Behind the Falls

by Brenda Zalegowski

  “You’d be okay with being away from us for that long?” Mom asks. She’s right. My separation anxiety wouldn’t let me do that.

  “I guess not,” I admit. “You know, about what Chris said…it’s not like he’s wrong,” I begin.

  “Noah, what he said was completely untrue and out of line. He’s just acting out because he’s been hurt by his own dad. Try not to let it bother you,” Mom reassures me. I shrug.

  “It is true though. Not everyone would put up with me. I’m glad you guys do. I’m just really sorry sometimes. I wish I could change…”

  “Noah, your Dad and I love you more than anything in the world, more than each other even. Don’t ever think we’d rather have any other son.” She kisses me on the head. It’s almost time for takeoff. Airsick bags work great for breathing when the hyperventilating starts.

  ****

  Like the flight to Chicago the return trip is one long nap for me. After the terror of takeoff I actually fall asleep. I’m able to get off of the plane under my own power this time but I feel woozy and Mom puts an arm around me as we walk to the car. It snowed here too while we were gone and it’s much colder than it was on Wednesday. I shiver my way to the car and I sleep all of the way home.

  I wake up in my own bed and I realize Dad carried me again. He’s going to throw out his back some day if I don’t get it together. I’m still in my clothes but I’m missing my shoes. I think about getting up and putting on pajamas but I really don’t want to wake up all of the way. I’d rather just fall asleep again. Eventually I do.

  I wake up some time later and I have no idea what time it is. The earliest it could be is dinner time or it could be midnight. I can’t tell. I’m not really completely awake either but I sense my parents are there, either in the room or in the doorway.

  “Do you think we should tell him tonight or should we wait?” Dad says. Mom sighs.

  “I just don’t know. I definitely don’t want to wake him. We can wait until he wakes up on his own but should we tell him then? Should we wait until there’s more to tell? If we just wait then maybe the news will be better…”

  “If we wait and then the news is worse…he won’t forgive us for not telling him,” Dad counters. What are they talking about? I try to ask but instead I just roll over and fall back to sleep.

  The next time I wake up I’m awake for real. I blink the sleep out of my eyes so I can read my alarm clock. It’s eight o’clock. I don’t see the tiniest bit of light around the edges of my shades so I know it’s eight o’clock Sunday night not eight o’clock Monday morning. I’m glad we still have off of school until Tuesday because I don’t think I’m going to sleep again anytime soon. I kick back the blankets and haul myself out of bed. My stomach growls loudly reminding me that all I ate today was a piece of toast.

  I shuffle to the kitchen hoping to find some kind of food. Mom wouldn’t have shopped before we went out of town but maybe there’s peanut butter and jelly. I stop abruptly when I enter the room and see my parents. Dad is pacing and Mom is sitting at the table crying. They both look at me with looks of…what exactly on their faces?

  They’re upset for sure but not at me I don’t think. At least they’re not yelling and there is no disappointment on their faces. There’s something though and I don’t know what it is. It scares me. I can feel my heart speed up. I’m always hyper aware of things like that.

  “Sit down, Noah,” Dad pulls out the chair next to me. When he speaks I can tell he’s having a hard time controlling his voice. What the heck did I do this time to upset them? Mom can’t even look at me.

  “What’s up?” I try to keep my voice calm. I don’t sit.

  “Please just sit,” Dad says. Mom clears her throat and dabs at her eyes with a tissue.

  “Noah, I’m not sure exactly what happened with you and Max,” Mom starts and I realize. They know. Somehow my parents found out what happened between Max and me. Somehow they know how I felt or they wouldn’t be this upset. How do they know so much? Surely Kimber didn’t tell them!

  I know what comes next. This is when they confront me. This is where they tell me how wrong it is, how disappointed they are. This is where they tell me I’m messed up, so messed up that I have to go back to Dr. Cooper or worse…the hospital…until I get my head straight. This is when they pull me out of school.

  “It was no big deal,” I start to say. I can come up with some kind of explanation can’t I? I can fix this.

