Behind the Falls Read online

  “Haven’t you asked your dad? Doesn’t he know?” I ask quietly. I don’t know how to talk to Max about his mom. He’s never mentioned her before this. He shrugs.

  “She never explained it to him either. That’s the other part of your blue-eyed query. He didn’t even meet my mom until I was two. He wasn’t there when she named me.” I’m stunned. Neither of the people in that wedding photo is actually related to Max? I almost can’t comprehend the magnitude of this disclosure.

  “So, what about your dad?” I say, trying to wrap my head around all of this.

  “You really want this story?” Max says lightly. He doesn’t seem to mind talking about it so I nod. “My mom met my biological father when she was in high school. He was a bit older than her. This is information I got from my grandmother and my dad. Well, I mean Mark Maxwell. I’ll call him Mark for now so you don’t get confused.

  “So my mom meets this guy when she’s sixteen and he’s nineteen and from the beginning he just totally had her fooled. She ran away with him once and my grandparents had to track her down and drag her back home. He was a total loser, a user and freaking drug addict. He was supposedly a musician although he probably lived the sex drugs rock n roll aspect more than the actual art side of it but she thought he was a deep and tortured soul or some nonsense. That’s how my gram explained it. After she ran off with him and they dragged her back home my grandparents should have had him tossed in jail but they knew they’d lose her for good if that happened. When she got pregnant he took off.

  “It was actually the best thing that could have happened, his taking off I mean. If she would have stayed with him we’d probably be living in that ratty trailer he had when she was with him. She wasn’t quite eighteen when she got pregnant and had nothing and no plan so she had no choice but to go back home. She finished school and my grandparents helped her with me so that she could turn it around and make something of herself.

  “She went to technical school and became a medical assistant. That’s how she met Mark. He was stationed in Florida where we lived at the time and he came into the urgent care center where she worked. They hit it off and he asked her out and she said yes and that was that. They were inseparable.

  “When I was four he was being transferred and he asked her to marry him and she said yes and we left Florida with him. When they got married he legally adopted me. I wish I could remember more about those years. He still talks about her whenever I want to talk about her but they’re his memories not mine. I remember her reading to me. I remember her artistic side that I inherited. I remember what her hugs felt like. I remember that she sang a lot but I don’t remember the sound of her voice any more. I wish we had a recording. I don’t think I would remember what she looked like without pictures.

  “When I was in first grade I was waiting for her after school one day and she didn’t come and didn’t come. My teacher stayed with me in the office and waited. I remember that like it was yesterday. Finally, Mark showed up instead and I knew as soon as I saw him that something was so wrong that it would never be right again. She was hit by a drunk driver on her way to the school. She was only blocks away when it happened. Two thirty in the afternoon and some fucking idiot is out there with a .16 blood alcohol content driving around and ruining people’s lives.” Max stops and I don’t know what to say.

  I almost feel anxiety on hearing this story. I mean, this is the thing I feared most when I was a kid…losing my parents. I can still remember how I was convinced and terrified every time my mom dropped me off at kindergarten that something would happen to her and I’d never see her again. That had actually happened to Max. How had he survived it? I think it would have killed me. Just the fear of that happening is too much for me.

  “My grandparents wanted me to come live with them but Mark convinced them he could make it work. They were older. They had my mother late in life. My grandmother was something like forty five and my granddad was fifty when my mom was born. By the time I was six neither of them was very healthy. They were not exactly equipped to raise a six-year-old. Mark said there was no way he was losing both my mom and me. He told me years later that the only positive thing he could find in any of it was that it happened before Mom picked me up from school because he didn’t think he could have survived if he’d lost us both that day.

  “I did stay with my grandparents from time to time when Mark was deployed but whenever he was stateside and strictly on base I lived with him. When I was nine he met Lydia. Some kids might have hated that, a new woman coming into their dad’s life like that, but Lydia is great and she always treated me like her own. She used to joke that she wasn’t just dating Mark she was dating me too. And she made him so happy! He was honestly happy for the first time in three years and that made me happy too.

  “Since then my grandfather has died and my grandmother is in assisted living. I asked Mark one time if he felt cheated that he had so little time with my mom. It was right after I had gotten in trouble for something. I don’t even remember what it was now…just stupid things kids do…and I was being punished. After Mark laid down my punishment I asked him if he hated me. I mean, he was in love with my mom and only got two years with her but ended up saddled with a kid for the rest of his life. What he said to me that day I never forgot.

  “He said he thought that it wasn’t about him and Mom. He said he believed everything happens for a reason and that the real reason the universe put him and my mom together was so that ultimately he and I would have each other. Of course I wanted him happy. I was honestly happy for him when Lydia agreed to marry him just a year later. So that’s my weird family. I know it seems strange to outsiders but it’s my family. Those little kids upstairs are my brother and sister whether we share DNA or not.” Max pauses in his story then chuckles. “We’ll never get this project off the ground at this rate. I’m sorry.” He reaches for more licorice.

