Want (21 page)

If I could roll over I would, but my
arm’s
immobilized and there’s something funky going on with my hair.

“My head’s on fire. How bad is my hair?” It’s stupid, but if they shaved off my hair to repair the scalp…

“Chill. They cut a few places to put in the stitches, but you still look the same. I mean, it looks like you stuck your finger in a light socket, and there’s blood matted in it, but once you can wash it, I think it’ll be fine, you know?”

I reach up with my free arm to rub away the tears. “Okay, tell me the rest.”

He sighs again and folds his hands on his chest. “Your arm. She—it separated. You were out cold when they popped it back in. The muscles are strained but not torn, which they said was a good thing. No surgery. You might have a slight concussion, but they didn’t run a scan. They just watched you all night.”

He pauses, but he won’t look at me.

“Is that all of it?”

“Mostly.”

“Meaning?”

He looks toward the door.

“You have to talk to some people. They suspect this isn’t the first time you’ve been, uh, injured. They’re worried about…‘lingering damage’.”

“What does that mean?”

“Acute stress disorder and then post-traumatic stress disorder. Stockholm syndrome. Depression. And you show some symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder.”

That’s where he breaks. I’ve never seen my brother cry before, let alone sob. I don’t understand how I let this happen. Big, fat tears roll down his scruffy face, and his shoulders heave. I’m speechless, and I want so badly to make it all better for him.

Just as quickly as he began, he stops and blows his nose on the thin hospital tissues.

I try to lighten the mood. “Well, listen to you, Mr. Pre-Med, with all your fancy psychology terms. Guess I will have to call you Doctor someday.”

He doesn’t smile. “Juli, why?”

“Why what?”

“Your arms,” he says. “We saw your arms.”

Oh.
Oh
. I’ve dreaded this moment since the first time I scraped the dull blade across my arm. I’ve been outed. The paramedic must have seen the faint scars when she put the port in my arm.

“How long?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I can’t tell him. I can’t hurt him anymore.

“How long, Juli? I want an answer.”

“Since you left for college,” I whisper.

“Why?”

“I don’t—”

“Yes, you do. Now tell me. No bullshit.”

“Because I was in control of the pain, okay?
I
decided how much it hurt. Not…her.”

He closes his eyes and nods. We don’t talk for a long time. A nurse comes in to check my vitals and fill my water pitcher. It’s the same type of pitcher I filled for Mr. Cline all those months ago. It seems like a lifetime.

When the nurse leaves, R.J. starts in again. “When did she get really bad? How long has she actually been hurting you?”

I reach for the water to stall. If I tell him, it’ll break his heart. I thought if I could just make it to graduation, if I could just be strong enough, if…if I
was
good enough, she’d love me. My love could make her stop. She’d see I wanted to please her. I tried so hard that I missed out on the last two years of my life.

Until Isaac entered the picture.
Until the NEC became an obsession.

“How long, Juli?”

“Don’t make me answer that, R.J. It doesn’t matter. It happened, okay? Isn’t that enough?”

“Why won’t you give me a straight answer? Dammit, Juli, don’t push me away! If you’d let me in, maybe none of this would have happened. You lied to me. I asked you over and over if everything was okay, and you lied to my face. I think I deserve to know why. Now I’m going to ask you again, when did she start hurting you?”

I take a deep—and painful—breath. “Since you left last year. She got a little better over the summer when you were home. But as soon as you left again… R.J., I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to tell you. It’s not your fault.”

“No?” He lets out a humorless laugh. “If it’s not my fault, then it’s not yours, either. I know what you’re thinking.”

Daddy chooses that moment to walk in. Maybe it’s because I haven’t really looked at him lately, or the past twenty-four hours have taken their toll, but the lines on his face are so pronounced that it makes me wince. The skin around his eyes sags, and his hair has more gray than red. When did that happen?

He comes to an abrupt halt when he sees I’m awake. He raises his chin to R.J., who gives me a look before he leaves as if to say, “Go easy on him.”

I don’t want to deal with Daddy, but since I’m trapped in bed there’s not much choice. I look straight ahead at the clock on the wall.
Six in the morning.
Six-oh-one, tick, tick,
tick
. Six-oh-two.

“Look at me, sweetie. No? Fine. Here’s the deal.
Your mama’s in a treatment facility.
She—she wants help this time. I know you don’t believe me, but that wasn’t her that hurt you. She wasn’t always like that. Anyway, she’s there indefinitely, until they figure out what’s wrong with her and how to fix it. It’s more than depression. That’s what they called it the last couple of years.”

All he can do is talk about
her.
No
I’m sorry.
No
Gee, I wish you
would’ve
told me it was so bad. I would have protected you.

Six-oh-four, tick, tick, tick. Six-oh-five.

“What do you want me to say, Juli?”

“You’re sorry? That would be a good start. That’s what normal people would say.”

“Fine. I’m sorry. Thought it was obvious.”

“It’s not.”

“Huh.”

His head is still in the sand.

In the afternoon, Mr. Cline appears in the doorway with a small bouquet. He has his cane, but he doesn’t lean on it nearly as much as before. I giggle at his patterned button-down shirt and old-man sweater vest.

“One never visits a lady without a token of appreciation.” He sets the flowers down on the side table.

I snort. “Appreciation for what?
My pleasant personality?
This rockin’ sling on my arm?”

His little smile is the first I’ve seen in my hospital room. I watch him take in the IV, the sling, and finally, the patches that cover the stitches in my head.

