Behind the Falls

by Brenda Zalegowski

  “I think we should be in love. That’s why I’m not quite ready yet, but I also think I’m really close, Noah,” she says as she leans against me and kisses me.

  I go through the motions of kissing her back but all I can think about is how much I wish I was anyplace else right now. She just said she’s really close…as in really close to being in love with me? Shit. As I see it I have two options. I can break up with her before anyone gets hurt or I just go through the motions and pretend…which doesn’t sound fun or fair to either of us. I don’t want to lose her though. I mean, I really do care about her and I like spending time with her and, dammit! Why did I ever kiss her in the first place? I should have just kept it plutonic. We should have just stayed friends. I don’t say anything.

  “We should get that homework started. My mom will be home soon,” she says and takes my hand to lead me from the room. I follow her silently downstairs and into the kitchen. We’re quietly doing homework when her mom gets home from work.

  Of course I’m just bashful and awkward when I have to meet Sherrie’s mom. She seems nice enough it’s just me and my issues that cause me to hide behind my bangs and mumble my hello. She gushes just a little too much about what a cute couple we are with our matching hair. Uh, no my hair is mostly brown or at least it’s not nearly as red (or as fake) as Sherrie’s. I should call her Cherry.

  “Uh, I should probably get home soon,” I tell Sherrie when her mom finally leaves the room.

  “You could stay for dinner,” Sherrie offers. I so do not want to be here long enough to meet her dad too. I shake my head.

  “No, my parents are expecting me,” I tell her even though Mom likes Sherrie and if I simply texted her she’d be okay with me staying. Sherrie finishes up what she’s working on then gets the keys from her mom. Finally we leave an excruciatingly long time later. I’m exhausted by the time we pull into my driveway.

  “Noah?” Sherries starts and I know I’m not excused from the car yet. I try not to sigh loudly. I just want to get inside and try to unwind. It’s been a stressful day. “About earlier? I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m easy or something. I just REALLY like you and you seem to like me and I just thought…”I stop her talking by giving her a kiss.

  “It’s okay,” I say as I hug her. “We don’t have to talk about it right now.” She has a worried look on her face and doesn’t seem to be done with the conversation but I certainly am, at least for now. “I should get inside,” I say as I grab my back pack and step out of the car.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she calls before I close the door. I wave and head for the house.

  As soon as I step inside I’m greeted by a fantastic smell. I hang my coat, drop my backpack and head for the kitchen. Dad is at the stove turning chicken as it fries. He must have taken over for Mom who is on the phone.

  “Thanks for calling, Lydia. Let us know if there’s any other news and you know, that offer is still good. If you need anything don’t hesitate to call. Bye now.” She’s obviously on the phone with Lydia. I’m suddenly feeling weak in the knees and I slump into a chair at the kitchen table. Mom puts her phone down on the counter. “That was Lydia,” she says.

  “Yeah, I sort of gathered that” I say. I want to ask her to just get to the point but at the same time I really don’t. I don’t want to know, do I?

  “They took Max off the vent today,” she says. Dad continues to move chicken around and doesn’t say anything. I’m waiting for Mom to continue but I’m not sure I’m ready to hear what she has to say. They took Max off the vent could mean a couple of things.

  Does it mean he’s okay? Is he awake? Is it all over? It could mean something bad. Is he gone? Did they take him off the vent because he’s never going to wake up, just like his mom? It doesn’t matter that fried chicken is one of my favorite meals. I have zero appetite. I breathe in through the nose and hold it then let it out slowly. I try to swallow past the lump in my throat.

  “Off the vent…what does that mean?” My voice sounds much weaker than I had expected. It must sound bad to them too because Dad suddenly turns away from the stove to look at me. Mom takes the tongs from him and resumes cooking.

  “It means he’s breathing on his own and his lungs have come around enough that he doesn’t need the vent. He’s still on oxygen and his lungs aren’t working at capacity yet but he’s heading in the right direction,” Mom tells me.

