by Leah Scheier
Jonah’s mom sank weakly into her chair. “I’m so sorry, Doctor,” she said. “He’s not normally like this. He’s usually kind and quiet and so, so bright. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but that person you just saw, I promise you that wasn’t Jonah.”
“I believe you, Mrs. Golden,” Dr. Steiner replied. He paused thoughtfully and put his hands together. “Can you tell me when you noticed a change in him?”
She hesitated. “Well, I’m not sure if this has anything to do with it, but before we moved to Baltimore, his best friend was killed in a fight. Jonah was depressed for a long time after that, but after a few months, things started to get better. He began painting again, and he was dating April. He was excited about the future. And then this came on, maybe a few weeks ago, and I just don’t know what to think.”
“Can you tell me what you noticed?” Dr. Steiner asked.
Jonah’s mom shrugged and shook her head. “I’m not even sure how to describe it. I thought at first that it was migraines. He’d close his eyes and place his hands over his ears. But whenever I asked him, he’d tell me that he was fine. And he seemed scared of something; he’d break into a cold sweat for no reason at all. That’s what surprised me the most. He’s never been frightened of anything before. That boy can knock down a bully twice his size! But now he seems terrified of his own shadow. Do you think—do you think it could be that post-traumatic stress thing? PTSD? Because of what happened to his friend?”
The doctor seemed to consider for a while. “Was your son present when his friend was killed?”
She shook her head. “No, Jonah was at home.”
“Well, I suppose it’s possible—maybe the loss aggravated his condition—but I don’t think that’s it.”
“Then what could this be? I’ve thought about drugs, but I’ve searched his room a dozen times.”
“We’ll have to check for that, of course,” replied the doctor. “And there are a few other tests to run before we come to a diagnosis.”
“But are you suspecting something, Doctor?”
Dr. Steiner sighed and leaned forward across the desk. “Mrs. Golden, is there a history of mental illness in your family?”
She seemed to have been anticipating the question. “Yes, actually, my brother has bipolar disorder. But he’s been doing well on medication. Do you think that’s what it is?”
“It’s possible. Has Jonah been experiencing severe mood swings, going from depressed to manic suddenly? Extremely energetic, acting impulsively?”
She shook her head. “No, he’s mostly just frightened and withdrawn. Maybe a little depressed. I grew up with a manic brother, so I’d recognize those symptoms if I saw them.”
Dr. Steiner turned to me for the first time. “What about you, April? Have you noticed anything unusual in Jonah’s behavior?”
I didn’t know how to answer him. Telling him what I’d seen seemed like the worst possible betrayal. How can you tell a stranger that your boyfriend just gave you a tinfoil hat to protect you from magnetic brain waves? That you’re actually wearing that hat in his office? That you’d overheard your boyfriend screaming at nobody in his room? What would Dr. Steiner do to Jonah if I told him what I knew? How would Jonah feel about me if I betrayed him like that? No, I couldn’t risk it.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “He’s been boxing too much. His hands are swollen from it. And he blasts his music really loud.”
It seemed harmless to tell him that. Dr. Steiner stared at me for a moment and shook his head. He looked frustrated and tired, and I wondered if he was about to ask me to leave. Sorry, April, I’ve got no time to waste on liars.
But a moment later, I was actually wishing that he’d thrown me out, because his next question made my heart stop. “Have either of you noticed Jonah talking to somebody when there’s no one in the room?”
How could he have guessed that? And how could he look so confident, as if he already knew the answer to his question?
“No, Jonah doesn’t do that!” I snapped.
Dr. Steiner ignored me and turned to Mrs. Golden. She shook her head and swallowed hard. “What are you trying to say, Doctor?”
He sighed and crossed his arms. “I’m saying that in the five minutes that I observed your son, he appeared to me to be—how do I put it? The medical phrase is ‘responding to internal stimuli.’ Basically, it’s a fancy way of saying that I think that Jonah is hearing voices. I believe that he’s hallucinating.”
