“Lay still, sweetie. You’re at Lancaster General Hospital and you have some badly bruised ribs. They’re keeping you overnight. How is your anxiety?” I can hear it in her voice that she’s freaked out but she’s trying really hard to sound calm for my sake.
“I don’t have any anxiety but my stomach REALLY hurts,” I tell her. As I try to look at her I realize how much my face hurts as well and one eye is swollen halfway shut. I wonder if I look as poorly as I feel. My head hurts more than I can ever remember it hurting in my life.
“Your kidneys are bruised as well as the ribs. They say your cheekbone isn’t broken although it’s pretty swollen. You have a really big lump on your head but they don’t think you have a concussion. Do you have any idea who did this to you?” she asks and now it’s anger that she’s trying to control.
“I didn’t see his face,” I admit. I don’t tell her anything else. I’m saved by further discussion when a nurse comes into my room. My relief is short-lived. She has a paper cup of meds for me.
“What is it?” I ask warily.
“It’s your Paxil and a low dose of pain medication. If you feel you need more in a half hour ring and we’ll up the dosage. The combination will probably make you very sleepy though,” she tells me. I eye the drugs. I really want that painkiller but I’ve been doing my damnedest to clean the Paxil out of my system and I’ve been suffering for it.
“Go on, Noah,” Mom says when I don’t take the offered drugs. Reluctantly I take the cup and toss the drugs back then drink the water the nurse hands me. I’m expected to show her that I took them and I did. I had no choice. I couldn’t slip them under my tongue and fool both the nurse and my mom.
Before she leaves the nurse explains that due to the trauma to my kidneys they need to monitor my fluid output. Basically any time I have to go to the bathroom I have to pee into a container so they can measure and also monitor for blood. Yeah, because that’s not embarrassing at all, talking to a not too old and not to ugly nurse about your bathroom habits.
When the nurse leaves and it’s just Mom and me alone neither of us has much to say. Mom strokes my hair and laments the poor security at Lansing High and tries to figure out how this could have happened to me. Honestly I find it ironic that I wouldn’t be in the hospital right now if I had simply ridden the bus.
Mom tells me that I was saved by further injury when a girl from the after school drama club snuck out the back door of the auditorium to have a quick smoke. She must have startled my attacker and that’s when he threw me down hard and ran. By the time she went inside to get help and the drama teacher and several other students came outside he was long gone. Great, by this time tomorrow the entire school will know what happened. I can only hope that no one finds out about the threatening notes. Why didn’t I throw them away?
I’m really starting to worry about the Paxil. How will it affect me now that I’ve been on it, stopped taking it and started having withdrawal only to take it again? I’m not so sure I want to find out actually. I need a plan.
“Mom?” I use the most pathetic tone I can muster. “My stomach doesn’t feel so great. Could you find me some ginger ale or something?”
“Where is that call button? I’m sure the nurse can bring some,” Mom says as she searches my bedside for the call button.
“I’m sure there are soda machines,” I say. Mom reluctantly agrees that we probably don’t need to bother the nurse and she leaves me alone. I don’t have much time. I have no idea how far she’ll have to go or how long she’ll be gone.
I try unsuccessfully to sit up and the pain it excruciating and I just barely manage to keep from crying out. I roll onto my side and use my arms to push myself up into a seated position. My arms shake under my weight. I slip my feet out of the bed and make sure my footing is solid before I stand. It’s a slow shuffling that finally takes me to the bathroom.
I’m sweating by the time I get there and I have to lower myself slowly and I hope my mom doesn’t come back while I’m doing this. I hesitate for a moment as I shove a finger into the back of my throat. The gagging and clenching of my stomach muscles brings on a round of pain like I’ve never experienced before except for maybe when my assailant was kicking me.
Nothing comes up and I take a few deep breaths as I psyche myself up to do this again. This time I use three fingers and the gagging is deeper and more prolonged and also much more painful. There are tears in my eyes as I cough up some water and the pills I just took. I flush quickly and rinse my mouth over and over hoping that mom won’t be able to tell I just threw up.
