Behind the Falls

by Brenda Zalegowski

  Dinner is one more struggle on top of a long day. It’s impossible to eat when my throat keeps closing. It’s nearly impossible to act normal for my parent’s. They’re quiet and I can tell they’re watching me. Finally my dad gets to the point.

  “You aren’t doing well,” he says and it’s not a question. I shrug.

  “I’m not doing poorly either. I just…am,” I explain. “These drugs don’t seem to be doing anything,” I add.

  “The doctor said it may take a few weeks,” Mom reminds me. They let it go at that.

  Tuesday morning I’m at my locker wishing I could fast forward to graduation and moving back to Illinois. I know before I even turn around that Max is there. It’s like he said to me once so many months ago…I can just FEEL him.

  When I turn around he’s walking down the hall with Tabitha. He’s wearing his glasses today. My heart pounds and my throat is tight and I will him to look over at me, to give me that crooked smile. I just want a sign that we’re okay. I need to know that despite everything else that he’s still my friend. He doesn’t turn his head. He doesn’t look my way.

  In calculus he doesn’t daydream out the window. He doesn’t look across the room. He answers to Holden the first time Mrs. Kabobchek uses that name. When class is over he somehow beats me out of the room even though my seat is so much closer to the door. I float through the rest of my morning.

  Chemistry class comes all too soon. I know by now that he won’t talk to me. He’s already at our table when I get to class. He doesn’t look up from his notes. It looks like he’s copying someone else’s notes from yesterday. I sit then slide the copy I made of my own notes to him. He looks at the offered notes for a minute before he slips them into his book but he never looks at me.

  “Come on, Max, you’re still my best friend. Nothing has to change there,” I say quietly. That gets him to look at me. I almost wish he hadn’t. His eyes are so filled with pain and behind that is anger. His eyes look red and I know why he’s wearing glasses.

  “How can you just do that? How can you just turn it off like…”he doesn’t finish his thought. He stacks his books then gets up from the table. “Don’t fuck up my grade,” he hisses as he stalks to the front of the room. After a brief exchange with the teacher he leaves class.

  I know I can’t face the cafeteria at lunch time. Of course I go to the auditorium. I’m just walking out from the passage at the side of the stage when I look up and see Max and Tabitha are already there. He has his back to me and his face is hidden in the curve of her neck. One arm is around her and he makes no sound but I can see his shoulders shaking.

  Tabitha sees me and frowns holding up a hand in a “stop” gesture. She gives a curt shake of her head and points her finger back the way I came in, telling me wordlessly to leave. I’m not wanted here. I hesitate because I really want to talk to him. I even take a step forward and then Tabitha is shooing me away again so I reluctantly leave.

  I walk to the cafeteria in a daze. I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t this. I didn’t think he would stop talking to me. I didn’t think I would get this cold shoulder, this contempt. I’m shaken now more than I was when I left his house on Sunday. Darcy sees it on my face as soon as I sit next to her.

  “Not going so well?” she asks. That’s the understatement of the year. I make a pillow of my arms and spend the lunch period with my head on the table.

  The rest of the day drags and I don’t see Max in art class. That’s two classes he’s skipped today. He’s risking his GPA and status as valedictorian because of me. I don’t understand how this can be happening. I say as much to Darcy at my locker at the end of the day.

  Darcy is waiting for her ride, something about going to the dentist after school but her mom is running late. I’m waiting for my mom to come over from the junior high. The hallways are quiet and empty.

  “I don’t know why this is happening. He won’t even talk to me,” I tell her.

  “Noah, what did you think was going to happen? He’s pretty devastated. If he’d done that to you would you want to talk to him?” She says it gently but it still hurts to hear it.

  “He said before that he’d rather be friends than nothing,” I give my weak defense.

  “That was before you gave him more. Can you really go back to just being friends? I’ve seen the way you two are together. He loves you. It’s not some silly crush. It’s nothing that will go away overnight. What I don’t understand is why you did it. I mean, you LOVE him. You might not say it but I can see it. Tabitha can see it. I think he would see it too if he hadn’t spent the last two months thinking you were going to run away. I guess he was right about that.”