I hated the doctor suddenly, hated him with an intensity that shocked me. How dare he say something like that about my Jonah; how could he throw out a phrase like “hearing voices” as casually as if he were describing an ear infection? What gave him the right? He’d met Jonah for a few minutes, had barely even approached him, and he was telling us now that the boy I loved was so sick that he had a fancy medical phrase for it?
Jonah’s mom was gripping the handle of her purse so hard that the veins were standing out against her knuckles. “What—what does that mean, exactly?”
“I really can’t give you a definite diagnosis,” he responded. “He would need to be evaluated by a psychiatrist, probably in an inpatient setting—”
“You want to put him in a hospital?” she cried.
“As I said, Mrs. Golden, I’m not a psychiatrist. We would have to run some tests first, eliminate medical causes of psychosis—”
“Psychosis? You think that he’s psychotic?” She was weeping openly now, her cheeks shining with tears, black mascara running down in streaks over her face.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Golden. I believe in being honest with my patients. And the truth is, from what I’ve seen, Jonah appears to be suffering from some psychotic disorder. He’s hearing sounds that aren’t there, he’s paranoid, maybe even delusional. He needs to see someone—and quickly, before this escalates any further.”
“Hold on!” I protested. “When you say psychosis, you mean, like, psycho? Like the movie? Like that crazy guy who dressed up in his dead mother’s clothes and stabbed people to death? Are you insane, Doctor? Because Jonah would never hurt anybody. He’s the sweetest, most loving—”
“No, April, that isn’t what I meant at all,” he interrupted. “Psychosis is usually only dangerous to the people who suffer from it. They’re so wrapped up in their delusions that they often hurt themselves. But they don’t normally hurt other people. At least, they almost never do.”
“Almost never?” Mrs. Golden echoed. She’d stopped crying, and my anger was reflected in her flashing eyes. “So Jonah’s a lunatic who’ll probably never hurt me? That is what you’re telling me? Dr. Steiner, you don’t know my son. Jonah came here today because he knew that I was worried about him. He came because he loves me.”
“I didn’t say he didn’t love—”
But she was no longer listening to him. “Jonah is the most talented young man you have ever met. Did you know that he won art competitions back in Boston? Won first prize. Can a psychotic person do that, Doctor? Would a delusional boy stand by his friend, even if it means getting picked on by bullies every day? Would he learn to fight so that he can defend his friend? Would he stick to what he believes is right—even when his own father is pressuring him to give up? Psychotic people don’t know right from wrong, isn’t that true? But my son is the only person that I know who has always held on to his principles, even when it hurt. So maybe the rest of the world is psychotic, I’m not sure, but my son is the sanest person I know.”
I loved her in that moment; she’d defended Jonah when I hadn’t been able to. She was on our side. We were united in our love for Jonah, and so, in that moment, we were also united in hate.
Dr. Steiner looked momentarily chastened; he stared at his desk for several minutes and then finally got up from his chair.
“I understand your feelings, Mrs. Golden,” he told her sympathetically. “I never questi
oned your son’s character or his love for you. But good people can also get sick. And Jonah is sick, without a doubt. We aren’t talking about right or wrong. We’re talking about what’s real and what isn’t, what’s normal and what isn’t. And it isn’t normal to be terrified of a doctor’s visit. Not at his age anyway. It isn’t normal to hear babies screaming when the room is quiet.”
She flinched and got up from her chair. “Jonah was just stressed today—he didn’t want to come. I wish I’d left him alone.”
Dr. Steiner gave her an exasperated look and shook his head. “If you leave him alone, this will probably get worse. And the longer he’s sick, the harder it will be to treat him.”
Mrs. Golden’s eyes went cold. “Let’s go, April,” she said quietly.
We left the office without saying good-bye to the doctor. My mother was talking to Jonah in the waiting room. He looked up as we came in and hurried over to me.
