Bringing Me Back

by Beth Vrabel

“And are you … Oh, I don’t know … happier right now?”

  “Yes, Rina.” I laughed.

  From down the street, a voice called, “Rina! Micah! Dinner’s ready!”

  “That’s my mom,” said Rina, turning toward the sound. Without thinking, I leaned in, pressing my lips against the soft curve of her cheek. Slowly Rina tilted her head back, our faces brushing. I caught a whiff of her spearmint hair.

  I know I should’ve said something—anything—as we stood too closely there in the moonlight, Micah just behind us and her mom calling her away. But all I could do is smile. Rina bounced a little on her toes and then trotted away, her hand pressed against her cheek.

  When I got back into the house, Jeff sat at the table, ankle crossed over his knee, empty plate of meatloaf on his lap, and a wicked smile across his face.

  I turned my back to him. I went to the sink and filled it with water and squirts of dish soap. Still not looking at him, even when he chuckled, I scrubbed at our dirty plates and forks. “What?”

  “Must’ve been some knock in the head, that’s all.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

  Jeff laughed again as he slipped his plate into the basin of water and picked up the towel to dry.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I’m not getting up,” I told Jeff when he woke me in the morning.

  “I’m not getting in the car,” I said when he told me it was time to leave.

  “I’m not going in,” I promised when he parked in the visitors’ lot at the Center Regional Jail.

  “You have to go in,” Jeff said. “I can’t leave you here.” He pointed to a sign in the parking lot. “No unaccompanied minors may be left in vehicles.”

  “So we go home.” I fastened my seat belt.

  Jeff unsnapped the buckle. “It’s Saturday, the only day in the week that Diane can have visitors.” He faced the wheel again and for just a second, his always-calm-always-cool manner melted and he was … I don’t know the word for it. Raw comes close. He was raw and jagged like a just-popped blister from a burn. The kind that aches when even air touches it. Jeff slammed the heels of his hands against the wheel.

  “For more than six months, she’s asked if you were coming to visit. When I said no, for six months she just dealt with it. But now? She’s insisting I bring you. She’s counting on it. And, damn it, Noah!” Slowly the cool, calm mask rebuilt across his face. When he continued, it was with the unwavering, steady voice he always used. “Noah, man up. Go in there and see her. She needs this. I need this. You need this, more than any of us.”

  Scooting as far from him as I could, I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window. The sky around us was a blanket of gray, leaves ripped from trees in the blustery wind peppering the air. Winter was coming. “I don’t want to see her.”

  I closed my eyes, letting the never-ending film of my life with Mom play in full color behind the lids. The scenes were mushed and out of order, memories from years before flipping seamlessly into much more recent ones. I saw her arms open wide as I stepped off the bus from kindergarten. Heard her laugh when Jeff and I said something at the same time. Felt her hand covering my much smaller one as I crunched leaves under my dino rain boots. Breathed in her lavender-scented hair when she kissed the top of my head as I did homework at the kitchen table. “I love you,” echoed again and again in my skull. That’s how every moment with her began or ended. “I love you.”

  I rapped my head against the window glass, trying to halt the scenes about to come. I didn’t want to hear her say she loved me in jail. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to see her there. It was stupid. I knew it was stupid. I was being like Landon’s baby brother, pitching a fit because the day was over. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Rap, rap, rap.

  My eyes still were shut when Jeff opened my car door, just as I was about to bang my head against the window again. “Not even another concussion is going to stop us from going in there,” he warned. Jeff’s fingers parted my hair to check the Band-Aid. Funny how such a little cut had caused so much blood. Today the cut just looked like a slug with black stitches threaded through it.

  “Is it okay?” I asked.

  “Yep.” He smoothed my hair over it. “She would’ve freaked if you knocked it open.”

  “I don’t want to do this,” I said again.

  Jeff laughed, but it was bitter. Mean. “What makes you think I do? You think I want this? Any of this?” His hand swept over the parking lot, the jail, me. “It’ll be over soon,” he added. “One more week ’til she’s out, Noah. Then it—all of this—will be over.”

