Chapter 2
“Justice,” as it turned out, came in the form of a tall, rail-skinny man named Jeff.
The man, Jeff Justice, (“but you can just call me Jeff”), was one of the school counselors that Paul had never had the pleasure nor the desire to meet. Paul would be spending every Tuesday and Thursday’s lunch period with Jeff, until such time as it was deemed that Paul didn’t need intervention any longer.
Like many people living in Radcliff, Jeff was retired military. He had chosen to spend his time and the government’s money wisely while he was in the Army, and had obtained his master’s in psychology. The work he did at the school was more of a hobby for him than a job, and he enjoyed it as if it were. His heart was as big as he was tall and although Paul didn’t spend two lunches a week in Jeff’s company by choice, after a couple of conversations Paul could honestly admit that there were much worse ways to pass two hours a week at North Hardin High.
The first few meetings were spent in small-talk. Jeff didn’t jump right into the reason that Paul was forced to make these regular appearances. Instead, he focused more on simply getting to know him. Jeff’s forthright manner and earnest ways quickly made Paul comfortable. He began to believe that if he shared his problems with Jeff, the counselor might actually want to help, and more importantly, may even be able to help. It was in their third week and fifth meeting that Paul brought up the issue of his tardiness without Jeff ever having to ask.
“I’m not on drugs, you know,” was how Paul began the meeting.
“I know that, Paul. I knew that after our second meeting.”
“And I don’t intentionally miss class. I can’t say that if I were able to miss it without getting busted I wouldn’t take advantage of it, but in this case it really is out of my hands. And I’d like to tell you why.”
“Ok. Well, let’s have it.”
Paul took a deep breath and steeled himself for the reaction he was sure he would get. Even his parents, at first, had refused to believe he wasn’t just ‘acting out.’
“I have a sleep disorder,” he began simply, “and it is very intense.”
He watched Jeff’s face for any trace of judgment or negative reaction. He only found attentiveness, which gave him the courage to forge onward and completely unload the truth.
“Every evening at dusk, I get so tired that I literally can’t keep my eyes open. No matter how hard I try, no matter what I’m doing or where I am, I just can’t stay awake and I slip off into unconsciousness until dawn, the next morning. I’m late for class because whenever it is daylight savings time, like right now, it’s still dark and I can’t wake up. And I don’t mean I’m just a heavy sleeper. That doesn’t anywhere near describe it. My mom has shook me, turned on all the lights, made all kinds of noise, even doused me with cold water. None of it works. It’s like I’m in a coma and can’t come out of it. But as soon as the sun comes up, I wake up on my own.”
Jeff remained quiet, his left thumb under his chin and a forefinger resting on his upper lip.
Great, Paul thought, here we go. He doesn’t believe me.
Jeff’s worn out desk chair squeaked in protest as he leaned back. “Have your folks ever taken you to see a physician for your disorder? It sounds fairly serious to me.”
Paul didn’t know what to say. It was such a simple reply to Paul’s statement of his condition, and yet no one—ever—in his life had accepted him at his word. Certainly, no one ever offered to discuss it in such a forthright manner. Even people like Steven, who’d seen it first-hand, still didn’t think it was something that warranted much attention.
“Well...” Paul struggled for a reply, not because he didn’t have an answer, but because he was so taken by surprise. “Yes, as a matter of fact my mom has taken me to doctors. She took me to a sleep therapist who ran all kinds of tests. They weren’t that bad. I was asleep for most of them, so the majority of the poking and prodding was done while I was unconscious.
“They monitored levels of a chemical called adenosine and a hormone called melatonin. I don’t understand the science of it, but the sleep therapist told me that melatonin causes you to get tired and adenosine is what keeps you asleep. I don’t know. I probably should have paid more attention, but the final result of the tests showed that every night when the sun sets, the gland in my body that produces melatonin goes nuts and pumps out some serious stuff. With so much of it pumping into my body, it makes me so tired that I can’t stay awake and... that’s it. I’m out. Until the sun comes up again, I’m filled with the stuff and can’t wake up no matter what happens.”