  “Is he awake?” Again my voice is so shaky. Dad stands behind me and squeezes my shoulders in that Dad way. I already know the answer to my question.

  “No, I’m sorry, sweetie, he isn’t awake yet. This is good news though! Let’s see a smile!” I just stare at her blankly. It’s not good news until he’s awake and out of the hospital. Anything could happen still.

  I mean, first of all he’s not awake yet and so they don’t even know yet if there’s neurological issues. Then there’s the whole ICU thing too. I mean, so many hospital deaths occur because of secondary infections picked up in the hospital. Being off the vent just means he’s now more susceptible to all the nasty stuff floating around a hospital, right?

  I have this overwhelming feeling of dread. He’s not alright. He’s not going to be alright. He’s never going to wake up and forgive me. He’s never going to leave the hospital. I’ve lost him for good. I pillow my head in my arms on the kitchen table. Dad’s hands leave my shoulders and Mom continues to make dinner.

  Dad returns quickly and puts a hand on my shoulder again. “Noah,” he says. I turn my head to look at him and he’s got a dose of Xanax and glass of water. “Take this then just relax until dinner, okay? Try not to think about all of this with Max right now. He’s in good hands, receiving the best care. He’s going to be fine.”

  I sigh because Dad doesn’t know that. No one knows that. I take the Xanax. It’s the second to last dose of the day. I forgot how tired a steady stream of psychotropic drugs can make me. I drag myself out of my chair and head for my bedroom, retrieving my backpack on the way.

  I’m too tired and distracted to finish up my homework. I only have one reading assignment left. Maybe I’ll just do it tomorrow morning. I drag the chair over to the vent and listen for a few minutes. Dad is worried again. When did he become the worrier? Mom is reassuring him.

  “It’s just the drugs,” Mom says. “Once the drugs have built up in his system and once he’s used to the side effects again he’ll even out, Ollie. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.”

  “Have you seen his eyes?” Dad sounds emotional. “It’s like one minute he doesn’t care about anything and then the next he cares so much it’s like he can’t stand it. I can’t stand seeing him that way.” Dad can actually see that? I thought I was hiding that so well.

  “He’s upset about Max. It’s understandable. Even someone that is completely one hundred percent fine would be upset. You and I are upset, how can he not be? It’s nothing more. We would be able to tell.”

  “Would we?” Dad sounds so tired…as tired as I feel.

  “We would. We know what to look for. He’s going to be fine.” Mom sounds pretty confident that I’m not a total basket case. It makes me feel marginally better that at least someone trusts me. It also makes me feel good that when one of them doubts and worries that the other always seems to be sure and can buoy the other in his or her moment of weakness.

  I lay on my bed curled up around an extra pillow just staring at the wall. I don’t know how long I’ve been there when I hear the door open. I wasn’t sleeping but I wasn’t really thinking about anything either. I’m just kind of taking up space. I feel the bed sink with the weight of one of my parents. My hair is brushed off the side of my face and tucked behind my ear and I’m thinking it’s my mom but it’s Dad’s voice that I hear.

  “Noah?” he says quietly and I can hear the sadness and worry in his voice in just that one word. “Tell me what’s going on with you. Is it really just about Max or is there more? Please don’t shut us out if it’s bad again. You need to come
to us. You can lean on us if it’s bad.” He sounds like he’s ready to cry and that makes my own throat tight.

  “I’m fine,” I insist. “I’m upset about Max but I’m not depressed and these damned Xanax are just messing me up right now. Do I really need them if they make me feel worse?”

  “Dr. Cooper thinks you need them right now so yes, you will take them. I know it’s hard but it will get better once you’re used to being on meds again.”

  “I’m such a failure,” I sigh. Dad leans over and kisses my cheek.

  “You’re not a failure. You’re doing great under the circumstances and Mom and I are proud of you. You just need a little help right now. Everyone needs help once in a while. It doesn’t mean you’re a failure. Come to dinner now.”

