Crazy

by Han Nolan

  "Then I'll be there," I said to her.

  CRAZY GLUE: Aw, she needs you.

  I borrow a suit from Haze, who surprised me because I never would have expected him to own even one suit, and he owns two. We look so different all suited up, Haze, Pete, and I, like waiters at a fancy restaurant. It makes us act different, too, more formal, more dignified, that is until the actual funeral service where I cry like crazy ... and I didn't even know Shelby's mother.

  We didn't have a funeral for my mom. She was cremated. We have her ashes in an urn in Dad's study. I've decided I want to scatter them on top of Mount Washington some day 'cause I've realized that my mom had her stroke doing what she loved to do. She was on her favorite mountain, looking out at her favorite view.

  Shelby seems different during the funeral, too. She seems older, more mature. For one thing, she's wearing a dress, a form-fitting dress, and I can't help noticing her form. She's hot!

  SEXY LADY: I get the feeling I'm being replaced.

  She looks really beautiful with her hair pulled back in this kind of knot thing, and she wears these tiny dangling earrings. Yeah, she looks beautiful, and still a bit fragile in her grief, and it makes me feel protective of her. I think Haze and Pete feel the same way, because the three of us stay really close to Shelby. We hold her hand, put our arms around her, hug her a lot, make sure she eats something at the reception. We stand beside her like bodyguards while people offer her their condolences (man, I hate that word), and we make sure no one talks her ear off. But Shelby holds her own, acting like the hostess. She's gracious to everyone, the teachers and other students who have come, her parents' friends, and her relatives, and even her sister and father, who both talk like they're the ones who stayed by Mrs. Majors's side throughout her illness.

  By lunchtime, we're all back in school sitting in Dr. Gomez's office for our usual Thursday session. Even Shelby surprises us and returns to school, leaving her father and sister to deal with the relatives and friends still at the house.

  We sit on the floor of Dr. Gomez's office, eating from a plate of brownies and cookies Shelby brought with her from the reception, and we talk about the funeral. All of us feel kind of giddy for some reason, so instead of sounding sad and mournful, we crack jokes and make fun of one another.

  "Jason, you were such a crybaby," Shelby says, jabbing her elbow in my side. "I couldn't look at you at all during the service or I would have totally lost it."

  "Oh, like you were Miss Composure there," I say. I'm blushing, but for once I don't care, and I don't even try to stop it. "How many boxes of tissue did you go through, anyway?"

  "Yeah, well she was my mother—what was your excuse?"

  "He was crying 'cause that lady with the hat and the green hair turned him down when he asked her for a date," Haze says. He stuffs a whole brownie in his mouth while he's talking and he chokes on it and coughs most of it back out.

  "You are the grossest eater!" Shelby says, leaning away from him. Haze just laughs and tries to gather up the spray of brownie around him.

  "Who was that lady with the hat, anyway?" Pete asks.

  "Shelby's aunt, and Shelby's going to grow up to look just like her," I say.

  "Shut up!" Shelby says, falling against me and laughing.

  Finally, after we've downed most of the brownies and cookies, we fall into a mild sugar coma and calm down enough so Dr. Gomez can talk to us.

  She asks Shelby how she's feeling, and Shelby says she's okay because she knows her mother is at peace.

  "I get what people mean when they say that now," she says. "And I feel like her peace is my peace. I really feel that. I know I did a good job taking care of her, so I'm okay." She nods, looking satisfied, and relaxed, even. She's got her dress shoes kicked off, and she's sitting on a pillow between Haze and me and leaning half her body against her mural and half against me. I like that she's chosen me to lean against, and I notice that we're all sitting closer than we usually do.

  Dr. Gomez asks me how I felt attending the funeral, and I tell the truth. I say it was hard but that I'm doing okay.

  She reaches out and pats my hand.

  Then Pete, who's been quieter and less obnoxious than the rest of us, says that his mother has a boyfriend.

  "This is going to kill my dad," he says, rubbing his hand over his scalp. "He gets out of rehab in another week. Where's he supposed to go then? What's he supposed to do? He went through rehab for us, for my mom, and now what happens? This could send him right back out on the streets, using again." Pete looks at us with fear in his eyes.

