Behind the Falls Page 26

  Dad started bringing me to games when I was around ten. I was finally getting some treatment and on medication that allowed me to handle the crowds. Every time we would visit Lansing during hockey season he’d try to fit in a game. Of course we rooted for the Bears but if they were playing Rockford, the Blackhawks affiliate, Dad and I would be rooting against each other. He grew up on the Bears but I grew up watching the Blackhawks on TV.

  It didn’t always go smoothly in those early years. There were a few games we had to leave early because of me. There were games where we had to spend whole periods in the bathroom because of my fear. When I was fourteen and things were such a mess we stopped coming to games. This is our first game together in years and I’m glad we came just the two of us. Even if Max and I were talking I’m glad it’s just me and Dad tonight.

  The game is a good one that includes a hat trick and a fair amount of fighting. It looks like the Bears are going to win but the other team pulls their goalie and ties it up in the last seconds of the game. Eventually the Bears win in a shootout so we leave happy if not somewhat hoarse from all of the yelling.

  When that last puck goes over the line clinching the win Dad and I both yell and fist bump and get carried away and he looks at me in a way I’ve never really seen him look at me before. He just looks like any other dad, happy, celebrating with his kid and not a worry or searching look anywhere. I wish it could always be like this. We’re on the road heading home listening to some crap classic rock station (“seriously, Dad, you weren’t even a teenager yet when these songs were popular,” I had said when he put it on) and I just feel good.

  “I love you, Dad,” I smile at him in the dark car. He reaches over and messes my hair.

  “I love you too, kid, more than you can even imagine.”

  ****

  The next week at school it’s pretty much a given that Sherrie and I are now a “thing”. We hold hands at our lockers and walk to classes together. We eat lunch together every day and give each other quick cheek kisses when we have to separate to go to our classes. She comes over to my house a few times just to do homework together. It’s easier for her to come to me since she drives and I don’t. I prefer it that way anyway. I don’t have any strong desire to meet her parents or her family.

  On Tuesday in sociology Darcy approaches me. We’re both a little early for class and the teacher isn’t even in the room yet. Darcy’s trademark purple hair is in a ponytail right on top of her head. It reminds me of I Dream of Jeanie. Yay for TV Land.

  “So, our young friend Noah has himself a girlfriend,” she teases. I answer with a shrug but my burning face must give me away.

  “I don’t know if we’re calling it that yet,” I mumble.

  “Yeah well, you don’t hold hands and kiss in the halls if you’re not committed. Hearts broke through the entire school this week, Noah. Especially Katie’s.”

  “Who?” Why oh why does Darcy want to be friends with me? No one else from the Max crowd really tries to talk to me anymore.

  “You know, Elliot’s little sister Katie. She has the biggest crush….doodles your name on her notebook and everything. We all thought you knew.”

  “It’s just because I’m the new kid,” I say. I doubt there are any breaking hearts anywhere but if there are any unrequited crushes I don’t know about it’s got nothing to do with ME and everything to do with that whole shiny new toy thing. How long does that last exactly? Will I still be the new kid in May or June?

  Darcy’s unwanted attention is diverted when the teacher enters the room and the late bell rings. Why do I have to have this class and why does it have to be the last class of the day? It’s so mind numbingly boring that I’m practically asleep by the end of every class. If I didn’t get a lot out of the reading assignments I probably wouldn’t even be passing.

  Wednesday is my monthly visit to Dr. Cooper. He gets right down to business this time. I figure it’s because I don’t see him that often anymore.

  “So, you’ve had some setbacks in the last few weeks?” he asks. I frown.

  “Setbacks? Everything has been fine…”

  “Noah, I can’t help you if you can’t just be honest here,” Dr. Cooper is stern and he’s looking at me over the top of his stupid glasses that I think are fake to be honest. They don’t shine in the light like regular glasses. He takes them off way too much during sessions to actually need them. I think they’re a prop.

