Behind the Falls Read online

  “I’m really late,” I state the obvious. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “Sit down and have some breakfast, Sweetheart,” Mom says. It’s French toast and Canadian bacon. Mom went international on us today.

  “I don’t have time for breakfast. I have to get dressed and get to school,” I don’t understand their lack of urgency.

  “I’ve called you off for the day. I thought perhaps you might need a long weekend,” Mom says. “Now sit down and have some breakfast.” I reluctantly sit down at the table.

  “I have a long weekend next week,” I’m still arguing a little as I take some French toast and drown it in syrup. After running forever and skipping dinner I’m famished. I barely stop to chew as I down French toast, Canadian bacon, juice and then start on seconds.

  “Well now that’s more like the healthy appetite of a teenaged boy,” Dad grins. My parents are acting like pod people this morning. It’s unnerving.

  “Sherrie will bring your assignments by this afternoon,” Mom says.

  “I thought I was grounded or whatever?”

  “You were and you are and she won’t be staying but she was kind enough to agree to bring your work home for you. Slow down, Noah. You’ll choke.” I slow down my eating and try to ignore the way they’re looking at me. It’s like they think I’m going to suddenly freak out or maybe do tricks or turn into a plant or something.

  “Am I allowed to go for a run later?” I ask when I’m done eating.

  “Not today,” is Dad’s terse answer.

  “Well then I’m going back to bed.” No one argues with me as I leave the table without putting my plate in the dishwasher and go back to bed.

  I sleep for a while but then I can’t sleep anymore so I get up and finish yesterday’s homework. I wonder how I’m supposed to get today’s chemistry notes. It’s not like I can actually ASK Max for them. I think of all of the things I said to him and sort of regret it…but only sort of. Because he really had it coming to him didn’t he? I mean, he said it wouldn’t happen again and it did…

  I kill some time drawing and I watch a few movies on Netflix. I text Kimber to tell her about my grounding and subsequent parental mandated day off of school. I know she won’t get the text until after school because her school is really strict about the use of cellphones but it feels good to be able to complain to her. I can’t wait to see her next week!

  Sherrie comes over immediately after school. She took the bus home then borrowed her mom’s car to bring me my assignments. My parents give us fifteen minutes. They make me keep the bedroom door open but they don’t hover nearby. I can tell because I checked the vent and they’re in the kitchen.

  “Is this the thing you had Halloween weekend?” Sherrie asks. I almost say no but to be completely honest it kinda is.

  “Yeah, I guess it’s a relapse,” I say.

  “So are you contagious?” she takes my hand as she says this. I shake my head.

  “I don’t think so,” I tell her. That’s all of the encouragement that she needs before she’s kissing me.

  “I really missed you today,” she says when we come up for air.

  “I would have rather been there at school with you,” I admit and I resume the kissing. I lean into her and put a hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her to lie back on the bed. She complies and what follows is probably the most intense make out session we’ve ever had. It’s made even more intense by the fact that my door is open and my parents could walk in at any moment.

  I’m lying next to her but I have one leg over hers and I’m propped on one elbow. As we kiss I let my free hand trail slowly down her face and neck to her shoulder and down her arm and then I’m creeping towards her breast ever so slowly. I’m not sure how she’ll react. All of our making out so far has been above the collar with some hands around the waist. She grabs my wrist and I think she’s going to move my hand away but to my surprise she moves it into place. So I’ve achieved my first real groping. I’m not really sure what I should be doing and my body isn’t providing my brain with any clues so I just sort of feel things and then I let my hand trail down her side towards her waist and then I put my hand around her at the waist and pull her up against me.

  The friction of our bodies together does more for me than anything else has so far and I work my hips against her. She pulls me on top of her and now I’m holding some but not all of my weight off of her and I continue to move against her. She puts her hands on my hips and guides my movement and the entire time we don’t stop kissing. It’s the most turned on I’ve ever been when making out with her but still there are no butterflies and no heart skips.