  "Listen, Pete," Dr. Gomez says. "If your father's only reason for getting clean was to please you and your family, then it's not likely to stick. He needs to do it for himself. You know that." She puts her arm around his shoulder and pulls him to her so he falls sideways, unfolding out of his cross-legged position on the floor. She gives him a squeeze. "He's a grown man, Pete. He'll work this out. He's been an addict for a long time. He probably knew there was a possibility that your mother would find someone else."

  "Yeah, maybe," Pete says, regaining his balance after Dr. Gomez lets go of him. "But what bad timing. It really sucks."

  "Yeah, you're right. It really does suck," Dr. Gomez says, surprising us all.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  SOMETHING HAPPENED at Shelby's mother's funeral that none of us talk about because it's hard to put into words, but I know we all feel it. Through our grief, and our understanding, and our caring for one another, and by standing up together as one at the funeral, Shelby, Haze, Pete, and I have gotten even closer to one another, and it's left us feeling good, proud even, because we know we belong to one another in a way that no one can ever break apart. We—we're like a family.

  AUNT BEE: I think I'm going to cry.

  SEXY LADY: Pass me a hankie.

  CRAZY GLUE: You two are too much!

  LAUGH TRACK: (Sniff).

  During school on Friday, when we're not in classes, we hang out together and we have this new kind of energy buzzing around us and between us, a confident, happy kind of energy, like we're just so excited to be together and to have found one another. We make plans to meet on Saturday right after I get back from my first visit with my dad in the hospital, and I just can't wait for Saturday to come. I'm flying so high, so strong, with all these new feelings of family and belonging. It's like nothing can ever shake me again.

  Saturday morning I sit down in the Lynches' kitchen to a plate of waffles with strawberries and whipped cream.

  "We need to fatten you up; you're still too skinny," Mrs. Lynch says, smiling at me from across the kitchen table. Gwen sits in her lap, sucking on a spoon. Mrs. Lynch looks bright and fresh, as if she's been up awhile.

  "Yeah, but fatten me up for what?" I only half joke, thinking about Reed.

  Mrs. Lynch glances at Cap, who's sitting next to me and is wolfing down his plate of waffles. I see him catch her glance and pause a second, his fork hovering just above the plate and his mouth open, waiting for the food, and then he shoves the bite in and smiles at me and gives me a slap on the back—ho, ho, ho, like everything's fine and dandy.

  I set my fork down. "Okay, what's going on? Did something happen to my dad?" I look from one to the other. "I'm still going to see him, aren't I?"

  "Well, I think so," Mrs. Lynch says. "Although it is snowing pretty hard out."

  "Then what? What is it?"

  Cap tousles my hair. "Finish your breakfast; everything's fine."

  CRAZY GLUE: He's forgotten you hate that. Somethings up.

  LAUGH TRACK: Uh-oh!

  I give him a look that shows I don't trust him.

  "Don't worry. Your father is fine. Now eat up." He shovels another load of waffles and strawberries into his mouth and smiles.

  I notice Cap's face looks like he's been up awhile, too. I've seen them both in the early morning before, and they usually still have on their "sleep faces," making them look older and puffy around the eyes. Their fresh faces and
their glances at each other make me worry enough so that I can't eat.

  I tell them I'll wait in my room for Sam, who's picking me up to take me to see Dad.

  A few minutes after nine I hear the doorbell ring and I think Sam's arrived early, but it's Gwendolyn's social worker. She's come to take Gwen out for the morning.

  A half hour later the doorbell rings again and it's Sam.

  "Hey, look at you," he says when he sees me. He shakes the snow off his coat and hangs it on a peg on the wall. "You've got your sling off."

  I lift my arm. "Yeah, I took it off last night. It feels good." I nod.

  "And your stomach?" he asks.

  "All fine," I say, feeling uneasy, like he's stalling for some reason.

  CRAZY GLUE: Notice he took his coat off. He's totally stalling.

  "I'm ready to go," I say. I grab my own jacket off its peg, and I see Sam glance at the Lynches.

