by Leah Scheier
“You never apologized—” Jonah said in a low voice.
But his father wasn’t listening anymore. He rose from his chair and turned sharply to his wife. “You said he needed space, Rachel. You said we needed to give him some room. A new environment, a new school, a brief separation. And now I come down here to find that my son has wasted away to nothing and was admitted to a mental ward! They’ve refused to tell me his diagnosis, probably because they have no idea what they’re talking about. And they wouldn’t even let me see him right away. I have to wait for your permission as if I’m some sort of monster. As if I’m the one who caused this! That’s what you all think now, don’t you? That this is also my fault? Is that what they’re saying to you?”
“No one blames you, Aaron,” she assured him. “And you’re jumping to conclusions. Listen, Jonah’s doctor will be making rounds soon, and you can talk about his diagnosis then. We can discuss his treatment and come up with a plan. But for now, just sit down and talk normally to your son—like you used to do. You haven’t seen each other for months. Please, Aaron. Both of you, just sit down for a minute.”
Dr. Golden slowly sank onto the corner of the couch. Jonah glared at the chair in front of him suspiciously and began to edge toward it when a loud shriek from the hallway made him start. As the scream echoed through the ward, we rose together and rushed outside to look.
Just a few feet away, Shawn was wrestling with a young nurse; he was beating at her furiously and howling at the top of his lungs. Nurse Becky was trying to reason with him, but as she approached him, he swung at her with his palm, slapping her across the chin. She grunted irritably and wrapped her arms around him, tightening her grip slowly until he stopped struggling. Something about her seemed to calm him for a moment; he looked up at her with wide, bewildered eyes and whimpered miserably.
“You promised me,” he wailed. “You promised I was going home today.”
“I know, baby, I know,” she said. “I’m really sorry. There’s nothing we can do.”
“Yes, there is!” he bawled, kicking at her. “Call her again! Go to my house and get her!”
The nurses exchanged frowns, and Nurse Becky shook her head. “We spoke to her already, Shawn,” she said. “Your mom can’t come to get you today.”
It took a minute to sink in. Shawn swallowed a few times and gazed at the sympathetic faces of the staff. He was breathing hard, his chest rising in gasping hiccups.
“Let’s go back to your room and rest, okay, baby?” Nurse Becky suggested pleasantly and loosened her hold on him.
But she’d let him go too soon. Shawn let out a furious shout and slipped out of her arms, then scrambled to his feet and darted down the hall in the direction of the exit. His flight didn’t last long; he was intercepted by a large male nurse before he could get past the reception area. “We’re going to the quiet room, Shawn,” the man told him and hoisted him in the air, pinning the boy’s arms behind him.
They disappeared around the corner, Shawn’s screaming growing farther and farther away until it was cut off by the sound of a metal door.
Nurse Becky smiled sadly at the young nurse. “Having an interesting first day, Tina? Don’t worry. You’ll get to know Shawn very well. I doubt that he’s going home anytime soon. Not if his mom keeps forgetting to pick him up.”
Tina stared at her in disbelief. “His mother forgot to pick him up?”
Nurse Becky snorted and let out an angry little laugh. “Unbelievable, right? We all knew that this would happen though; it’s not the first time. They need to stop telling Shawn his discharge date. It’s just plain cruel.”
The nurses disappeared down the hallway, and we drifted back into the room as the ward went quiet again. Jonah’s mom seemed exhausted. She sat down beside her son and tried to put her arm around him, but he drew away from her and slid over to the wall.
Dr. Golden was shaking his head. “Our son doesn’t belong here, Rachel,” he muttered between his teeth. “This was a mistake. He’s not like the children in this place.”
She got up quickly and nodded brusquely toward the hallway. “You can’t say that in front of Jonah,” I heard her whisper as they left the room. “He needs to accept that he’s sick—”
I settled down beside Jonah on the sofa and slipped my hand in his.
“I never thought I’d say this,” he said after a minute of silence. “But my father’s actually right about something. I don’t belong here.”
I didn’t know how to answer him. Jonah wasn’t like the patients in this place. He had a family who loved him. He’d been happy and well-liked and talented. How could he have ended up in a place like Shady Grove where mothers abandoned their children?
“Where were they taking Shawn?” I asked him. “What is the quiet room?”
I felt his hand tighten over mine, and his fingers gripped my knuckles. “It’s like a padded empty cell. They use it to suck the energy from us.”
“How—how do you mean?”
“It’s one of the ‘choices’ they give you when they’re having trouble controlling you. You can take a ‘time-out’ in the quiet room, or they can use other means to calm you down. Like pills or physical restraints. Most people choose the quiet room. They leave you in there until you have no strength left. And then they take you out and stick their pills down your throat anyway.”
“How do you know? Is that what they did to you?”
He hesitated, turning his head away from me as he spoke. “When I first got here, I kept asking for you. I kept begging them to let me see you—but they wouldn’t let me. And then I realized that they’d trapped me here, that they’d used you to get me into this place. They’d gotten what they wanted, which meant they didn’t need you anymore. You were the only person I trusted, the only one who wouldn’t betray me. They all knew that. After they took me away, I was sure they’d killed you. I had to punish them all. I needed to avenge your death.”