  “Noah? It’s time for your guest to leave,” my dad calls. Sherrie and I scramble off of each other and assume casual seated positions. I have no doubt that Dad called out on purpose. He was a teenager once no matter how much I don’t believe it. He shows up in the open doorway and Sherrie gives me a completely G rated peck on the cheek.

  “I’ll see you at school on Monday,” she says before she scurries past my dad. No sooner has she gone than whatever kind of excitement I had built up also leaves. I’m just so messed up. Shouldn’t a normal sixteen-year-old after a make out session like that need to go take care of things? I flop onto my back on the bed with an exaggerated groan.

  “Teenaged girls are the devil, right?” Dad laughs as he heads back down the hallway.

  The weekend drags. I finish all of my homework on Friday night so there’s not even that to keep me busy. My parents won’t let me take a run. I don’t know where they think I’m going to go. I tell them I’ll take the phone with me and I promise to keep within the main downtown area but they are relentless in this punishment. Well fine. We’ve had a wicked cold snap and I didn’t really want to freeze my balls off anyway.

  I call Kimber who is all excited for our visit next week. I’m looking forward to it too. Maybe we can finally have a real talk. I can’t text the things that are on my mind. I can’t even bring myself to talk to her about things over the phone. There’s something about Kimber though that makes me open up to her and I know when I see her face to face I’ll be able to let everything out…even the things I don’t want to examine too closely on my own.

  I’m actually relieved on Monday morning when my alarm sounds. At least I have some place to go and something to do to fill my day even if it means having to see Max again. On the ride to school Mom has a confession to make.

  “I’ve been offered a job for the second semester in the junior high,” she tells me. “One of the teachers is going on an extended maternity leave. She’s having twins so she’ll be going on bed rest for a while before she has them then she’s going to have maternity leave and she’s taking some sick days. Anyway, what it boils down to is that I can have a full time position from January until June. What do you think?”

  “I think that’s great!” I enthuse. My parents still give me spending money and money when Sherrie and I go out and we still get carry out several times a week so I know money isn’t really a problem yet but I’m afraid eventually it will be. It’s one of the minor worries that I have.

  “It will mean earlier days for you and afternoons waiting for me to get done to take you home…unless you want to ride the bus.”

  “No, that’s fine. I can always start on homework after school while I wait. I’m so glad you have something for YOU,” I say.

  “I just…I’m not sure, Noah. What if you need me?”

  “What would I need? It will be fine. You’ll be just across the athletic field in another building. How could I need you any closer than that?” She looks at me doubtfully then nods.

  “Okay, if your dad agrees we’ll give this a try. I’ll be starting after Christmas break.” I honestly don’t know why she thinks it would be a problem. Of course it’s awesome that she’ll be bringing in extra cash but also she’ll get to do what she always meant to do before I messed everything up for her. She’ll really get to teach.

  I almos
t don’t even think about Max in light of Mom’s disclosure on the way to school and then all of a sudden it’s chemistry time. As usual, he’s at our table in the back of the room before I get to class. I stare at the floor as I walk towards him and slide into my seat. Thankfully he says nothing the entire class. It’s a lab day too so not talking is really taking an effort. I think back to all of the things I said the last time I saw him and I guess I understand why. He caused this though. I refuse to feel bad about it.

  At the end of class he slides a few papers across the desk to me and leaves. It’s Friday’s notes that he’s re-written for me. I know that they’re not his notes because they’re loose, not in his notebook. I page through them before putting them in my notebook. At the bottom of the last page he wrote, in really dark pencil like he was pressing really hard, “Don’t EVER scare me like that again!” Scare him? I guess my parents called the Maxwells when they were looking for me or something. Did everyone really think I was dead in a ditch or something just because I went for a run?

