When He Fell (21 page)

Dr. Velas arranges a date to transfer Ben by ambulance from Mount Sinai Roosevelt to the rehab center in Peekskill. I can travel with him in the ambulance, and then stay the night to make sure he’s settled. After that I will have to commute to and from the city every day, a two-hour journey from door to door.

The last day in the neurology department is a strange one. I am both happy and sad to be leaving what is familiar; I hug the nurses, and they hug me back. They give Ben a ‘Good Luck’ card. No ‘Get Well Soon’ for us. One of the nurses brings a cake, and I am able to give Ben a few mashed-up bites.

In the last week they have removed his feeding tube, and he has been eating puréed food. He doesn’t like it much, and it reminds me of when he was a baby and he would have rather gagged himself than swallow a mouthful of puréed broccoli. I couldn’t really blame him then, and I can’t now. But he eats the cake, and his mouth makes that funny, twitching sort of smile, and his eyes bore into mine.

I don’t know what to think when Ben looks at me. What to feel. I am afraid I see a silent, desperate plea in his eyes, a demand to know what is happening to him, and why. Dr. Velas has told me it is unlikely he remembers anything about the accident. I think how bewildering it must be for him to wake up and discover how limited he is, to want to speak or move and be unable to. I’ve explained, many times, in as calm and matter-of-fact a voice as I can, that he fell and hit his head and now we are all working hard to help him get better.

Sometimes when Ben looks at me I think I see anger. I wonder if he is just angry about his injuries, or if he feels something more. Something worse. Sometimes I think I see accusation in his eyes, and I shrink from it. I am afraid of what he might say when he finally does start to speak. Will he blame me? Is this whole thing somehow my fault, because of something I did or didn’t do as a mother?

I’ve never felt like one of those capable, competent switched-on mothers. Most of my life as a mother has felt like fumbling through the dark, fighting the overwhelming loneliness I’ve felt at knowing that I am flying solo one hundred percent of the time. And maybe now Ben’s realized it.

We are just cleaning up the paper plates of cake after our mini-celebration in the neurology department when Lewis appears in the doorway of Ben’s room. My heart bumps in my chest at the sight of him. He looks tired, with dark shadows under his eyes. His hair is more unruly than usual; I wonder when he has last had it cut. Then I wonder why he is here. I haven’t seen him for nearly three weeks, although he has texted me fairly regularly, and I’ve kept him up to date on Ben’s progress; all of our exchanges have been bland and matter-of-fact.

Lewis glances at Ben, his eyes widening when he sees that Ben is conscious, even alert, with icing smeared on his lips.

“Hey, Ben. Hey, buddy.” He smiles, awkwardly, and then goes over to gently clap Ben on the shoulder. Ben turns his head to give Lewis that burning stare; I can tell Lewis is unnerved by it. He drops his hand and turns to me.

“He’s doing well.”

“Better,” I correct. “It’s still going to be a long, hard road.” I remember what Dr. Spedding said about being positive. “But we’re getting there,” I say, purely for Ben’s benefit. My voice rings out, cringingly jolly. “We’ll get there.”

“Good.” Lewis glances again at Ben. “Maddie…can I talk to you privately?”

My heart lurches. I nod. I tell Ben I’ll be right back and I take Lewis to the private waiting room on the ward. It is empty, a stale smell of old coffee hanging in the air.

“What’s up?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light.

“I just…” Lewis scrubs his face with his hands. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize? What for?”

He drops his hands and levels me with an open look. “For that last night, in your apartment. For…misleading you, maybe.”

“You didn’t mislead me, Lewis.” My face is hot, and I can’t look at him. “I…I know that it was a mistake. For both of us.” Even if I didn’t want it to be. Even if I’d dreamed of Lewis wanting me that way. Of wanting me forever.

“I feel like I’ve let you down. That maybe you expected more of me, considering all the time we’d spent together.”

“I enjoyed our time together,” I say quietly. “But I never expected anything.” Just dreamed. “Trust me. I know you’re married. I know you love your wife.”

It hurts to say it.

Lewis nods slowly and I wait, sensing there is more. “Josh said something strange last night,” he says finally. “He said that I know why he pushed Ben.”

“What?” I stare at him in confusion, his words reverberating through me. “But it was an accident. He didn’t push him on purpose. I mean, they were just fooling around.”

