Behind the Falls Read online

  By the time we’re finally satisfied with our thrills and chills on the rides it’s well past dinnertime. Neither of us feels like eating in the park again.

  “Do you want to just go home or should we stop somewhere along the way?” Max asks. I don’t want the day to end. I can’t believe I actually did all of that. I think I may never sleep again I’m so excited. Max was right about risks. If I hadn’t let him drag me into this I would have never realized that I actually love roller coasters. I’m sad that the park is closing for the season.

  “Let’s stop,” I say if for no other reason than to delay the end of the day not to mention to avoid whatever kitchen travesty Mom has cooked up tonight. Mom’s kitchen failures are even worse when reheated. Max chooses a Thai restaurant in Lancaster.

  “Never had a bad meal here,” he says as we park. “Tabby and I usually stop here for dinner before we go to shows at the Chameleon.” After we’re seated and have menus Max asks, “Do you have a favorite?” I don’t even have to look at the menu.

  “Yeah, Pad Thai,” I respond. Max reaches across the table and opens my menu.

  “You’re going to need that, my friend,” he says. “You have to order something other than Pad Thai tonight.” Because Max has pretty much been right all day I just laugh and start perusing the menu. I go with drunken noodles because I like the name. Max orders the Pad Thai, rat bastard.

  We talk the entire time we’re waiting for the food. I can’t help but contrast the kinds of conversations I have with Max to hanging out with the guys at the dance last night. Maybe it’s because he’s lived all over the place or maybe it’s because he just so smart but he seems so much older than the other guys at school. He even seems more mature than his own friends that we sit with at lunch. I’m glad we moved to Lansing so I could have a chance to be friends with Max. I feel comfortable with him in a way that I never feel comfortable outside of my own home.

  I’ve thought numerous times since I’ve known him that Max just seems so comfortable in his own skin and I think some of his confidence somehow finds its way to me. I can’t really understand it. Somehow I just feel better about being me when I’m hanging out with Max. I almost want to tell him everything, about the anxiety, about what a big deal today was, about the panic attack I had earlier, but of course I can’t.

  When the food comes the drunken noodles are good but Pad Thai would have been better. What can I say? I know what I like. About halfway through the meal I pretty much lose interest and I’m really only moving things around on my plate with my chopsticks listening to Max telling a story about trying to learn to surf when he lived in Hawaii when he reaches over and takes my plate and slides his into its place without missing a word in his tale. I stare at him for a moment as he digs into drunken noodles then I shrug and finish his Pad Thai.

  When the fortune cookies come Max reads his out loud. “The time is always right to do what is right…in bed.”

  “It doesn’t say that!” I say laughing.

  “You’ve never done the ‘in bed’ thing before?” he’s laughing too. I shake my head and he explains. “Any fortune actually seems deep and meaningful or positively hysterical if you add in bed to it. Read yours.”

  “A man who fails to try cannot succeed…in bed. That sounds like an erectile dysfunction issue,” I say and Max cracks up and almost chokes on the water he was drinking. I guess I should count myself lucky that he didn’t spit it all over me.

  It’s getting late by the time we head home. After an adrenaline filled day and with a full belly I can barely keep my eyes open. We’ve only been on the highway for maybe five minutes when my eyes start to drift shut.

  “Oh no, don’t you dare fall asleep, No. Talk to me and keep me awake,” Max says as he glances over and catches me with eyes closed. I think I mumble something about turning up the music to keep him awake and then I’m out. I’m not aware of anything else until I’m being shaken awake in my own driveway.

  “You’re home, Noah,” Max says. I blink and look around sleepily. “Yeah, you suck as a copilot, No.”

  “I’m sorry,” I yawn.

  “Well how does it feel to lose your virginity?” he asks.

  “What?!” I sputter. Max laughs at me.

  “You can no longer say you’ve never ridden a roller coaster.”

  “Oh, yeah, that was pretty awesome. Thanks for tricking me into that I guess,” I start to laugh but it turns into a yawn. It’s almost midnight.