  “I’m being honest. I’ve had no setbacks. I don’t even know what I’m doing here if you really want the truth. I think you’re a waste of my parents’ money. I don’t need therapy anymore. School is good. I’m good. I just don’t see the point of these sessions. I don’t need you.”

  “But see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Dr. Cooper says. “Someone has to write the prescriptions. You can’t just get Xanax anywhere.” I’m flabbergasted.

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Not at all, I just want you to be honest with me here, Noah. I’m sorry you feel threatened by that.”

  “Well, I don’t need drugs anymore anyway. So, can we just stop these sessions then?” Dr. Cooper takes his glasses off and cleans them before he speaks. It’s like watching freaking Giles from Buffy. Shut up…Kimber loves that show and still makes me watch the DVDs with her.

  “Again you’re not being honest. You needed drugs twice recently didn’t you?” Now I’m angry because the only way he could know that is if my parents said something. So they’re also the reason Dr. Cooper thinks I’ve had a setback.

  “What the Hell is it with everyone?” I raise my voice. “Why do you and my parents insist on making me out to be so much worse than I am? I’m FINE. Why can’t you all just see that and leave me alone?” I’m so not fine right now. I’m shaking, not just my hands but all of me. I wonder if it’s enough that he can see? I cross my arms over my chest.

  “Noah, have you even told any of your friends?” Dr. Cooper softens his tone.

  “Told them what?” It’s such an effort to keep my voice even when I’m shaking like this.

  “Revealing your anxiety will lift this burden of shame you seem to carry. It will reduce your isolation and this…solitary suffering. You’ve been keeping it a secret and how is that working for you?” I shake my head.

  “I’m not keeping any secrets. I just don’t have anxiety anymore.” Dr. Cooper looks at me with an odd expression on his face. I think it might be sympathy but it’s such an unusual expression for him that I’m not sure. I’m done talking to him for today. He can spout all of this being honest crap that he wants. I’m not going to argue with him.

  When I haven’t said anything for twenty minutes Dr. Cooper surprises me by calling my mom into the room. He doesn’t ask me to leave. This is a first. He usually talks to her while I wait in the outer office.

  “Mrs. Blakely, I don’t think there’s much point in Noah and I continuing these sessions,” he begins. Did I just hear him correctly? Am I finally free?

  “But, Dr. Cooper…” of course Mom is going to argue.

  “Noah insists that he has no anxiety. He insists everything is just fine. If he’s going to maintain this insistence that all is well then there’s nothing more we can do here. I’m sorry I can’t be any more help.” He’s talking to my mom but he’s looking at me when he says it. Why do I get the feeling this is just a trick? Does he honestly think cutting me loose is going to scare me into opening up to him? I’m glad to be rid of him.

  “Noah? Is this true? You’re saying that there is no anxiety? You didn’t tell the doctor about last week when you needed the Xanax?” Mom looks accusingly at me then turns to the doctor. “Dr. Cooper, he’s NOT fine. You can’t just leave us without a therapist…”

  “Of course if you need me I will always make room in my schedule to see Noah. I don’t want you to feel abandoned I just don’t see us making any headway here. If Noah says he’s fine and that’s all he’s willing to say I’m sorry that I see no point in continuing these ses
sions. If you would like me to refer you to one of my colleagues perhaps Noah would feel more comfortable with someone else.”

  “No,” I say immediately. “I don’t want anyone else. I don’t NEED anyone else,” I insist. After more arguing from Mom and more of Dr. Cooper saying there’s no point in seeing me if I insist I don’t need his help we finally get to leave. I’m smiling as we leave and as we get into the car. For the first time in years I don’t have a therapist. I’m no longer in therapy. I’m finally normal.

  “Don’t get too used to this,” Mom says as she drives us towards home. “If he won’t see you we’ll find another doctor.”

  “But, Mom, I don’t NEED another doctor. Come on, I’ve been fine since we got here, you know I have.”

