The Believing Game (22 page)

Wes looked pained enough that I believed him. He said, “But we're going to go home, go back to our real lives. I'm not like the rest of you, pretending we'll all end up living together on some happy little commune. I'd rather piss Addison off and know in the long run he's going to be okay. Or at least that's how I felt before he left that picture on my bed.”

I looked down and saw a close-up Wes, intensely studying the cards in his hand during the poker-for-Cheerios game at the cabin.

“Well, this isn't such a shocker, right?” I said. “I mean, we all knew you guys were playing cards.”

“Yeah, we did. And I felt crappy enough about it then.
Now imagine what happens when the deans see something like this. Or my parents.”

“It's in a residential house, though. You're sitting at a dining room table. We'd all get in just as much trouble for just being in Sophie's house.”

“That's the point.”

I still didn't see it. I was looking from the wrong angle. “They won't show it to anyone. Unless —” Wes prompted.

“Unless you go to someone in the administration about Joshua or the cabin.”

“Exactly.” I felt sick all over again. Wes stood up. “So, listen, I'm out. Addison no longer exists to me. Because whether you want to admit it or not, he saw this coming down the pike. I don't remember Addison pulling out his camera to capture golden moments from the rest of the weekend. He pulled out the deck of cards with one hand and the camera with the other.”

“That doesn't make sense. How would he possibly know that you'd confront him about Joshua?”

“It's called insurance, Greer. And I don't think Addison's devious enough to go planning something like that. Joshua thought of it. Addison just got it done.” Wes took a deep breath. He looked down and spoke really carefully to me. “You think I'm crazy. They're calling you an angel and preparing to bomb Trader Joe's or something, but I'm some kind of head case. I get it. I'm asking you to be careful, Greer. Because if they turned on me, they can turn on you. But in the meantime, as long as you're with Addison — and as long as Addison's with Joshua Stern — well then, I want you to stay the hell away from me.”

Wes glanced at the door, like he was making sure he had a clear exit out. “You understand?”

“I got it.” He nodded and turned to head out. “Wes.” I spoke low, not wanting to have everyone in the dining hall writing about us in their daily growth journals or something. He stopped, but didn't turn around. I felt immensely lonely. “Take care of yourself,” I told him. He walked out without looking back.

I don't know what Wes told the administrators, but Addison didn't get another roommate. So we both had singles and took it upon ourselves to test the veracity of the security cameras during homework hours. I tried not to think about Wes a whole lot, actually. Addison didn't bring it up, but even still, I felt disloyal. I figured that the only way to feel better about my powwow with his new archenemy was to squirm beneath him and on top of him and generally try to distract myself by pursuing a doctorate in sexual chemistry. With maybe a master's degree in the complete union of our souls.

He might have said things were going really well between us. Most days, we alternated who walked Joshua to his treatment. Usually we all met for dinner at Sal's, and then once Joshua had a hot meal, either Addison or I would accompany him the three blocks to the local hospital on Willowbrook Avenue. The way Joshua described it, his treatment sounded a lot like dialysis. He talked about the doctors needing to clean toxins from his blood. He said there was a machine, but when I asked what kind, Joshua told me, “I spend most of the time pretending to be somewhere else, so I don't pay much attention to their medical-school mumbling. They plug me in and I stare at a magazine, hoping they'll keep me well enough that I can keep serving and loving you kids.”

I tried to be more cooperative. Nights that I walked Joshua to the hospital, I listened to him lecture about the goodness of food and nourishment. He taught me then how running food over light could sometimes infuse it with vitamins. That's why they used the scanners they did at grocery stores. That's one of the benefits of microwaves. I remember asking, “Can't you get sick from microwaves? Didn't people worry about the radiation first?”

“You see how propaganda infiltrates our rational understanding? That's how the media teaches you to associate food with poison,” Joshua told me. “They teach you to equate microwaves with radiation and radiation with cancer.” He walked slowly, waving his arms in front of him for emphasis. “Because if they told you microwaves cooked with light, well then, we'd all just junk our ovens. Who wouldn't want to cook with light?”

He said that the drugs and the alcohol had eaten away at his system. They'd corroded his veins so that the blood that ran through them was compromised.

“Could something like that happen to Addison?” I asked.

“It's more likely Addison will die in battle,” he replied. And maybe because it didn't seem like I had completely signed on for the whole vegan war thing, Joshua expanded his definition of battle. “That might not mean the kind of physical conflict Addison expects as he spars in the gym. But Addison will always fight on the side of goodness. That will cost him before the years of drinking catch up to him. He needs you to keep him safe.”

Joshua told me, “Sometimes the two of you make me feel so very alone.” And when I asked him why, he said, “No one has ever loved me the way you love each other.”

