Behind the Falls

by Brenda Zalegowski

  “Are you sure? You really don’t look good,” he says.

  “I’ll take him,” Darcy says. She’s already done with her lunch.

  “I’m capable of walking to the nurse on my own…” I argue as I stand up but I get dizzy and flop back into my chair.

  “I’m coming with you,” Darcy insists. As we walk to the nurse she keeps a hand on my elbow. I don’t know if this is a regular headache, or if I’m getting sick or maybe it’s a result of cutting back the meds. Mom spoke with the office and the nurse this morning and told them I will no longer be coming in at lunch for a dose and here I am going to the nurse at lunch anyway.

  “May I have some ibuprofen?” I ask as soon as we walk in so the nurse doesn’t automatically get my Xanax. After I take the tablets she asks if I want to lie down but I pass. I have a lot to do in computer science today.

  Darcy and I head back to our lockers because lunch hour is just about over now. The halls aren’t completely full but they’re getting busy. As we turn the corner I see Mischa standing with Max at his locker. She didn’t join us for lunch today. I don’t think much of it. I’m getting used to Mischa being around by now.

  “Feel better, Noah,” Darcy says as she starts to walk away. I’m about to turn to my own locker when Mischa steps closer to Max. He’s talking to her but I can’t hear what he says. Suddenly I wonder if any of this is real. Is this really happening or am I in some weird nightmare? It can’t be real because as I look on Mischa Mallory rises on her toes and kisses Max. It’s not a chaste, friendly kiss either. This kiss is the real deal.

  I can’t breathe. I feel like I’ve swallowed molten lava. The pain in my head intensifies and my stomach churns. Everything I was feeling earlier is magnified and I know I’m going to be sick.

  “Holden Caulfield Maxwell!” shouts Tabitha at the same time that Darcy gasps. I don’t wait around for his response. I’m heading back down the hallway towards the closest bathroom. I barely make it in time. I don’t even lock the door before I’m on my knees losing the little bit of lunch I managed to eat.

  I can’t catch my breath and I’m still dry heaving and I think I’m going to die from lack of oxygen here on this tile floor. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. I think. I’m not sure what the THIS is that I’m worried about. Max kissing Mischa is the obvious answer but there’s also the fact that I’m having a panic attack at school.

  I somehow manage to stagger to the sink and rinse my mouth then I splash cold water on my face. I can’t stay here that much is obvious. Someone is going to come in eventually. I walk unevenly out of the bathroom and make my way slowly towards the nurse’s office. I hug the wall as people rush by on their way to class. My ears are ringing. I’m cold and hot at the same time, pulse racing, chest hurting and I’m wet with cold sweat.

  I finally make it to the nurse and practically fall into her office. “Sick,” is all I manage. She takes one look at me and leads me to the cot in the back of the room. She’s asking me questions that I can’t answer. She asks if I’m in pain, if I’ve vomited, if I need her to call my parents. I shake my head and nod in answer to her questions. I deny the pain. I won’t let her know I’m panicking even though my shaking may just give me away. Eventually she gives me a bedpan and closes the screen around the sick cot.

  I’m purely physical. I feel the pain in my chest. I feel the rolling in my stomach. My head still throbs. I sweat and shake but I’m not thinking. I guess I can’t take this and my brain shuts down all thought. I’m sick a few more times but it’s mostly stomach acids and dry heaves. Some distant part of me feels the vibration of my cellphone in my pocket. I ignore it.

  After some time the nurse sticks her head around the curtain to see if I need anything. I clench my teeth and shake my head. “I have to step out but I’ll be back soon,” she tells me and then I’m alone. Eventually the shaking stops except for occasional little tremors. I try to remove my phone from my pocket but my hands won’t quite work. Texting Mom will have to wait.

  The nurse comes back and checks on me. She must agree that I really am sick because she allows me to remain in bed. I feel my phone vibrate again. This time my hands cooperate and I remove the phone from my pocket. Of course it’s Max. I see his name on the display and my heart clenches.

  WHERE R U?