Lewis sinks onto the vinyl sofa and runs his hands through his hair, his head bowed. “Maddie,” he says, “I don’t think they were.”

I shake my head, wanting to deny even as part of me recognizes how it makes horrible sense. “But why…”

Lewis looks up and stares at me bleakly. “Why would I know?” he asks. “Why would Josh
think
I know?”

“What are you saying?” I demand. I feel a creeping sense of blame and horror that I can’t cope with now. Not on top of everything else. “Are you implying that Josh pushed Ben because of—of something
we
did? I mean, it was one kiss, Lewis! Good grief.” I turn away, trying to be dismissive, but my whole body is trembling. “Josh didn’t even see, anyway. He’d gone around the corner to the elevators.”

“Maybe Ben saw.”

“Ben was fixated on the Xbox,” I retort. “And anyway, what if he did see? Why would Josh push him over it?” The realization thuds sickly through me. “He pushed him on purpose. That’s what you’re saying. Your son
meant
for my son to fall off the rocks—to get seriously hurt or even killed.” Lewis doesn’t answer and I whirl around. “What is
wrong
with Josh?” I demand, my voice ringing out.

“Don’t,” Lewis says quietly but I’m too tense, too fearful and furious, to stop.

“I always knew he was a little weird. He was so quiet. And the way he looked at you sometimes…it was a little unnerving. But I didn’t think he was a
psychopath
.”

Lewis’s eyes narrow, his mouth tightening. “That is not fair.”

And I know it isn’t, even though I’m still furious. “What kind of kid does that?” I demand. “What kind of messed-up kid tries to kill his best friend?”

“Josh has not said that,” Lewis says. His voice is quiet but it thrums with anger. “All he’s said is that he pushed Ben. That he meant to push Ben. You’re jumping to conclusions, Maddie.”

“Maybe you need to reach a few conclusions yourself,” I snap back. “Have you asked Josh? Have you
demanded
that he tell you what the hell was going on?”

“Actually, I have. And he’s refused.”

“And doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Yes, it does,” Lewis answers evenly. “It tells me that he’s hiding something…or protecting someone.” He holds my gaze and my mouth dries.

We’re back to that kiss. That wonderful, terrible kiss that I can’t forget and shouldn’t have happened. “Protecting you?” I surmise. “You think he doesn’t want Joanna to know that you kissed me? That you
wanted
to kiss me?” Lewis’s face darkens and I wish I could take the words back. My emotions are so raw, so exposed and out of control. I draw a deep, trembling breath. “Even if that’s true, why would Josh push Ben? Why would he want to hurt
Ben?
”

Lewis shakes his head wearily. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

Neither of us speaks for a long moment; with effort I get my body and emotions under control. I am calm now, composed. “Maybe you should bring Josh to visit,” I suggest. “Maybe seeing Ben will make him open up.” Or make him shut down further, but I realize
I
want to see Josh. I want to look into the face of the boy who is responsible for Ben’s state. I didn’t think I blamed Josh, but now I might. Since he did it on
purpose.

“Maybe,” Lewis says slowly.

“You know Ben hasn’t had any visitors?” My voice turns sharp. “Not a single person.”

Lewis’s face contorts with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Maddie.”

“All I’m saying is, it might be nice if Josh comes. It might cheer Ben up. Dr. Velas said Ben won’t be able to remember anything about his accident. He’s not going to be upset by Josh’s presence. And maybe it would help Josh, too.”

“I’ll talk to Jo,” Lewis says, and my heart sinks. It feels like he’s saying no, and I realize now, despite everything,
because
of everything, I want Lewis to come. I need to see him again. And maybe he’ll come without Joanna, and it will be the four of us again. Just the four of us. Do I still want that, considering everything that has happened? I realize I do.

That night I walk home through the deserted streets of midtown. I see temporary traffic signs for the Macy’s Parade and realize it’s only two days until Thanksgiving. Last year we went to Juliet and Bruce’s for Thanksgiving; the whole apartment was decorated with pumpkins and cornucopias of squash and corn. The girls were set up at the kitchen table with Juliet’s aide, making pilgrim tricorn hats out of black construction paper. I felt overwhelmed by the domesticity of it, the
ease.