  All of this over. No more fill-in parenting for Jeff. No more kid to deal with. No more taking care of me just because he felt guilty for leaving that night.

  I followed Jeff into the visitors’ entrance, trying not to see the other families making their way in, but not able to block them out, either. A little girl skipped past us. A lady who smelled like fast food pushed into me as I reached for the door. A dozen or so people who looked like they could be going anywhere, on the way to the grocery store or heading to the park. Not like their heart was ping-ponging in an empty body, all their insides having turned to slosh. Inside, my eyes swept the room. I slunk into a chair next to the only other person who looked as freaked out as me—a man in a business suit and gray hair. He held a picture of a little girl in his hands, fingering the corners of the photograph so much they curled in.

  I slouched in the seat. When I sat upright, my legs shook. The doors opened again, bringing with it a blast of cold air. I zipped my coat and ducked into it.

  “Noah,” Jeff called from his spot in front of a big window. On the other side of the glass, a bored-looking woman in an officer’s uniform stared at me with dull eyes. She beckoned me with curled fingers.

  As I got up to go toward them, my phone dinged with a text. I pulled it out of my pocket. It was from Ron, the DNR officer. Bucket Bear spotted in woods behind your house. Tracking now. Keep you updated.

  “We have to go!” I called to Jeff. “The bear! They’re tracking her! She’s at our house!”

  “What?” Jeff shook his head and held up a hand. “Later. Now we’re visiting your mom.”

  “But—” I didn’t bother finishing. Jeff’s face turned to stone.

  “He’s going to have remove his coat.” The guard pointed to a row of lockers. “Are you chewing gum?” she asked me.

  I nodded, and she pointed to the trash can. “No gum allowed.”

  I stared at her, trying to see if it was a joke. I mean, seriously? What could a prisoner do with gum that was so awful? When I didn’t move, Jeff tilted his head toward the trash can. I sighed and stomped over to it, spitting the oh-so-dangerous Bubble Yum inside. Whatever.

  “There are vending machines in the visiting room,” Jeff muttered. “I’ll get you more gum.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  The guard pointed to the lockers, so I headed over there. “Got anything in your pockets, put it in there,” she said. After I stuffed my jacket inside went back to Jeff, she continued. “These are the rules—”

  “Becky, you see me every week. Do you really have to go through all this? I’ll keep the kid in line,” Jeff said.

  Prison Guard Becky didn’t even glance at him. “Jeff,” I interrupted. “We’ve got to make this quick. They spotted the bear. I want to be there when they find her!”

  Jeff’s mouth twisted and that mask slipped just an inch. “This is where you are, Noah. Pay attention.”

  “May I continue?” Becky snapped. When neither of us spoke, she went on. “No gum, no jackets.”

  “I know,” I grunted.

  Becky didn’t react, just kept spouting off rules. “No unaccompanied minors. No personal belongings outside of the locker. You go through the metal detector and make way to your table. You hug hello but no lengthy embracing and no touching after that. No loud exchanges. No sudden movements. No outbursts of any sort. Visi
ts end at the guards’ discretion.”

  “We got it, Becky,” Jeff said.

  She punched a few buttons on her computer keyboard. “She’s got someone with her now. I’m going to check with the guard about whether she can have three visitors at a time.”

  “Who’s visiting her?” asked Jeff, surprise in his voice.

  But Becky leveled him with her glare. “Have a seat.”

  Jeff had warned me that it might be a couple of hours waiting before we’d get to see Mom. But the wait was too fast for me—a different officer called our names a few minutes later. I wanted to talk to Jeff about the bear. I even thought I’d heard my phone beeping new texts from the locker, but he wouldn’t let me check it. Now Jeff smiled at me and held out his hand like I was a baby. I ignored the way my legs shook and shoved my hands in my pockets as we made our way toward the bulky officer. He didn’t smile as we approached. If anything, his narrow eyes turned to slits. “What’s in your hair?” he barked at me.

  “Oh, the kid’s got a Band-Aid,” Jeff said casually, but his eyes were hard.

  “Hold down your hair,” the officer ordered. “Let me see it.”

