The Girl He Needs (28 page)

“What?”

“He’s probably gone to the beach or...the St. John’s River Bridge.” I drop my hands to look at Brinn.

He shakes his head. “Why would he go there? That’s suicidal in this weather.”

My voice breaks when I try to say the words. I blow out a slow breath. “Because my brother has schizophrenia.”

“What? Why didn’t you ever tell me that? Like today when we were talking about keeping secrets—”

“It’s not my secret to share. It’s his. I just found all this out myself. That ‘accident’ he had was caused by hallucinations.”

“What’s this have to do with the bridge?”

“He drove off a bridge. The hallucinations told him too. It was during a storm similar to this.” Tears slide down my cheeks.

“Cops won’t let him sit on the bridge. They’ll make him move or forcefully move him. Start by calling the Volusia County Sheriff’s office and I’ll call State Patrol.”

The rain has started to fall in steady drops, long past hinting at what is about to come.

“I’ll call. You need to get out of here. Get in line and leave.” I gesture to the runway that is still congested.

“I have time to call.”

Our calls result in no information, even the one to the hospitals. The process to get information is painfully slow but the upswing of the time spent on the phone is the improvement in line for the runway.

“Come on, get in the plane. You can keep calling as we fly down.” He pushes me toward the hangar. “We are out of time. If I don’t get off soon, lightning will ground me.”

For seven years I wondered why Will left me. For the few weeks since I’ve learned of his mental illness I wondered why he wouldn’t let me help. Now I have this moment. This decision and the truth is there really is no decision to make. I know what I need to do.

“I can’t go. I have to go look for him.” I pull away and jog to my car.

Brinn follows me. “How do you think that’s going to happen? Look around you.”

“I’ll start with the beaches and work my way inland.”

“Josie, the beaches are closed. The cops will have it blocked off. The beach side will be evacuated or is in the process.” He grabs me by the elbow and pulls me up short.

I take this moment.

Stepping into his space, I cup my hands around his face. “I have to look. I have to try.” I kiss him gently. “Be careful, please. Have a good flight.” I wrap an arm around his neck and press several more urgent kisses against his lips.

Pushing at his chest, I back away and give a small wave.

“Call me,” I say. A heavy, foreboding cloud has come over me and I can’t shake the feeling that after today nothing will be the same.

“Shit, Josie. You can’t go looking by yourself, and not in that car. Once the rains start, your car will get stuck in the first puddle. This is crazy.” He rakes a hand over his face.

“I can’t leave him out there. He might be in his right mind or he might not. Give me your keys. If I wreck your truck, I’ll buy you a new one. I promise.” He’s made a good point about my car.

“I don’t care about my truck, I care about you.” He steps toward me.

I move closer and start digging in his pockets. He catches my hand in his as I pull the keys out, stopping me from stepping away.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No way. Are you fucking nuts? You’ve got to get that plane out of here or Mark will lose his shit.” I push against his chest. “Go.”

“Your brother is more important than this plane. It’s insured right. Right?” he asks.

“Yes, the insurance came in a few days ago.” I laugh more from hysteria than anything and throw my arms around him. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t.” He lets go of my wrist. “Move my truck over to the side and put your car where mine is. I’ve got to secure everything here and I’ll meet you in the truck.”

It takes fifteen minutes to get everything situated before we drive away. The rains have increased and his wipers work furiously to keep the window clean but visibility is low and splotchy.

“I think Will might go to the same beach spot where we spent some time.” The spot we went after he told me about his diagnosis. At the last bridge to the beach, a line of cop cars is blocking us. But opportunity waits for no man. I jump out of the truck and run up to the officer in charge of redirecting traffic away from the bridge.

Once again my law degree comes in handy, as I cite potential legal issues regarding a man who might be entering a psychotic state. I also do a fair amount of begging. When I slide back into the truck, soaked to the bone, my hair a wet hose dripping down my back, I can’t help but smile.

“He says we have fifteen minutes to get back out.” I shiver and Brinn cranks up the heat.

With the rain pushing against the truck in heavy sheets, it takes three minutes longer than the normal five to get to the turnoff to the beach.