  Dinner is the fried chicken that was cooking when I got home from Sherrie’s. It’s also green beans and macaroni and cheese and not the powdered cheese kind (although I love that too). I don’t think Mom made the mac and cheese herself but it’s either a really good brand of frozen dinner or from the deli. There are also biscuits and I know that these are pop ‘n fresh because that’s all Mom ever makes. It’s one of my favorite meals and I know Mom planned it to entice me to eat but the lack of appetite caused by the Xanax (and the worry that I still have regardless of the drugs) has nothing to do with liking food or not. I’m as likely to eat all of this as I would be to eat tofu.

  Mom and Dad are talking about random things. I’m not really paying attention. I force a few forkfuls of food but for the most part I’m just pushing food around my plate while my mind wanders. I’ve finally managed to get one noodle on each prong of my fork (they’re fat noodles, it’s harder than it sounds) when Mom’s voice cuts through.

  “Noah? Did you hear me?” she asks. I realize at some point the conversation shifted to include me but I wasn’t paying attention.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I sit up a little straighter and eat my four noodles.

  “I asked how the bus was this afternoon,” Mom says. I see her shoot a look at my dad. Really, they need to work on their subtlety because they’re not…subtle that is. I shrug.

  “It wasn’t too bad” I lie. I hated it. “It’s definitely better than flying. I’d still rather go to school in a car with seatbelts and maybe airbags,” I say. “When you’re working at the junior high you’ll be going that way anyway. I’d rather just go with you.”

  “I thought we were still discussing that?” Dad turns to Mom.

  “We are but I discussed it with Noah and he has a good point. I’ll be closer to him if he needs me if I’m working at the junior high than if I was here at home,” Mom says and I nod my agreement.

  “What if…”Dad’s hesitant and I know he’d rather not talk about this in front of me but he’s started already so it’s kind of too late. “Well, I’m not saying it will happen, but what if we need to do homeschooling again?”

  “I thought you said you were proud of me? I thought you said I wasn’t a failure!” My outburst surprises them both.

  “I am proud and you’re not a failure,” Dad assures me. “I just want to make sure we cover every base….”

  “I WON’T need to be homeschooled again,” I hiss. “I LIKE school. My friends are there. I’m doing well there. I wish I had gone to school sooner. I might not be so ridiculous and naïve now if I’d been going to school all along.” They do that thing where they talk silently with their eyes and I put down my fork. When I push my chair back my Mom stops me.

  “Noah, you’ve barely eaten,” she says.

  “I’m not hungry.” I don’t wait for them to say anything or to be excused I just leave.

  Back in the solitude of my own room I simply change into pajamas and climb into bed. I plug my phone into the charger and that’s when I see a missed call from Kimber. She called in the middle of dinner. She always forgets that it’s an hour later here than where she is. I call her.

  “Hey, Freak, I haven’t heard from you since you got back. I was starting to worry. Mom said she only heard from Aunt Beth right after your plane landed. What’s going on?” She cuts right to the chase.

  “He’s going to die and I feel like it’s all my fault,” I sigh. I don’t even feel tears threaten because I’m so tired. Actually, it’s probably just the Xanax making me numb.

  “What are you talking about?” Great, now she sounds worried.

  “Max…there was an accident. He’s in intensive care and they don’t know if he’s going to wake up and I feel like…it’s my fault somehow. If I had handled things differently it never would have happened.”

  “You weren’t even there. How could it be your fault?” I explain how Max fell through the ice. I tell her about seeing him in the hospital and the freak out I had while I was there. I tell her how scared I am that he’s never going to wake up and then I’m telling her about seeing Dr. Cooper and the deals I made with him. I tell her my parents think I’m losing it again and I think I’m doing okay but it’s them and the doctor against just me.

  “Noah? Don’t get upset or anything but maybe they’re right. Maybe you should be on the meds right now. I mean, it just sounds like you have a lot to think about right now,” she says gently. No, not Kimber too.

  “Everyone has things going on all of the time but everyone else isn’t on drugs to deal with it. Why won’t they just let me deal with it?” I sigh. It’s all of the emotion I can muster right now. “I HATE this, Kimber. I really hate being so numb. I think I felt better when I was crying all the time.”