  “Get the Hell out of the car before you fall asleep again or you’re spending the night in my garage,” he pauses and looks at me for a minute without saying anything then, “You did good today, No. You’re stronger than you think you are.” I’m not really sure what he means by that but I feel good about myself anyway.

  “See you on Monday,” I mumble as I slide out of the car and stumble sleepily into the house. Of course Mom and Dad are waiting up for me. I tell them I was a bit scared at first, give Mom Hell for plotting with Max behind my back but that in the end I really enjoyed myself. I told them Pad Thai is much better than drunken noodles and that I’m really tired and excuse myself to go to bed. I mention nothing about the panic attack. They don’t need to know everything.

  ****

  On Monday morning when my ride comes Tabitha is extra cranky. She’s even snarky with Max and I’ve never witnessed that. On the short ride to school she manages to tell off her brother, Max and even me and I didn’t even say anything.

  “Geeze, Kitty Cat, who pissed in your Cheerios?” asks Max as we’re all getting out of the car. Tabitha smacks him on the back of the head and stalks off ahead of us into the school. “Is she okay?” Max turns to Terry concerned. Tabitha’s brother shrugs.

  “Everything is fine at home. I thought maybe you did something,” Terry says. Max just shrugs and we all walk into the school.

  I didn’t count on how awkward seeing Holly would be this morning. She’s so obvious that even I’m aware that she’s flirting. If I can’t figure out a nice way to put her off I may end up having to go out with her again. I would ask Tabitha a girl’s perspective if she wasn’t so moody today.

  In chemistry Max tells me that Tabitha’s bad mood has continued through the morning. He’s also clueless why she’s so pissed off. He’s assuming it has something to do with Kyle because he spent some time at their house with Terry this past weekend but I have my doubts. I really refuse to believe that Tabitha actually likes the guy.

  In chemistry we’re assigned projects to do in our individual partnerships. Every couple has a different project to work on for one week. Max and I draw investigating exothermic reaction rates. Since we only have five days to complete the assignment we decide to get together after school. Max asks if I can come to his house today. He has to watch his younger siblings. After class I text Mom and of course she’s fine with it.

  At the end of the day, Tabitha is still in a bad mood. She’s a lot more like the Tabitha I met the first day instead of the Tabitha I’ve grown to consider a friend. She’s seriously bringing down everyone in the car.

  “Your new name is Crabby Tabby,” Max informs her. This earns him a punch in the arm. Terry drops us off at Max’s house and she’s no longer our problem.

  Max only lives two streets and three blocks down from us but his neighborhood has a lot of new housing. I remember when I was much younger and this street had very few houses. Now it’s grown up and the houses are pretty upscale. I think a lot of people that work in Harrisburg actually live here…people with high paying jobs that want the comforts of a small town don’t seem to mind the hour commute.

  Max’s house is HUGE. When we walk in the front door there’s an actual foyer with marble flooring. “I’m home!” he calls as we walk through the house. I can hear a television in the distance and it’s in that direction that we head. I saw a more formal living room off the foyer when we first came in but the room we enter is a more casual family room or TV room.

  “Max! Guess what? Sassy
had babies!” shouts a little girl with blonde pigtails as we enter the room. She runs to Max and takes his hand dragging him across the room to a Habitrail. A toddler with a sippy cup points at the plastic rodent hotel.

  “Max! Babies!” he says proudly. Max squats down next to his younger siblings and looks in at the writhing mass of pink flesh in the sawdust.

  “When did this happen?” he smiles. For the first time I notice a woman on the other side of the room.

  “It started right before we picked Samantha up from school. They watched most of them being born,” said the woman.

  “They came right out of her butt,” the little girl who is obviously Samantha enthuses. Max laughs.

  “Yeah, I think you might just be a little off there,” he says. Thankfully, Samantha doesn’t ask for clarification. She holds Max’s hand as she looks at her pet and its babies. The little boy sips from his cup and reaches for Max’s hair which he plays with while also looking in the Habitrail.