  “Noah, I wish you would sit down because we need to talk,” Dad says. Now my heart is racing. I know they can’t see my heartbeat but they must see how I’m starting to pant for air. I can’t stop biting my bottom lip to keep it from quivering. I cross my arms over my chest but they have to see how I’m shaking. That’s how I know this is bad. They can see me totally starting to freak out and they don’t automatically try to reassure me like they normally would.

  This isn’t about the kiss at all. This isn’t really about Max and me. I don’t know what it is but I think it might just be worse if that’s possible. I look from one to the other and I’m still not sitting so Mom goes ahead with what she has to say.

  “Lydia called while we were in the air. I didn’t get the message right away. I called her back as soon as I did. Noah, there was an accident yesterday and…Max fell through some ice…”

  “What?” the word squeezes out of me. I know the ice she means. Why would he do that? It’s only November. It couldn’t be that solid yet. As I realize the implications of what Mom has just said my legs give out and I fall into the chair that Dad pulled out for me. If he hadn’t I’d be on my ass on the floor.

  No, no, no, no, not Max, it’s not possible. Not Max who is so incredibly smart and talented. Not Max who is so confidently sure of himself and surely destined for great things, not death at seventeen. It’s too cruel. I can’t breathe. It’s just too much.

  “Right now he’s in intensive care,” Mom says. The breath I was holding rushes out in relief.

  “You might have led with that!” I accuse. Mom doesn’t look as relieved as I feel.

  “Sweetheart, they don’t even know if he’s going to wake up,” Mom says. She starts crying again. Dad puts his hands on my shoulders and squeezes.

  “No, of course he’s going to wake up,” I say. “I mean, what does that even mean? How can they not know…I don’t understand.”

  “It means we all just have to wait and see,” Dad says. I shake my head.

  “I don’t understand…he fell through the ice? So he obviously got out and…how can he not wake up?” I just can’t comprehend anything my parents are saying. I know how long of a walk it is to get to that lake. If he fell through the ice and got out of there then he should be okay, right? “Just, tell me everything,” I say.

  “Lydia said he was walking across some lake, I think in the nature preserve, and the ice wasn’t thick enough. It hasn’t been cold enough for long enough. He went through but there was some man there, a hunter…”

  “But it’s a nature preserve,” I interrupt. I just can’t understand what’s happened.

  “This man said he was lost, wandered onto the preserve accidentally. I don’t think anyone is questioning it too closely because if he hadn’t been there. Well, he was there that’s the important thing,” Dad picks up the story because Mom is still really upset. If that guy hadn’t been there would Max still be under the ice? I shudder at the thought. My overactive imagination sees him stuck under the ice all winter…sees someone finding what remains downstream some day in the spring. I feel sick.

  “It’s because of this guy that Max is even alive to have a chance,” Dad continues. “He managed to get Max out of the water and called for help and then began CPR. They sent the medevac chopper and took him to Hershey. Mark is there with him now.”

  “I need to see him,” I say. It’s the only thing I’m sure of. I don’t understand anything my parents have told me. Max trying to walk across that ice this early in the season doesn’t seem li
ke something he would do. He’s too smart to do something so risky. Max in that freezing water practically drowning just makes no sense to me. I can’t imagine it. Max in the ICU maybe not waking up…what does that even mean? He’s in a coma…sleeping? What?

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mom says in response.

  “I’m not asking,” I insist.

  “I don’t think you’re even allowed,” Dad says. “It’s the ICU. I’m sure only family is allowed.”

  “No, I don’t care. Tell them I’m family. Ask Lydia to arrange it, ask Mark or whatever you have to do but I need to see him.” I’ve found some kind of strange calm. I don’t know how that’s possible but I need to get them to agree before I lose it like I know I will.

  “Noah, honey, I don’t know,” Mom says. “I think it would be better just to wait and then when he’s in a regular room then we’ll see about visiting.”

  “Mom! You said it yourself! They don’t know if he’s going to wake up! What if he never leaves the ICU? I have to tell him I’m sorry. I don’t know if he can even hear me but I have to,” and now I’m crying because what if he doesn’t wake up? What if the last words I ever say to him are those words of hate? I can’t let these last few weeks be the end of it. I have to tell him even if it’s only for me.

