The Girl He Needs (22 page)

“It’s funny that you should go there. I find myself drawn to that region, the Mehandi art, yoga, and other eastern philosophies.” I grab the tiny thread that could connect us and hold on.

Will nods. “There’s lots to recommend. I learned how to deal with the panic attacks I was having and how to face my fears. But it was hard. I avoided it at first. I went to Istanbul, Sri Lanka, Burma, and Laos before I went back to Jaipur.”

“Panic attacks?” I lean toward him. “When did you start having panic attacks?”

Daanya and Will share a look and once again I’m odd man out.

Frustration gets the best of me and I slap my hand on the table. “Someone please fill me in.”

“How do you not know?” Daanya asks softly.

“Know what?” I look at Will, my shoulder lifted in a shrug. “What?”

Will’s inhalation is sharp and he looks upward. “All this time and you’ve had no idea. I didn’t know that. I thought you were avoiding it,” he says the last part when he looks at me. “What did mom and dad tell you when I left?”

There’s a vise grip of fear around my heart and tears press against my eyes. What’s coming carries a weight so heavy I expect the clouds to darken and the lights to flicker. The way Will has tensed up and Daanya rubs his arm in a soothing manner only adds credit to my worries.

“Nothing. They acted like you never existed. No one was allowed to say your name for fear mother would flip out. They seemed angry. I kept to myself and studied more, which seemed to make them happy. When I got into law school, they let me move into the apartment they’d bought for you. But not until after the first semester.”

“Nothing?” He nods and turns back to Daanya. “They told her nothing.”

“I thought it was pretty stupid. It was unreasonable for them to expect all of us to get law degrees. And why can’t you do what you want to do? Be who you want to be? I get why you did it, why you left. Either you’re exactly what they want or you’re not welcome.”
But why did you leave me?
I want to add. But I’m too afraid of the answer.

“No, Jo. That’s not how it is.” Will scrubs his hands down his face and turns to Daanya. “This is not the place.”

“Yes, but this is the time. You can’t not tell her. We can’t have dinner with this out there.” She turns to me and extends her hand across the table, palm open to me. She nudges Will and he does the same. I take each of their hands into one of my own and hold on for dear life, trying not to tremble.

“I didn’t go off to be my own person. I went off because if I stayed then I knew the chances of killing myself were one hundred percent.”

“What?” If I lean any further across the table, I’ll be lying on it.

“I have schizophrenia, Jo Jo.” He looks right at me and slides his jaw from side to side.

I jerk my hands free to cover my mouth and my eyes slam shut, hoping to keep the words from being true. There’s too much swirling through my head to make sense of anything. I search for clues, a hint that Will was sick. Anything to make sense of what he just said. I open my eyes to find my brother staring at me, his hand clasping his chin.

“How can that be true?” I whisper from behind my fingers. “How did I miss it?”

Will takes my hand and clasps it between his. “Think, Jo. Because you didn’t miss it. You didn’t know what you were seeing. Remember my closet?”

“Oh my God, your closet.” I clutch his hands. Will had come home for a long weekend, work-release I’d termed it, because we had to spend the entire time working in Dad’s firm learning the ropes. One night, I found Will shuttered behind his closet door, drawing madly, and pinning pictures to his closet wall. I thought he’d been hiding out. I’d thought it was a prank. That maybe he was really looking at porn or something.

“Shh,” he’d whispered and put a finger covered with dark ink up to his lips, his eyes darting quickly between me and the door I was holding open. “Don’t tell mom and dad. That’s all kinds of wrong. All kinds. Go. You must go. Hurry before you’re seen.”

It all becomes clear. The odd late night wanderings and rants he’d started having, the angry moments that were unexpected and nonsensical. I pull my hand from his and hurriedly brush away the tears coursing down my face.

“Yeah,” he says and slides into the booth next to me, his arm coming to rest across my shoulders. “Mom and dad found the stuff in my closet.” He pauses a beat. “And my apartment. But not until after the car accident.”

“The accident,” I say on a sob. “That’s what started it all?”