Maybe that was the most honest thing Joshua told me. Afterward, I made more of an effort to be kind. I think Addison noticed; we eased back into our old comfort with each other. It almost felt like there had been too many people angling for a place in the pile. When Wes stepped out, it left a little more room for everyone else. We all seemed to treat one another a little more carefully.

I didn't share classes with Wes. Aside from the occasional glimpse of him in the dining hall, it was like I'd never known him at all. On the nights that Addison walked Joshua to his doctor's appointments, I met up with Sophie and Hannah. Sometimes we just sat in a room studying. Sometimes we made elaborate plans for our next weekend away. Sophie seemed less frenetic. Calmer. Maybe telling us about her brother helped.

That was Joshua's theory anyway. He commented on it the first time we all gathered together again. We circled up in the meeting room right after the Tuesday night NA meeting had adjourned. “How does peace feel?” Joshua asked her as soon as she sat down in one of the plastic molded chairs. “Do you all see that?” We stopped our separate conversations to study Sophie.

Sophie smiled up at him. “Peace feels okay. It's not acceptance. Not yet.”

“No,” Joshua agreed. “He left too soon for it to be acceptable — I hear you. But you have peace. It's very becoming, isn't it?” Joshua asked Jared and Addison. He leaned into Jared. “I know you've noticed, brother. Sophia's looking hot.”

“Joshua.” Sophie's voice sharpened its blade. “Stop.”

“I'm just pointing out what the males in the room have certainly recognized.” Joshua grinned, but Sophie didn't.

“Stop talking about my body while I'm talking about my grief.” Whoa. With that, Sophie pretty much firebombed the circle. Hannah's eyes widened and found mine. I'm sure we just stood there, staring at each other, while the guys paid really close attention to the pattern on the carpet. I would have clapped, but it was so silent that, for a second, I was scared.

Joshua actually apologized. He said, “You're absolutely right — I'm so sorry. I think it's hard for me to be in a room with your pain, Sophia. I don't know if you knew this — I too lost a brother. His name was Adam — that sounds a lot like Addison, doesn't it? People return to us in all sorts of ways. He was in college, and he was a passenger in a car on the way back from a dance. Adam went to a Christian college in Kansas. They'd piled into a car and were speeding back, trying to make curfew, took a blind turn, and careened off the road. Oh, it was devastating. I couldn't listen to music for the longest time. You punish yourself in strange ways when you're mourning. Am I right, Sophia?”

She looked warily at him. “Yeah. I'm still figuring that part out.”

“You will find your answers.”

“I'm sorry about your brother, Joshua.” Hannah said it first.

“Thank you, Rose. He is with me, though. In part that's why I can face this illness. Either way, I know I will be surrounded by love.”

I didn't really spend a lot of time thinking about Joshua and his brother, but Sophie sort of latched on to it, which made sense. I know she wrote about it to Josie. And later that week while she, Jared, Addison, and I ate lunch together, she asked Addison about it. “Did you know that before — that Joshua had a brother named Adam?”

Addison shook his head. “No. Took me by surprise. That guy's been through so much. It makes you wish the universe would give him a break, you know?”

Sophie seemed to consider that. She asked, “Does Joshua have other brothers or sisters? Have you guys met them at the hospital?” I hadn't.

We looked to Addison, who told us, “He just has us.” I watched Addison finish eating one burger and start on another. “I'd actually always thought Joshua was an only child. You know, here and there, he's talked about being abused. He never mentioned there being another kid involved.”

“Yeah, that was my impression,” Sophie said. I studied her, trying to figure out where her brain was headed. “I wonder if Joshua felt overshadowed by him. Maybe that's part of it.”

Addison seemed to pay closer attention to his burger. Sophie pressed him, “Do you think?”

He seemed impatient. “I don't know, Soph — I'm not sure where you're getting that. It's his private life.”

“Yeah, it's a burden standing in the way of his peace. Just like ours. I thought we were supposed to embrace discomfort?” Sophie smiled tightly. “Joshua's talked about growing up in New Jersey, right? Poor and in foster homes. Having a brother go to college in Kansas — that's extraordinary. It just sounds like an interesting chapter.”

“Well, then ask him about it.” Addison looked mystified and I didn't get it then either. I knew Sophie well enough, though, to see her mind working, working.

I didn't get a chance to follow up with her afterward because Addison got a call from Joshua during the afternoon class session. I'd never seen another student interrupt a class at McCracken Hill before. Before, at my old school, someone
would walk by the door or text you to meet at the bathroom. But at McCracken, classes felt like sealed pods. Most teachers didn't even allow you to face the doorway, let alone leave for any reason.

As soon as Addison knocked on the door, the whole class turned to examine me. Addison addressed Mr. Brighton with his superpolite Eagle Scout voice. “Sir, I'm so sorry to intrude. But if you could just let me steal Greer for two minutes.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Bradley.”

