JACK (7 page)

Dr. Chance smiled a little. “Because, that’s just the way it is.”

*** *** ***

I should have never gotten angry at Dr. Chance. He added a pill to my daily meds and locked my door. He said it was for one night so I could think about my outburst. At least no one came in to watch me piss or shower.

I lay on the bed staring up at the window listening to the rain tap against the glass. There was a flicker of lightning and a long pause before it thundered. April brought rain and May brought tornados. Actually, the tornados could happen anytime in the spring or summer. Sometimes even in the fall. Momma and me had a cellar under the kitchen floor and whenever the sky turned dark, Momma would grab the candles and we’d head downstairs. There was a gap in the stone work and if I stood on my toes I could see out. When the grass was cut I could see the sky.

Through the hole in the wall I’d watch the black clouds roll and the lightning tear across the heavens. At times thunder would rumble so loud bits of dust would come loose from the floor and powder our clothes. Momma was afraid of the storms. She’d lived through some monster ones in Tennessee. I guess she never forgot what it was like. There were plenty of bad ones in Georgia. Trees were torn out of the ground and barns were flattened. I won’t say I was brave for standing there and peering through the crack. I was just fascinated by the idea of big, brutal, devastating storms that could kill, and you couldn’t even see them. You could see the damage. You could see the turmoil it created in the sky around you. And you could feel its power blast against your face or send stinging slaps of rain against your skin.

But the storm itself, the power that made it, was invisible.

I heard a sound but figured it was probably one of the people down the hall. I would have checked but I wasn’t allowed outside my room until the next day. I rolled on my side and heard it again. Like something small and frightened.

I looked up at the vent above the head of my bed. The sound came from Noah’s room.

I stood up on the mattress but the vent was too high so I used the headboard for a boost. It was metal so I figured it would hold me. I peered through the crisscross mesh. It was too dark to see inside until the lightning flashed.

Noah’s narrow bed was empty except for rumpled sheets and a lumpy pillow. At first I thought I’d somehow missed him. I put my elbows on the block ledge and pulled myself up.

“Noah?”

I waited, hoping he was in the bathroom. No one came out. The lightning flashed again and I saw a foot pull into the shadows under the bed.

“Noah? Are you okay?”

Still nothing, but I heard him whimper. I tested the metal grate. The screws holding it must have been rusted because it came loose with no effort. Grit dusted my face and got caught in my bangs. I wiped it off with my free hand and dropped the grate on my bed. The opening was big enough for me to slide through but I’d have no way to get my footing when I was on the other side. I grabbed one of the pipes running across the ceiling and hoisted myself up. When my legs and hips was through I turned. The rough edges scraped my elbows. I lowered myself down until I could feel the headboard of Noah’s bed under my toes. I stepped back and dropped to his mattress.

“Noah? It’s me.” I got down on the floor, pulled the blanket out of my way and peered under the edge. Noah was a dark lump against the wall. “Are you sick?”

Thunder exploded rattling the windows. Noah cried out and hid under his arms. His scrubs were wet between his legs. I climbed down and slid under with him.

“Hey, it’s just a storm.” He was more scared than Momma had ever been. I touched his shoulder and he flung his arms around my neck and yanked me tight against him. For a moment I thought I would suffocate but was able to turn and get the pressure off my throat. I held him and petted his head.

His breath shuddered out against my cheek. “Don’t let them find me.”

“Who?”

“They’ll find me. Please don’t let them find me.”

I wished he’d tell me who. “It’s okay, Noah. It’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

The urine on his clothes soaked through my pants. I ignored it like I did his hands bruising my shoulder. He moved his legs and I was aware of how male he was. His muscles, his shape, the feel of the soft bulge pressed against my hip. What would it feel like to have those parts? To be cut in lines instead of curves? To have tawny muscles instead of soft skin? I wanted those things and holding Noah made me want them more.

I worried he could feel my breasts through the binding and I hoped he couldn’t.

