Behind the Falls

by Brenda Zalegowski

  “Who knows, perhaps nothing. I’m so sorry,” Dad is the one apologizing for me this time. Getting into the car, the short drive home, getting into the house is all a blur to me. I strip off my coat and let it fall to the floor as soon as I get in the door. I stumble unsteadily to my room with my parents close behind me.

  “Noah, stop,” Mom says as I open my bedroom door and practically fall into the room. I stagger on until I’m at the bathroom door which I can’t open at first because my hands don’t remember how to turn a knob but then I’m in, practically falling on the tile floor. I’m gasping and struggling to breathe as I squeeze into that space next to the sink.

  “Noah, come on honey, breathe,” Mom is kneeling on the floor in front of me.

  “It hurts!” I sob and I don’t think I mean the regular chest pain that accompanies a panic attack. Sure, there’s that, but the pain that has me sobbing is my emotional heart. Dad is suddenly there with Xanax and water. I shake my head.

  “I don’t want it!”

  “It’s almost time for your next dose anyway,” Mom cajoles. I shake my head, tears blurring my vision. Why am I like this? Why can’t I control this? Finally I accept the meds and the water from my dad. This was a bad one and they saw it. They’ll never let me stop taking the drugs now. I continue to shake and I draw my knees into my chest and put my head on them. Mom continues to kneel on the floor in front of me.

  Finally I’m calm enough that I allow Mom to lead me to my room. She gets sleep pants and a tee shirt out for me and my hands are still shaking too much to undo the buttons on my shirt. With the patience of a saint, Dad works the buttons for me and helps me out of my dress shirt and into a tee shirt. I manage to kick off my own shoes and then Dad helps me into the sleep pants. Mom collects my clothes and puts them in the hamper in my closet.

  I’m sitting at the foot of my bed still shaking a little and crying silent tears. Dad puts his arms around me and holds me close. Mom turns down the covers and they both guide me as I crawl into bed. Dad tucks the blankets around me as Mom lies next to me and strokes my hair.

  “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” she repeats softly over and over.

  “I’m sorry,” I croak when I finally find my voice. “I don’t know why I’m like this. Why am I like this!?” I cry. They don’t know either.

  “Did something happen?” Mom says softly. I shake my head.

  “I just started to feel uncomfortable and then I started to worry that everyone would notice and then I got stuck in that cycle of fear. I’m probably the only person on this whole fucking planet that’s afraid of being afraid,” I sob. I don’t mention how things escalated when I saw Max. He didn’t cause this. Seeing him with Mischa didn’t help but it’s not why this happened…at least I don’t think it is.

  My phone rings making me jump. It’s lying on the floor where it landed after falling out of my shirt pocket. Dad picks it up and looks at the display. “It’s Max,” he says. I shake my head.

  “I c-can’t talk,” I say. Dad answers the phone and leaves the room. I can hear his voice in the hallway telling Max that I took ill, telling him I’ll be okay but I can’t come to the phone just now. He listens without speaking for a bit then assures Max everything is fine then wishes him a Merry Christmas. When he returns he’s no longer on the phone.

  I’m suddenly tired. No, I’m utterly exhausted. I think I may get some actual sleep tonight. I try to keep my eyes open to reassure my parents but I can’t. My eyelids are too heavy. I fall asleep with Dad still watching me from the foot of the bed and Mom still stroking my hair.

  It’s now officially Christmas Eve and I’ve never felt less like celebrating a holiday. I wake up several times during the night but there are no more panic attacks. Around two o’clock in the morning I wake up to get a drink and I can hear my parents talking. They should be asleep but because of me they’re awake. I creep closer to their room, willing the floor not to creak and give me away.

  “It’s just…when does it stop?” my Dad asks and I think I hear tears in his voice. Mom says something I can’t quite make out then Dad continues. “He was doing so well. I thought he’d finally turned the corner on this thing and now…it’s almost as bad as when he was little and didn’t understand at all.”

  “Dr. Cooper thinks he’s fighting it too much,” Mom says. “He thinks that Noah’s intense fear of being ‘found out’ causes him to panic about that very thing. He’s afraid of the fear. Even Noah has admitted as much.”