Ben was uncharacteristically silent on the way home, and I wondered if he wanted what Juliet’s girls had: not just the big apartment or all the luxuries and vacations, but the family. The dad.

That’s what I was trying to give him, in spending time with Lewis. Not an actual dad, but the closest thing to it. That night, when we got home, he started asking me questions about his father for the first time. Who was he, could he meet him, did he know about him, everything. I wasn’t remotely prepared for the interrogation, although I knew I should have been. I should have prepared answers for all of it, but I’d grown complacent. Ben had never wondered before.

Now I think that perhaps Lewis made him wonder. Perhaps the time he spent with Lewis made him want more, not less. Made him crave the real thing.

Just like I did.

Brian pokes his head out of his apartment as I come down the hall. I haven’t seen him in a couple of days, and when he invites me in for a drink I accept. I don’t want to be alone, not after seeing Lewis and realizing all over again what I never had.

“Ben’s going to the rehab center in Peekskill tomorrow,” I say as he fetches us both beers. I roll the bottle between my hands without taking a sip.

“Big day,” Brian comments and I nod.

“Yeah…kind of scary.” I hesitate and then blurt, “You know it would be great if…if you could come with me.” Before I can read too much into the surprise that flashes across Brian’s face I clarify quickly, “I mean, I could really use a car. I’ll ride out in the ambulance with Ben but it’s kind of a pain to get there by public transportation and well, it’s going to be a big day.” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer, but I already know by his silence that it’s not going to be yes. It’s never yes.

“I’d love to, Maddie, but I’m leaving tomorrow to go to Seattle. To visit my son for Thanksgiving.”

His words feel like a slap in the face. Somehow, with the drinks and meals we’ve shared, I forgot that Brian has other people in his life, important people. And a couple of beers, the odd takeout meal? It all adds up to nothing.

“Of course,” I murmur. I feel cold and shaky inside. I can’t look at him. I never ask anyone for anything. It’s been one of the rules of my life, a lesson learned very early. Putting myself out there to Brian was a big step, even if it didn’t seem like it to him.

“But if you want to borrow my car,” Brian says, “please do. It’s always there for you. Any time you go out there, you can have it. Seriously.”

And I nod jerkily, playing along that all I really wanted was his car, and not so much more than that. Not somebody to hold my hand and walk me through this, someone to lean on, if only for a few hours, because I’m so very tired of doing this by myself.

“Sure,” I say. “Thanks.” I put the beer bottle on his coffee table and stand up. “Sorry, but I’m bushed and like I said, tomorrow is a big day. I should go to bed.”

Brian looks unhappy, like he knows he’s let me down, and I can’t bear it. I don’t want his pity. I wanted, I realize, to be important to him. To
someone.
But I’m not.

“I’ll see you,” I say, and I walk quickly to the door. I don’t look back as I unlock my apartment and go inside before he can say anything or stop me. I lean against the door and close my eyes. I slide my hand into my pocket and let my fingers curl around my phone.

I could call Lewis. I could tell him the truth, that it wasn’t a mistake for me, that I think about him all the time. I could take the plunge and say it all, how he’s not happy with Joanna, he can’t be, how we’ve been a family, the four of us, how I could love him if he’d let me.

The words are ready to bubble out of me, but I know instinctively they would be poison to Lewis, and if I admitted all that I’d lose his friendship. Then I’d really have nothing left. And in any case, do I really want that? Do I want to destroy one family to cobble together my own?

Slowly I uncurl my hand from around my phone. I’m not going to call him. Not tonight, anyway.

18
JOANNA

I feel like we are all tiptoeing on a tightrope. A single word or look could make us fall off. At breakfast Josh avoids Lewis; I can tell he’s angry at him for visiting Maddie last night and Lewis realizes it.

We take Josh to school before heading downtown to Will Dannon’s office for our second appointment. Nerves jump and writhe in my belly; last night I told Lewis I wanted to tell Will about what happened six years ago but in the cold light of day I’m not so sure I want to open the floodgates of memory. Life is hard enough.

We sit in the same chairs as we did before; I notice that this time, at least, Will’s socks match. He catches me looking at his feet and smiles wryly.

“I’m not exactly a fashion plate, am I?”

“Actually, I think you fit the stereotype of a psychologist,” I answer. “Do you have a blazer with leather elbow patches?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No. Sorry.”