  I have never had a lot of experience with small children and I stay quiet and take in my surroundings. This room is comfortable but the furniture is obviously of good quality and the décor is tasteful. There are family pictures on one wall and I look at them while Max lets his younger siblings entertain him. In the center is a wedding picture of what I assume is Max’s parents. His dad is dressed in military dress blues. There are pictures of all three of the Maxwell children. I can’t help but notice that Max is the only one in the family with dark hair.

  “Lydia had a casserole ready for dinner so I put that in the oven. I’m going to get going so I can feed my brood,” says the woman who I now understand to be a baby sitter. “Have her call me if she gets picked and needs help for the rest of the week.”

  “Thanks, Caroline. I’ll let her know,” Max says. The babysitter leaves and the little girl tugs at Max’s hand to get his attention again.

  “What should we name them?” she asks.

  “I think we should wait until they at least start to look a little different, don’t you? We’ll never be able to tell who is who,” Max says. “What do you think, No?” I turn my attention from the pictures and get closer to look into the Habitrail to see a gerbil with five or six new pups. They look pretty freaky. They aren’t totally formed yet, just pink blobs with black spots where their eyes will eventually be. I think they’re pretty darned creepy.

  “I think I’d get a cat,” I say and Max laughs loudly.

  “Let’s get started on this project in the kitchen,” he says while still chuckling. “Sammi, do you have any homework?” The little girl nods but doesn’t take her eyes off of the creepy, squiggling pink things. “Get your books and come to the kitchen,” Max tells her. He picks up the toddler and props him on one hip while he picks up his book bag with the other hand. “Matty, you are doing homework with the big boys today,” he says.

  “Homework!” proclaims the little boy. I follow Max from the family room through a formal dining room and into a brightly lit kitchen. The kitchen is huge and features granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances. I can smell whatever casserole is in the oven. Max puts the little boy in a high chair and gives him some paper and a pencil then spreads his own books out on the table.

  “Thirsty?” he asks me as I join him. I shrug.

  “Water would be fine,” I say. He gets two bottles of water from the fridge before rejoining me. Sammi joins us and plops her book down on the table. She suddenly seems as grumpy as Tabitha did earlier.

  “I hate math,” she says.

  “It loves you,” Max tells her as she opens her book. This makes her laugh. “So Sammi got the gerbil about a month ago,” Max says as we get our books situated. “Apparently she was already pregnant. So now we have seven gerbils for the price of one,” he laughs.

  We start brainstorming ideas for our project while Matty scribbles happily and Sammi moans about the stupidity of numbers. When she finally completes her homework Max checks it and points out a few equations that she answered incorrectly. Sammi reworks her homework then bounces off to watch television. It’s probably at least an hour later that a petite blonde woman enters from what I assume is the attached garage as we could hear the rumble of the garage door from the kitchen.

  “What a long day of sitting around doing nothing!” she exclaims as she hangs her keys and purse on a hook inside the door. “Then after all of that I didn’t get chosen anyway which I’m very thankful for, don’t think I’m not, but what a waste of a day.”

  “Jury duty,” Max informs me. The woman, Mrs. Maxwell I’m assuming, kisses Matty on the head and then turns to kiss Max on the head too.

  “Sassy’s babies!” exclaims the little boy.

  “Yeah, Sassy had six babies today. According to Sammi they watched the babies come out of her butt,” Max laughs. Mrs. Maxwell shakes her head.

  “Oh dear lord, I hope I don’t have to explain THAT one. She’s only six,” the woman says as she opens the oven and peeks in at dinner then turns to look at Max and me. “Don’t be rude, Max, who do we have here?”

  “This is Noah, my new lab partner. Noah, meet Lydia Maxwell,” Max makes the introductions. “Noah’s family just moved here recently. They’ve taken over his grandmother’s house. You knew Mrs. Blakely didn’t you?”

  “Ah, yes, we went to the same hairdresser. Lovely woman. So sorry for your loss, Noah.”

  “Uh, thanks,” of course I’m all flustered and shy. Meeting the little kids was one thing but meeting an adult brings out the social awkwardness.

  “We’re going to take this downstairs if you don’t need anything else,” Max says.