  I jam my jacket back on the peg. "What the hell is going on? What's with all the looks? Are we going to see my dad or aren't we? Stop bullshitting me and tell me the truth!"

  "Hey, calm down," Sam says, while Cap sets his hand on my shoulder.

  "Well, just tell me what's going on and I'll calm down."

  Sam rubs his hand over the top of his head where his dark hair is cut short and bristly. It reminds me of the way Pete rubs his head whenever he's stressed.

  "We just need to have a little talk, okay?" Sam says.

  "About what?" I feel a knot forming in my stomach.

  "Why don't we all go sit in the living room," Mrs. Lynch says, turning and leading the way into the room.

  Once again Cap and Mrs. Lynch sit on the couch so that I sit staring at those African masks, their tortured faces mirroring exactly how I feel. Sam sits in the chair next to mine, his large muscular body filling the chair, making it seem too fragile, like a piece of furniture from Gwen's dollhouse.

  Once we're seated, Sam says, "Look, Jason, here's the deal. Your father is very ill. Mentally ill. You know that."

  "Yeah."

  Sam shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

  CRAZY GLUE: Jeez! Get on with it, dude.

  "Yeah, so? I know he's got mental problems. Is that what you wanted to tell me? I mean, what's happened? Is he okay?"

  Mrs. Lynch slides sideways and pats the space between her and Cap. "Jason, why don't you come sit here, next to me."

  "No, I'm okay here," I say, keeping my eyes on Sam.

  Sam puts his hand on my foot, which I have propped up on my knee and which I only now notice is jiggling like crazy. I stop, and Sam removes his hand.

  "Come on," I say. I look at Sam.

  Sam licks his lips. "Well, things have gotten a little complicated, Jason. I don't have a lot of information, but what the doctors have told your father's caseworker, after a very lengthy and thorough examination and reports from all the staff who care for him, is that your father—they doubt he will ever return to his old self. He'll never be able to write another book or hold down a job. So what they're saying, Jason, is that he's likely to be in this state of mental dysfunction for the rest of his life."

  I straighten up in my seat and my foot starts doing that jiggling thing again, but then so does my heart. "How do they know that? How can they say that? These doctors, what do they know? Look, he was sick before and he got well. Up until a few months ago he was fine. He was fine. He's going to be fine. I know he is. I know it. And what about medication? Won't that help?"

  Sam gives me this sad smile. "Yes, medication could help. It could help a little or a lot, over time, but still it's doubtful he'll ever regain full mental function even if he were willing to take his medication regularly, which apparently is a big if. Right now they have to force the meds."

  "Well, I can get him to take them. I have before. He just needs new medication, that's all. They just need to find the right combination of pills. That's happened before, so..."

  I catch the way the three of them are looking at me. I see the pity in their eyes. I can't stand it. I don't want pity. I want my dad. I want to see my dad and see for myself how he's doing.

  I stand. "I need to see my dad, now."

  Sam stands, too, and starts to speak to me, placing his hand on my arm. "Jason," he says, but I cut him off.

  "Now! I need to see him now!"

  "Jason!" Sam grabs my upper arm and holds it firm. "You'll get to see him. They're releasing him today. Okay? You'll get to see him, but we need to finish talking first. You need to sit down."

  LAUGH TRACK: Phew!

  CRAZY GLUE: He's free. You can go home!

  FBG WITH A MUSTACHE: Let's not jump to conclusions. He's ill, remember?

  Cap and Mrs. Lynch get up and steer me over to the couch to sit between them, and I let them do this. I sit down and Mrs. Lynch sets her hand on my leg.

  "They're releasing him? I don't get it. He's still mentally unstable and they're releasing him? That doesn't make any sense."

  Sam sits and leans forward in his seat, setting his elbows on his knees. "Tell me about it," he says. "It's not about his condition; it's about insurance. You have no insurance, so they're letting him go."

  "So what does this mean? Do I go back home today? It's over? My dad and I can live together again?"

  Mrs. Lynch squeezes my leg.

  CRAZY GLUE: What's that supposed to mean?

  AUNT BEE: Maybe she'll be sorry to see him go.