  ****

  On Wednesday my parents have signed me out of school early. I only have to go until lunch time and then we’re heading to the airport to go to Illinois. At breakfast I ask why I can’t just skip the entire day. I’m already nervous about flying. By the time we’re on the way to the airport I’ll be terrified. Mom makes me take a dose of the Xanax before we leave for school. I’m not nearly stubborn enough to refuse it. I’m going to need it later. I’m going to be so distracted at school it’s really not worth going. They make me go anyway. That’s what happens when your parents are teachers.

  In chemistry Max actually makes an attempt to talk to me during the lab. It’s the first time since Mom gave him a ride home that he’s made any attempt to speak to me.

  “I’m sorry about last week,” he says in a whisper so no one else hears him.

  “The thing about apologies is that they seem less sincere when you keep doing the thing you’re apologizing for,” I say. “Sorry doesn’t actually FIX anything.”

  “I’m not apologizing for what you think I’m apologizing for. I’m sorry that I made you take off. I’m sorry you got into trouble with your parents.” He knows about that? Of course he does. Mom and Lydia must tell each other everything.

  “I’m grounded so thanks for that,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster.

  “What would fix it?” he asks.

  “What are you talking about?” He runs his hand through his hair and his eyes search mine.

  “What would fix all of it? What would stop you being angry at me? What would fix us…make us friends again?”

  “Some things can’t be fixed,” I tell him.

  As class goes on I get more and more anxious about flying. It’s one of my biggest fears, even worse than the fear of losing my parents. That fear is abstract and can come in many forms but this is a solid concrete fear. Dr. Cooper says it’s not a fear that it’s actually a phobia. There are tons of people afraid to fly though. That doesn’t make me crazy.

  Soon I’m sweating and shaking and I can’t breathe right. Max notices how much my hands are shaking when I try to pour chemicals into a beaker and almost spill them on the Bunsen burner. He takes the test tube from my hand and looks at me with worry on his face.

  “Jesus, No, are you okay?”

  “Don’t call me that,” I say as I wipe sweat off of my forehead with a shaking hand.

  “Noah, come on, you’re obviously not okay. Do you need to go to the nurse? Come on, I’ll take you,” he offers. How can he be so concerned? How can he treat me with so much sympathy and like he really cares if I’m okay after the things I said to him last week?

  “I can make it myself,” I growl as I shove books with trembling hands into my backpack. Max puts his hand around my arm to help steady me but I shake him off violently “Keep your disgusting, fucking hands off of me,” I hiss.

  Mr. Greene doesn’t hesitate to write me a pass to the nurse. He can see something is clearly wrong. I risk a quick glance at Max as I leave the classroom and he’s staring after me with such a look of concern on his face that it almost makes me want to accept his apologies…almost.

  The walk to the nurse’s office has never felt so long. I need to stop repeatedly to lean against the wall or a row of lockers so I don’t fall. I’m just so dizzy and my ears are ringing. By the time I finally get there it’s only ten minutes until lunch time. The nurse gives me my dose and makes me lie down on the cot in the sick room. She says she’ll call my parents.

  “No, it’s okay,” I tell her. “They’re on their way to pick me up after this class. We’re flying out to Illinois today,” I manage to explain my distress. She seems to be okay with that. I jump when the bell rings and I know it’s no good trying to go out into those halls during the pre-lunch mad rush. I wait until it’s quiet then I collect the books I need from my locker and head out to meet my parents.

  I packed yesterday and Mom and Dad packed the car after I left for school this morning. We’re heading directly to the airport in Harrisburg. We’ve made the trip from Illinois to PA and back many times and we’ve tried multiple methods. We’ve tried waiting until the last minute in the hopes that I won’t have time to sit and get more anxious but that backfired twice when we missed our flight. Now we get there really early. We need the time to coax me out of the car and through check in and eventually onto the plane. Usually my Xanax dose is a little stronger when we fly and hopefully I’ll just fall asleep after take-off.

