by Leah Scheier
April Wesley will not betray you.
April Wesley will not betray you.
April Wesley will not betray you.
April Wesley will not betray you.
Chapter 32
I was sick of the bus route to Shady Grove. I knew every landmark by now, the gas station with the missing S in its sign, the roadside coffee shop, the strip mall beneath the bridge, where teenagers with sane boyfriends gathered in the afternoons to laugh and flirt with one another. I would see them as the bus slowed down before the stoplight, and sometimes I would watch them and wonder about their lives. I’d begun to recognize a couple of the girls; they met their dates here every day at three, just as my bus passed by them. The pretty one, a rosy-cheeked redhead, would do the same thing each time her boyfriend came into view. She’d jump up and wave, then run to him and throw her arms around his neck. He’d smile and kiss her, and they’d go into the café together.
It was those two strangers at the café—not the doctors or Jonah’s parents or Kris or even my own mother—that finally got to me. Despite the teasing at school, the loneliness, and Jonah’s awful silences, I’d still believed myself to be the luckiest girl in the world. It was all temporary; he was just sick for a little while. He’d come back to me, and then we’d be happy again.
I had my memories and my imagination, and they kept me warm while I waited for him to get better. Every night, I’d pretend that he was lying beside me, his flushed cheek next to mine, his curls tangled in my hair. He’d tease me, whisper “stalker girl!” in my ear, tickle me when I pushed him away. And then, when I couldn’t bear it anymore, he’d finally kiss me, and I’d attack my pillow in a frenzy of frustrated love. My phantom Jonah was sweeter and sexier and better than anyone else. And if I was patient enough, one day he’d become real.
But as those two cheery teenagers faded from my view, I finally saw what I’d been refusing to see. Jonah wasn’t getting better, and I was going to spend the rest of my life on the number 18 bus, watching other people live their lives. And I was so angry at everyone. I was furious with Jonah’s parents, unhappy Shawn, the burly psychiatric nurses, Kris and her Dr. Phil advice, optimistic Dr. Hermann, and especially with the redheaded girl and her loving, healthy boyfriend.
But worst of all, I was angry with Jonah. For the first time since he had gotten sick, I was angry because he had betrayed me, he had left me, and he was never coming back.
I was raging mad as the bus pulled up to Shady Grove, my eyes stinging with hot tears, my throat tight and dry. As I pushed the buzzer and the lock to 11 West clicked open, Shawn ran up to greet me. “April,” he whispered eagerly. “Jonah’s been waiting for you! He has instructions for you.”
“Instructions?”
His eyes flashed. “Don’t worry. Jonah knows that you’re on our side. He wants you to come right now. It’s happening today. Just as he predicted.”
I glanced at Nurse Becky, who was signaling to us to move back from the door. Shawn was bouncing on his feet in front of me and grabbing my arm. I shook him off and turned my back to him. I couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. I wasn’t going anywhere with him ever again. I wasn’t going to wear their crazy tinfoil hats. I wasn’t going to pretend to be a mute every time Dr. Hermann asked me a question. I wasn’t going to take any more of Jonah’s ridiculous orders. I’d finally had enough.
Shawn said my name but I ignored him. “Is Dr. Hermann in?” I asked the nurse. She nodded, and I headed down the hall, moving faster as I approached her office.
Dr. Hermann looked surprised when I entered and motioned for me to close the door. Jonah’s parents were sitting with her, and their faces mirrored the doctor’s surprise. It was the first time we had all been in the same room without Jonah and the first time that I’d sought out the psychiatrist on my own.
“Jonah is due for his session in a couple of minutes,” Dr. Hermann said. “Did you want to talk to me before he comes? Is something wrong?”
“Yes, there’s something wrong,” I told her, my voice tightening. “There’s been something wrong ever since he got here.”
The Goldens exchanged concerned looks. Dr. Hermann leaned back against her chair and folded her arms. “I can see that you’re frustrated. But Jonah is making progress.”