Addison looked desperately at me. “I know — I'm so sorry. But it's a family emergency.” A murmur began rippling through the classroom. Because what the heck could that mean? Most of us hadn't spoken to our families for months.

Mr. Brighton coughed uncomfortably. “Greer.” He nodded to me to step out of the room. When I stood, my legs felt shaky.

As soon as I got outside, Addison said, “Joshua needs surgery.”

If Addison had known that my first thought was
Joshua is not my family
, he might have turned around and walked away from me right there.

As it was, I must not have answered quickly enough, because he took me by the shoulders and asked, “Greer, did you hear what I just said?” I noticed that his face was puffy, swollen. He'd been crying.

“I didn't even know they were planning surgery.” My voice didn't sound like my voice. I was just playing a part, really, reacting the way I thought he wanted me to.

Addison told me, “The treatments aren't working.” His breaths came in shallow gasps. It seemed like he had run to come tell me. “I think he's known this could happen. He just didn't want to complicate things.”

“Do you need to sit down? Addison, are you okay?” Which was a stupid question. Because of course he wasn't okay. “Should we go over to the hospital?” Addison still panted. He stood, bent with his hands on his knees. I remember looking up and down the hallway, wishing an adult would walk by and thinking we really weren't old enough to deal with something like this on our own. I rubbed circles on Addison's back with my hand. I leaned down and rested my head on his shoulder.

“I don't mean this the wrong way,” he said, “but please don't touch me right now.” I stepped back, feeling ashamed. I'd just wanted to comfort him. “He's going to come here. He asked me to ask if we could all have dinner together.”

“Wait. What? I thought he was at the hospital.”

He straightened up and shook his head. “No. He told them that he had to get his affairs in order first. But apparently they could call him at any time. He'll keep receiving his treatments in the meantime. Until they notify him. Then he'll report to the hospital. But it's an experimental operation. I mean, they don't even know if he'll make it through.”

“They told him that?” That seemed strange to me. I really started worrying then, thinking that maybe I hadn't listened closely enough when Joshua had told us about his illness. So I kept myself on high alert in the hallway with Addison, trying to make myself useful, willing myself not to zone out.

But the whole thing wasn't making much sense. “It just seems really coldhearted of them — telling him he has to have this risky surgery, but then sending him home alone to deal with it and wait. You'd think they'd have counselors to help him process through an ordeal like this.”

“Well, you know what, Greer? The real world doesn't function like this place.” Addison gestured at the affirmations
stenciled on the walls. “Not everybody gets a treatment team to decide what they'll eat each day and where they'll sit and what books they'll read and whether or not they'll be allowed to use shampoo.”

I tried to tell myself that Addison wasn't actually angry at me, but it sure felt like that.
Just take it,
I thought. Supporting him through this might mean just letting him vent. But that part wasn't easy.

Addison balled his hands into fists. “You want an explanation for everything. Jesus. What is with all the questions? These are medical professionals. He wants to spend time with us, with me. He wants to know his last wishes will be honored, you know? There's a chance that he might need to lay out his last wishes.”

And then Addison let loose this strangled cry. He stood facing the wall and leaned his forehead against the cinder block and just bawled. Huge, wracking sobs. I stood there, shadowing him from behind, saying empty phrases like
everything is going to be okay
.

 

We ended up ordering in — meeting in the conference room and getting food from Sal's. It seemed like the safest place for us. We figured if we were caught, Joshua would just say he'd been called to campus to help mediate some kind of conflict. I went with Addison to meet the delivery guy from Sal's, and by the time we got down the hill and into the bare white room, the others had all gathered. Joshua sat in a swivel desk chair, with Hannah and Sophie on either side of him. Jared sat in a folding chair a fair distance away. He looked miserable.

Joshua offered us a weak smile when we walked in. “That smells wonderful.” So his appetite seemed okay. Addison
brought him a slice on a paper plate. He even tucked a napkin into Joshua's collar. “You going to come to the hospital and take care of me like this?”

“Nah, you'll have hot nurses.”

“I almost forgot.” Joshua smiled. “Brother, you're a twinge jealous of that.” He laughed and looked at me. “Of course not, Elizabeth. He's just making me feel better.” Joshua looked past us at the door. “Where is Wes at?”

My eyes slid toward Addison. I figured he would have told Joshua that our own Judas had left the building.

Addison said, “You were right.”

“Even when you told him my health was failing?”

“He didn't respond.”

Joshua nodded to himself and reached out for Hannah's hand. I tried to imagine the message that Addison would have sent Wes. I'm pretty sure it might have stood as one of the more bizarre notes passed in statistics class. Joshua looked around and told the group, “He could not have handled our trial anyway. Wes is a fundamentally damaged individual. For our circle to thrive, we must cut out the rot.”