“That’s what solved it all. From what I understand, the cops asked mom if I was taking drugs. I suppose they searched everything and that’s when they found the stuff in my closet. The pictures and words.” His Adam’s apple bobs from the heavy gulp. “I’m surprised they put it together as quickly as they did. It’s because they did that I didn’t go into psychosis.”

“I didn’t know, Will. I swear it. I would have—” I search his face while looking for my answer. I would have done what? Something more than the actual nothing I really did.

“I know that now.”

I look into his eyes and see a person who used to be as familiar to me as I am to myself. But I see more. I see a death in his eyes, a loss of that boy who used to quote Star Trek and the teenager who found his passion as the editor for the school paper. I also see a weary survivor that will persevere. All this time I thought my brother was out living a full life, a grand adventure, and I’m not sure how to process these new facts. I’m not sure what to make of it all because what once was...is now something entirely new.

Another tear slips out and slides down my face. “After your accident, you left so quickly. I couldn’t help but think that it was all of us you didn’t want to be around. Then I started to look at us. To
really
look at us and I could see why. But now, knowing this, I feel as if I failed you. You needed us and it was our job to help you.” I brush away more tears.

Will shakes his head and hands me a napkin. “It wasn’t your job to help me. Besides, even if you could’ve, I don’t know if I was open to it. That night I drove my car off the bridge I was hallucinating. When I came to and actually got in my right mind, the one thing I couldn’t argue was that as mom and dad’s demands became greater, my grip on reality slid further away. My shrinks talked about triggers and in my mind, I couldn’t afford to stay home any longer. All I could think about was getting away so it would never happen again.”

“Has it? Happened again?” I reach up, grab his hand, and give it a squeeze.

He shakes his head. “I’ve been vigilant about my meds and have some incredibly good doctors. They manage my TBI and the schizophrenia. In fact, I was selected for this new trial of meds that won’t have this stupid side effect.” He points to his jaw. The repetitive sliding motion he does has become a part of who he is as much as the scar that runs across his head.

He searches my face. “I’ll admit that I thought you were totally avoiding my diagnosis. Trying to pretend it wasn’t real, but then Daanya pointed out that maybe you didn’t know—”

I shake my head wildly. “I didn’t! I emailed you all the time. I tried to call too. You answered with short replies and I thought that meant that I was bothering you.” In a flash, everything is clear and the wall between us is suddenly gone. I have scaled the obstacle without realizing it. Or perhaps, Will scaled his side and met me half way.

Will shrugs. “I was scared you were a trigger for me. That’s why I didn’t show up the other day. “

The last thing I want is to make my brother sicker.

“Am I?”

He shrugs again. “I dunno. We’ll see. But I’d like to have you in my life. I missed you. So until we know we’ll just take it slow. OK?”

We’re interrupted by the waitress and place our orders. I suspect we all just order the first thing we see on the menu. When she’s out of range I reach across to touch my brother, who’s moved back to sit next to Daanya. “I’m here if you need anything.”

“Are you? You travel around a lot.”

I don’t get the vibe that he’s pushing back, questioning my dedication to him, but that he’s feeling me out for my plans.

“I was looking for you. Partly. I was also looking for me.” Such declarations are hard for me. They leave me feeling raw and exposed.

“You found one, how about the other?” He leans back against the booth, his arm across the back.

I shrug one shoulder. “Bits maybe. It’s coming together slowly. What counts is having you back in my life, but any time that I’m...” It’s hard to say, knowing I could be a cause to his mental illness. “...a problem, you let me know.”

“If you are a trigger then you need to be prepared for me to shut you out again. At least until I can get a handle on things.” He meets my gaze, but I can’t hold it and look away.

I nod my head, blinking to keep back the rain of tears.

“You can’t take it personally,” Daanya adds softly.

But how can I not? “Sure,” I say, amazed I’m able to force out the words. I can barely get air in and out.

“Jo, I live every day on the edge. Fighting chaos and risk with one foot in reality and the other in a world full of hallucinations. Every day I choose to wake up is a risk for both me and the people I love.” He looks at Daanya and strokes a hand down her cheek. “I’ve learned that my journey is found in staying and seeing things out. It’s about living the life that’s been dealt me and making it everything I imagine or more.” He leans over and kisses Daanya gently on the lips.