  “So what are we supposed to do? Is he supposed to do nothing to fight it and just let the fear roll over him?”

  “We can deal with the panic,” Mom says. “We can deal with the anxiety. We should count ourselves lucky he’s not depressed.”

  “Doesn’t one cause the other? Isn’t that how it was with my dad? Isn’t that how it was….before?” There’s that mention of before again. I’m learning to hate that word.

  “Even the doctors aren’t sure about that, Ollie.” I shift my weight and a floorboard creaks. “Noah?” Mom calls. I freeze.

  “It’s just the house settling,” Dad says. I tiptoe back to my room then dive into bed.

  They let me sleep in the next morning. Even though I woke up every half hour or so throughout the night it’s more sleep than I’ve gotten since the last time I slept over with Max. I’m sore this morning. I get dressed to run and then I stretch in my room before meeting my parents in the kitchen. After the regular routine of Xanax and showing them that I have my phone and telling them how long I’ll be I’m on my way.

  I’m on my way back home, and I’ve already slowed to a jog preparing to slow to a walk to cool down when a familiar car pulls up next to me. I keep jogging as the passenger side window is rolled down.

  “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” Max says. I slow to a walk and take my heart rate. He creeps along next to me. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Go ahead,” I say as I continue to walk.

  “I’m going to start blocking traffic,” he says. “It would be easier if you would stop walking.” I stop and turn towards Lydia’s Subaru. There’s no traffic. There are no other cars on the road. “It would be even easier if you would get in the car,” he says as he unlocks the door. I open the door and he moves a grocery bag off the front seat. It ends up in Matty’s car seat in the back of the car. I climb in and wait for him to talk. He pulls into the curb.

  “You left,” he says.

  “I didn’t feel well.”

  “You didn’t say goodbye.”

  “You were busy and I was afraid I’d be sick and ruin the party.” He runs his hand through his hair.

  “Mischa called and she was really upset. She met up with her ex-boyfriend. She needed a friend. She’s been pretty devastated.”

  “Yeah, she looks torn up,” I don’t know if he catches the sarcasm or not.

  “Last night she asked him to meet up so she could give him a gift she bought for him for Christmas before they broke up and he said yes. When she got there he was with some other girl.”

  “Harsh,” I say.

  “She was really upset.”

  “Sounds like,” I say dryly.

  “I was just trying to be there for her.”

  “Yeah, you said.”

  “Jesus, Noah! Can you just give me one tiny break?” he shouts.

  “Why are you shouting?”

  “Why are you being like this?” He folds his arms on the steering wheel and lays his head on them then turns to look at me. He’s never afraid to look.

  “I just wanted to explain. What you saw last night…it was nothing. I was consoling a friend. She needed a shoulder to cry on and I was there for her. After she told me what happened and after I listened and tried to make her feel better I walked her to her car which was like way down the block because of my parents’ party. When I got back you were gone.”

  “Yeah, on account of that getting sick thing,” I say.

  “I trie
d to call you but your dad said you couldn’t come to the phone. I thought…I thought maybe I messed up again and we weren’t friends again. I just wanted to explain.”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “Don’t I?” He really looks at me when he says this. I could tell him now. It almost seems like he knows already, or at least suspects. I could tell him yes he owes me an explanation when he’s holding a girl and kissing her hair. I could lean over and kiss him right now. He’s right there. My stomach flips at the thought.

  “I sort of feel like I do…owe you an explanation. I mean, after what happened with us…I just don’t want you to think that meant nothing. I don’t want you to think I’m that fickle or easy or whatever, like I jeopardized our entire friendship and hurt you like that simply over some flight of fancy.”

  “Of course you don’t owe me an explanation. It’s not my business,” is all I say. He looks at me for a minute. He looks sad.

  “Yeah, I guess not. So, we’re okay?” he gives me that Mona Lisa smile, the sad one.

  “Of course we are. Why wouldn’t we be? I really need to get home now. My parents haven’t forgotten that night I took that really long run,” I say. Another fleeting look of sadness passes over his face then it’s gone.