“Oh, really?” I shot back. “Well, did you know that he’s been trying to convince Shawn to escape from here? Did you know that while he’s been scribbling away in your art therapy class, he’s actually been plotting to break out of Shady Grove?”
Dr. Hermann laughed and motioned me to a chair. “Oh, April,” she said. “Do you think he’s the first paranoid schizophrenic to try to run away? I’m sorry to hear that he’s gotten Shawn involved in his plans, but honestly, I’m not surprised. It’s pretty typical actually. They’ll plot and plot, and in the end, they’ll just do something silly like try to break through the main door. Jonah’s too disorganized to come up with a realistic plan.”
It was true, I realized. Nowhere in the notebook had he sketched out anything that looked like a real escape route or even a coherent diagram.
“Well, he’s still hearing voices. He’s still paranoid.”
“I know,” she answered evenly. “But I believe that I’m slowly gaining his trust and getting him to talk about what’s bothering him. That’s what’s important.”
I laughed bitterly and reached into my schoolbag. “You think so? Then maybe you should look at this!” I threw Jonah’s notebook down in front of her.
With a rough gesture, I flipped it open and pointed to the “Spy/Ally” chart. “Does this look like you’ve gained his trust?” I asked her bitterly.
She scanned the sheet and glanced up at me, her face hardening. Jonah’s mom leaned forward to look at her son’s writing. Her eyes widened as she read her own name in the “Spy” column.
Dr. Golden was the only one who seemed pleased by my revelation. His lips curled up, and he shook his head at the psychiatrist. Nice try, his smile seemed to say. You have no idea what you’re doing.
Dr. Hermann seemed to be considering her response. But before she had a chance to speak, there was a knock at the door, and Jonah walked into the room.
I’m not sure if Dr. Hermann wanted Jonah to see the notebook on her desk. I think that if she’d thought quickly enough, she could have covered it with something. But she didn’t flinch, even as his eyes scanned the room and stopped, alarmed, at the sight of his journal open before us. None of us moved or breathed as we waited for the storm to hit.
It’s all over between us, I thought as I watched Jonah’s face. He’d never forgive me for this. In a moment, he’d turn to me and demand to know why I’d betrayed him.
And yet, he wasn’t looking at me. His lips were moving silently, his hands trembling. His eyes were fixed on the open notebook.
Finally, with deliberate coolness, as if she’d been preparing for this moment, Dr. Hermann motioned for him to sit down. “Jonah, would you like to join us?”
He didn’t answer her. Instead he wheeled around suddenly and glared at his father.
“How did you do it?” Jonah hissed at him. “How did you steal my notebook from April?”
His father started to defend himself, but Dr. Hermann raised her hand to quiet him. “One minute!” she said. “Jonah, what makes you think that your father stole your notebook?”
“Don’t you see?” he shot back. “It’s so obvious now! He’s been trying to keep me quiet, to protect himself! As long as I was locked up, he knew that no one would listen to me. Who would pay attention to a mental patient, right, Dad? Who would believe a crazy person?”
“Oh, Jonah, for God’s sake—” But Dr. Golden never had a chance to finish.
“You think that your little plan worked, don’t you?” Jonah cried out. “You think that you’ll get away with it?”
Dr. Hermann rose quickly and pointed
to a button on her desk. “Jonah, if you don’t calm down, I will call the nurse in. This is your last warning. Sit down.”
He hesitated for a moment and then slowly sank into a chair, his eyes still fixed on his father’s bewildered face.
“That’s good,” the doctor breathed, relieved. “Now maybe you should explain to us why you’re so angry with your father. Or would you prefer April left the room before you speak?”
“No. I want April to stay. She needs to know why they’ve locked me up in here.”
“Okay,” Dr. Hermann replied indulgently. “Then why don’t you tell us why you believe you’ve been hospitalized?”
“There’s no point,” he muttered darkly. “He’s already filled you with his lies.”
“Why don’t you tell us your side of things? Your father has already told me his side.”