  “This is not open for discussion,” she says and I know she means it but I still don’t see how she can insist I continue therapy if even the doctor says I don’t need it. Okay maybe that’s not exactly what he said but that’s what it adds up to.

  Dad isn’t any happier about this recent development than Mom is. They sit me down before dinner to have a talk with me. They say if Dr. Cooper isn’t working they’re going to find someone else.

  “I just don’t see the point,” I say. “If Dr. Cooper says I don’t need him why are you going to force someone new on me? Why can’t you just believe I’m fine?”

  “He didn’t say you don’t need him. He said you’re not making any headway. He said you’re not opening up to him. That’s not the same thing as not needing him. Oliver, could you call Dr. Cooper and Dr. Bachman before dinner, see if they have any suggestions?”

  “Noah? Are you sure you can’t make it work with Dr. Cooper?” Dad asks. I just glare at him. “Okay then, we’ll find someone else. I’ll make the calls, Beth.”

  Are they even listening to me, to the doctor? I don’t need this anymore. I stomp off to my room to start my homework. I can’t concentrate.

  Yeah, I’ve had a few panic attacks…attacks my parents and the doctor don’t even know about. So what? I handled those fine on my own, no medication right? Why can’t I just continue to handle the attacks as they come and just forgo the meds? Okay, so I took the Xanax last week but I was understandably tense about having to see Max at school. I jumped the gun on that. I didn’t need medication. Normal people don’t need medication when things get stressful they just deal. I need to learn to just deal.

  When my mom calls me to dinner I tell her I’m not hungry. I’ll get something later if I get hungry. I have a lot of homework. Surprisingly enough she doesn’t argue with me. I think I may have won this round. I think for the first time in years I’m finally free of these therapy sessions. Why does it take me so long to fall asleep when I should be feeling so pleased?

  ****

  Three weeks into November and everything has been fine. I haven’t heard anything new from my parents about finding a different doctor. Maybe after Dad talked to Dr. Cooper he agreed that I’m done with therapy. Yeah, both of my parents seem to be watching me even more closely than usual but there’s nothing interesting to see.

  Sherrie and I continue to see each other after school and on weekends. I’ve tried to get her into my horror movie obsession but she’s just not into it. She spends the best parts of the movies hiding her face against my chest. I think she’s just pretending to be terrified as an excuse to throw herself into my arms. Maybe she thinks I’m using horror movies as an icebreaker to make out sessions?

  Make out sessions is definitely what movie nights turn into. Now that I’ve made the first couple of moves Sherrie is all too willing to start the kissing. So far everything has been pretty PG13. Actually, it’s probably more G rated if kissing with tongues is a G rating. There’s been no heavy petting, over the clothes or under. That’s fine with me. I like Sherrie. I like spending time with her. I like talking to her. I don’t have to make out with her whenever I see her.

  Midway through the week Mom gets a job at the junior high. She has to get to school early and as a result I’m really early. Sometimes Miss June, the art teacher, is in early so I swing by the art room in hopes that I can kill some time there until my homeroom is open. I’m in luck and the room is unlocked, lights lit. Miss June isn’t in the room but I go in anyway. I’ve been here in the morning before so she’s used to my presence.

  I don’t know what draws me to the back of the room where the easels are. I know which easel is his. I haven’t seen any of Max’s work since before Halloween. It’s a new painting that I haven’t seen before. It seems to me he’s gone a little off topic. This isn’t one of his end of the world themed paintings. I’m not sure what this is.

  It loosely looks like a person. It’s definitely a person’s face that screams in agony, eyes bulging. The body is a little more abstract with too many arms and fingers tearing into its own flesh. One of its many hands reaches in to pull out intestines and another holds its own heart. In the background are some sort of flying creatures that look like they’re waiting to devour everything else. It’s horrifying but hypnotizes me with its hideous beauty. It’s like he’s painting my worst thoughts and feelings.