  “Do you want me to drop you off?” he offers. It’s only a few blocks. I was going to walk it to cool down but now that I’ve been sitting here I’m not warm from the run anymore and not looking forward to the cold walk home.

  “Sure,” I say and fasten my seatbelt. When we pull up in front of my house I don’t get out right away. I feel like this is my chance to…do what exactly?

  “I should get home. Lydia needed this milk like yesterday,” he says before I can do or say anything. He brushes his hair back then looks over at me. “I’m not going to be around for a few days. Dad and I are going to Reno after Christmas.”

  “Nevada?”

  “Yeah, we’re going to spend some time just the two of us skiing and whatever. I’ll be back before New Year’s. I just wanted to say Merry Christmas before I go.”

  “That’s pretty far to go just to ski.” He shrugs.

  “We’re going to see a friend of his while we’re there.”

  “No friends of yours?” I ask and of course he knows what friend I mean.

  “No, I very much doubt that.”

  “Oh, uh, Merry Christmas then I guess. Don’t be too much of a wimp about the cold when you’re skiing.”

  “It makes the lodge that much more enjoyable. I’ll see you soon,” he leans across the car and gives me a quick hug and then I get out of the car. He’s gone before I even get in the house.

  Later in the day I spend a few hours decorating with Mom and Dad. We always wait until Christmas Eve to decorate and put up a tree. Mom says it’s less special if you have lights and a tree for weeks before the actual holiday. After dinner we make hot chocolate and watch a bunch of Christmas movies with just the light of the Christmas tree. We start with It’s a Wonderful Life. We get through that and the Grinch and are halfway through A Christmas Story when I decide to go to bed. I’ve never been less excited about Christmas. I just don’t really care right now.

  It snows on Christmas day. It’s a quiet day. Aunt Sarah calls and some of my parent’s friends call. I talk to Kimber for a few minutes. I get a lot of texts wishing me a Merry Christmas. I didn’t really ask for anything this year so I’m surprised beyond belief when I actually get a TV for my bedroom because Mom is definitely not a fan of television in the bedrooms. It’s not huge like the one in Max’s room but it’s nice enough. I get other random things like art supplies, books, clothes and a new pedometer techno gadget that hooks up to my phone.

  Mom takes a nap after lunch because she was up late wrapping gifts. Dad says she should wrap them as she buys them. I say I’m sixteen and I don’t really need to unwrap presents. Mom says she LIKES to wrap gifts on Christmas Eve.

  While Mom is napping Dad and I play cards. I like Rummy and Dad likes Hearts so we play those games. To mix it up we play a couple of games of Memory. I beat Dad badly every time we play that. Dad is shuffling the deck for another game when Mom gets up from her nap. She joins us for a game of Crazy eights. She’s never been good at remembering the rules to card games. It’s kinda fun playing a kid’s game though. It reminds me of childhood.

  “So what was that about the other night? Dad says as he shuffles for a new game.

  “What was what?” I ask even though of course I know what he means.

  “What brought on the attack the other night at the Maxwell’s?” Dad asks as he deals.

  “You know how it is. Sometimes nothing needs to happen,” I shrug. “There were a lot of people there I didn’t know. There was a guy there from school that kinda scares me a bit. I don’t know. I just felt anxious and then I couldn’t breathe and then I was worried that I was going to have an attack and then…”I sigh. “Then everyone would know. As soon as I thought of that happening it was all I could think of and I couldn’t stop it and it escalated and that’s when I found you.” It’s the most honest I’ve been with them about the panic disorder since we moved to Lansing.

  “What about this boy from school? Does he threaten you, harass you?” Dad asks. I shake my head.

  “Not directly, no, he’s just one of those threatening jock types. It’s all in my head. I don’t think he even knows I exist,” I tell them. It’s probably true. The looks Kyle gives me sometimes are probably products of my imagination.

  “We’ll have to talk to Dr. Cooper about the meds. Maybe the dosage needs adjusting. Maybe we need to try something else,” Mom suggests.