I try not to be jealous of what they have together, honestly. But it’s hard not to want a connection like that to a person who feels for you what you do for them. Sure, Brinn and I have a connection but it’s sex-based. When it comes down to the person he wants to take a risk on, it won’t be me. As much as he’s too straight-laced for me, I’m too outside the lines for him. Maybe we’ve moved a little further away from having no strings but they certainly haven’t turned into heartstrings.

“So you’ll understand if things between us progress slowly?” Will asks as the waitress delivers our food.

I nod. The truth is a part of me does understand.

But, part of me doesn’t.

I run my hands down the smooth curves of Zach’s beat-to-shit scooter while trying to tune him out. Zach’s lamenting the woes of the machine while casting furtive glances back at the hangar. It’s clear this is more about what Brinn will say than the flaws of the vehicle.

Brinn comes out of the hangar, aviator shades already covering his eyes, but I can tell he’s looking at us. I feel it in all my important parts. Zach tries to take the keys but I snatch my hand away and grip them in my fist.

“He’ll kill me,” he pleads.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Gesturing for him to step back, I straddle the cracked faux leather seat and let my skirt fall open at the part, revealing most of my thigh and the new henna I created from the pattern Daanya drew out for me. After lunch, we spent the remainder of the day together at the beach and later cooking out at my house. It seemed so natural and normal that I almost forgot our relationship was held together with years-old duct tape.

But it’s hard to forget you might send your brother into a psychotic state.

“I can’t imagine why you want to sell this. I love it,” I tell Zach as I watch Brinn stride purposefully toward us. I can almost hear his teeth gnash from here.

“Because it’s a money pit, because it looks better than it runs, because it’s the smart thing to do,” Brinn says and tucks his hands in his pant pockets. “Get off that thing, Josie.”

“I want it,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “You’re not getting it. You’d be—”

“I already told her everything that’s wrong with it and that I couldn’t sell it to her in good faith,” Zach says.

“Good man, Smitty.” Brinn nods at him.

“Hold up, you two. I’m glad you both have it worked out, but you’ve forgotten one important element. What I want. And what I want is to buy this.” I toss my hair over my shoulder, dismissing them both as I slide the key into the ignition.

“Josie,” Brinn says and takes a step toward me.

“Shut it.” I put a hand out to stop him. “I already know that the throttle can stick or the brakes may be unreliable. I know there’s a problem with the fuses and sometimes the lights don’t turn on. I still want it. I have an interview with the cruise company and if I get it I’m gonna need something to get around different ports. This is perfect.”

I turn the engine over. It roars to life.

“Amazing,” Brinn mumbles.

“What?” I call out as I rev the throttle.

“I said you’re lucky it started on the first try. How’s that gonna work for you when you’re stuck in some port and it won’t start?”

I adjust myself in the seat and push the scooter forward, releasing the stand. With my gentle turn of the throttle, the scooter eases forward at a lazy crawl. I pull my feet up to rest on the running board.

They watch me ride around the large parking lot, navigating between the cars, over the dirt patches, and looping through again. With trepidation, I slowly increase my speed and revel in the sensation that comes from having my hair whip behind me like a flag.

“Hey, make sure the brakes work before you accelerate more,” Brinn yells.

“Yes, Dad.” I test the brakes by jerking the scooter forward for twenty yards. “I think the brakes are OK.” I do another series of stop-starts, making the tires squeak each time. When I pass Brinn, I laugh. His hands are on his hips, his lips a thin line.

“Did you say there were brake problems?” I jerk by him, smiling and watching the muscle in his jaw tick.

He shakes his head and folds his arms across his chest.

I twist the handle and accelerate, pushing the scooter to the limit.

“Oh, oh no, Look at me. Living on the edge.” I weave around them, shaking the scooter from side to side.

“Slow down,” he says.

“No.”

“I don’t have the time to take you to the ER.” He whips off his shades.

I weave through the cars and try to get the speed up by crossing the parking lot in a straight line. I hunch low and hear Zach laughing. When I look over, Brinn shoves him in the shoulder. I lean into the curve and catch some gravel that causes the scooter to wobble. When I come out of the curve, I sit up straight and meet Brinn’s glare.