Behind the Falls

by Brenda Zalegowski

  They make me come to the table for dinner. One of them picked up Thai food. I pick at my Pad Thai, dropping more with my chopsticks than I’m actually getting into my mouth. Eventually they let me go to my room. They’ve been uncharacteristically quiet with each other since we got home from the hospital so I don’t even bother dragging my chair to the vent. I go to bed early.

  Mom comes to check on me first. She turns off my alarm and pulls my chair up next to the bed. She sits and strokes my hair in the light from the street light. I forgot to pull down the shades.

  “Why did you turn off my alarm?” I ask. My voice sounds flat to me. Does she hear it?

  “You’re not going to school tomorrow,” she says.

  “Mom, it’s already been a long weekend. I just want to get back to a normal schedule,” I argue.

  “This is not negotiable, Noah. Your father and I are worried…”

  “I’m FINE.” Mom brushes my bangs off of my face.

  “I think maybe we should try home schooling again,” she says it with a sympathetic tone in her voice but that doesn’t make it any less harsh.

  “School is fine, Mom. I’m just tired from all of these drugs and I’m just sad because of Max. As soon as things are back to normal I’ll be fine. You’ll see,” I try to assure her.

  “Maybe you’re right. I can’t know what goes on in your head,” she says this with a searching look as if she can look straight into me but of course she can’t. “Maybe everything will be fine when you get back to a normal schedule but you’re still staying home tomorrow.” I know there’s no point arguing with her so I roll over and show her my back in a silent gesture of defiance.

  Dad comes in after Mom leaves. He also takes the chair next to my bed. I show him my back immediately. He clears his throat, adjusts and readjusts himself in my chair, clears his throat again.

  “Noah, I really don’t think you see how this looks to Mom and me,” he begins. “We see you headed in a bad way again and we just want to help you before it gets worse.”

  “I’m fine,” I say flatly. I’m tired of repeating myself. “You won’t let me leave the house which is ironic in itself. Mom is threatening me with homeschooling, also ironic considering you guys wanted me to go to school in the first place. I’m sad about Max. How can I not be? It doesn’t mean I’m nuts.”

  “Come on, Noah, we’ve never used that word. We’re just worried.”

  “Could you worry somewhere else? I’d really like to sleep,” I say and close my eyes. He stays in the chair for a few minutes before he finally leaves my room. I can’t miss the fact that he leaves the door open.

  The next morning I don’t talk to them at breakfast. I love them so much but they’re really overstepping their bounds on this one. When I’ve finished my pancakes and turkey sausage they spring another unwelcome surprise on me.

  “Time to get dressed, Noah. You have a half hour,” Dad says. I frown in confusion.

  “I thought I wasn’t going to school today? I’m going to be pretty late,” I respond.

  “You aren’t going to school. You’re going to see Dr. Cooper,” Mom explains. I shake my head.

  “No, he said we were done. He said….”

  “He said he didn’t see the point in continuing your sessions if you weren’t going to cooperate. He didn’t say that you didn’t need them. This is not negotiable,” Dad says. I look from one to the other and they’re a united front, them against me. I slump my shoulders then sigh and head to my room.

  An hour later I’m sitting in the waiting room with my mom and dad. I wish I would have thought to bring a book. The magazines in this waiting room were old when I was here back in September for my first visit. Finally, they call me to the doctor’s office.

  I slump in the chair in front of his desk and frown. He puts his elbows on the desk and tents his hands, propping his chin on them. It’s a stare down. If he thinks he can win this he doesn’t know how stubborn I can be.

  “Noah, you’re not going to get anywhere by fighting me,” he breaks first and I have to suppress a smile. “I want to help you.”

  “I don’t want any help,” I say.

  “What did you say?” he asks. He was sitting right there. How could he not hear me?

  “I SAID I don’t want any help,” I repeat myself.

  “That’s what I thought you said. That’s the first time you’ve said that,” he notes. I shake my head.