I’m back in bed when she finally comes back with the ginger ale which I sip a little at a time. She notices that I’m shaking and sweating and she ends up calling the nurse. It’s agreed that I can have some more painkillers and I’m grateful since I just puked up the first batch. I should have done it in the sink I guess so I could fish the pain pills out and take them again but that’s just too disgusting to consider. The nurse was right. I do get very sleepy and soon I’m out like a light.
The room is dark when I wake up to see Dad pacing up and down the length of my bed. I shift in bed and moan at the pain in my ribs and stomach. If I thought my life sucked when I woke up this morning it’s nothing compared to now.
“Noah?” Dad stops next to me.
“Where’s Mom?” I ask as I wince.
“She went for some coffee. It’s been a long day for her. How are you feeling?” he ruffles my hair which is probably the only part of me that doesn’t hurt.
“I could use some more pain meds and maybe a hand getting out of bed to go to the bathroom,” I admit. “When did you get back? I thought you were in New York until Thursday?” Dad offers his arm and he helps me out of bed while he answers.
“I’ve been here for about an hour. I’m going to teleconference tomorrow’s meeting,” he tells me. Once we get to the bathroom he leaves me alone but he stands outside the door. It wasn’t really worth the walk across the room. There’s definitely blood. When I get back into the room the nurse is there with more pain meds. Dad helps me back to bed and I take the pills.
“You guys don’t have to stay here,” I tell him. “You should go home and get some sleep.”
“We’d just have to turn right back around and come to get you in the morning. They said you’ll be able to come home tomorrow. You need to stay in bed for a few days, take it easy, but there’s not a lot more they can do and we know you’ll feel better at home.” He was right about that. Just being in the hospital would be freaking me out if the pain meds weren’t making me so tired. Every hospital has a mental health unit. I don’t even want to think about it. I fall asleep again before Mom makes it back with the coffee.
Wednesday morning is dreary. I’m in pain, my parents are exhausted and we all want to go home. The doctor has checked on me and is finishing giving my parents last minute instructions about the pain meds and complications to be on the lookout for and things like that when a policeman knocks lightly on the open door.
Mom is helping me with my shoes because I can’t bend over to get them on and tied myself. Dad welcomes the police officer into the room and shakes his hand. I keep my eyes down, watching Mom as I try to keep calm. I haven’t done anything wrong. There’s no reason to be anxious.
“Good morning, folks, I’m Office Powell. Sorry for the interruption. I’m sure you want to get home. I just have a few questions for you this morning concerning the assault.”
“Of course, anything we can do to help. Right, Noah?” Mom offers on my behalf. I shrug.
“There’s not much to tell. I don’t know who it was. I couldn’t see his face,” I say. I have a hard time meeting the officer’s eyes. I glance at him then look to my mom.
“Have you had any problems with anyone at school? Any other fights or is there anyone that has a grudge against you?” Officer Powell prompts me. I tell him the only things I can. Whoever it was wore a letterman’s jacket, was at least a few inches taller than me
and had grayish blue eyes. Or maybe they were bluish gray, same thing right? I don’t mention the notes in my locker.
He continues to question me for at least fifteen minutes, changing the way he asks the questions every time while basically asking the same thing. He’s good. He knows I’m hiding something and he’s trying to trick me into revealing it.
“I just can’t believe this happened HERE,” Mom laments. “One of the reasons we came here was so Noah could go to a small school and feel safe. We would have been better off in Naperville.”
“We’ll do the best we can,” Officer Powell assures us. “We take school violence very seriously. If you think of anything, anything at all, give me a call,” he says as he hands my dad a card.
When I’m finally discharged it’s almost lunchtime. It’s an uncomfortable ride home with everything hurting like it is but I fall asleep fifteen minutes after we get on the road. There was no way to avoid the morning dose of Paxil and that mixed with the pain meds really is a recipe for exhaustion. When we get back home Dad helps me into the house and into pajamas while Mom makes lunch. She brings me some food in bed and I do my best to eat but I actually fall asleep halfway through the meal.