We stayed like that until the storm wound down to a brisk wind and fat raindrops. Noah went limp at my side and his grip slackened. He was too heavy for me to pick up so I got his blanket and pillow to tuck around him and prop up his head. I climbed back through the vent, scraping my elbow again, and lowered myself down. By the time I got the grate pushed back into place the sky outside the window had faded to a light gray.

Had the people Noah was afraid of put the scars on his body? I wondered what type of person could do something like that. What type of person could frighten someone so bad that they hid under the bed, curled in a ball, and trembled? Dr. Chance had said there was no such thing as monsters.

I decided he was wrong.

Laundry day on the observation ward meant someone would come to collect my one set of clothes and sheets before handing me new ones. On C wing laundry day meant gathering up all your soiled linens and scrubs on your own and carrying them to the washroom. We weren’t allowed in the back with the big machines and were made to stand in line until it was our turn to have our clothes inventoried. Once everything was accounted for we were sent to the end of the line to retrieve a clean stack. The longer I stood the hotter it seemed to get. Humidity hung in the air making it hard to breathe.

When Noah walked in I slipped out of my place in line so I could go stand with him at the end. Suffering the heat a little longer was a small price to pay. He saw me and stared down at the bundle of laundry in his arms.

“Hi!”

He waved, and then tucked his free hand in his pocket.

“You okay?”

He nodded.

I pushed Noah’s hair back from his face and his eyes widened.

“Sorry.” I got back in line. Warmth brushed my wrist. Noah’s fingers pushed their way between mine and he pressed our palms together with a firm squeeze. His lips formed the words, “Thank you.”

I smiled.

We moved up the line and turned in our dirty laundry and got in line to receive the clean bundles. The laundry ladies made me think of marshmallows dressed in their white and pink uniforms and puffy white hair nets. Sweat glistened across their brows running down their cheeks and soaking the collars of their shirts. They chatted among themselves about their lives outside of the hospital walls as they took our bundles and separated them out into various carts. They worked and laughed like we didn’t even exist. I glanced at Noah and wondered if it bothered him or if he was used to it.

“Out! Out! Out of my way!”

I turned to see the man who attacked Noah in the cafeteriabreak out of line.

He shoved people aside, sending them into the floor. The lady who carried around the doll head tumbled into the wall. She went down and didn’t get up. An old man and a redheaded guy with one eye were next.

Noah yanked my arm, but I was frozen where I stood, captivated and horrified by how the cafeteria man could just toss people around like they meant nothing. He came right at me waving his arms like a wind mill. His hand clocked me in the side of head and I was knocked to my knees. Noah covered me. The cafeteria man’s fists made a muffled thump against Noah’s back. His breath whooshed out and then the weight of his body disappeared. I looked to see the man holding Noah up and over his head. The orderlies were coming but people were in their way.

With one hard throw Noah went flying through the air. He hit one of the laundry carts and bounced into the floor.

The man reached down, his large hands curled like hooks ready to grab me and snap my limbs. Grom stepped in front of me pointing the quivering tip of his straw right at the man’s nose. “Back! Back I say!”

It might have been funny if the cafeteria man hadn’t been capable of breaking Grom in half. But instead of attacking the cafeteria man stood frozen, eyes crossed, staring at the end of the straw. A blur of white and the man made a loud ‘oomph’ as the orderlies took him to the floor.

Grom pulled me to my feet. “Are you all right, Just Jack?”

“Fine.” I looked over my shoulder. “Noah!” I ran over to the laundry carts. Noah was on his knees and there was a cut on his forehead.

“Are you okay?” I knelt down. He touched his face and winced. I pulled up my shirt and used the hem to wipe the blood away from his eyes. “It’s pretty deep.” And it looked painful.

“Medic! We need a medic!” Grom waved his arms, trying to get someone’s attention, but they ignored him.

I helped Noah up. “C’mon, I’ll take you to the nurse’s station.”

His gaze went to the laundry window.

“I’ll come back later and get our sheets.”

*** *** ***

The nurse cleaned up Noah’s face and put two butterfly stitches on his forehead. Then she sent him back to his room with two aspirin. The nurse said anything else would interfere with his meds. I’m pretty sure the medication Dr. Chance gave Noah was the reason he sometimes dozed off when we played checkers. Even half-asleep he still beat me.