  “I say that every time I’m here,” I counter.

  “No, what you usually say is that you don’t NEED any help. Today you don’t WANT any. I could interpret that as meaning you need help but you don’t want it. You don’t want to need help.”

  “Okay it was a mistake in wording. I don’t NEED any help.”

  “There are no mistakes here, Noah,” he says almost smugly. I don’t respond. He goes on, “I think you know that you need some help but you’re afraid to come right out and admit that.”

  “Why would I be afraid to admit that I need help? If I needed it I would ask.”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me? Hypothetically of course, IF you were afraid to ask for help, why would that be do you think?” Okay, I can play along if that will get me out of this office faster.

  “IF I were afraid to ask for help maybe it would be because I’ve been fine and needing help means I’m not anymore? But I AM…fine that is.”

  “You’ve had a few panic attacks recently, yes?” I shrug.

  “We flew twice in the last week. Sue me if I’m afraid to fly. Plenty of people are afraid to fly. It doesn’t make them crazy.”

  “No one said you were crazy, Noah,” Dr. Cooper almost smiles. It’s weird.

  “If no one thinks I’m crazy why am I seeing a shrink instead of suffering through history class right now?” I ask. He starts polishing his glasses.

  “Would you like to talk about two weeks ago when you ran away?” he asks as he puts his glasses back where they belong. Ran away?

  “What are you even talking about? I never ran away.”

  “You didn’t just get out of your mother’s car and take off? Your father didn’t find you on your way out of town?” I shake my head and laugh.

  “You really have a way of twisting things to make them look bad. I like to run. I run every day that I can. I took a run. I didn’t run away.” I finally understand why I ran and it had nothing to do with wanting a run but I’m not about to tell him that.

  “Do you normally get out of your mother’s car in school clothes and run until you’re out of town? Your father drove around for hours looking for you. Do you know how upset your parents were about that? Noah, that’s just not normal behavior.”

  “You’re not a runner are you? They don’t get it and you can’t get it either. When you run you just are. It’s not being stuck in your head thinking and worrying. It’s just running and being purely physical. I went a little too far because I wasn’t paying attention. It doesn’t MEAN anything.”

  “Do you know why you’re here today?” He puts his elbows back on the desk and leans towards me. I shrug.

  “My parents are overprotective. They just assume something is wrong. I took a run without telling them where I was going and I had a bit of panic about flying and they think I’m messed up again but I’m fine.”

  “They also think you’re depressed or at least heading that way,” Dr. Cooper admits. I shake my head.

  “I’m not depressed. I’m SAD. There’s a difference. My best friend is in a fucking coma he may never wake up from and we fought. He’s going to die thinking I hate him so yeah, I’m pretty fucking sad about that. If my parents get sad they don’t get accused of being depressed. If you get sad do you diagnose it as depression? NO! So why the Hell can’t anyone understand that I’m just sad?” I’m shaking now. I cross my arms over my chest and look at the painting he has hanging on the wall behind him.

  “Noah, don’t you see how, given your history, this sadness as you call it might concern them?�
��

  “My history?”

  “I’ve talked at length with Dr. Bachman, your parents and I’ve read your case notes from front to back, yes your history,” I stop him right there.

  “That was more than two YEARS ago and I’m not like I was then. I’m not a kid anymore and that whole thing was exaggerated anyway.” Dr. Cooper says nothing, just gives me the same stare down as before but this time I have to break eye contact first because everything has gone all blurry. I have no idea how much time has passed since either of us spoke. Dr. Cooper is the one that breaks the silence.

  “Do you see now why your parents are concerned, why you’re here today?” he says it so gently that I just end up crying harder. How long have I been crying exactly? I can only shrug.

  “I just feel so hopeless,” I sigh then catch my mistake. “I mean helpless. I feel so helpless.”

  “Helpless about what exactly?”