  U AREN’T IN COMPUTER SCIENCE. I’M WORRIED.

  NOAH, PLEASE!

  I delete his texts. I don’t even finish reading them. I text my mom and tell her I’ll be in the nurse’s office when she’s ready to leave. I know she’s in class and won’t get the text right away. I assure her that I just have a headache and a stomach ache and that this is in no way related to anxiety or panic.

  Eventually I fall asleep. I sleep through art class and sociology and then Mom is there shaking me awake.

  “Sweetie, wake up,” she’s saying. I struggle to open my eyes. My headache is worse than it was before I took a nap. I moan a little.

  “Honey, come on, let’s get you home and into bed,” she tries again. I sit up slowly and even then I feel a little dizzy. I have a difficult time walking to my locker to get my books. Somehow, Mom gets me to the car where I rest my face against the cool glass of the window all of the way home.

  “Noah, is this anxiety? Did you have a panic attack?” she asks. I shake my head.

  “I had this terrible headache all morning and at lunch I took some ibuprofen but then I got really sick in the stomach and had to go back to the nurse. It’s not anxiety. I feel like shit.” It’s partly true. I did feel like crap before the panic attack.

  “Maybe it’s the adjustment in the meds. I’ll call Dr. Cooper when we get home,” Mom muses.

  “If it is the adjustment then I’ll get over it eventually. If it’s not then it will run its course. Please don’t call the doctor. Just let me sleep it off,” I plead. Mom doesn’t say anything else but when we get home she sends me to bed.

  I’m barely in pajamas and under the covers when my phone vibrates again. Again it’s Max. I see some words on the screen as I turn the phone off. Something to the effect of “She kissed me. PLEASE answer me, Noah.”

  She kissed him but he didn’t exactly push her away. What did he do or say that made her kiss him anyway? I’m an idiot. I should have known better. He told me he was just a kiss slut. Why did I ever trust him? What made me think this whole thing could be anything but wrong? I can’t sleep but I pretend to be asleep every time one of my parents comes in to check on me.

  I don’t know how much time has passed when the door opens again. I debate telling them I’m okay and they can stop checking but I keep my eyes closed. The bed shifts a bit with the weight of a body and a hand gently strokes my hair off my face. I know that touch. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes closed and not scream at him.

  “Are you awake?” he whispers. “Noah?” I don’t respond. He sighs. He sits on the bed for a while just stroking my hair. I want to hit his hand away. I should let him know I’m awake and yell at him but I don’t think I can take that confrontation without a lot of anxiety. After a few minutes he kisses my cheek and gets up, leaving my room. I can still feel his lips on my cheek and I want to tear the skin from my face.

  Eventually I really do sleep and then I wake up hungry. My head still hurts to some degree but my stomach seems fine. I wander out to the kitchen and Mom is going over lesson plans.

  “Feeling any better?” she asks. I nod.

  “My head still hurts but I’m kinda hungry.” She offers to make me something but I assure her I can’t eat much. I end up with a bowl of cereal. I join Mom at the table pulling my feet up onto the seat of the chair and holding my bowl as I eat.

  “Max was here earlier,” she says without looking up from her work.

  “Oh yeah? I must have been asleep.”

  “Did you two fight again?” she asks. I shake my head.

  “Why would you think that?” My heart is pounding. Mom shrugs.

  “The last time you were
sick was after you and Max fought,” she points out what I was hoping she wouldn’t notice.

  “It’s not Max. Maybe I finally got an ulcer from all the worry,” I say as I dump the remains of my cereal down the drain and go back to bed.

  The next day Mom wakes me up and asks if I feel well enough to go to school. I don’t really want to go but if I don’t who knows what she’ll tell Dr. Cooper. I drag myself out of bed and hit the shower. I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t sleep so most of my homework is done at least.

  Now that Mom is working at the junior high I get to school about a half hour earlier. Usually the library is open and I go there. I’m trying to finish my reading for English class and keep my eyes open when someone slides into the seat next to me. I glance over out of the corner of my eye but it’s not like I didn’t know who it was going to be.