  “I miss him so MUCH!” I yell surprising myself as well as Darcy. I know it’s only been a few days but I ache with missing him. It’s not just the kissing and holding and all of those other wonderful things that I miss. I miss HIM, his voice, his smile, just talking to him. I miss my friend.

  “You can fix it,” Darcy says. “Tell him you want him back. Hell, admit it out loud that you love him, Noah! Make a grand gesture if that’s what it takes but don’t let him go. If you wait too long you really will lose him. He’s not going to wait around forever.”

  We’ve started walking and as we turn the corner someone is just entering the gym which is around the corner from where we had our not so quiet conversation. Immediately I feel anxious. I look to Darcy.

  “Do you think they heard?” I whisper. She considers then shakes her head.

  “It was probably just someone coming out of practice to get a drink,” she says nodding towards the water fountain that’s directly across the hall from the gym.

  “Do you know who it was?” I ask. All of this fretting over keeping Max and I a secret and I’ve ended it, hurting myself and him in the process, and someone overhears that conversation? It would be just my luck.

  “I only saw the back of him. I didn’t even see hair color. It’s fine. I’m sure it’s fine. Now listen to me, Noah, you’re going to set this right. You call him tonight. Fix this or you’re going to regret it.” As Darcy is giving me this last piece of advice I see my Mom pull up out front. I try not to think about the fact that my conversation was overheard. I school my expression as I get in the car and when Mom asks how my day was I force a smile and tell her it was good.

  After homework and another dinner that I can’t quite eat but force down enough to keep my parents happy I take my phone and retire to my room. I stare at his number on my contacts list for so long that the phone screen goes blurry. I blink until my vision is clear again and put the phone aside. I can’t make myself do it. He’ll come around. He has to. I’ll just have to wait until he’s ready for friendship again.

  I manage to forget all about the possibility of someone having overheard my conversation with Darcy. I’m at my locker Wednesday morning trying to will my heart to beat normally but it’s racing knowing that Max is going to show up soon. I almost miss the piece of paper that falls out of the crack of my locker door when I open it. It’s folded over a few times.

  WATCH YOUR BACK FAGGOT

  I read it several times over and over. Whoever it was in the hall yesterday did hear us. Not only did they hear but they heard Darcy use my name. They know which locker is mine. They’re threatening me. I nearly jump out of my skin when a hand lands on my shoulder.

  “Are you okay, Noah?” It’s Sherrie. She must have noticed my little meltdown. I try to steady my breathing and I crumple the note and throw it on the floor of my locker.

  “Yeah, fine,” I say as I grab my books and slam the door shut.

  “I just wanted to say you could sit with us at lunch if you want. I couldn’t help but notice that Tabitha slapped you the other day and it seems like you and Maxwell aren’t speaking again. Seriously, Noah, you’re a nice guy. You don’t need them,” she tells me.

  “I don’t know…”I hedge.

  “Come on, we’re friends. It’s been months since we dated. I thi
nk we’re both past that, don’t you?” Why is this girl always there to bail me out of uncomfortable situations?

  “That would be great. Thanks,” I tell her and follow her to homeroom. I was too preoccupied stressing over the note left in my locker and talking to Sherrie to even see Max arrive today.

  He’s in calculus today but no matter how many times I glance his way he doesn’t look over at me. As usual, he’s seated at our table already when I get to chemistry. Today is a lab so he has no choice but to talk to me. It’s more uncomfortable now than it was when I was the one not talking to him. That time I felt that I was the one that was wronged.

  I can’t catch his eye. He won’t look me in the face at all. On the one occasion that he actually looks at me I think it’s an accident. He looks away quickly but not quickly enough for me to miss the tortured look in his eyes.

  “It doesn’t have to be this difficult,” I say quietly. He looks at me incredulously.

