “Want to go junk shopping?”
“I can’t,” Jonah said. He didn’t say more.
I finished my grilled cheese.
“Why not?” I finally asked.
“Homework,” Jonah said.
“Homework?” I said. “You never do your homework.”
“And Yodel stuff,” he said.
“Bullshit,” I said.
“Think whatever you want. It’s true,” he said.
No way was it true. Something was up.
“You’re going to St. Francis, aren’t you?” I said.
“No.”
“Yes, you are. What are you going to do, sneak in there?”
“I don’t know yet,” he said.
“Can I come?”
“Not this time. Why should we both get arrested?”
“Do you think they’ll arrest you?”
“Who knows?” He raised his pale eyebrows, two streaks of vanilla on his snowy face, and his eyes glittered.
“Have you been back since the last time?” I asked.
He nodded. I felt a stab of disappointment. He’d gone without me, without even telling me. “They wouldn’t let me in,” he said. “Dad must have threatened them. He controls the money. They’ll do what he wants.”
“So what are you going to do?” I asked.
“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
“Who would I tell?”
“I’m going to disguise myself. Wig, glasses, dress—”
“Dress?”
“I’ll say I’m a social worker or something. We’ll see what happens. As long as they don’t suspect it’s me, they won’t call the police.”
“They’ll know it’s you. You’re going to get into huge trouble.”
“I don’t care. I’ve got to see Matthew. I want to make sure he’s okay.”
“Do you need to borrow any clothes?”
“Maybe. I was going to hit the Salvation Army but if you’ve got something that will fit me—”
“I’ll help you,” I said. Mom and I hadn’t taken any fake-movie photos in months. I missed dressing her in drag and pointing a gun at her head. But she wasn’t into it anymore. “I’ve got tons of stuff—props, costumes, makeup…”
“As long as I look real,” Jonah said. “Remember, I have to look real.”
I studied his haunted face—the pale skin, the spooky eyes—and thought, That might not be so easy.
“Come over after school,” I said. “We’ll do what we can.”
At seven o’clock that night, the doorbell rang. Dad was eating at the Faculty Club, so Mom and I were having chicken pot pie in front of the TV. Jeopardy! was on. I was picking out carrots and avoiding peas.
I’d spent the afternoon helping Jonah disguise himself in a wig and a dress and glasses. I did the best I could to make him look like a real female, then watched him drive off to St. Francis.
Ding-dong.
“Maybe that’s Jonah.” Visiting hours would be over by now. I got up to answer the door. It was him.
“Here.” Jonah stuffed the curly blond wig into my arms. His face, still rouged, looked sunken. I could tell immediately that his plan hadn’t worked.
I pulled him inside. “Mom, we’re going up to my room.”
“Wait. Stop. You didn’t finish your dinner,” Mom said without taking her eyes off Alex Trebek.
“Ignore her,” I said to Jonah. We went upstairs and sat on my bed. “What happened?”
“I managed to confuse the receptionist long enough for her to let me in,” he said. “But I guess I don’t walk like a girl or something. She followed me down the corridor. I started to run, like an idiot.”
“Oh, Jonah.”
“So she yelled ‘Stop!’ and chased me. I didn’t stop, so she screamed her head off for security. They tackled me and tore off my wig and said ‘Ah-ha!’ They actually said ‘Ah-ha.’ Then they threw me out. They said next time they’ll call the police.”
I went to my dresser and dunked a Kleenex in cold cream. “You’re lucky they didn’t arrest you this time.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Lucky.” His head bobbled on his neck, unconsciously dodging me as I tried to rub the rouge off his face.
“Hold still,” I said. “Did they call your father?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably. I haven’t been home yet.” He kicked off my moccasins, the only girl shoes we’d managed to stuff his feet into. “We’ve got to get Matthew out of there.”
“But he needs special care,” I said. The Kleenex turned red. I threw it away.
“I can take care of him,” Jonah said. “Once school’s finished, I can stay with him all the time. I used to help my mother take care of him. It’s hard, but I can do it.”
He was serious, and I knew it, but I didn’t think about what he was really saying.
“What will you do until school’s out?” I said. Graduation was six months away.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Think. Plot. Plan.”
“I’ll help you think and plot and plan,” I said.
“Okay,” he said. But his rueful half-smile really said, You can’t.
FEBRUARY/MARCH
CHAPTER 16
I hate February. It’s the bleakest month of the year, and that February was even bleaker than usual. It snowed half a foot, then freezing-rained for a week until the whole world seemed carved out of metal-gray slush.
In March, it snowed again and then just plain old rained. The few sunny days were cold and windy and fluorescent in a glaring, turn-that-light-down way, exposing the bare trees and brown grass and other ugly wounds of winter no one was ready to see. They blended together, February and March, into one long, lonely winter’s end.
Dad had a heavy course load and spent long days on campus. Mom hunted for a job, some kind of arts work, but nobody was hi
ring. I often found her on the phone, speaking quietly, as if she didn’t want me to hear. An odd way to talk to prospective employers, I thought, but I didn’t ask. I just wished she’d get a job so she wouldn’t be ghouling around the house so much when I got home from school.
The winter left her thinner than ever, dark hollows shadowing her eyes. She started seeing a therapist—Dad made her go—and she said that was helping. If it was, I couldn’t tell. Maybe she didn’t nap so much, but she still did spacy stuff like parking on a hill without the emergency brake. She came out of Louie’s Bookstore to find the Volvo had rolled backward down Charles Street and crashed into another parked car. After the car was fixed, she left it running in the driveway all night without realizing it. She hung a plastic chicken and a St. Christopher medal from the rearview mirror, but they didn’t bring the poor Volvo much good luck.
As for me, I stayed up all night listening to the radio, and, in the mornings, I tunneled to school through the World of Gray Slush. I avoided Anne and the other girls when I could; ever since New Year’s Eve, I felt embarrassed around them. Tom and Meredith were together now, and everybody knew how it had happened. The whole Tom thing was kind of humiliating. I was over him, but, despite my denials, AWAE and Tiza and Carter seemed to think I was crushed by his rejection. Just like Lucy Moran, they said. Sure, I had circles under my eyes and dirty hair and a wrinkled uniform, and I slouched around school staring at the floor as if my dog had just died, but that had nothing to do with Tom.
Jonah skipped school at least once a week, claiming to be sick. But he was there one morning in Assembly when Lockjaw announced that the art teachers were accepting entries for the Spring Art Show in April.
“Let’s do a project together,” I whispered to him while Nina Fogel took over the podium to hector the seniors about looming Yodel deadlines and how missing them would ruin their lives.
“I can’t,” he said. “I’ve already started my project.”
How to Say Goodbye in Robot Page 14