“Look!” A motorcycle is parked behind a dumpster. It’s Will’s. I’m out and running toward the beach before Brinn can put the truck into park.

The wind is picking up and the rain is cold, cutting right to the bone. I come to a stop when I reach the sand, my hands flying to mouth to cover my horrified gasp. Brinn touches my shoulder and I jump.

Will is pacing the beach, barely seen through the curtains of rain. He looks to be ranting, his arms waving manically. His jeans are soaked; his boots lie scattered on the sand. His shirt is gone, and between rants he covers his ears and screams with an intensity that forces him to bend at the waist; his face contorts, shattering his features. The wind howls yet I can hear him between gusts.

“Hold back a second. I don’t want you to freak him out,” I tell Brinn before I take off at a run across the sand. Brinn follows further behind.

“Will,” I cry.

I can barely hear anything over the waves and the rain. Much less my voice. But magically he hears me.

He turns to me. His large scar is red and appears to be pulsing. It gives him such a sinister appearance I involuntarily step back. He runs toward me, gets in my face, and starts screaming.

I try not to wince but he’s so close. It takes every ounces of inner strength I have to stand my ground. I can’t make out the words because they come out too fast and garbled. Suddenly, the wind stills in an eerie intermission, a pause before the next onslaught. Will stops screaming.

“Will, we have to go.” I use the calmest tone I can muster under the circumstances. “A hurricane is coming.” I try to grab his arm, a critical mistake. He bucks like a bronco and pushes me with a force that sends me back yards.

I get up, gesture for Brinn to wait as he’s moving toward Will, ready to charge. He doesn’t look very happy with standing back. But there’s no time to explain. I run to Will and try a new tactic. “You have to get out of here. Now.” I gesture to where we parked the truck. “We have a ride waiting for you. It’s totally protected and no one will know you’re in it.”

“You’re lying,” he screams. “They always know where I am. You told them. You do this to me. Why do you do this to me?” He lunges at me before turning back to the water and walking into it.

I have no option. He must be saved from himself. I run up behind him and take him out at the knees. He drops like a sandbag; the tide is high and briefly he’s underwater. His arms flail madly in what I assume is panic from being submerged.

“OK, help now,” I yell to Brinn, and for fear he can’t hear me, cast him what I hope is a pleading look. I get my arms under Will. He’s so freaking heavy that I only drag him a foot before I’m exhausted. The cold water must have shocked him into a state of paralysis, as he doesn’t fight me.

Brinn pushes me aside, grabs Will under the shoulders, and starts running backward up the beach. We make it half way to the boardwalk when Will comes to his senses and begins protesting by kicking and thrashing. He pulls away, crawls through the sand like a crab for a few feet then scurries to his feet.

“You crazy bitch,” he screams and lunges at me, arms swinging madly. I block with my arms and sweep my leg wide, knocking him off his feet again. He’s in the sand and continues to rant at me and the voices that only he can hear.

“Knock him out,” I plead to Brinn. “Cold cock him, please.”

“Seriously?” He steps closer to Will.

“Yes, it’s the only chance we’ve got. Hit him,” I scream before scooping to snatch up a handful of sand. I toss it in Will’s face to distract him.

Will tries to deflect it. He sputters and rises up, his trunk coming off the sand. When he’s at the right angle, Brinn clocks him. Catches him just right in the jaw, which snaps his head to the side and sends him into the sand, out cold.

“Come on, grab his feet,” Brinn yells over the rain, as the wind’s picked back up in a haunting howl.

I stagger under the weight of his feet and legs. We make it to the boardwalk and Brinn flips him up over his shoulder, fireman style. We fight the wind and powerful rain to make it to the truck. It’s a mad dash to the hospital, where the adventure only gets started.

The hospital in Daytona is evacuating patients and the triage queue puts Will somewhere in the middle. I’m tempted to toss out my father’s name, his financial status, and profession, but I know that’ll only bring them into the loop and it’s likely Will wouldn’t want that. Instead, I have Daanya reach out to his physician, who has a brief conversation with the doc in Daytona. Will’s given a shot that sedates him and we wheel him back to Brinn’s truck to make the long drive to Gainesville, the hurricane chasing our heels.