  “You think anything about this is easy? How can it be easy for you? I can’t even stand the sight of you,” he says and that twists like a knife in my heart. We don’t speak again for the rest of class.

  Having lunch with Sherrie, or rather sitting at lunch and drinking some water but not really eating, is much better than sitting at my old table. It would be easier if we could have sat on the other side of the table though. As it is I’m facing Max and he’s facing me. Of course I’m looking his way when Mischa takes the seat next to him. She says something in his ear and he shakes his head then when she puts an arm around him he lays his head on her shoulder.

  “I’m going to head to the library,” I tell Sherrie.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” she asks. I shake my head but as I’m walking through the halls by myself I remember the note in my locker and I wonder if being alone is a very good idea.

  My after school session with Dr. Cooper is one of those particularly bad ones that finds me crying in the doctor’s office. I felt okay going into the session or if not good then I felt like I could at least fake my way through it. Dr. Cooper asks if I have worsening depression or suicidal thoughts. He reminds me of the possible side effects of the Paxil. It’s not even working yet but I still have to be on the lookout for problems. It doesn’t seem fair.

  Eventually I confess to him that I recently broke up with someone. I don’t mention that this someone was a guy. He doesn’t get to know everything. We spend the rest of my time dissecting the dissolution of my relationship and what part my shame over my anxiety and panic disorder played in that. When my time is up I’m a red-eyed blotchy faced mess and Mom wants to know what happened. I’m vague. I tell her my sessions are private. She doesn’t seem to like my answers.

  “Isn’t this what you wanted?” I say in the car on the way home. “You wanted me to be honest and open with my doctor and I was. Let’s drop it, okay? I don’t want to go into it a second time.” She seems to see the validity of my argument and leaves me alone about it.

  When we get home I do homework then crawl into bed. Mom does try to wake me for dinner but I’m just exhausted. It’s a mental and physical exhaustion and I’m not even sure a full night of sleep can cure it but I’m willing to try. At least when I sleep I can forget about my life.

  Thursday and Friday bring more notes in my locker. There’s always one there in the morning and sometimes I find one in the afternoon as well. Some of them make vague noise about burning in a lake of hellfire. Some of them call me names. One in particular suggested I should get AIDS and die…which is almost amusing because I’m surely going to die a virgin. The one Darcy catches me with is threatening.

  I’m at my locker Thursday afternoon and Darcy tends to follow me there from sociology. To be completely honest I like having her company. This has been the week from Hell and it’s nice to not feel so completely alone. When I pick the piece of paper out of the crack I almost toss it on the floor of my locker with the rest. I don’t know what kind of masochistic streak makes me read these.

  IT MAKES ME SICK TO HAVE TO WALK THE SAME HALLS AS A QUEER LIKE YOU. I WILL MAKE YOU WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN.

  “Jesus, what the Hell is that?!” Darcy exclaims. I didn’t know she was reading over my shoulder. I toss the piece of paper on the floor of my locker and slam the door.

  “I think it’s safe to say that someone did overhear our conversation the other day,” I lean my forehead against the cool metal of my locker.

  “Noah, you have to report this to someone. This isn’t funny,” Darcy insists.

  “Do you see me laughing? What’s the point? I have no idea who’s doing this. The only thing reporting it would do is have a lot of attention pointed at me that I don’t want.”

  “Still, we know it’s someone that was in the gym that afternoon for practice. What is it right now? Baseball or basketball or something? Maybe they can question everyone on the team?”

  “No way. All that would accomplish is getting whoever this is pissed off and I really don’t want to bring my parents into this. Just leave it. It’s just words. It’s pieces of paper. I don’t think they’re really seriously going to do anything.” This is what I’ve been telling myself for days anyway. “Please don’t say anything,” I plead. Darcy looks unconvinced. Finally she sighs.

  “I won’t say anything for now but if it gets worse or if someone comes after you we have to tell someone.”

  When Friday finally comes I’ve never been more ready for the weekend. I can’t wait for this school year to be over. I can’t wait to move back to Illinois. I think everything will be fine again once we move back home. I’m sure of it. I’m counting on it.