Noah let me lead him back to his room. Just like mine the bare walls were off white and some of the paint was wrinkled and peeling. The checked floor was beige and white. Gaps appeared between random tiles reminding me of Billy’s teeth. We walked over to Noah’s bed against the wall. I picked up the large notebook lying on the rumpled sheets. “What’s this?”

“My drawings.”

I sat down next to Noah. “Can I look at them?”

He nodded. I opened the notebook to the first page. Shades of gray pushed areas of white and were anchored by heavy black lines creating images out of nothing. Birds, views from the window in the dayroom, the orange couch, and people covered every inch of clear space on each piece of paper I looked at. Noah had captured every detail, down to Dan’s scowl, and the sofa lady’s wild eyes.

“Wow, these are really good.”

Noah leaned closer to me and whispered, “Do you draw?”

I laughed. “No. I can make stick people. And sometimes if I’m really in a mood I can draw a house.”

“I like to draw. I’m not supposed to take the pencils from the art room. I dig the stumps out of the trash so they won’t know.” His hand slid out from under his pillow and he held out a scrap of pencil with no eraser. How did he draw with it? It was shorter than my big toe. Even the point was nothing more than a rounded tip.

“You’re very good.” He was better than just good. I turned another page, amazed again at how clear and perfect his portrait of Grom was.

Noah smiled and then he winced. His delicate fingers brushed the cut above his eye.

I closed the notebook. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

He shrugged.

“I feel like it’s my fault.”

Noah shook his head. “Markus.” His whisper fractured.

“Is that the name of the man who came after us?”

He nodded. “He hates me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

I suppose I shouldn’t have been so shocked. It seemed like hate came in all shapes and sizes and very little of it had any rhyme or reason. But Marcus hating Noah made about as much sense as Emma hating me and Momma. We’d never done anything to her. I might have bitten her once or twice when I was small but I didn’t know better.

I put the notebook on the end of the bed and turned back to Noah. “Do you want to play checkers tonight?”

Noah touched his forehead and glanced at his pillow. His gaze was sad.

“I don’t mind. We can play tomorrow.”

The smile he gave me was beautiful.

*** *** ***

The next morning after I showered, I changed my bindings and my scrubs. Then I went to Noah’s room. He was already gone so I went to the dayroom to see if he was there. I found him looking out the window. Grom sat in a chair in the corner, moving checkers around on the table. His hat was gone and he had on a shirt and tie along with rumpled brown pants. Every so often he’d tug on his beard and smooth down his mustache.

I stood next to Noah and looked down at the parking lot like he did. Cars pulled in one after the other, lining up between the white lines in neat little rows.

“Jonas is coming today.” Noah’s voice had volume for the first word then cracked into a whisper on the rest. He cleared his throat.

“Who’s Jonas?”

“Grom’s grandson.”

Grom had a grandson? I’m not sure why it surprised me. I guess I just hadn’t considered the idea that Grom hadn’t always lived here. That once upon a time he’d had a life and a family. Like me, he’d existed outside these walls.

Did Noah have family? A mother, father, sisters or brothers? I wanted to ask him but I was afraid he’d try and run away.

“Mr. Greenwich?” A nurse stepped out from behind a set of double doors on the other side of the room. “Mr. Greenwich, your visitor is here.”

Grom smoothed down his hair before standing up.

“C’mon.” Noah took my hand and we followed Grom. The nurse didn’t say anything when we passed by her. At the end of the short hall was a large open space. Glass walls curved toward the sky giving an almost three hundred and sixty degree view of the world outside. Thick clouds cut animal shapes against the sheet of crisp blue. It was the kind of sky I’d seen thousands of time while fishing at the river. In a matter of weeks it had been transformed into a new and precious treasure for me. Rose bushes surrounded the room outside almost blocking the view of the parking lot. Nothing could be done to obscure the other branch of the hospital. But even the gray brick monolith was powerless against the view.

Noah tugged on my hand and we walked over to a fat couch. There were potted plants everywhere; on side tables, in the corner of the room. I touched one and was disappointed to find it was made of plastic.