I fret over Will, whose head lolls around in my lap as drool snakes out the corner of his mouth. I don’t care that we were soaked to the core, dried partially while at the hospital in Daytona, got soaked again going back to the truck, and have dried to a stiff crispness, sand sticking to patches of our skin. Discomfort and pain is in watching Will suffer. Knowing that there’s a beast within him and I can’t even pretend to understand it or know how to handle it. I try not to think of him going through this before and wonder if he felt alone.

The ride is quiet. I focus on Will and Brinn on driving. I can still hear him screaming, a constant, high pitch ringing in my ears.

Trigger. The word is on a repeat in my head.

Did my presence cause this?

It takes us an hour longer than normal to reach Shands, where we get Will admitted and his treatment begins. Daanya pieces it all together for me as she works with many of Will’s doctors. According to her, Will believed his current medicinal regime was starting to affect his quality of life through anxiety, increasing episodes of obsessive compulsion, and those repetitive jaw movements he calls Tardive Dyskinesia. That’s why he switched to the new trial. Unfortunately, they’re speculating the new drug wasn’t as effective for Will as it had been for others.

If I voice my fears to anyone in the room, they’d tell me that today was about medication and not about me being here. But I have to wonder if the reaction to this new medicine would’ve been different had I not been around.

Regardless, talking to Daanya and the doctors introduces me to a different insight into Will’s life and the obstacles he faces each day.

He once said, “Every day is chaos and a risk for me.” Now I understand just how that is.

Daanya gives me the keys to their house and Brinn forces me to leave the hospital. There’s nothing I can do but watch Will sleep. The ride is silent except for the brief directions the GPS gives. We pull into the driveway and I take one look at Will’s house and burst into tears.

It’s so normal, with its large yard, front and back, evenly trimmed shrubs, and oversized ficus in the front. It’s an illusion. No one would look at this house and know it belongs to a person with a mental illness. There’s no stereotypical sign of the betrayal of my brother’s brain, no junk in the yard or shutters resting crooked against the house. I realize how even I was lured by what I wanted to see and what I expected to see.

“Hey, it’s going to be OK.” Brinn pulls me into his arms. I rest my forehead on his shoulder and hold tight as the sobs escape me.

“It’s never going to be OK, at least not for Will. I know things could be worse. I know I should be thankful but I’m devastated all over again. I didn’t know what to do out there. I feel helpless and ignorant—”

“You’re the last thing from helpless. You faced several obstacles to find him and you did. He’s getting great care because of you.” He’s rubbing my back and suddenly I’m exhausted. The rain continues to beat against the earth and small rivers run down the streets and through people’s yards.

“But what about tomorrow or the days after that. How can I help him?” I ask the question I’m sure a million other families have asked a million times.

“I don’t know the answer except to say that you have to take it day by day.”

I nod, knowing this can’t be riddled out with a book or one visit to the hospital.

“Let’s go inside,” I say once I’ve pulled myself together. I exit on his side and use Daanya’s key to let us in. Thankfully, the power is still on and after becoming familiar with the kitchen, I immediately make a fresh pot of coffee and find I’m famished.

“Do you want something to eat?” I ask.

Brinn’s taking in the surroundings, the eclectic mix of Daanya’s Hindu taste and Will’s travels and science fiction bent. Books on Dr. Who and Buddhism rest on the coffee table, a mix of architectural sketches hang on the walls. Most are of doorways and windows. Some of arches. Books are stacked in corners but the place is clean and simply designed.

“Did you expect it to be different?” I ask, wondering how he now perceives Will. Remembering how I felt about the outside of the house.

I know I feared that maybe it wouldn’t look...typical? Maybe I expected what I saw all those years ago in his closet. Tons of drawings pinned to the walls.

“I dunno. I suppose so,” Brinn says and picks up the remote.

The TV is small and sits in the kitchen, resting on a counter, likely used for news and the occasional sitcom but not on longer than thirty minutes. Brinn turns it on and the Weather Channel pops up, the last channel my brother or his girlfriend was watching.