  “Noah, you practically had a panic attack tree shopping. I hate to say this but maybe they’re right? Maybe you should just, you know, use the meds for a while until things even out or whatever.”

  “It was a little anxiety. It wasn’t a panic attack. Did you tell them?” I accuse. “Did you tell them how I confided in you and how I told you things that made me cry? Did you tell them I’m screwed up? Is that why they made me go back to the doctor and back on the meds?”

  “I didn’t tell them anything,” she says softly. “Noah, they can see it. I know you have these periods once in a while and I know they usually just run their course but with your friend and…everything else…on top of that I think it’s completely understandable if…” I don’t let her finish. Everyone thinks I’m losing it except me.

  “Forget it,” I’m short with her like I never am. “I’m fine but if it makes everyone else feel better to think I’m nuts whatever. I won’t bother you again.” I end the call and turn off my phone. I turn off the bedside lamp. Even though the Xanax has made me feel tired and sluggish all day I lay awake late into the night. As usual, I play possum when my parents come in to check on me before they too head off to bed.

  The next morning I’m silent the entire way to school. I go straight to homeroom without waiting for Sherrie at either of our lockers. When she arrives she takes the seat next to me as usual. I’ve been sitting with my head on the desk as I had done the day before and again she rubs my back.

  “Everything okay?” she asks. I shrug. She makes a few more attempts at conversation until the bell rings and she goes back to her own desk. After homeroom we walk to my first class together. She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before she continues down the hall to her class.

  I sleepwalk through my morning. Now it’s Xanax drowsiness combined with a sleepless night. I don’t understand why Dr. Cooper wants me on the meds. What did I ever do or say during our sessions that made him think I need to be medicated? Was it my parents? Did they tell him I need meds?

  I’m heading to my locker after chemistry class when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket letting me know that I have a text. It’s from my mom. It’s short and to the point because she knows I’m really not supposed to be getting texts in school and she doesn’t realize I’m not in class right now but she found it important enough to send a text anyway. It’s only two words.

  HE’S AWAKE.

  I stop in my tracks. My heart pounds and I can hear the blood
rushing in my ears and I’m dizzy and it’s not anxiety. I don’t have a name for this feeling. My fingers shake as I send a text back to her.

  IS HE OK? CAN HE TALK? WALK? IS HE OK!?

  An unendurable amount of time passes before she replies.

  HE’S TALKING. THEY’RE GOING TO DO TESTS TOMORROW. I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ELSE. I THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW AS SOON AS POSSIBLE BUT NOW IT’S TIME TO STOP TEXTING. YOU’RE IN SCHOOL, NOAH.

  I smile to myself. It’s kind of cute when she acts like a teacher. At some point my feet had started moving again and I’m almost at my locker. I see a familiar, multi-colored head walk past on the way to the cafeteria. I don’t even hesitate. I run down the hall to catch up with her and I grab her in a hug that surprises her.

  “He’s awake!” I tell her and her confused, defensive look changes to a sort of wary relief.

  “What do mean? How do you know? Is he okay?” Tabitha grabs my shirt in both her fists.

  “My mom just texted. She must have spoken to Lydia I guess. She just said he’s awake and talking and they’re going to start tests tomorrow…but he’s AWAKE,” the grin I can feel practically splitting my face must be contagious because suddenly Tabitha smiles a hundred watt smile. She grabs me tightly in a hug and kisses my cheek then just leans against me with her face pressed against my chest. We stand this way for a few minutes at least before we break apart.

  “Let’s go tell everyone,” Tabitha says tugging my hand and leads me to the cafeteria. We go directly to my old lunch table and I just stand shyly aside while Tabitha tells everyone what I just told her. I feel like I don’t belong and like they don’t want me there and I haven’t talked to any of them since I stopped talking to Max so I feel really out of place. Darcy makes me feel less uncomfortable when she gets up and gives me a long hug. I see Sherrie beckoning from our regular table and I mumble something about see you later or whatever and I join her for lunch.