  How can he know this? Why is he painting it? This certainly isn’t Max. He’s too sure of himself, too well-balanced, too…perfect to know feelings like this. I stare at it for another minute or two before snapping a quick picture with my phone. I look around as if I’m going to be caught but I’m still alone in the room. I reach out as if to touch the wet paint but stop myself in time, no damage done. I hurry from the art room and go to homeroom.

  The painting must still be on my mind when I get to chemistry. I’m just super aware of Max sitting next to me. I watch him take notes as Mr. Greene lectures. I watch the way he writes with his hand curled over the top of the paper like lefties do. It’s almost like writing backwards. I wonder if he paints left-handed. Of course he does, that’s just a stupid thing to think about.

  He must feel me staring because he looks up from his note taking and locks eyes with me. His expression doesn’t change, not in the slightest. He just stares back at me expressionless. He looks away first, tapping his pencil on my mostly blank notebook page. He’s telling me to take notes. My grade affects his grade. I don’t even know what I missed. It’s like he senses this too and angles his notebook so that I can read what he’s already written. I start copying his notes.

  At the end of the day I have some time to kill until Mom picks me up so after I walk Sherrie to her bus I head back into the building. The library is open for another half hour so I go there and start homework. When the librarian tells me it’s time for her to close up I pack up and go out front to wait for Mom. When I get there, Max is sitting on a bench messing with his phone. I stand quietly behind him hoping he doesn’t turn around. I should just go back inside but Mom is going to be here in literally minutes so I don’t see the point.

  Mom pulls up out front and I hurry past Max. He looks up as I walk by him but says nothing. I climb into the car but Mom doesn’t pull away from the curb.

  “Is that Max?” she asks. “Does he need a ride?”

  “How would I know? Just go,” I say. She uses the power window controls on her side to roll down my window.

  “Max!” she calls. He gets up and approaches the car.

  “Hi, Mrs. Blakely,” he smiles at her but doesn’t look at me.

  “Max do you need a ride?” Mom asks. He looks at his watch and seems to consider.

  “Yeah, actually that would be great,” he replies and gets in the back seat. Once in the car he makes a call. I’m not really listening as he tells whoever it is that he has a ride home. “Thanks so much, Mrs. Blakely. I had a tutoring session that fell through. Normally Dad would pick me up on his way home but he’s not due for an hour and Lydia was waiting for Matty to wake up from a nap. This is really a big help.”

  “It’s no problem at all,” Mom says brightly.

  “Tutoring session? You’re going to be the class valedictorian. Why do you need tutoring?
” I really wasn’t planning on saying anything to him. Why did I open my stupid mouth?

  “I’m the tutor,” Max answers. “It’s an after school program that starts in November. By then it’s apparent who needs help in certain subjects.”

  “I thought your dad didn’t let you work during the school year?” Again my stupid mouth opens without my permission.

  “It’s not really a job. I mean it is but it’s school and it looks good on college applications,” is his response.

  “Well I think that’s just wonderful,” Mom enthuses.

  “Pffft,” I say. The eight miles home from school has never seemed so long. Mom tries to get Max and I involved in small talk but I refuse to open my big mouth again. Max responds politely enough to Mom’s questions and contributes to her attempts at conversation but I think he’s uncomfortable too.

  When we get to the Maxwell house, Mom suddenly remembers that she has to see Lydia about something. Yeah, sure Mom, we all believe that. Max doesn’t get out of the car which is of course what Mom expected. After a few minutes of silence I jump when I feel his hand on my shoulder.

  “Don’t touch me,” I hiss. He removes his hand.

  “Come on, Noah, haven’t you punished me enough?” he says quietly.

  “I’m not trying to punish you I just don’t want to have anything to do with you,” I say equally quietly. “Besides, I don’t know why you even care. It’s not like you’re in any great need of friends. Why do you insist on making me forgive you or whatever this is?”

  “I told you before. You’re one of my favorite people. I don’t want to just lose you over something stupid that I did. Why can’t you just forgive me and we can forget about it and just go back to the way things were before I screwed it all up?”