“What did he say to you in there?” he demanded.
His mother took a hand mirror out of her purse and wiped the streaks of makeup off her cheeks. “Nothing worth hearing. Let’s go home.”
My mom walked over to her and put her hand out in sympathy, but Mrs. Golden shook her head. “I appreciate your help,” she said. “But I think we can deal with this on our own.”
There was a brief discussion about who would give me a ride back, but I settled that one pretty quickly. Riding with my mom would have meant a long talk about everything, and that just wasn’t happening today. I was going in the Goldens’ car. Everyone seemed too distracted and tired to argue. As I climbed into their van, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Is Jonah feeling better? How was the doctor’s visit?
It was sweet of Kris to remember. Jonah’s fine. He gave me a really nice beret for Hanukkah! I replied before I turned my phone off.
We drove back in silence. Jonah kept stealing nervous glances at both of us. Anyone could sense that something unpleasant had happened in the doctor’s office, but for the moment, Jonah seemed relieved that the experience was over and nothing much had changed. But when we were alone again in his room, he turned to me with a troubled, searching look.
“Are you going to tell me why my mother was crying?” he asked. “What actually happened in there?”
Would I ever be able to tell anyone the truth again?
“Dr. Steiner thought you were depressed and he wanted to put you on a bunch of pills,” I replied cautiously. “But your mother told him off. She was amazing, actually. You’d have been really proud.”
He didn’t believe me; I could see in his eyes that he knew I was lying. Without a word, he plucked the hat off my head and laid it on his lap. He ran his fingers over the tinfoil lining and examined the edges, then flipped it inside out and held it up against the light. “It looks okay, I guess,” he told me with a little exhale of relief. “Anyway, I’m glad that’s done.”
He settled back on his bed and waved me over. I climbed up next to him and laid my head against his shoulder. “Jonah, would you like me to stay here with you tonight?” I asked him. “Would it help you if I did?”
He laughed shortly. “Overnight? Are you serious? Your mom won’t let you.”
“I’ll talk to her. If you want me to, I’ll try to convince her.”
He nodded silently and closed his eyes.
I didn’t even have to argue with my mother. She agreed to let me sleep over—as long as the bedroom door stayed open, of course.
My first night with Jonah! It should have been a milestone in our romance. There should have been twenty wild texts to Kris announcing the occasion.
And I should have had to fight for it. Mom should have freaked out and demanded I come home.
But I wasn’t staying as Jonah’s girlfriend. I was staying as his nurse.
And Mom already knew that.
Chapter 22
Hold me while you have the strength
Or fall down to your knees
Turn your blind eyes to the sun
A lost boy on the run
Run away with me.
Nothing happened that night. And I’m not even talking about romance. I mean nothing happened. Jonah tossed and turned, and I watched him mutter to himself for hours. When the sun rose, he finally dozed off, and I trudged back home exhausted, collapsed on my bed, and immediately fell asleep.
I woke up a couple of hours later to a white and perfect morning. A light snow had begun to fall, and the lawn was bathed in sunlit stillness. The air smelled sweet and pure, and the far-off crunch of footsteps and tinkle of icicles melting at my window was just the background music I needed after the previous week.
School would be closed today. I didn’t even have to check. Baltimore city schools closed for days at even a hint of bad weather. I was safe in my bed for now. My mom had gone to work, so I didn’t have to worry about talking to anyone for a while. I knew we would eventually have an important conversation though. It had been brewing for weeks, and after Jonah’s behavior in the doctor’s office, I was sure she would sit me down and worry at me. But I wasn’t ready for that lecture yet.
A little after noon, the doorbell rang, and there was a familiar, rhythmic tapping at the door. I slipped out of bed and padded over to answer it. Kris was shaking the snow off her jacket and stomping the slush off her boots. I welcomed her inside and put a glass of hot chocolate in the microwave.