  “No, don’t be,” I say shaking my head. “What about your real dad though? Have you ever met him?” Max shakes his head. He takes the book that is so old that the pages and cover are soft and I have no doubt it was his mom’s own copy. He pulls a piece of newspaper out of it. It’s an obituary for a Warren Scott Carter.

  “Mark is my real dad. This is just the loser that knocked up my mom and then left. He died of a drug overdose when I was a kid. I never met him. Even if he was still alive I wouldn’t want to meet him.

  “Mark is the one that sat with me by my mom’s hospital bed when we said goodbye after they told us she wasn’t going to wake up. Mark is the one that cried with me when we buried my mom. Mark is the one that stayed up with me at night when I was sick. Mark is the one that taught me to ride a bike. He was the one that signed my cast when I broke my arm on my first skateboard. He’s been there almost my whole life. He’s the one that was there when we had to move and I was broken hearted over losing Jensen.”

  Max pulls a photo album off of the shelf above his desk and opens it on top of his chemistry notes. “This is my mom,” he says turning the book towards me. There are pictures of her as a little girl and as the book goes on she grows up in its pages. There’s a picture of her holding a baby Max in the hospital when he was born. There are pictures of her with him as a toddler.

  Next are the wedding pictures. Again Mark Maxwell is wearing dress blues. They looked really happy. There are pictures of Max on their wedding day. He’s wearing a tiny tux and was the ring bearer. There are pictures of what I think is probably Max’s first day of school. He’s smiling and waving with a lunch box in one hand. I take a moment to think how different Max’s first day was from my own.

  She was pretty in a very natural way. Her wedding pictures and graduation photo are the only ones that I can even tell she’s wearing makeup. She almost reminds me of a young Sissy Spacek (I’ve watched the original version of Carrie like ten times) with the same strawberry blonde hair and snub nose. The thing I notice the most is that she doesn’t look anything like Max.

  What is i
t like for him to have never had anyone he could look at and say well I get my hair from my mom and my eyes from my dad? Then I see one picture that looks a little like Max and it’s not even that the features are the same it’s more the way she smiles and she has one dimple.

  “Her name was Maggie,” he says as we look at the pictures together.

  “So when did you decide to stop answering to Holden?” I ask. I’m actually kind of surprised that he spurned the name that is one of the lasting things his mother gave to him.

  “When I was around twelve I finally read The Catcher in the Rye,” he says. “I know I was too young for it that first time. My grandmother was packing up the house to sell it and I was there visiting and helping her and she gave me a bunch of my mom’s old things. That was also when she gave me that obituary. Since he was never a part of my life everyone just figured they’d tell me what they needed to tell me if I ever asked. I never asked.

  “She told me that Warren gave that book to my mom. It was HIS favorite book and she read it because he gave it to her. I have no idea why it became her favorite book, especially after the way he left her. I read it again when I was thirteen. I hated the character and I hated that in an indirect way my name was something that came from Warren so I just stopped using it. Holden Caulfield Carter, such a ridiculous name. I have to remind myself that she was only eighteen when she named me,” he laughs. “It’s been Holden Maxwell longer than it was ever Carter though, thank God. I don’t even know why she gave me HIS name instead of hers.”

  “Still, you were never curious?” I ask.

  “If he were alive today I wouldn’t want to meet him,” he says decidedly. “The best thing he ever did for me was leave my mom. No one knows anything about his family. I guess my mom thought she’d tell me if I ever asked when I got older. If I could SEE him though I think I would if only to see my eyes in someone else’s face. Apparently I look just like him but I’ll just have to take my grandmother’s word for it because there aren’t even any pictures of him.”

  I have nothing to say after Max finishes the story. He’s just always seemed so self- confident and well-adjusted and happy that I can’t believe he has such a backstory. It doesn’t seem to bother him anymore though. He really must have made his peace with it just like he said.

  We work on the chemistry project for another half hour when Mrs. Maxwell calls down the stairs. “Dinner in five minutes. Would Noah like to stay?” I look at Max and shake my head. Whatever was cooking smelled a lot better than what will probably be waiting for me at home but I can’t imagine sitting with the entire Maxwell family and having dinner. I pack up my books and follow Max up the stairs. When we get upstairs Max’s dad is home so of course I have to meet him too.

  “Dad, this is Noah, Noah this is Colonel Maxwell,” Max says. His dad shakes my hand.

  “Just Mark,” he says with a smile. “I haven’t been Colonel anything since I retired.” He seems friendly enough but he’s a little intimidating. He kinda reminds me of that wrestler John Cena if Max’s dad was taller and on steroids. He may be ex-military but he still wears a short, brush cut. I’m surprised Max gets away with his long hair and many piercings. I’ll have to ask him about that the next time I open my big, nosy mouth.

  I turn down Max’s offer of a ride home. It’s not that cold and it’s not far. When I get home I’m pleasantly surprised. Mom picked up Thai food so I get Pad Thai and not some healthy, gluten free travesty.

  ****

  It takes Tabby three days to get over her moodiness. It takes Holly four to get the hint that I’m not going to ask her out. Sherrie seems a little friendlier as the week goes on as well. These girls…it must be the cycle of the freaking moon or something. For the rest of the week Max and I work on our project trading off which house we go to after school. On Wednesday I have to see Dr. Cooper so I go to Max’s house after dinner.