  “That’s fine, thanks for watching the kids. Dinner in a half hour,” she says as Max leads me from the room. “It was nice to meet you, Noah.”

  “You too,” I mumble. Max leads me out of the kitchen and we take a door off the main hallway which leads downstairs. The stairs lead to what is probably the biggest finished basement I’ve ever seen. I look around and see two doors behind us. One is closed but the other is open on a laundry room. The room the stairs empty into is actually a home gym.

  Actually, it’s so big and has so much equipment that home gym doesn’t quite do it justice. I think the Maxwells could charge membership here. The floor is covered with a light blue spongy surface. There are free weights and machines as well as a treadmill, elliptical, stationary bike, punching bag and a rowing machine. One entire wall is all mirrors. My mouth must be hanging open because Max laughs.

  “Yeah, Dad retired from the military but he still likes to stay in shape. I think he had the gym done before the master bedroom.” Max continues through the gym and opens another door. What I can see of the walls is painted gray but I can’t see a lot of the walls because they are covered in some kind of black foam that looks similar to egg cartons. The floor is carpeted in a dark gray carpet and there’s a black couch against one wall.

  On the other side of the room is a long, low table with a computer and speakers and equipment I don’t recognize. In one corner of the room is a drum set with microphones placed strategically around it. In the opposite corner is a small booth with a window in it through which I can see a microphone and a black nylon shield in front of it. There are three guitars hanging on one wall. In the remaining corner of the room is an electronic keyboard on a stand. I remember the first day I met Max when he mentioned not having a real piano at home.

  “This is my playroom,” Max says. “I had this completed before my bedroom too,” he admits.

  “Wow,” is all I can say.

  “I’ll play some of my stuff for you some other time. Let’s get this chemistry out of the way first.” He leads me through yet another doorway and we’re in Max’s room. As bedrooms go it’s immense.

  Three out of four walls are painted red. The fourth wall is white with black writing on it. It’s not completely covered but it’s almost covered. At a quick glance I don’t know what the words say but I can see that some of it is written in a finer t
ipped black marker and some is much bolder. The bed is king-sized. The bedclothes are black which contrasts with the red walls.

  On one side of the room is Max’s desk which is long and low like the table in the other room. There’s an office chair in front of it and a laptop on top of it. On another side of the room is an easel with an unfinished painting on it. There’s a drop cloth on the floor under the easel. There are posters and artwork on the three walls that are painted but there aren’t too many. The walls don’t look cluttered. One wall boasts a flat screen TV. I’m jealous. Mom won’t allow TVs in the bedrooms.

  Max pulls out the chair and offers it to me and I sit while he leaves the room. He comes back in with the chair from the other room and we spread out our books and notes. Max grabs a piece of red licorice from a large plastic container and offers me a piece.

  I like Max’s room. It’s got so much personality. It screams Max. I compare it to my own bland room that looks like a hotel. I chuckle to myself as I think it makes sense. Max has a big personality and he’s interesting so of course his personal space reflects that. My personal space reflects…boring.

  “So how do you have blue eyes when your parents both have brown?” I ask and feel stupid the second the words are out of my mouth. I was just thinking of the family pictures in the TV room and said what I was thinking.

  “Well first of all it’s possible to have a blue-eyed child if both parents have brown. It’s not very likely, you almost never see it but it’s not impossible. You’re good at science. I’m embarrassed by your lack of knowledge about how dominant and recessive genes work,” he laughs. I deserve the jibe for bringing this subject up in the first place.

  “Second of all, Lydia is my stepmom. My mom died when I was six,” he continues. Now I feel stupid and shitty.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” I mumble. Max shrugs.

  “It was a long time ago. I’ve made my peace with it. I do wish I could ask her why the Hell she named me Holden Caulfield though,” as he says it he taps a tattered paperback version of The Catcher in the Rye that is sitting on the desk. “I mean, he was such a whiny, self-centered twit and all of that ‘phony this and phony that’ and ‘if you really want to know’….Jesus. She read this book over and over again so she saw something in it. I’ve read it over and over again looking for a clue to what she saw but I just don’t feel it.”