  “Just go away, Holden,” I emphasize the name…the name he doesn’t like and yet he lets her call him that anyway.

  “You won’t answer your texts,” he says with a strange sound to his voice. “You won’t even read them anymore.” I realize that sound is desperation and pleading, both tones I’ve rarely ever heard Max use.

  “I don’t want to talk to you. Can’t you take a hint?” I slam my book shut and prepare to leave. He grabs my arm and won’t let me stand.

  “You saw her kiss me and I know that hurt you but I didn’t kiss her back. How can you even think for a second that I would kiss her back? I had just finished telling her we could only be friends and she said, ‘Maybe this will change your mind,’ and she was kissing me. You didn’t stick around long enough to see me break away. You didn’t wait to hear how it happened. How could you have not noticed that I didn’t kiss her back?”

  “You’re just a kiss slut. You’ve said it yourself. I should have known better,” I sigh. “I mistook really good kissing for something else,” I say. “I felt something when there were no actual emotions involved. I should have known. I mean, you’re going away to school in the fall and I’m going back to Illinois. I knew it wouldn’t last. I knew it was a fling. I’m fine. Just leave me alone, okay?”

  “You know that’s not it,” he says. He still has hold of my arm. “I didn’t kiss her, Noah. I’ve told her I don’t want that. I’ve told her I can only be her friend but she’s persistent. She says we can play it casual because she doesn’t understand. How can I tell her I don’t want anything with her when I can’t explain that I belong to someone else? This is not some fling. You have to know that. How can you not know that? You didn’t do any translating did you?” he says in my ear getting really close to me to do so. I look around the library for witnesses.

  He notices my glance and pulls me to my feet by the arm he’s still holding. He doesn’t say a word as he pulls me along behind him until we get to the far corner of the library. Hidden in the stacks he leans against me until my back is pressed against shelves. I have the same physical reaction to him that I always do when he’s this close but I keep my mouth shut. I won’t meet his eyes.

  “Look at me, Noah,” I shake my head. He takes my chin in one hand and lifts my face to meet his gaze. “Je t’aime, Mon Coeur,” he says. He kisses me. I try to remain neutral. “I love you, my heart,” he translates. “Please don’t throw this away over a misunderstanding.” He kisses me again then finally does what I’ve asked him to do since he got here. He turns on his heel and leaves. Of course now I want him to stay and it’s too late.

  I don’t see him before homeroom so I wait for him outside of calculus class. I’m nervous but I have to make this right so I wait. Eventually he’s there and he stops in front of me. I look around but no one seems to be paying any attention to us.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I should have stayed long enough to let you explain. I didn’t feel well yesterday and it was all just too much and I couldn’t…I’m sorry.” I want to take his hand or something but I don’t dare. Not here in this busy hallway.

  “Noah, you really scared me. Please just…stop running from me okay? Come to me and be honest with me and tell me what you’re feeling. This running…it terrifies me.” He puts one arm around my shoulders and gives a squeeze as he turns me into the classroom. Of course no one would think anything of that. Max is always physically demonstrative with his friends.

  “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t run again,” I tell him and we take our seats. It’s only after calculus is over and I’m sitting in my next class that I realize that may be a promise I can’t keep.

  I get a ride home with Max. We go to my house first so I can grab some things to stay overnight. Dad gives me enough Xanax for tonight and tomorrow morning. I can’t wait to be done with this. It’s damned inconvenient is what it is.

  At Max’s house we do homework until dinner. Once we’re finally in Max’s room he kisses me. It’s the first kiss since the library this morning. I don’t think he could be holding me any closer. We shuffle across the room until we fall onto the bed tangled in each other.

  “I’ve wanted this all day,” he speaks my own feelings out loud. “It’s like I’m addicted to you, No, and the not having you all day just makes me want you even more when we’re alone.”

  “Don’t you wish…”I begin. I was going to say something along the lines of doesn’t he wish one of us was a girl or maybe that we were both in love with girls or something ridiculous to the effect of wishing this could be a more traditional relationship but he interrupts me.