  I usually prefer when Max and I work at my house because I’m just more comfortable in familiar surroundings and with less people but it only takes a few visits to Max’s house before I feel comfortable in his space anyway. His little brother and sister take an instant liking to me for some reason and soon I’m almost as popular with them as Max himself. His parents try to convince me to call them Mark and Lydia but it feels odd to me so I try to avoid having to address them directly.

  We don’t really work that much. Our project is going smoothly and we’re pretty much done in three days instead of the five we’ve been given so most of the time we just hang out. Max has a lot of friends. He’s like the leader of our band of lunch room pals so it surprises me that he chooses to spend so much time with me.

  He plays some of his music for me and I’m prepared to have to just nod and smile and pretend but it’s actually really incredibly good. Elliot with the hipster glasses plays the drums on all of his tracks because according to Max, “I’m hopeless at the drums,” but Max plays everything else.

  The first track is all music. Max explains that he hasn’t recorded the vocals yet. The next song includes vocals and I’m surprised by Max’s singing voice. It’s much lower than I would have expected for one thing. When he does sing in a higher register it almost sounds like his voice is on the edge of his range but then he’ll hit a higher note and prove that to be untrue. His voice has a kind of roughness to it, a scratchy quality that sounds a bit like heartbreak. The third song comes on while Max is looking for a CD in his room.

  She’s just a girl with a woman’s form

  There’s still so much growing up to do

  Little girl grown up too fast

  Shouldn’t have to go through what she’s been through

  She said no

  Innocence taken, innocence lost

  She said no

  What’s taken away can’t be replaced

  She tries to cut away the pain…

  Max stops the track abruptly. “Hey, I was listening to that!” I argue. “That was really really good.” The music was perfect for the lyrics and his voice was so full of emotion I wanted to hear the whole song.

  “That one isn’t ready for general consumption just yet,” he says quietly. “Maybe it never will be.”

  When we study at my house and play music on my computer Max informs me that he’s going to take charge of my musical education. He’s appalled by my general lack of knowledge. For me music is just what I like at the moment, what is catchy, what I’m in the mood for. For Max music is an absolute necessity of life. He takes it way more seriously than I do. He can’t understand how I don’t even have a favorite band.

  “How can you have everything the Foo Fighters have ever released and yet there’s no Nirvana? How can you have the latest Green Day release and yet you don’t have Dookie? I’d probably feel better if you had even one song by Silversun Pickups, Pierce the Veil, Kill Hannah, or Slipknot. Seriously, No, you need to broaden your musical horizons,” he says as he scrolls through my iTunes.

  Max may be appalled by my lack of musical knowledge but I’m equally appalled by his lack of taste in the horror movie genre. I may worry and panic and fear in real life about everything but I have a strange obsession with horror films. I think maybe I like horror films because I know they’re not real, they’re safe. It’s probably the same desire for adrenaline that makes Max love roller coasters. It’s terrifying but it’s safe.

  Hanging out in Max’s room one day I’m looking through his DVDs and let out a groan when I see all of the Saw films represented. “You didn’t seriously spend actual money on these did you?” I groan.

  “What? You don’t like horror?” he asks as he looks at what I’m referring to.

  “This is NOT horror. This is just shock value blood and guts. This weekend we’re watching some REAL scary movies,” I inform him.

  Lydia Maxwell decides that my parents and I should come to dinner. “Believe me, I know what it’s like to move to a new town and leave all of your friends behind,” she says. “With the kids it’s easier to meet people. Th
ey just make friends at school. It’s harder when you’re an adult.” I give her my mom’s cell so she can call her.

  Meanwhile I’ve been talking to Kimber on the phone every few days. She’s actually dating the guy she was stressing about a couple of weeks ago. I guess he was playing hard to get. According to Kimber, his name is John or Ron or Bob or something like that. Seriously, why am I so absolutely terrible with names? He’s on the basketball team and Kimber thinks he’s just dreamy.

  Kimber asks me all about the dance and Holly and I’m not sure what to say. I feel so naïve and immature when I compare my first date with Kimber’s social life. Of course she wants details about that first kiss. Kimber and I have been best friends, as close as brother and sister our whole lives. I can tell her anything and yet I hesitate.

  “I don’t know it was okay I guess,” is all I offer.

  “Come on, Freak, there’s got to be more you can say than that,” Kimber teases.

  “I guess I just don’t like her that way. The kiss itself was just…wet and sticky. Seriously, why do girls wear lip gloss? If you wear it then just stop. I’m sure no guy actually likes it. I certainly don’t. I don’t know, Max says first kisses are notoriously bad.”

  The mention of Max reminds me to tell Kimber about the amusement park. I tell her all about the roller coasters and how amazing that day was. I leave out the part about the panic attack. I don’t even know why. I never hide things from Kimber. I know she won’t tell my parents if I don’t want her to. Maybe it’s because that was the only negative in an otherwise incredible day. When I leave out the panic attack in my retelling of the day it makes it perfect. It makes things the way I wish they were.