“He has no side,” Jonah retorted. “This isn’t an argument, don’t you understand? He did what he did, and now he’s trying to cover it up by locking me away. And he’s convinced my mother to go along with him.”
Jonah’s mom was weeping quietly. “Please, Jonah—” she began.
But Dr. Hermann motioned her to keep silent. “Go on, Jonah. Tell us what your father did. Tell us why you’re angry at him.”
“You already know, Doctor,” Jonah spat back. “You were watching all along, weren’t you? You know exactly what happened.”
“You know that isn’t true. I only met you two months ago. But this isn’t about me at all. So why don’t you tell us what happened last year before you moved to Baltimore?”
“You already know.”
“But I want to hear it from you. I want to hear what happened to your friend. Tell us what happened to him.”
“You know what happened—”
“I don’t know. What was it? What happened to Ricky?”
“Don’t you say his name, don’t say it…”
“Tell me, Jonah. Tell me about your friend.”
“You want to hear about Ricky, Dr. Hermann?” Jonah shrieked, leaping from his chair and fixing his eyes on his father’s face. “All right then. You asked for it!” Jonah took a long deliberate breath and pointed an accusing finger at Dr. Golden. “My father murdered Ricky. My father let my friend bleed to death, and he did nothing! Are you happy now, Doctor? Is that what you wanted to hear? My father did it! My father killed my best friend!”
They were all shouting now, Dr. Hermann demanding that Jonah take his seat, Mrs. Golden wailing her son’s name, and Dr. Golden protesting that he wouldn’t stand for this insanity a moment longer. I sat silently and listened to them scream, but my eyes didn’t leave Jonah’s face. He stood apart from all of them, his face flushed with triumph and his lips curled in a strange smile. Common sense told me that his father hadn’t actually killed anyone; if Dr. Golden had been guilty of murder, he wouldn’t be walking the streets a free man. But the longer they shouted at one another, the more I realized that I was the only one who didn’t take Jonah’s accusation seriously. Mrs. Golden was weeping into her hands and calling her son’s name. Dr. Hermann appeared to be debating whether to buzz security. Dr. Golden had risen to his feet and was thrusting his finger in Jonah’s face.
“I’ve had enough, you hear me?” he yelled at him. “This is not fair to me or to your mother. I’ve already apologized! What else do you want me to do, Jonah? What else do you want from me?”
“Tell April what you did!” his son shrieked back at him. “Tell everyone what you did! Tell them that I’m innocent and make them let me go! I don’t belong here. I didn’t do anything. I’m only here because of you!”
“You’re here because you speak to voices in your head!” Dr. Golden retorted.
Jonah paled and took a step back from him; his hands were shaking at his sides. “That’s not true. I don’t hear—”
“This has nothing to do with me, and you know it,” his father added in an acid voice. “This never had anything to do with me.”
“Dr. Golden, sit down, please,” the psychiatrist ordered suddenly. She had finally found her voice. “I’ll stop this session now if the two of you don’t quiet down and speak calmly to one another.”
“I have nothing more to say to him,” Dr. Golden responded, taking his seat. “This therapy of yours has been a disaster. And just to clear the record, in case you’re wondering, I never killed anyone. I’ve spent the last fifteen years of my career saving lives, Doctor, which is a lot more than you can say. As for Ricky, I am really, really sorry about what happened to him. Jonah knows that. He also knows that I had nothing, nothing to do with his friend’s death.”
“If it weren’t for you—” Jonah began.
“If it weren’t for me, you might also be dead!” Dr. Golden cut in. He sighed and turned back to the psychiatrist. “I prevented Jonah from going to meet his friend that night, Dr. Hermann. That is my crime. I felt that those two boys spent too much time together. How was Jonah going to find a girlfriend if he spent every single day with—” He hesitated as Jonah’s face contorted. “Anyway, we’d fought about it before. But now my son blames me for Ricky’s death, as if I could have predicted what would happen.”
“I told you he was waiting for me,” Jonah protested. “He was still waiting for me when those guys showed up.”