  “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Dad says.

  “Oliver, maybe he’s right,” Mom says. Dad’s hands tighten their grip on my shoulders.

  “He’s too fragile!” Dad argues. I’m fragile? What does that even mean? I’m fine. I’ve been FINE.

  “It will be worse if…”Mom begins then stops. “I’ll call Lydia. Maybe Mark can give permission or something?”

  “No, Beth, I think it’s a mistake,” Dad says. I turn in my chair to look at him standing behind me.

  “Dad, please! You don’t understand. I can’t bear it! I was so horrible to him and I just can’t bear it if he never knows I’m sorry!” I throw my arms around his waist and bury my face in his shirt. He rubs my hair and I can practically feel him looking at Mom the way he does when they’re having their silent conversations.

  “Okay, we’ll see if it’s even possible,” Dad says. “Don’t get your hopes up, Noah. I’m not making any promises.”

  “Just let Mark know how important this is,” I plead.

  “Okay, baby, okay,” Dad says as he leans down to kiss the top of my head. I can tell he’s upset. He usually calls me son or sport or buddy. This simple term of endearment speaks volumes.

  Mom takes her phone into another room and I assume she’s calling Lydia and doesn’t want me to hear the conversation. I let go of Dad and make a pillow of my arms on the table and rest my head while I let silent tears fall. Was it really just this morning that I was debating whether or not I could actually talk to Max about everything? Now that I might not even get that chance I realize how stupid I’ve been.

  I hear Dad moving around the kitchen, opening and closing the fridge, the sound of plates and silverware. Eventually he taps me on the shoulder and when I sit up he’s placed a sandwich in front of me. It’s made with cold cuts and cheese and lettuce and tomatoes so someone must have gone to the grocery store while I slept. I’m about to tell him I can’t eat when my stomach growls reminding me why I wandered into the kitchen in the first place.

  I eat without really tasting anything and then I just sit there at the table staring into space. I can’t process what I’m feeling. Only two days have gone by since I admitted to Kimber (and myself) that there may be more than just friendship between Max and me and now…now I might never even get a chance to apologize. No matter how I had planned to act on any of this I wasn’t prepared for this. I may have pushed him away but I knew he was still there waiting, ready to be my friend again if I ever got over being upset with him. I wasn’t prepared to LOSE him like this.

  “Noah?” Dad’s hand on my shoulder again makes me jump.

  “Yeah?” I say quietly.

  “I asked if you want to go watch a movie or something while we wait for some news,” I can tell he’s worried. Slipping into myself is something I haven’t done in a while. It’s usually what happens right before the ‘depression’ sets in and even I have to admit how serious that would be. My parents tend to lose it when I get too sad. I don’t think that’s what this is though. I think I’m just so preoccupied with worry that I didn’t hear him. I’m still fine. I’ve been fine. I’m okay.

  “I guess. I don’t care,” I sigh and follow him into the living room.

  “What do you want to watch?” Dad asks.

  “I don’t care. You pick.”

  “Are you in the mood for a comedy or drama or horror?” Dad continues to encourage me to participate. I understand what he’s doing. He’s trying to engage me like Dr. Bachman told them they should do when I’m pulling away. I’m not though. I just really don’t care. How can I care about a movie right now?

  “Whatever you want is fine,” I curl up on the couch under a throw. Dad sets up a movie and then joins me. Of course he picked a comedy. He doesn’t want me to get too sad. How can I not be sad? How can I even watch a movie when Max may never wake up? Dad puts his arm out towards me and I slide down the couch to curl up against his side. I don’t care if I’m sixteen, I feel like I’m six.

  The movie is half over and I don’t even know what I just watched when Mom finally comes into the room. She sits on the other side of me and strokes my hair. It breaks my heart to know how much my parents love me when I cause them nothing but pain. For no reason at all I just start crying and Dad holds me tighter.