There was no tone of disbelief in Jeff’s voice as he responded.
“So you’re telling me that the reason you show up an hour late for school almost every day is because you have a medical condition? Is that what you’re saying?” When Paul didn’t answer, Jeff continued, “I have to believe that the school would make an exception for your tardiness, especially if a doctor would back your story.”
Paul blanched, becoming very nervous. “Yes,” he said. “That is what I’m saying. But I already have enough trouble making friends in this school, Jeff. Really. The last thing I want is for people to think I’m even more of a freak than they already do. I don’t want to use my problem as an excuse for not being able to get to school and then Mr. Paine has to say ‘Well, it’s okay for Paul Bennett to show up late because he’s got a disease, so everyone just mind your own business and if anything, feel sorry for the poor guy – because he has a condition.’ No. I would rather do detention every single day for the entire school year than give people any more reason to think I’m messed up.”
By the time he’d finished speaking, Paul’s voice had gone up an octave. He knew how so many do-gooders could end up causing harm, all with the best of intentions. Paul didn’t want to be the guy on the receiving end of good intentions that went wrong. He may not have as many friends as he’d like, but the ones he had he wanted to keep. He liked his life simple and uncomplicated.
“I didn’t mean that I would get out the bullhorn and try and clear a path for you,” Jeff assured him. “I can see that you value your social life.” Paul opted not to ask ‘what social life?’ and kept quiet. “All I’m saying is that it sounds like you have a serious problem, and although I’m sure your parents have gone to great lengths to try and help you, maybe there is something I can do that they haven’t tried yet. I know of a place that specializes in sleep disorders. It is supposed to be the best in the country, maybe even in the world.”
More tests. Paul hadn’t liked being stuck with so many needles last time, and he was sure he wouldn’t like it again. “I don’t know, Jeff,” he replied reluctantly. “Like I said, I’ve already been to see doctors. All they ever did was send us bills we couldn’t afford.”
Jeff held up a giant palm. “Look, I admit, this isn’t my specialty,” he replied. “The only knowledge I have of this facility is what I’ve been told and what I’ve read, I’ve never been there. But I do know this—they are on the forefront of sleep research. They aren’t the kind of place that you go to for appointments. They’re the kind of place that you check in and stay until your problem is solved.”
Paul sat back in his chair, considering Jeff’s offer. His instinct was to immediately reject it, but he had really begun to trust the man. There was nothing Jeff had said or done since the day they’d met that made Paul believe Jeff was anything but sincere. The more he thought about, the more Paul realized that he needed someone like Jeff to help him.
When his sleep issues had first begun, his mom—and to a lesser degree his dad—had gone from casual worry, to interrogations about drugs, to outright concern, and then finally to attempts at finding answers through the medical community.
The truth was that although both his mom and dad had the best of intentions, neither of them had any idea what to do about his problem and had found themselves floundering in the issue, helpless to do anything for him. As they’d ran into more and more dead ends and reali
zed they didn’t have it within their emotional or financial power to find a solution, Paul’s dad stopped coming around to visit as often. His mother, when she wasn’t at work, sunk her energy into local civic groups that hung banners and did fundraising, keeping her mind occupied and away from home. When she wasn’t doing that, she went out on ‘girls nights’ with friends from work, staying out well past the time that Paul fell asleep.
Paul found himself alone more and more of the time. At first he’d felt abandoned by his parents, especially his mom, but after a while he realized it was the only way she got through the day. If she didn’t have to be there when he woke up or fell asleep, she could forget that she wasn’t able to help him. And as time went on, Paul realized that he preferred to be alone. He hated the look of pity when his mother looked him in the eyes, always trying not to focus on his deep, dark circles but never quite accomplishing it.
He’d been alone with his issue for almost five years now, dealing with it the only way he knew how. Until Jeff made his simple offer to help, Paul hadn’t realized how desperately he’d been waiting for someone to extend a hand.
“Yes,” Paul said simply. “I would very much appreciate your help, Jeff.”
Watchers of the Night Page 5