I spend most of Wednesday in bed. I don’t have to go to see Dr. Cooper thankfully. Dad and I convince Mom to go to work on Thursday. Dad thinks she needs the distraction and I don’t really need her with him here and I don’t want to ruin this for her. I know she really enjoys this job. I know she’s planning to look for a job when we get back to Illinois.
Mom brings all of my books home with her that afternoon and she has my lesson plans for the next few days as well. There is no discussion about when or if I’ll be going back to school. I know if I think about it rationally that I should go back as soon as I’m feeling up to it. If I don’t go back will I even feel comfortable going to school in the fall? The truth of it is I just don’t know if I can.
I’m half asleep when the doorbell rings. I probably would have fallen asleep anyway but Dad’s raised voice startles me fully awake.
“No, absolutely not,” he’s saying.
“Oliver…”Mom tries.
“No! He is not welcome in this house,” Dad refuses and then I hear HIS voice. My heart skips a beat because he’s here. I can’t hear what he’s saying but I hear his voice, calm, sure and much more controlled than my dad’s. I know why Dad won’t let him in the house. He blames Max for how I’ve been lately. He doesn’t even know the truth and he’s already decided Max is no longer welcome.
“Noah?” Mom calls after a soft knock on my door. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah,” I say with as much volume as I can muster. Did Dad let him in? There goes my heart skipping beats again. Mom opens the door.
“You have visitors,” she says as Darcy and Tabitha enter the room. I look behind them but there’s no one else. Mom asks the girls if they would like anything to drink or perhaps a snack but they decline and Mom leaves us alone.
“God you look like Hell,” Tabitha doesn’t sugarcoat it.
“Oh, Noah, your poor face,” Darcy laments as she reaches out to touch my cheek but thinks better of it and stops short. I try to smile. It’s not as swollen as it was right after it happened but the bruise that’s developing looks almost as bad as it feels.
“That’s nothing compared to everything else,” I admit. When I showered earlier today for the first time since Tuesday morning I got a really good look at the rest of the bruises. Ribs, stomach, back, arms and even legs there’s not much of me that isn’t bruised.
“He really did a number on you, huh?” Darcy says with sympathy.
“Um…Max is here,” Tabitha says. “He’s waiting in the car so we can’t stay long. He wanted to see you but your dad wouldn’t let him in. What’s that about? Does he know? Do your parents know about you and Max?”
“Shhh…keep your voice down!” I hiss as I look towards my open bedroom door. “No, they don’t know but if you keep shouting about it they will.”
“Then why is your dad so angry with him?” Darcy asks. I can only shrug.
“I guess I’ve been pretty upset lately. He knows it has something to do with Max. He’s just being overprotective.” They can’t understand the depths of my dad’s anger. They don’t know how much my parents worry about my “fragile” mental state. I pull back my blankets and shove myself painfully out of bed.
“Are you sure you should be out of bed?” Darcy asks. I ignore her as I shuffle my way to the window. Once I’m up the pain isn’t any worse than when I’m lying down but my head is still pounding. Breathing deeply is almost impossible even though the doctor told us that I should do just that several times a day. Darcy comes to my side and takes my arm letting me lean on her. She keeps her hands on me as I pull the curtain back enough to look out into the gloomy day. He’s not looking my way and his hair covers most of this side of his face and it still breaks my heart to look at him.
I press my hand against the glass as if I could touch him. He’s here. He came. Whatever else is wrong between us and whatever else sucks in my life at least he came. Does it make me feel better or worse to know he cares?
As if he can feel me looking he turns to face the house. I don’t know if he can see inside. If it was darker outside he probably could. I watch as he runs his hand through his hair and continues to look at the house. I just want to go to him regardless of the fact that I’m in pajamas and it’s cold and wet outside. I think I have it in my head for a few seconds that that is exactly what I’m going to do. Then I see that he’s on the phone. He’s probably talking to Mischa. He probably only came here out of some misplaced sense of responsibility.
