When He Fell (16 page)

I swallow hard. “You’re asking a lot of me, Dad.”

He fixes me with an iron stare. “When have we asked anything of you?”

When have I asked anything of you
, I want to say but I know I won’t. “I’ll do what I can,” I finally relent. “Why don’t you make some initial appointments for you and Mom. For your eyes and her…issues. I’ll take you to those appointments, and we’ll go from there.” As if there is some miracle drug that will give back my father his sight, my mother her mind. As if I can pretend they’re not in their mid-eighties, and that I will not be caring for them for the rest of their lives.

I am the quiet one on the train back to the city; I feel so tired, so physically and emotionally weary, and I just want everything to
stop
. Josh, perhaps because he is away from the stress of school, has perked up a bit and is reciting facts about sailor’s knots to me that he must have gleaned from Lewis or looked up online.

“Do you know there are nearly four thousand different kinds of knots? The last new knot, Hunter’s Bend, was invented in 1977.”

“Is that right,” I say dully. I can’t muster the energy to inject some enthusiasm in my voice, and Josh notices. He turns to me, puts a hand on my arm.

“Mom, are you okay?”

He stares at me seriously and I try to smile. “I’m just tired, Josh.”

He hesitates, and then asks slowly, his gaze searching my face, “But you’re
okay,
aren’t you? I mean…everything’s okay with you? Now?”

His obvious concern makes my heart both break and melt. He’s the one going through a hard time. “I’m okay, Josh,” I assure him, and pat his hand. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

He stares at me for a moment, his gaze still intent. I can count the freckles on his nose, see the little wrinkle between his eyes, the same kind I get when I’m worried. Then he sits back, seemingly satisfied. “Not any more,” he says, almost to himself, and I’m too tired to ask what he means.

13
MADDIE

After Lewis leaves they do some tests, but Ben doesn’t respond any more than usual. He doesn’t open his eyes. At nine I leave for home, exhausted in both body and spirit. I miss Lewis, which I know is ridiculous, because I never had him. A handful of days together. A single kiss. But in my mind I’d built castles, and seeing him at last, having him comfort me, was just enough to make me start yearning all over again.

Spandex Man is just coming in as I enter my building, and we end up sharing the elevator. I smile with what I hope he takes as wry acknowledgement that I won’t burst into tears this time.

He smiles back; he’s wearing a suit rather than spandex, and he is carrying a brown paper bag that smells like chicken biryani. My stomach growls, loud enough for him to hear, and I let out an embarrassed laugh. It seems like my body is always betraying me in elevators.

The elevator reaches our floor, and Spandex Man holds the bag aloft. “There’s enough for two.”

I smile uncertainly, because I’m not sure if he’s joking or not. He must sense that because as he steps out of the elevator, he says, “Seriously.”

I’m still not sure what he means exactly. Seriously—so he’ll give me half his dinner? Who does he think I am, Oliver Twist?

“What I mean is,” he explains with a rueful smile, “do you want to have dinner with me?”

We’re in front of our apartments now, and I think I’d rather do just about anything, go anywhere, than sit in my empty apartment alone.

“I don’t even know your name,” I say.

“Brian Sykes. And you’re…?”

“Maddie. Maddie Reese.”

Brian—I can’t call him Spandex Man any more I guess—lifts the bag up once more. “Well?”

“Okay,” I say after a second’s pause. “Thanks.” He unlocks the door and I follow him into his apartment.

It’s exactly the same layout as mine, but has the bland features of a typical bachelor pad: two leather sofas and a glass coffee table all courtesy of Ikea, plus a huge flat-screen television that serves as the altar in this temple of entertainment. The galley kitchen is bare besides a single cereal bowl and spoon in the sink and a sheaf of takeout menus by the fridge.

Brian lets out an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry, it’s not much.”

“It’s the same as mine.”

“I bet yours is more homey, though.”

“Messy, maybe. But then you don’t have a kid.”

“Actually, I do.” He lets out another embarrassed laugh. “But he doesn’t live with me.”

For a moment I am speechless. It occurs to me then that Spandex Man has more in his life than running and work. Of course he does.

“Sorry,” he says as he begins to unpack the bag of Indian food. “I didn’t mean to be awkward.”