  I toss the morning note into the bottom of my locker without reading it. They’re really starting to pile up and I know I should throw them away. The thing is I’m afraid someone will see me throwing them away and ask questions.

  I can’t get Max to talk to me in chemistry. It’s a lecture today so we don’t even have to talk to do a lab together. How can he do that? I mean, yeah, I wasn’t talking to him at one time but I really had a reason, or I thought I did. I didn’t tell him I never wanted to speak to him again. I still want his friendship. I just can’t do the rest of it. Why isn’t that enough?

  At the end of the day Mom picks me up like always. I’m about to get in the car when I see a familiar figure cutting through the parking lot alone, backpack slung over one shoulder. I have no idea why he’s here late. The final bell rang a half hour ago. Even though I’m only seeing him from behind and he’s wearing a wool hat I’m sure it’s him. I would know the shape of him and the way he moves anywhere. I toss my backpack into the car.

  “I’m going to get a ride,” I tell Mom. “I’m not sure when I’ll be home. I have my phone,” I assure her. She looks around and sees Max and nods. She’s been telling me all week that I need to put this friendship to rights.

  I run across the parking lot. There are still plenty of cars in the lot due to after school activities and I can’t see where he’s parked. I don’t want him to leave before I can catch up to him.

  I’m glad the soles of my shoes are soft and don’t make much noise as I run across the macadam. I see his car now. As the lights flash I can tell that he’s already hit the keyless entry and I have to run as fast as I can to catch up before he can start the car and lock the doors. My knee is still sore but not so sore that I can’t make the sprint. He’s just closing his door as I slip into the passenger side.

  He’s startled when I jump into the car but then he narrows his eyes. He’s wearing glasses again today and although I hate that I’ve caused him pain it’s still somehow nice to know he’s not doing much better than I am. Of course he could just need a refill on his contact lenses.

  “What are you doing, Noah?” he sighs. Now that I’m here and I have his attention I have no idea what I plan to say. That’s the thing. I acted on impulse and I don’t really have a plan.

  “Uh, we need to talk.”

  “No. We really don’t,” he
says as he takes off his glasses long enough to rub the heels of his hands across his eyes.

  “I have something to say,” I insist even though I have no idea what it is that I mean to say. He puts his glasses back on but he looks out into the parking lot instead of at me when he responds.

  “Unless you’re going to tell me exactly what is going on with you and unless you’re going to say that telling me you can’t be with me was a mistake I don’t want to hear it.” When I don’t immediately say anything he knows I have no intention of doing that. “Just get out of the car, Noah,” he sighs.

  “I’m not leaving,” I refuse.

  “That’s funny. Didn’t you already do that on Sunday?”

  “That’s my mom leaving now,” I say pointing out our car as it turns down the road towards town. “I don’t have any other way to get home now.” I honestly don’t believe he’ll make me walk. He may be hurt and angry with me but he still loves me. I know he does. I think he does.

  “You run that far for fun. I think you’ll manage,” he says. Okay, so maybe I was wrong.

  “Max, PLEASE,” I beg and I can’t stand the pleading whine in my voice. He exhales loudly and starts the car.

  “Whatever you need to say you’d better say it in the next eight miles,” he says as he starts to drive.

  “I don’t want it to be like this,” I start. “I mean, not even speaking except for in chemistry if we have to work together. Why are you being like this?”

  “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” he answers my question with a question. I hate when he does that. When I don’t answer he continues. “Just tell me why you haven’t been sleeping. Explain why you’re sick so often. Tell me why you’ve barely been eating for the last few weeks and what all of that has to do with why you won’t be with me anymore. I want to help you. I want to be here for you but I can’t do that if you won’t let me. Is it something at home?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have anything to do with you,” I say quietly.

  “Dammit, Noah! Everything about you has something to do with me! Do you really think I can see you suffer, see that there’s something really wrong and not be affected by it? Just tell me what happened to you. What happened to that shy, eager, sweet, smart boy I met in September?