  Mom and Dad are already in front of the school when I come outside. I get in the car and immediately they ask how I am, what my anxiety levels are. They don’t get it that flying causes more than just regular anxiety for me. I’m almost in full on panic mode even after the Xanax I took twice already today.

  “Let’s just drive,” I plead. “We’re already in the car. Our bags are packed. What’s the hurry?”

  “Noah, the tickets are bought and Aunt Sarah is expecting us in five hours not eleven. It’s going to be fine. We’ve done this before,” Mom says. Five hours because of me, because we have to get to the airport so early just to give them time to deal with me.

  Mom gives me a dose of Xanax and some water from a bottle. I don’t mention that I got some meds from the nurse already. I fasten my seatbelt and try to keep calm. It’s a forty five minute drive to the airport if we don’t hit traffic. I’m going to spend the entire time freaking out and hopefully the drugs will kick in by the time we get there.

  The drive seems to last longer than driving from Naperville to Lansing did and yet it’s over far too quickly. By the time Dad pulls into long term parking at the airport I’m way beyond simple nerves. I feel like I’m falling apart. It’s too much. The back seat of the car is too spacious, there’s too much room. As soon as the doors open there will be even more space around me.

  I release my seatbelt and slip off of my seat and onto the floor. Wedged behind my dad’s seat and the back seat I almost feel safe…almost. I wrap my arms around my legs and put my head on my knees.

  “No no no no no no no,” I say between panting breaths. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

  “Noah, practice your breathing,” Mom says as she unhooks her belt to lean over the back seat.

  “No! Put your seatbelt on!” I cry out. We’re in the parking lot but plenty of accidents happen in parking lots and she’s too vulnerable in this position.

  “Noah, it’s fine,” she begins.

  “No! Put it on…PLEASE!” Mom sighs and sits in her seat properly and fastens her seatbelt.

  “Breathe, Noah,” she instructs me. I try, I really do…deep even breaths filling my lungs completely, letting them out slowly…but I can’t do it. I try taking a deep breath and holding it. That sometimes kick starts regular breathing but I can’t actually get a deep breath. I’m hyperventilating and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  As soon as Dad finds a place to park Mom is out of the car and climbing into the back seat with m
e. She gets behind me and I scoot forward on the floor enough to accommodate her as she wraps her arms around me.

  “In,” she says and takes a deep breath that I’m supposed to emulate. After a false start that features a great choking breath I finally manage to fill my lungs. “Out,” says Mom and lets out her breath slow and steady and I try to mimic that as well. “In through the nose, out through the mouth, come on, sweetie.” With Mom’s quiet encouragement I finally get the breathing thing down. It takes at least twenty minutes. Now they have to talk me out of the car.

  Talking me out of the car is a bigger undertaking than getting my breathing under control. If I don’t get out of the car they can’t make me fly. If I don’t have to fly nothing bad will happen to me or to them. We can just drive if I don’t get out of the car. They say flying is safer than driving but if you have engine trouble in a car you pull over. In the air you’re completely screwed.

  “I don’t want to go. Let’s just go home,” I plead. Seeing the huge planes as they take off and land doesn’t help much. It’s just inconceivable to me that these things can get off the ground much less stay in the air.

  “Noah, come on, everyone wants to see you. We have to get on that plane. It’s going to be fine,” Dad joins in the gentle coaxing. I look out the windows of the car and my eyes track the latest plane that’s landing. It looks like it’s going to hit the damned building. I duck my head and the erratic breathing starts again.

  “No no no no no no,” I sob.

  “How long ago was that dose of Xanax?” Dad asks Mom like I’m not even there.

  “Long enough it should have kicked in by now. He can handle one more. They’re in my purse,” Mom says as she holds me and rubs my back. Dad gives me more Xanax and the last of the water.

  “I’m going to be sick,” I say a few minutes later.

  “No you’re not,” Dad says. “Just keep breathing and keep your head down.” They don’t want me to be sick before that last dose gets into my system. Finally the drugs are in my system and now I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open.