  “You know, my friend that’s dying and making my parents worry. I can’t fix anything. I can’t convince anyone that I’m okay. I really am okay.” Oh yeah, because crying in the shrink’s office is completely fine. I’m surprised he hasn’t put me in restraints already.

  “Noah, I can help you fix things. It’s what I’m here for after all. You just need to meet me halfway.”

  “Can you help me convince my parents I’m okay?” I sniffle.

  “I can help you get to the point where your parents realize you’re okay,” is his response. It’s not exactly what I asked but I guess it’s a start.

  “You can’t do anything about my friend…”

  “That’s true but I can help you to deal with how you’re feeling about what’s happening.” If he can really truly help me come to terms with how I feel about Max lying there so still and silent in that hospital…could he help me with everything else I feel about Max? First things first.

  “Can you convince my parents to let me go back to school?”

  “I think that I can but I need something from you in return. How about we do it like this? You tell me one thing you want and I’ll tell you what I expect from you in order to get it and I’ll do my best to make sure that it happens.”

  “Do you bribe all of your patients?” I try to laugh but it ends up a broken sob. God, why can’t I just get it together? They really ARE going to think I’m nuts soon.

  “Only when I think it’s necessary.”

  “I want to go back to school. It’s been fine and I don’t want to be homeschooled anymore and I miss my friends.”

  “I don’t think that’s an unreasonable request.”

  “So you’ll get them to let me go back to school?” I ask.

  “You have to agree to go back on your meds regularly and then yes, I think I can convince your parents to let you go back to school.” I consider this. Taking and not taking meds is a big deal to me and not just because they sometimes make me feel so numb. Taking meds means there’s something wrong with me and there’s nothing wrong with me.

  Dr. Cooper waits patiently for my answer. On the one hand taking meds means there’s something wrong but if I know that I’m fine what does it matter? As far as the numbness…well maybe feeling things lately hasn’t been all that great anyway. I mean, it’s like my heart hurts and not in a chest gripping way. So maybe if I take the meds I won’t want to cry every time I think of Max with that tube that’s making him breathe…

  “Okay. Have it your way. I’ll take the meds IF I get to go back to school starting tomorrow. I also want to be allowed to just go for a run. I mean, I’ve basically been on house arrest. I need to run off some energy. I don’t want to be away from it for so long that I’m totally out of shape and can’t even go a mile. Besides, it helps me sleep.”

  “I think I can make that happen. It might take a little extra effort though considering how they felt about you running off the other week.” He’s playing hardball now.

  “What do you want from me in return?” I sigh.

  “You need to start being honest with me, with your parents and start telling us how you really feel. You have to work with me here, Noah. We all just want what’s best for you.” I think I have been pretty honest but maybe I’ve been a little too blunt and a little to closed-mouthed in these sessions. Maybe I can give him an inch if it means getting out of the house.

  “Okay,” I sigh.

  “I also want to see you regularly again. Your regular Wednesday time slot is still available.” I start shaking my head while he’s still talking.

  “I don’t want that…”I begin and he smiles.

  “Again, you said WANT but what you want and what you need are not always the same, no?” He’s actually smiling at me, the rat bastard.

  “I don’t want OR need that,” I argue.

  “I’m sorry then, Noah. I can’t help you with any of these other things. I really thought we were making some headway here today.” He actually sounds genuinely disappointed in me. God! I hate when people are disappointed in me!

  “If I agree to weekly sessions again…what do I get?” I can’t think of anything else that I want that he can get for me but I’m not letting him have this without getting something in return.

  “What would you like, Noah? “

  “I would like everyone to just trust that I’m fine but I guess you can’t control everyone so that’s not really yours to give.”

  “I can’t control anyone but what I CAN do is get you to a point where you know you’re fine and your parents know you’re fine,” he suggests.