  “Lydia is going to talk to Mark. She said it might not be up to him, hospitals have rules. Hopefully if he says it’s okay they’ll let you in, but don’t be too disappointed if the answer is no.” That’s just inconceivable to me. They HAVE to say yes. “Don’t be too upset if we don’t hear anything right away. Mark is understandably distraught and setting this visit up is not exactly his priority right now.” I nod to let her know I’m listening. “Don’t cry, sweetie. Everything will work out,” she adds. How can she know that? If the doctors don’t know then she doesn’t know. I hate that, when people say things will be fine when they know things may be very extremely far from fine.

  Dad continues to hold me and Mom sits very close on the other side of me stroking my hair. I know they’re trying to comfort me and they’re desperate to make sure I don’t have some kind of episode but it’s not helping. It almost makes me feel worse, feeling their concern. I wish I could just fall asleep…

  I’m freezing and is it any wonder? I’m in ice water up to my elbows. I want to take my hands out of this dark, cold water before I get frostbite but I’m not done here yet. As long as I feel struggling under my hands I’m not done. I pant with the effort of holding my hands under the water, holding him down…It’s only when he stops struggling that I see it’s Max with his neck in my hands and as his blue eyes close I start to scream…

  The sound of Mom’s cellphone wakes me abruptly and I’m left gasping after that dream. “Shhh, it’s just a dream,” Dad soothes. I hear Mom’s voice from far away. She must have taken her cell into the next room. It’s after eleven according to the clock on the cable box. It seems like forever before Mom comes back into the room.

  “Mark has set it up that you can go visit tomorrow,” Mom says. I sit up and wait for more information. “You can only stay for a very short amount of time. Normal visiting hours are at nine but Mark is there around the clock so whenever you want to go is fine. Are you sure you’re ready for this Noah?”

  “Yes! I would go right now if I could,” I tell them. My parents share one of those looks that means nonverbal communication is happening. Finally, my dad sighs.

  “I still don’t like it but I can see you really mean to go through with this,” he tells me. “Go on to bed and try to get some sleep.”

  “Okay,” I agree even though I don’t feel like I can fall asleep again. That dream was too real.

>   “You should take a dose,” Mom says. I shake my head. I need to get that crap out of my system again so I can be really sure about what I’m feeling, make sure it’s really me.

  “I don’t need one. I’m just going to sleep. I’m okay. I’m fine,” I say as I head off to bed. I don’t know if it’s worry, fear of that dream or the fact that I slept for several hours during the day but I lie awake most of the night. My mind turns it over and over again. Max in the hospital, maybe not waking up and what am I going to do when I see him? I have to go. Of course I have to go but I’m also very afraid.

  Mom and Dad let me sleep in but it’s not like I really get a lot of sleep because I was up most of the night. Between the Xanax induced sleep most of the day Sunday and the Max induced worry keeping me awake Sunday night my sleep patterns are all messed up. I stand in a hot shower for a while and then I join my parents in the kitchen. I manage to choke down some oatmeal and then it’s time to get on the road. Mom wants me to take some Xanax but I refuse. Eventually Dad makes us compromise by suggesting I take half a bar. I don’t like it but it’s the only way to get us out of the house.

  The drive to Hershey is the longest of my life. I try to stay calm and breathe and just let my mind wander so that I don’t get overly anxious. Eventually we get there and Mom checks to make sure I’m okay. Of course I’m okay. I wanted to do this. I demanded they let me do this.

  Penn State Hershey is the closest pediatric intensive care trauma center so this is where they brought Max. Pediatric, I think it’s weird that he’s in a pediatric unit but he is under eighteen so I guess that’s why. Supposedly it’s a state of the art facility. It’s too bright, too clean. I hate it.

  I’m uncomfortable in hospitals…too many bad memories. It’s the smell really. All hospitals smell alike and smell is the biggest memory trigger. I try to breathe through my mouth so I can’t smell the antiseptic air. It’s not until we’re in the elevator that I start to shake. Mom sees but doesn’t give me an “I told you so” about taking my meds. Dad puts his hands on my shoulders to steady me. We’re all quiet. On the next floor more people get on the elevator and it gets really crowded and I can’t take it.