  FBG WITH A MUSTACHE: Maybe you hurt her feelings by sounding so hopeful.

  Sam says, "No, Jason. No. Your father has a court-appointed guardian who will visit with him once a month and see to his needs. If you returned to your home, everything would be just as it was before. We can't allow that. You'll remain here with the Lynches for now. We have to look after your best interest."

  "So you're saying they're going to just let my dad go and nobody will be there every day to take care of him? Are you kidding me? How can they do that? You just said he would never get better, so how could he be coming home? How's he going to live by himself?"

  I stand up again. I feel all shaken inside. Cap pulls on my arm and says, "Sit down, Jason. You need to listen to Sam and understand this."

  "What? I understand," I say, sitting. "My dad's always going to be sick and he's coming home, but I'm not going to be living with him, so he's probably going to go wandering off somewhere, never to be found, and die alone in the cold." I gasp, trying not to cry. "What don't you think I understand?" I look at the three of them, waiting for an answer.

  Sam nods. "I hear you, Jason. I know it's scary, but it's temporary. Your father's guardian has already started the process of applying for disability so he'll have some money, and Medicaid for health insurance, and she's working to get him placed in a residential program where he'll be taken care of the rest of his life."

  "You mean, like what? Like a nursing home? He'll go into a nursing home?"

  Sam shifts uncomfortably. "It's a little bit like that, sure. But it will be the best thing for him. They'll see to it that he takes his medication, and make sure he doesn't wander off. They'll give him daily activities and exercise. He'll be fed and clothed, and you can visit him there once a month. It's really the best thing for him," Sam repeats.

  "Once a month! What's this once-a-month bullshit? No! Uh-uh, I don't like that idea. No, I'll take care of him. If he's living at home I can see him every day, right? I can go over before school, and then after school I can go over there, too, and fix him dinner and stay there until he goes to sleep. And if he gets that disability money and the insurance, then, well, we'll have more money coming in and..."

  "Jason." Sam shakes his head.

  CRAZY GLUE: Shake it enough and maybe it will fall off, jacko.

  Cap sets a firm hand on my leg as though he's trying to hold me still.

  "I'm afraid you don't have a say in the matter. It's all out of your hands," Sam says.

  "Like hell I don't. He's my dad." I shove away Cap's hand. "Of course I have a say. I'm h
is family. I'm his only living relative. I'm all he's got! If I don't have a say in this, then who does? Of course I have a say!"

  CRAZY GLUE: That's what happens when you're young and alone in the world, goob. Other people are gonna run your life.

  Sam leans forward and looks me in the eyes. "No," he says. "It's out of your hands."

  CRAZY GLUE: What did I just say?

  "Why? How? I don't understand. How can this happen? And what's supposed to happen to me?"

  Sam looks at the Lynches and I say, "What? Why are you looking at them like that? Stop it!"

  Sam sits back and takes a deep breath. "Jason, it's the way these things happen sometimes. I'm afraid your father will lose his parental rights and you'll be put up for adoption."

  LAUGH TRACK: (Gasp).

  I'm so stunned I can't even speak. I spread my hands and shrug and open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I start to feel something rumbling in the pit of my stomach. It rises up, and up, into my throat, and then with my eyes closed and my hands in fists, it finally explodes in a yell that sounds something like "Mom!" Or maybe "Dad!" But it doesn't matter, because neither one of them can hear me.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  SAM AND THE LYNCHES gather around and try to comfort me, but I won't be comforted.

  "You lied to me, Sam," I say when I can speak again. I'm all choked up, and for some reason it hurts my Adam's apple to speak. "You said it was only going to be temporary and that's total bullshit!"

  "I didn't realize then how serious your father's condition was," Sam says. "I made a mistake. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

  "Well, I can tell you I'm not going to be put up for adoption." I look at the three of them and they just give me their pitying looks.

  "You can't just decide my whole life for me. I'm not some little kid."

  Nothing I say makes any difference. Dad and I are in the system now, and the system has rules and laws and procedures that must be followed, no matter what. Our desires are not part of the system.

  I tell Sam and the Lynches that I need to cool off and take a walk. I need to be alone. I grab my jacket and leave the house.