Darcy tugs gently at my arm. “Back to bed with you,” she says softly. When we finally get back to the bed Darcy sits next to me and just holds me without saying anything. Tabitha breaks the silence.
“He’s been SO angry since it happened,” she says. “He wants someone to pay but has no idea who. Max doesn’t get mad often but when he does…especially when one of his own is hurt, look out.” I think of how angry he was when he saw the bruises I got from falling. When he thought someone had done that TO me he was livid.
“I’m not his. Not anymore,” I sigh.
“Just because you aren’t together anymore doesn’t change the fact that he cares about you. So who did this to you? Do you have any idea at all? Things have been nuts at school. They’re questioning anyone that was after school that day, especially the jocks,” she says as she sits on the other side of me. I shrug.
“I didn’t see him. I have no idea who it was,” I tell her.
“That’s not exactly true,” Darcy says. “You know it’s whoever has been leaving those notes in your locker. I told you to tell someone about that!”
“Yeah, it’s probably the same person but what difference does that make? It’s not like I ever saw whoever was doing that. What are they going to do, handwriting analysis of every guy at school that wears a letterman’s jacket and is taller than me?” I huff as much of a laugh as my sore ribs will allow but then I start to worry. Would they do that? For the hundredth time I wish I had thrown those notes away.
“When are you coming back to school?” Tabitha asks. I don’t have an answer. For some reason I’m close to tears.
“I’m not sure I’m coming back,” I tell her.
“No! You have to come back!” Darcy exclaims. I shrug.
“I made it through all of these years of homeschooling. I don’t think another couple of months will kill me. Going back to Lansing High just might.”
Darcy and Tabitha don’t stay for much longer. Max has been waiting in the car long enough. When they leave, I go to the window again. Before they’re even halfway down the front walk Max is out of the car and rushing to meet them. I can see he’s talking animatedly and Tabitha and Darcy are responding and shoving him back towards the car. He looks up at my window again and this time I know he sees me. Our eyes lock for a moment and then Tabitha gets him
turned around and shoves him towards the car. A few minutes later they’re gone.
Mom brings dinner to me and I’m glad. I actually don’t want to see my dad right now. I don’t want to fight with him but I’m angry that he wouldn’t let Max in to see me. I think if I tell him how I feel about it I might tell him too much. I know I would at least let him know I’m angry and I don’t want to be angry with either of my parents.
I eat a little and try to do the homework I’ve missed in the last few days. I can’t concentrate. My head hurts and I’m still stressing about those notes in the bottom of my locker. Tabitha gave me something else to think about…going back to school. Or not. I don’t know. I don’t think I can. I’m such a failure. If I can’t even finish high school how am I going to go to college? How am I going to get a job?
I feel defeated and worthless. I can almost see why someone would beat the crap out of me. I’m too pathetic to exist. I just want to cry, or crawl under the covers and never come out or squeeze into the cubby in the bathroom. I have the blade from the back of my calculus book and I run my thumb over the sharp edge. Maybe Tabitha had the right idea.
Mom’s voice approaching my room startles me out of my reverie. I slip the blade back into the back of my calculus book and suck on my bleeding thumb. Mom enters with my evening dose of Paxil and pain meds. As usual, I tuck them under my tongue and wait for her to leave. For a brief moment I consider how ridiculous it is to continue this farce but I know they’d never let me just stop taking meds. Not now.
“Noah, are you bleeding?” Moms asks when I hand the water glass back to her.
“Oh, uh, paper cut,” I lie.
“Let me get you a band aid,” Mom insists.
“No, that’s okay. I can get it. I’m fine.” I shoo Mom out of the room and then I lock the bathroom door behind me. I manage to get rid of the Paxil before it turns to mush under my tongue but of course I take the pain meds. I clean and bandage my thumb and then I decide to just go to bed early. Thanks to the pain meds I’m asleep within minutes.
Behind the Falls Page 68