“Ricky was being bullied,” Dr. Golden explained. “His parents reported it to the police, and a couple of the kids involved got into trouble. We thought that it was over. But that night, those boys ran into Ricky outside the theater. At first, they just laughed and teased him. One of the kids swore that they never meant to touch him.”
“And you believe that?” Jonah demanded, his voice rising again.
“You were at the trial with me, Jonah. You saw the evidence. Ricky tried to fight them. He was all of ninety pounds, and he tried to beat up five guys who were twice his size.”
“So what? How can you blame him?”
“I don’t blame him! I blame the bully who knocked him down. Just one blow, to the temple—that was all it took. He never meant to kill Ricky. Don’t you remember how he went to pieces on the witness stand? Jonah, I understand that you hate that kid because he killed your friend. So blame him all you want! But you can’t blame your mother or Dr. Hermann or me even. And you definitely can’t blame yourself.”
“But I could have saved him if I’d gotten there in time. I promised I’d protect him.”
Dr. Golden sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t know what else to say.”
Jonah nodded slowly without looking up, his shoulders drooped lower, and he brushed a finger beneath his eye.
The tension in the room melted; Dr. Hermann sat back in her chair, and Mrs. Golden dabbed at her smeared makeup with a tissue. I moved my chair closer to Jonah. I hoped that he would turn to me now that this was over. I pictured us hugging, Jonah’s troubles melting away in my arms. I imagined Dr. Golden and his wife embracing tearfully as Dr. Hermann beamed at her recovering patient from behind her shiny desk. But I forgot that I wasn’t living in a Hallmark movie and that endings like that rarely happen on 11 West.
“Let’s go, April. We’re leaving,” Jonah said and held his hand out.
I took it gratefully. His grasp was warm and strong, and I had the sudden urge to throw my arms around him and hold him close. You’re coming back to me, I wanted to cry. You’re finally coming back to me. Because in that moment, for just a second, he was almost with me again. His clear, blue eyes were seeing only me, and he smiled that sweet, perfect smile. I saw it; I’m sure I felt him there—even if no else did.
So I can’t forgive Dr. Hermann for her next words, even if she never understood what they did to Jonah or how far she set him back.
She folded her arms across her chest and nodded pleasantly at her patient. “That’s fine, Jonah. I think we’ve done very well today. You
can go back to your room now, and we’ll pick up again tomorrow.”
And just like that, the moment vanished. Jonah was gone. And now, for the first time, I could actually see the voices in his head. I could see him drowning beneath them. His fingers tightened over mine, and through their pressure, I could feel them hurting him. I could feel them screaming their fury. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. He seemed to be listening to the storm roaring in his ears.
“Pick up again tomorrow?” he echoed, turning toward the doctor. “What are you talking about? I’m going home now.”
Dr. Hermann looked confused. Her cherry lips twitched, and she uncrossed her shiny legs. “We aren’t finished. There’s still a long way to go before you’re ready for discharge.”
“But—but what else do you want from me?” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “I gave you what you wanted!”
She sighed and rose quickly from her chair. “It doesn’t work that way. I think you know that.”
“I don’t know that!” he screamed at her. With a sudden gesture, he let my hand go and started toward the doctor. “You lied to me! I gave you what you wanted! I gave you everything! What else do you want?”
Dr. Hermann backed away, one hand extended in front of her, the other pressed firmly to a button at the corner of her desk. “Jonah, sit down, or I will ask the nurses to restrain you.”
His parents started toward him; they were pleading with him in one voice to listen to the doctor. I called his name and reached out to him, but he threw me off and grasped at his hair, like a person in agony.
“You got to me!” he screamed at the frightened psychiatrist. “How did you do it? How did you get into me? How did you get inside of me?”
“Jonah!” We were all shouting in unison now, but he was no longer hearing us.
“Did you put yourself in the medicines?” he demanded, circling the desk to draw closer to the cowering doctor. “Is that how you did it? Did you inject yourself into my pills? Oh my God, you’re in my brain! Your voice is cutting into my brain!”