  I did what he said, even though my arms wobbled like chicken wings. The officer wore gloves like a doctor. He pulled the edge of the Band-Aid back to see the cut underneath. The tug pulled on my hair, making my eyes sting. Don’t cry, I ordered my stupid eyes. Don’t you dare cry. The officer put back the bandage. His eyes met mine for a second, and he smiled, quick as a blink. I got the feeling he smiled a lot more when he wasn’t wearing the uniform.

  “Turn out your pockets,” he ordered next. I followed Jeff’s lead, and yanked out my pockets so they hung from my pants. The officer nodded and I tucked them back in. He turned and walked us through heavy metal doors.

  Through another set of doors, I spotted a big room, like a cafeteria. Through the closed doors, I heard voices. Some argued. Someone else laughed. A baby cried. The officer opened one of the doors and the noise slammed against me. I stepped backward.

  “I can’t do this,” I blurted, my knees turning to liquid.

  “Come on, Noah,” Jeff said. “Your mom’s waiting for us in there.”

  “Are you coming in or not?” The officer let the door shut again with a snap when I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. I was shaking so hard now I wasn’t sure I could stand.

  “Noah, enough of this crap!” Jeff’s voice sharpened to an edge I had never heard before.

  “Back off!” I yelled back. “Just leave me alone. Pretend it’s a week from now.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I know you’re just doing this—that you’re just here—out of guilt. I know you’re counting down until you’re not stuck with me anymore!” I screamed all of it without opening my eyes. When I did, I saw Jeff just in front of the doors, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open like he was coated in concrete.

  The officer cleared his throat. “Are you going in or what?”

  “Noah,” Jeff said after a long pause. He still didn’t move. “How could you—”

  The door opened again. Mom’s sponsor, Trenton, stepped out. I guess that answered who had been visiting Mom before us. “What’s going on?”

  This time Trenton wore flannel and boots instead of a saggy suit. Next to him, the corrections officer stood with his arms crossed. “We either go in or we leave,” he barked.

  “Oh, come on, Stan,” Trenton said. “Give the kid a break. Hasn’t seen his mom in half a year.”

  “Not my monkeys, not my circus,” the officer replied.

  “Look, Noah,” said Jeff, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t you just go back to the lobby? Think about it a little more. I’ll tell Diane you need a minute. Just don’t take long. We only get two hours with her.”

  “Not a chance,” Officer Stan barked. “No unaccompanied minors.”

  I watched Jeff’s mask blister again. Trenton must’ve seen it, too, because he put a hand on Jeff’s chest to cut off whatever he was going to say next. “I’ll stay with the kid,” he said. “You go in, see Diane. She’s jumping out of her skin in there, worried about Noah. Great idea, by the way, telling her about the concussion.”

  “I couldn’t help it,” Jeff said. “I needed his medical history at the hospital.”

  Their words sounded so far away, like they were traveled down a tunnel toward me. Maybe it’s the concussion, I lied to myself. But I knew the truth. I was blocking them out because I couldn’t halt the thoughts ramming around my stupid skull. What would she look like? Would she be in black-and-white-striped pajama-looking clothes? Would she cry? Oh, God. I couldn’t handle it if she cried. Would she cheer when she saw me? And—now my stomach bubbled like lava—how would I tell her goodbye? Because I would be leaving here and she wouldn’t, not yet. I opened my eyes and there was Jeff. Another jolt of worry rushed through me. When she did come home, would he leave? I shook my head harder. “I can’t do this.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Trenton grabbed my elbow. “Go on, Jeff,” he said. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

  We went back to the lobby. I moved to sit in one of the empty chairs, but Trenton headed through the automatic doors so I followed him. I hadn’t realized I was sweating until the cold air slammed against my cheeks. “Looked like you needed a change of scenery, Noah,” he said.

  I nodded, swallowing the cold air like a can of pop, letting it fill my lungs. Trenton leaned against the cement wall of the building. My legs stopped trying to pretend they weren’t made of soup as I slumped down onto the ground. The cold walkway chilled my skin.

  “Jeff ever tell you how far back we go?” Trenton asked a few minutes later. Truthfully, I had sort of forgotten he was there.