“I have something to tell you,” she said after she’d warmed her hands. “But before I do, I want to hear your news.”
I sat down next to her and wrapped a flannel blanket around my shoulders. “My news?”
She gave me a knowing look. “Well, I called here last night when you didn’t pick up your cell. Your mom said that you were at Jonah’s house. She said you were staying over there all night. So you know—I assumed that you might have something important to tell me today.”
The naive curiosity in her smile stung me. Until then, no matter what was going on, through all of Jonah’s moods and silences and unexplained rages, I never once felt sorry for myself. I loved him and accepted what was happening as a sort of test, a stage in our relationship. But now, with Kris staring at me expectantly, I realized that what I was going through wasn’t a normal teenage relationship at all. Kris was expecting a hot and steamy tale. The best I could offer was a story about a weird tinfoil beret.
“Nothing happened, Kris. Jonah wasn’t feeling well. So I stayed over. I don’t have news.”
“Oh.” She looked disappointed. “I was hoping that we could swap stories. Compare experiences. Because I have something to tell you.”
I was too tired for this. Normally I would have loved to hear about her life, I would have encouraged her to share the details, but now, after everything that had happened, I didn’t want to listen. I didn’t want to hear about Kris’s perfect, magical, new boyfriend.
“You’ve met someone?” I asked her, pushing my lips up into what I hoped was a supportive smile.
“Better than that! I’ve wanted to tell you about Danny for a long time. But every time we talked, it was always about Jonah. And I just can’t wait another minute.” She smiled brightly. “I’ve finally decided to go for it. I think I’ve met the one.”
At first, I didn’t know what she was talking about. The one what?
And then the penny dropped, and my stomach knotted up. I definitely didn’t want to hear any more.
“Wait a minute—do you mean…?”
“Yes, what else did you think? He’s just amazing. I’m dying for you to meet him. Don’t get me wrong though. I’m glad I waited all this time. But I just know it’s going to be unbelievable.”
All this time? I thought. None of her previous relationships had lasted over two weeks. “Wow, Kris. That is news. What makes this guy so special?”
“Oh, I knew you’d ask that. You just have
to meet Danny. Then you’ll understand.”
“Danny?” I searched my memory and came up blank. Had she mentioned him before?
“We looked at his profile a while ago,” she prompted. “You don’t remember?”
“Oh, right. The guitar guy. So have you guys actually…”
“No, not yet,” she answered quickly. “I was going to wait for our two-month anniversary. But I knew from the beginning that he was the one. I just kept him waiting so he wouldn’t think I was, you know…”
“Slutty?”
Her mouth fell open and her cheeks flushed red. I swallowed hard and looked away. That nasty word was hanging between us, harsh, embarrassing, and wrong. I’d just been horrible to her, the opposite of a best friend. But I wasn’t feeling like anybody’s friend that morning. And I was afraid to continue talking to her, because I knew that eventually she would ask about Jonah, and I would have nothing good to tell her. What was I supposed to say about him? The doctor thinks that my boyfriend is hallucinating, but I’m trying really hard not to believe it? There’s nothing sexy about that.
“I’m so sorry,” I said finally. “I should never have said that—”
“April.” There was a volume of hurt confusion in my name.
“I swear I didn’t mean it, Kris.”
“What’s going on with you?” There was no anger in her voice. I couldn’t believe how calm she sounded. She had every right to scream at me, to walk away from me…
But then she said it.
“It’s Jonah, isn’t it?”
My silence answered her.
“April, you’re really worried about him.”
It wasn’t a question. The answer was in front of her, in my bowed head and drooping shoulders, in the new quiet between us.
I wasn’t ready to admit it though. She still thought of Jonah as my sweet, amazing boyfriend. I couldn’t break that illusion.
But a moment later, it was shattered anyway. There was a loud hammering at the door. We both started at the sound, and I ran to answer it, Kris following behind me.