  “Dr. Bachman got me off the drugs,” I say. “I don’t want a higher dosage. I want to get off of this stuff. I don’t like how it makes me feel.”

  “We’ll discuss it with Dr. Cooper at your next visit,” is all that Mom says. I know that means they’ll just defer to whatever he says.

  “I’m going to my room,” I say dropping my cards on the table.

  “Noah!” Mom calls.

  “Just let him go for now,” Dad tells her. I spend the rest of the afternoon drawing in my room. When my parents haven’t bothered me for most of the afternoon I drag a chair over to the vent.

  “You should go. You haven’t seen them in such a long time,” Dad is saying.

  “They’re your friends, Ollie,” Mom replies.

  “They were my friends first but they’re your friends too.”

  “Maybe we could both go?” Mom says it like a question.

  “No, absolutely not, we can’t leave him home alone. A week ago I would have said let’s give it a try but after the other night…I just can’t.”

  “We wouldn’t be that far away. It’s just overnight. We both need a break, Ollie. HE needs a break. We need to start letting him stretch his wings. He’s sixteen, almost seventeen. In no time he’ll be eighteen. Soon he’ll be going out on his own. We haven’t even prepared him for that…”

  “No, he’s not going anywhere. He’s going to stay with us while he’s in school. Of course he is. This can wait. We can give him more freedom when things…stabilize.” I climb off the chair and tiptoe my way to the kitchen.

  “I could call Lydia. Maybe he could just spend the night there. He’s usually okay at the Maxwell’s. I think the other night was an aberration because of how many strangers were there. I think…”Mom doesn’t get any further because I enter the room.

  “I’m capable of spending a night alone,” I tell them. “Where are you going?” Mom busies herself with getting the turkey out of the oven. I’ve often wondered why we do turkey at Christmas when we’ve just had it at Thanksgiving.

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Dad says decisively.

  “I think you should,” I tell him. “I’m not a child. I’ll take my meds. There’s no reason to think I can’t be fine if I’m on my own. I don’t need to be shipped off to the Maxwell’s to be baby sat anytime you want to get away. Where are
you going?”

  “Gerry and Pat Sheffield invited us to spend New Year’s Eve with them in Philly. You remember meeting them, right?” Mom says.

  “Yeah, he’s Dad’s old college roommate and you guys have all kept in touch. You should go. They always have to come to Illinois if they want to see you. You should go to them for a change. This is probably the best time to visit them anyway since you’re so close.”

  “No, it’s out of the question,” Dad says. When did he become the overprotective parent?

  “Maybe, I don’t know, maybe I could stay here and Max could spend the night? I mean if he doesn’t have plans. Then I wouldn’t be alone but I wouldn’t have to feel like a child,” I suggest.

  “It’s not a bad solution,” Mom says.

  “Have you told Max?” my Dad says.

  “Why would I?” I counter. He shakes his head.

  “If he doesn’t know what he’s dealing with then no. The answer is no.”

  “But Mark knows!” Now that it’s been brought up I WANT this night without my parents. I need to prove to them and myself that I’m not a basket case that can’t be left alone. “Nothing is going to happen. Everything will be fine but if it’s not Mark and Lydia are only a couple of blocks away. Max would call them for help. He would take care of it.”

  “Let me call Lydia and see if they’re free that night. It’s very likely they’re going to a party themselves. Or Max may already have plans. I think this is a workable solution, Oliver,” Mom is stern with Dad. When she calls him Oliver she’s serious. Dad looks from her to me and back again.

  “YOU said I wasn’t a failure,” I remind him. “Let me prove it to you. Let me prove it to MYSELF.”

  “Fine!” Dad knows when he’s been beaten. “Can we have a nice dinner now?” To prove to my Dad that I’m really okay and he can relax I manage to eat for once.

  The day after Christmas I’ve just finished an afternoon run and subsequent shower when Mom tells me I have company. Max was vague about when he was leaving for Reno and Mom would have just said Max was here so I’m wondering who it is as I make my way to the living room. To my shock and amazement it’s Tabitha sitting on the edge of the couch looking uncomfortable. She gives me a tentative smile.