His chin quivers. “For your candor and wit, and the lovely, talented girl who lies beneath all that bravado.”

And I’m done. I break. As soon as that hairline fracture in my armor appears, I crack wide open. Everything I’ve held inside pours out in a torrent of shame. Drops of it coalesce into tiny rivers that trickle down my cheeks. When I reach for the box of hospital tissues—the same one R.J. used earlier—Mr. Cline clucks and hands me a clean handkerchief.

While I pull myself together, he scrapes a chair to the side of the bed. He patiently waits for me to finish, then takes my free hand in his. I’m struck with such a sense of déjà vu that it nearly overwhelms me. His hands are still papery, his knuckles still knobby, but mine have changed. They no longer belong to a hopeful, naïve girl. That girl died in my room last night.

“So tell me, dear, what will you do? You have a few more obstacles to overcome now, but I know you too well to think this will stop you from achieving what you’ve set out to do. Tell me how I can help.”

I swear he knows what I need to hear more than I do.

“Can you wave your magic cane and make everything better?”

“I’m afraid not. But I can tell you a story.”

“A story?”

“Indulge an old man.”

“Okay. Is it all right if I close my eyes? The pain meds make me sleepy. Seriously, this stuff is good. But don’t leave! Please, I mean. Please don’t leave.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Close your eyes and listen to what I have to tell you.”

The hospital pillows are unfamiliar and smell of disinfectant, but I nestle in the best I can and wait for Mr. Cline to begin.

“A long time ago, there was a boy who lost the most important person in his life. This hurt him deeply, but he dealt with it well for his age. He was headstrong from the time he was born, so he pulled himself up and went on with life. He experienced all the normal ups and downs of childhood, but when he became an adolescent, it became obvious that he carried around a great deal of hurt. He didn’t trust people, always kept them at a distance. His family knew what a caring, loyal person he was, so it pained them to see him so alone.”

Isaac had made it sound like he was fine after his daddy died. I guess not.

“Then, in a matter of weeks, he blossomed. He’d met someone with whom he felt comfortable, someone who accepted him despite his perceived shortcomings. His family could see him struggle. He wanted to believe she was someone he could trust completely, but at the same time, he’d spent so many years guarding
himself
, it was hard to break old habits,” he continues.

“Mind you, he was still rather young, but then they were both quite mature for their ages. After a time, their relationship progressed to…an adult one. Her mother discovered them and forbade them from seeing each other again. She was furious at her daughter for associating with someone so damaged.”

I hear the disgust in his voice.

“She saw no advantage in the match. Her daughter rebelled, so the mother hurt her by hurting the boy. She accused him of heinous things, things he would never dream of doing. All the trust he’d put in the girl and their relationship came to a terrible end. From then on, he trusted no one.”

No wonder he stayed in Boston so long.

“He went to college far away, where he didn’t even have his family to fall back on. He tried to keep his hard, protective shell in place, but he met some wonderful people who shared his interests and challenged him. By the time he graduated, he was well-known in his field, but his life was still empty.”

Mr. Cline sighs.

“He met a lady. Unlike the first girl, she was damaged much like him. They both had walls around them, but he eventually let his down. She did not. When he tried to breach those walls, she ended the relationship. Shortly afterward, a…
stroke
of fate brought him home again, to his family and the city he loved. His family barely recognized him. Gone was the loving, loyal little man whose persistence made his family proud. Instead, he was withdrawn, cold,
even
resentful. Time had not healed his wounds,” he says.

“Fortunately, he was presented with a challenge in the form of a young talent much like he had been. Like him, she had been betrayed, hurt, and alone for much too long. Like him, she was also headstrong, persistent, and confused. Now,
unlike
him, she had a keen wit and an unassuming air, despite the beauty she carried both inside and out.”

I open one eye and make a face at him.

“Although she was unaware, she had a dramatic effect on him for the better. Anyone close to him could see he was excited about this new endeavor. He composed again. He reached out to old friends and the community and found that what he thought was a scarlet letter on his chest had been forgiven and forgotten. Time often brings perspective to these matters. He enjoyed mentoring this young talent and took genuine pleasure in seeing her improve and succeed.”

Warm blood rushes to my cheeks.

“Unfortunately, not everything in his life was set to rights. There were complications that threw him back into his old melancholy habits. He began taking things out on those he cared for. Eventually, he became paranoid and angry. The walls he had dismantled went back into place, brick by brick, until he drove everyone away.”

Half-in, half-out of consciousness, I listen to my own, regular breath.

“Julianne?”

I’m so
sleepy,
I have to fight to answer him. “Mmm?”

“Don’t give up,” he whispers. “Don’t give up on yourself, and don’t give up on him. You both need a friend right now, and something constructive to work toward. You are the two most stubborn,
hard-headed
people I know, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. You will put that trait to good use to get yourself into the NEC, and you will
make me proud
. You will get through this, and I will help you if it’s the last thing I do.”

When I squeeze his hand, we seal an unspoken deal.

“And now, if I don’t get home and take my medication, it might be sooner rather than later.”

I want to tell him “I love you,” but the pain meds are pulling me under and I don’t know if the words make it to my mouth. The last thing I remember is a cool hand brushing back the hair from my forehead, like Mama did when I was little.

***

“For the love of Shakespeare, kitten, call me! Ike won’t answer his phone, and I can’t get ahold of you. Please call me back and at least let me know you two didn’t go all Romeo and Juliet.
Ciao
!”