If we’d been cast in an old medieval movie, and I was Braveheart’s tragic bride, Jonah’s speech would have been moving and romantic. But here, on the sterile plastic cushions of a hospital sofa, it was painful to hear him, and my last doubts about his illness faded away. Still, I couldn’t argue with him, any more than I’d argued when he made me wear the tinfoil hat. I was the only one he trusted. I was the only one who would never betray him.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked him quietly.
His eyes flickered briefly, and then the light died out. “Just don’t forget me,” he said.
“Forget you? How could you ever think that I’d forget you? I’ll be back again tomorrow, and every day for as long as you’re in here!”
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean that. I meant that I want you to remember me as I really am. Not what they tell you I am. And not what they’ll turn me into. Remember me, the Jonah you knew before all this. Before they get to me. Otherwise, I might as well quit fighting and give up now.”
“What are you worried they’ll turn you into?”
He sank his voice to a low whisper and leaned close to me, his lips tickling my hair. “Their medicines are killing me,” he told me. “I’ll sit through their stupid counseling sessions if I have to. I’ll go to their support groups and their art therapy if they make me. But those pills are bleeding me dry. They’re getting what they want from me—for now. I’m not fighting them anymore—at least, not out loud. But I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. I don’t know how much longer I can breathe this bathroom sanitizer air.”
“What do you want me to do?” I asked him again.
“Say nothing to anyone,” he instructed. “We can’t trust the people in here. Not even my parents. I’ll do everything they tell me for now. I’ll take their pills. I’ll ‘confess’ to their psychiatrists. And in the meantime, I’m going to learn their weaknesses, so when the time is right, I can break out of here
.”
“But the door’s locked, and they’ve got a guard…”
“People have busted out of maximum security prisons, April. This is nothing compared to that. Look, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But as long as I know that you’ll be waiting for me on the outside, I can work it out. Because that’s where I’ll need your help. On the outside.”
“What do you mean?”
He drew closer to me. “Do you remember my navy spiral notebook?” he whispered. “You’ve seen me writing in it.”
Of course I remembered. I’d been curious about his “independent project” since the day I’d first seen him scribbling away in math class. “Yes, I think so.”
“Well, I want you to bring it to me. I’m going to need it.”
I nodded quickly. “Of course, but can’t your mother bring it?”
“No, they won’t let her because of the sharp spiral binding. She won’t break the rules, even for me. And anyway, I don’t want her touching it. It’s private. I’m trusting you with it. I need you to promise me that you’ll bring it tomorrow. Please.”
What was I supposed to say to him? No way, Jonah. I’m leaving you here. You’re on your own for this. He put his arms around me and pulled me close, his rough cheek resting against my forehead, his lips brushing against my ear. It would have been a sweet and private moment, the first we’d had in weeks—except I couldn’t shake the feeling that he believed somebody was watching us through it all. Even as he held me, I was conscious that we were not alone, that in his mind, we were surrounded by spies. His arms were only wrapped around me to protect me from the threat; his lips were close to mine not because he wanted to kiss me but because he didn’t dare to speak above a whisper.
“I’ll bring it with me when I come,” I told him.
“And you have to promise not to open it. That’s the most important part. You can’t read it yet. It isn’t ready. You aren’t ready.”
I wasn’t ready. Ready for what? Did it even matter?
“I promise,” I assured him.
He nodded and pulled away. “You can come at four. I’m supposed to meet with Dr. Hermann then. I’ll tell her that I won’t go to counseling without you.”
“Jonah, I can’t go to your sessions with you! There’s no way they’ll let me do that.”
He shrugged and leaned back against the wall. “Then I won’t talk to them. That’ll piss them off. They’re obsessed with talking here.”
“But what do you want me to say to Dr. Hermann?”
“Nothing. That’s the point, April. Don’t you get it? Everyone is talking, talking, talking about me. Jonah’s sick, Jonah’s hallucinating, maybe we should raise his dosage, is there a special diet we should try, how long until the medicines start to work? I want you to say nothing. If she asks you questions about me, I want you to keep quiet. That way, I’ll know that she hasn’t gotten to you.”
“Okay. I’ll be back tomorrow after school then.”
“Good. See you tomorrow.”
I waited for a kiss or even some parting word or friendly gesture, something positive to take home with me. But he was no longer looking at me; he’d retreated back into his own chaotic world. I waved good-bye and left the room.
Jonah’s parents were sitting next to one another in the reception area and arguing in low voices. As I passed them, Jonah’s mom called out to me. “I’m so sorry for all of this,” she said as I came up to them. “April, if you need to take a break, I completely understand. Jonah will understand too, I’m sure—”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I interrupted. “I’ll see you then.”
She gave me a doubtful look. “But his therapy could take weeks, or months even. It isn’t fair to expect this of you. You have your own life. Jonah told me that you’re hoping to audition for the art school. You should concentrate on that right now and not tie yourself to—” She sighed. “Listen, dear, Jonah’s very sick…”
She paused as Dr. Golden rolled his eyes and muttered something about stupid psychiatrists. But I was no longer listening to them. A change in shadows down the hall caught my attention; Jonah had slipped out into the corridor and was eavesdropping on our conversation.