“No, I’m sorry. I made assumptions.”

“Yeah, well, it’s easy to do.”

“How old is your…son?”

“Eleven.” He clears his throat and reaches for some plates. “But he’s never actually… I mean, I was never really with his mom. And so we’ve never really been together, you know, as a family.” He sighs. “I’m sure this is making me sound like a really great guy.”

“No,” I tell him. “I…I can relate.”

He raises his eyebrows, waiting for more, but I don’t give it to him. I’m not about to explain to a near-stranger how I ended up pregnant with Ben, no matter what he just told me.

“So you do see him?” I ask. “Do you have some kind of custody arrangement?”

“An informal one. His mother and I are friendly, more or less.” He sighs. “Basically, it was a casual fling and neither of us wanted anything more. But when she found out she was pregnant, she decided she wanted a baby. Not that I…well.” He blushes, his gaze on the carton of basmati rice he’s just opened. “I offered, I mean I asked, if she wanted to try for a relationship when she told me she was pregnant, but she didn’t want to. I said I wanted to be involved, but it still kind of felt like her thing. Her decision, her…project.” He glances at me, worried. “That makes her sound bad. She loves Adam. I know she does. She’s a good mom.”

Adam.
“Right.” It’s strange to hear Brian tell me his story. I can relate to his unnamed girlfriend’s plight; wasn’t I pretty much the same? I found out I was pregnant and decided I wanted a baby. It actually seemed simple then. I had no idea about anything, how hard it would be, how alone I would feel. More alone
with
a baby than without one.

“Two years ago,” Brian resumes, “she moved to Seattle, met a guy. So.” He looks up, shaking his head. “Sorry, the last thing you need is to hear all this. How is your son?”

“Ben.”

“Ben,” he repeats and ladles rice and chicken onto two plates. “How is he doing?”

“He opened his eyes this evening,” I say. “So that’s something.”

“That’s great,” Brian says with such enthusiasm that I smile.

“Yeah, it is. It’s a start, anyway.”

“You said before that it takes time to come out of the coma?”

“Yes.” I brace my hip against the counter and wrap my arms around myself, even though I’m not cold. “So the doctors keep telling me. I’ve learned more about traumatic brain injuries in the last week than I ever wanted to know. And I’m sure it’s just the beginning.”

He hands me a plate and we head over to the sofa, because he doesn’t actually own a table or chairs. “And you don’t have any help?”

I don’t let myself think of Juliet…or Lewis. “Nope.”

“No parents?”

“I was a foster kid.”

“So no siblings, either?” I shake my head and he says softly, “Friends?”

I lift my chin a little bit. “Not that kind.”

“Not many people have that kind, you know,” he says quietly. I don’t answer.

We eat in silence for a few moments; the chicken is delicious but I’ve lost my appetite and I end up just pushing it around on my plate.

“How did he get injured?” Brian asked eventually. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“He fell at school.” I pause, and then I find myself telling him everything: the playground, Josh, the rocks, Juliet.

Brian cocks his head as he looks at me. “You think you have a case?” he asks, and I am jolted by his perception.

“Are you a lawyer or something?”

“Actually, yes. But not personal injury. Corporate, boring stuff.”

I shake my head slowly. “I didn’t even tell you I was thinking like that.”

“It was the way you said it all, listing the facts.”

I nod in acceptance. “I guess I was.” I pause, take a deep breath. “So do I? I know you can only offer your opinion, but…do you think I might have a case? I haven’t thought of it before now, but with the way the school tried to cover it up, it feels wrong…”

Brian chews slowly, clearly thinking it over. I wait, feeling more and more tense. I don’t know if I’m thinking about this seriously. A lawsuit could drag on for months, even years. Drag me and Ben and Juliet and Josh and his parents all through the mud. I don’t really want to do that, do I?

“I think you could,” Brian finally answers, “although obviously I don’t know all the details. But if there were playground supervisors in attendance whose job is specifically to keep children off the rocks…you could argue that they had breached their duty of care, and sue the school for negligence.” I swallow hard, the lawyerly terms already overwhelming me. “But,” Brian continues, “you would have to check what rights you might have signed away. All those pesky permission slips you scrawl your signature on in September?” I remember the ream of paperwork with a grimace. “You could talk to a personal injury lawyer,” he adds. “I could give you the name of a good one. You might get a settlement out of court, which would be best for everyone. Less hassle and publicity.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I allow. “I’m not sure I want go down that whole route, have some big courtroom circus.”