  “No, that’s not good enough. That’s basically you saying right now that I’m not fine but you can get me there and I disagree,” I think some more. I hate to waste this but I can’t think of anything. Well, there is one thing that bugs me. “You can’t talk to my parents behind my back anymore.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean this is supposed to be my therapy right? It’s about ME not them and if I’m the patient here,” I pause because God I hate that word…patient. I shake my head, “If this is MY therapy then there’s no good reason I can’t be in the room whenever you talk to them.” This is something that has bothered me since my first visit to Dr. Cooper. I think it’s why I’ve distrusted him this entire time.

  “You’re absolutely right. That will change starting right now,” he reaches out to shake my hand and I have to make an effort to keep mine steady as we shake on it. He calls my parents into the office. I hastily wipe my face. Dr. Cooper greets my parents as they take seats on either side of me.

  “Let’s just go over the plan of action that Noah and I have come up with together,” Dr. Cooper tells them. “First things first, Noah is going to start taking his meds on a regular basis. I’m going to adjust the dosage a bit today and we’ll see how it goes and make adjustments as needed.” I agreed to meds, I don’t recall agreeing to messing with dosages. This doctor is so damned tricky!

  “Noah has agreed to this?” Mom asks. She knows firsthand how hesitant I am to take meds.

  “Yes, Noah is on board with this entire plan. I know that there has been some talk about homeschooling but I’m going to suggest that Noah go back to school...”

  “Absolutely not,” says Dad.

  “You see?!” I say to Dr. Cooper throwing my hands in the air.

  “Professor Blakely, I agree with Noah. I think it’s good for him to socialize with his peers. I think it’s important for him to continue with the connections he’s made. For someone who has been agoraphobic in the past I think it’s important that Noah continue to socialize.”

  “Maybe, we’ll see, maybe next week,” Dad says.

  “No, then no meds, no shrink, none of it,” I’m getting angry now. Dr. Cooper gives the ‘calm down’ hand motion and continues to plead my case.

  “I don’t think there’s any point in putting it off if he feels ready now. I think it’s in Noah’s best interest to go back to school tomorrow.” My parents look at each other around me.

  “I think the
doctor and Noah are right,” Mom says. “Just going to school was such a big accomplishment for him and now wanting to go, fighting for it, well that’s just proof to me how far Noah has come.” Finally my dad begrudgingly agrees that I can go back to school tomorrow.

  The rest of the meeting goes much the same way. Dad doesn’t approve of the running either and Dr. Cooper has to go to bat for me and talk him around. Finally it’s decided I’m allowed to run if I tell them where I’m going, how long I’ll be, prove to them that I have my phone and at the first indiscretion they will take this liberty away from me.

  After everything has been decided, including the fact that I’m now seeing Dr. Cooper weekly again, we finally go home. It’s after lunch so we stop at the deli on the way home for carry out.

  “May I go for a run before I eat?” I ask when we get home.

  “Not today,” is Dad’s response.

  “So you’re already going against everything Dr. Cooper said?” I challenge. Dad sighs.

  “You may run tomorrow,” Dad says. “Today you were called off school. How would it look if you were out running? Tomorrow.” I sulk my way through lunch.

  It’s not until I get my phone to text Kimber about what’s been going on that I realize I never turned it back on after our flight on Sunday. There are half a dozen missed calls and twice as many text messages from Sherrie. The first few calls were just her asking me to call her when I got back from Illinois. When I didn’t answer the calls became more concerned. She started texting when my voicemail filled up and she couldn’t leave any more messages.

  The text messages are much the same. How could I have completely put her out of my mind like that? Yeah, I’ve been a little pre-occupied but I should have at least thought to text her and let her know our flight got in okay. Her second to last text is about Max.

  I HEARD ABOUT MAXWELL. I KNOW YOU GUYS HAVEN’T BEEN TALKING BUT I ALSO REALIZE YOU’RE PROBABLY PRETTY UPSET. PLEASE CALL ME AND LET ME KNOW YOU’RE OKAY.

  Her last text came in a half hour ago. She said she would pick up my assignments and bring them by. If I don’t want to see her I’m supposed to text her and let her know. I text her back to apologize.