I turned back to his mom and shook my head. “I don’t believe that. No one here is really listening to him; they just want to label him and stuff him full of pills. Yes, I am auditioning for the art school, because we’re transferring together next year. I won’t let him down. I’m not giving up on him.”
And without waiting for an answer, I turned away and left the ward. I didn’t really care to hear their response anyway. I hadn’t actually been speaking to them.
When I got home, my mom met me at the door. She looked relieved to see me, as if she’d been worrying that my visit to Shady Grove might turn into a permanent stay, that Jonah’s paranoia could somehow rub off on me until they were forced to commit me too.
“Kris called again today,” she told me before I could escape to the safety of my room. “She seemed really upset.”
“I’ll bet she is,” I replied darkly.
“Why are you ignoring her?” she demanded predictably.
“I’m not ignoring her,” I replied. “I just don’t have anything to say to her.”
I had nothing to say to Kris because she was against me, like everybody else. She’d told Cora about Jonah being admitted to Shady Grove. But even worse than that betrayal was the knowledge that she’d seen Jonah at his worst and would never forget it. I would never be able to get that terrifying image out of her head, no matter what I said, and so she’d never understand how I felt about him. Even when he finally got better, I’d always feel that she was judging him.
“Everything is different now, don’t you understand?” I told my mom. “Things have changed for me. I can’t explain it. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
“April, what are you talking about? You aren’t making sense.”
I didn’t answer her. I’d just had the oddest feeling of déjà vu; my last words seemed strangely familiar, as if I’d unconsciously echoed someone.
Chapter 27
The following afternoon, I headed over to the Golden house on Jonah’s errand. His parents were out, and Katie was home alone with a babysitter. Katie tackle-hugged me twice on my way up the stairs, and after I swore (twice) to read her half the princess stories on her shelf, I was released and allowed to enter Jonah’s room. It took me less than a minute to find the notebook. For all its secret nature, Jonah hadn’t bothered to hide it; it was at the bottom of his backpack.
As I held it, I couldn’t help a little shudder of recognition; in some ways, this notebook represented all that was mysterious about Jonah when I’d first met him. Even then, there had been shades of his personality that I hadn’t exactly understood—the sudden shifts in mood, the shroud of secrecy over his paintings, the random fear of dangers that no one else could see. I’d wondered what he’d been writing about during those first few months, what “project” he’d been working on so devotedly. And now it was actually in my hands. He’d instructed me not to read it, but as I stared at the tattered navy binding, my fingers unconsciously drifted to the edge, and I slowly lifted the cover. I had to see. What if the key to everything lay inside this journal, and I gave it up without a look?
But even as I turned the first page, I knew I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t break my promise to Jonah. He’d trusted me with this. I couldn’t let him down.
I closed the book and slipped it into my bag. Maybe, deep down, I didn’t really want to know after all. Maybe I was scared about what I would find inside.
I didn’t touch the notebook again until I returned to Shady Grove and handed it to Jonah. I admit that it was kind of a disappointing moment for me. I’d been a little proud of myself and impressed by my own self-restraint. Most people would have read it. Maybe the first few pages, ju
st to get an idea of what was inside. But I hadn’t even peeked. I thought the accomplishment warranted a little gratitude, a hug or smile or something for the successful completion of a secret quest.
But he barely nodded as I drew it out. Without a word, he flipped back his blanket and tucked the notebook into his pillowcase, then glanced around the room as if he were expecting a SWAT team to suddenly materialize. When nothing happened, he swallowed nervously and muttered more to himself than to me, “It’s time for our doctor’s appointment.”
Our doctor’s appointment? Well, I suppose, in a way, it was my appointment too. I was now as much a part of this hospital as Jonah.
Dr. Hermann was a tall, pretty brunette with runway model legs. The legs confused me for a minute, as did the Chinese tattoo on her shoulder and the bangle bracelets. I think I would have dressed a little less like Angelina Jolie if my job was counseling disturbed young men. And I would probably have put away those legs, no matter how proud I was of them.
But Jonah didn’t seem to notice the model/doctor who’d been assigned to cure him. He kept his eyes on me as she welcomed us into the therapy room.
“I’m glad to meet you,” Dr. Hermann told me sweetly. “I don’t normally agree to joint counseling for new patients. But I understand that Jonah is refusing to speak with me unless you’re present, so for now, we don’t have much of a choice.”
I nodded and slipped into the chair that she pulled out for me. I was a little nervous; next to me, I could feel Jonah’s tension radiating from him like an electric current.
“Maybe you can tell me a little about yourself, April,” Dr. Hermann suggested. “Tell me how the two of you met.”
It seemed a harmless question, but I remembered Jonah’s instructions, and I shook my head. “I don’t have anything to say,” I told her quietly. Beside me, I felt Jonah’s satisfied smile and heard his body relax into his chair.
Dr. Hermann frowned and glanced between the two of us. “You’re not on the witness stand,” she pressed me. “No one’s judging you. You can say whatever you want.”