  “I don’t wish,” he says. “If I want something I do my best to make it happen. If it’s something I can’t control well then wishing isn’t going to make it so. Wanting the impossible is pointless. It will just waste your energy, drive you crazy.”

  “But it would be so much easier…and it’s not like you don’t have options. I mean, Mischa makes sense at least.”

  “Noah, love isn’t about what’s easy or what makes sense. It’s about how you feel. I’m in love with Noah, not the packaging he comes wrapped in. I’m not saying the packaging isn’t nice,” he adds as he kisses my neck. “You’re adorable. You’re perfect but I love you for YOU. If you want to keep this quiet then that’s what we’ll do. If you want to shout it from the rooftops I’ll be there next to you shouting too.”

  “As if you’d get on a rooftop,” I laugh. “Max? I…” I want to say I love you but the words won’t come and I’m not sure why. I’ve admitted it to myself, to Kimber and in a roundabout way to my Mom (even though she has no clue who that wrong person is that I talked about) so why can’t I admit it to him? “I want to finish the book,” I say instead.

  “Whatever you want, Mon Coeur,” he says. My heart…it makes me smile.

  We curl up like we have every other time we’ve read together and we do finish the book. I can see now why my mom never assigned it as reading for me. I mean, it’s a book about a kid that’s just depressed and messed up and lost and basically he ends up in an undisclosed place (hospital? mental health facility? It’s vague but it’s clear enough) and it doesn’t exactly end on the brightest of notes. He still sounds just as messed up in that last sentence as he did in the beginning.

  Near the end of the book there’s a section that actually makes me shudder. Holden Caulfield is talking about feeling like he’s going to disappear and sweating and freaking out and talking to his dead brother. Geeze, this book hits too close to home. I can relate to this book like WAY too much and Max hates this character. What would he say if he really knew the truth about me? I shudder again.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks. The way he’s holding me of course he felt me shaking.

  “Just cold I guess,” I say. He rubs my arms and holds me closer.

  “So? Do you have any idea what she saw? Why did she stick me with this name?” he asks when we get to the end and I know he seriously wants an answer. “I mean, why would she even want a kid like this loser?”

  “It’s not you, it’s her,” I realize.

  “What’s her?”

&nb
sp; “She didn’t want you to BE Holden Caulfield, she felt like him. She related to him. You’re so smart and self-confident and you’re always so sure of yourself that I don’t think you realize how the rest of us struggle sometimes. Sometimes life is hard. Sometimes you just don’t know who you are or where you fit or where you’re going. I mean, not you of course, but the rest of us yeah. She was young. She was in love with a guy that was so bad for her and she probably knew that but she loved him anyway…”

  “Love…he seduced her. He tricked her. He used her. It wasn’t love. It couldn’t have been,” he growls.

  “It was love. He had to have some redeeming qualities. You don’t know. You know a few facts but you don’t know who he was. You got your talent from him. You most likely got at least some of your intelligence from him. Maybe he wasn’t all bad.”

  “He left. That’s all I need to know.” He sounds angry. He sounds sad. He’s never really sounded like any emotion when talking about his biological father. This is new.

  “You said yourself it was the best thing he ever did for you and your mom. Maybe he knew that. Maybe he wanted better for you. You can’t know.”

  “Stop sticking up for him,” Max admonishes.

  “I’m not sticking up for him. I just think there’s his side of the story to consider. I mean, you’re a part of him. He couldn’t have been all bad.”

  “He was nothing but a loser drug addict.”

  “It wasn’t his fault he was sick,” I say quietly.

  “Sick…he was weak. He could have stopped. For us, he could have but he didn’t want to. It was easier to just take off.”

  “It doesn’t mean he was weak. Addiction is an illness, Max. You know that. Maybe he didn’t have the right kind of help. Maybe it was bigger than him. Maybe…”

  “I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” Max tries to make his tone lighter and he hugs me. “We were talking about my mom and why she liked this stupid book and gave me this stupid name.”