  I shook my head. “You said you played ball in high school.”

  “That’s right.” Trenton’s voice reminded me of how I imagine a hound would talk. Every few words, it dipped into a sort of growl. “You remind me of him.”

  “Of who?”

  “Of your dad.”

  “Jeff isn’t my dad,” I corrected.

  Trenton laughed, but it, too, sounded like a growl. He sank down onto the cement beside me, even though the cement had to freeze the seat of his thin suit. “I always knew he was cut out for it, even though he said it’d never happen.”

  “Cut out for what?” Seriously, couldn’t this guy see I was in the middle of a major freak-out?

  “For being a dad.”

  “He’s not my dad,” I snapped again.

  “He’s your dad in any way that counts.”

  “Whatever. He’s going to leave the minute Mom gets out of here.”

  Trenton barked out another bitter laugh. “Jeff’s not going anywhere. Don’t you know him by now? Look up loyalty on Google and his picture will show up.” Trenton folded his hands behind his head. “I grew up the next block over from Jeff. He moved in with his dad when he was twelve.”

  This time, Trenton’s laugh was smooth. “Most messed up kid you could imagine. Maybe that’s what reminds me of you. Ah, don’t look at me like that, kid. You know you’re messed up. I’ve got an eye for such things.”

  I gritted my teeth, too curious about Jeff to give in to how much I hated this guy. “What do you mean, he moved in with his dad? Where was he before?”

  Trenton smirked, like he knew I was hooked. “Jeff never told you? He was a foster kid. Lived in something like twenty houses before moving in with ol’ Mr. Convey.”

  I sucked on my bottom lip, thinking about it. Jeff never mentioned any family aside from his dad, never questioned why Mom and I didn’t have anyone but each other. Made sense that it was because he didn’t have anyone else, either.

  Trenton continued, “Always a new kid at Convey’s. Children’s services would send him their worst cases, the ones everyone else gave up on. The kids would be with him, helping at the Shop until he’d whip them into shape, and then they’d get shipped back to their parents or
wherever.”

  I rubbed my temples, trying to understand what Trenton was saying. “Where were Jeff’s real parents?”

  Trenton sighed. He pulled a Dum Dums lollipop from his pocket and unwrapped. “Want one?” he offered. I shook my head. “Well,” he said, “he never knew his dad.”

  “Me, either,” I blurted.

  Trenton cocked an eyebrow in a “told-you” sort of way. “His mom was young. Only a teen when she had him. Never wanted the job, if you know what I mean. He … ” Trenton sucked on the lollipop. “He should be the one to tell you this, about what happened next.”

  Trenton crunched the lollipop between his teeth and slowly stood up. “Come on, Noah.” He held out his hand. When I didn’t take it, he added, “You don’t have to go in. Just back to that hallway we were in before, okay? I’ll get your dad—Jeff—to come out to you. It’s his story, not mine.”

  I let Trenton pull me to my feet. “You know,” he said, “if you ever want to tell your story, that teen group still meets on Tuesdays.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Trenton’s eyes raked over me. “Sure you are, kid.”

  The guard at the door sighed when Trenton asked to be let back in. He even went through the search all over again for me, even checking the bandage. Finally, he let us through.

  Before I knew it, Jeff was in front of me.

  “You didn’t have a dad,” I blurted. It wasn’t a question.

  Jeff nodded, his hands shoved in his pockets. Neither of us acknowledged the guard standing just beside us. “Not for a long time.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me? Trenton said you were a foster kid.”

  Jeff pulled in a deep breath. “Not exactly my favorite topic of conversation.”

  When I didn’t say anything for a moment, Jeff filled the silence. “I spent a lot of time with grandparents, then they checked out, too. Think I was shuttled, best I can count, among twenty or so houses with cousins or aunts or grandparents. None of them wanted another kid. It was … tough. Sometimes they forgot to feed me. That wasn’t as bad as the ones who remembered me too much. The ones who liked to push me around. Told me I was worthless.” Jeff rocked on his heels, his eyes on his boots. “By the time I was your age, Noah, I was ’bout the meanest kid you can imagine. Pure anger.”