“Understandable. I’m a lawyer, and I’d probably feel the same.”

But then I think of Ben lying so still in that hospital bed, and I think no one can know what I’m feeling who hasn’t been through it. No one can know what I’m capable of, what I’m willing to do for my son. Maybe not even me.

I unfold myself from the sofa and take the plate to the kitchen. “Thanks for dinner.”

“You didn’t actually eat much.”

“I haven’t got much appetite lately.”

“It’s a cliché, but you need to keep up your strength.”

I just nod. I know it’s true, but I’m not going to eat any more tonight. My stomach is seething with nerves, my mind with questions. We both awkwardly head for the door.

“Look,” Brian says as I stand in the doorway, about to launch into the thanks-and-goodbye speech, “I know I don’t know you very well, or at all. But if you need anything…anything I can provide…” He flushes a little, and then hastens to explain, “I mean, I have a car. It’s parked beneath the building. So if you need a ride anywhere…or just…you know…something.” He laughs and runs a hand through his hair, which is too short and bristly to run your hand through. It’s more like he pats it, and somehow this is endearing. “Sorry. I’m not being very coherent.”

“You’re being thoughtful,” I say. “And I appreciate it. Really.”

And as I head into my apartment, I wonder if I’m desperate enough to take him up on his offer.

14
JOANNA

I don’t tell Lewis about my father’s request. I know it will infuriate him and I can’t handle any more stress. So I tell Lewis that my dad can’t drive any more and so I’m going back to Danbury in a couple of weeks to take him and my mother to the doctor’s. I leave it at that.

“They can’t call a taxi?” Lewis asks. He has zero time for my parents, and I can’t blame him. They have zero time for him.

“They want me to be there.”

He arches an eyebrow. “When have they ever wanted you to be there, Jo? They’re the most selfish people on the planet.”

I wince at this, even though I can’t argue with it. “All right, then.
I
want to be there. They’re my parents, Lewis.”

“I know.” He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “I just wish you’d stop trying so hard with them. You’re not going to change them.”

“I know,” I say. “But I still want to help.” He lets it go with a shrug, and I ask, striving for lightness, “Have you heard from Maddie recently? About Ben? How is he doing?”

A brief and telling pause. It’s been a week since he visited her, an endless week of wondering and worrying about everything—about Lewis, about Josh, about my parents. A week since Josh has been back at Burgdorf, and things seem to be going okay. Ish. He’s talking to us, at least about trivia, so I consider that a win. And he’s taken to practicing the knots Lewis has shown him—bowline, soft shackle, pile hitch. Lewis has looked up a few more knots online, to teach him. I’m glad they have something to do together, that Josh has another interest. Surely that can only be a good thing.

But right now I want to hear about Ben. And Maddie. Over the last week I’ve tortured myself with thoughts of Lewis and Maddie. I’ve gone over in my head all the things they might have done together, that I never realized because Lewis never actually said Maddie was there. But then I never asked. Trick or treating last year. When Lewis made kites for Ben and Josh. Ice skating. Bowling. Did Maddie go along to all of those? Did they have a whole
thing
, the four of them, traipsing around Manhattan like a family?

Lewis has never said, and I assumed he took the boys on his own. Maddie works full-time, after all, just as I do. But now I picture a whole montage of moments they’ve had together, family times that I was clueless about, with Maddie stepping in as mother and wife. It makes my stomach hurt.

“I think he’s coming along,” Lewis finally says. “He opened his eyes a week ago now, and recently he’s been able to squeeze Maddie’s fingers to indicate he understands things. They’ve done another CT scan on his brain and the swelling has definitely gone down. They’re starting different kinds of rehabilitation.”

I nod, a bit manically. “That’s great,” I say, but inside I’m thinking that’s
a lot
of information, and I am wondering how many times he’s talked to or texted Maddie.

“Maybe I should visit her again,” I suggest, mainly to see Lewis’s reaction.

“Sure,” Lewis says. His head is lowered as he sorts through the mail. “I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”