Chapter Eighteen

Trauma echoes. The impression it makes lasts long after the first impact. Folks aren’t rattled just once by a particularly bad incident. They’re shaken for good, like a sealed can of Coke that someone sloshes around and then returns to the shelf. There’s a chance that the pressure and chemistry building up inside might dull over time, but there’s no guarantee of that. There’s no telling how long someone might remain volatile once they’ve been subjected to pain and shock. Some people endure for ages just fine. Others explode.

The three familiar faces in the doorway were frozen in shock, none of them looking away from the screams. The dentist thrashed, howling in agony only “No! No!! No!!” over and over. And Mary and an orderly built like a linebacker rushed past the gathered gawkers. Gnashing and pulling at his IV and bandages, Dr. Emmett kept grinding his head into his pillow. Quickly, Mary and the linebacker held the dentist down and put a sedative into his IV.

Max babbled, looked from Wade to Celeste to Mary. Rev. Lancaster muttered words of prayer while watching him struggle. Max should’ve recognized them all, but his eyes were wild, open with terror, the sockets bleeding.

“Wade, what are you doing here?” Mary shouted at him. “Get out!”

She forced everyone out of the doorway and into the Eight West hallway. Other patients passed by them, shocked looks on their faces.

The dentist stopped screaming and struggling after a moment, his bleeding eyes fixed on Wade until the door shut.

Wade gasped, feeling condemned. His mom put her arms around him to keep him from falling. And she continued to hold him back.

“Mom, why were his eyes like that?” Wade whispered half to himself. “He’s all bruised up.”

“You shouldn’t be here, damn it,” Mary glared at the three of them. “None of you should be.”

“Why was he bleeding from the eyes?” Wade asked her.

“It’s none of your concern, Wade,” Mary said. “You know I can’t tell you anything.”

Rev. Lancaster stepped back a bit. Celeste was still shocked.

“Why did you all come up here?” Mary asked.

“I’m his minister,” Eric said.

Celeste’s head snapped angrily in his direction. “The hell you mean? Max’s minister?”

“He’s a member of my congregation,” Eric said to her. “Who even are you?”

His tone communicated everything Celeste needed to know about him.

“Someone who doesn’t have to answer you,” Celeste snapped, her eyes rolling. “Max’s minister. Yeah, right.”

She turned toward Wade and said, “You need to talk to your mother. I’ll be around.”

Wade nodded at her, which puzzled everyone. Celeste, still trembling from the screams, walked down the hallway, turned and went toward God knows where. Wade knew she wouldn’t go far from him. He imagined her crying in a bathroom. Celeste didn’t seem the type to totally lose her cool where anyone might see.

Δ

“Explain yourself,” Mary said to her son once she finally got him alone in the Eight West nurses lounge. She told Eric flatly to either go back down to Jessa and the baby or go home because Dr. Emmett wasn’t in any condition for visitors. She told her co-workers she needed a break, that it would take as long as it takes.

“I don’t know where to start,” Wade said to his mother.

He sat in a love seat, and she pulled up a chair next to him, holding his hand while looking in his eye. It was the stance she took on the rare occasion when she had to give a patient some somber news. He didn’t know if she positioned them like this on purpose. He didn’t know what his mother knew about him, and he was too scared to tell her the truth, even if Celeste had urged him to spill everything.

“You can start anywhere, Wade,” Mary said kindly. “Start with why you got into a fight at school.”

“Huh?”

“You got suspended from school,” she said.

“Oh,” he said, “Right. That.” So much had happened.

“What on Earth is even going on with you these days?”

“Mom, I have no idea,” he said.

“That isn’t going to cut it, Wade,” Mary said. “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. Like, where did you even go?”

“Go?” Wade said to her. “I’m right here.”

She took both of his hands in hers. “No, you’re not.”

“I don’t understand.”

No one ever said in the parenting books the heavy lifting involved with getting your child to see the point, Mary thought. There were no instructions on the right way to love him or hope for him. Too many people she knew always pretended that everything was fine with their kids, listing off things like Honor Roll and PSAT scores. Her son had a baby and, yeah, decent PSAT scores. But she felt like she hadn’t spoken to him, really, in years.

Mary sighed. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Wade shrugged.

“You used to talk to me when something was bothering you. Now I know stuff bothers you, I can see it all over your face. So, I’m begging you right now to tell me about it.”

Wade answered in a whisper, “I can’t.”

She answered aloud. “Yes, you really can.”

Wade’s brow furrowed with tension. It looked to Mary like panic. The expression was momentary, but Mary was reminded of Lydon on the day he got the cancer diagnosis.

“Wade, did you leave Lydie in the car today?”

“Who told you about that?”

“Jessa’s dad, for some reason.”

“Big surprise,” Wade scoffed.

“Why did that happen, honey? What was going on?”

“Mom, it was nothing. Mrs. Winston totally overreacted, and she busted my damn window.”

“Just tell me what happened, Wade,” Mary spoke very gently. “Leave blame out of it. It makes stories so much shorter.”

“My stories bore you?” Wade asked her defensively.

“That’s true of everyone, honey,” she said. “Doctors. Patients. Nurses. From bosses to toddlers. Everybody wants to escape responsibility for bad stuff, so they frame all their stories around why it isn’t their fault. What I’m saying is that I don’t care if it’s your fault. I just want to know what the hell happened. I’m not mad. I’m not criticizing you. Just cut that shit out of it.”

“Mom...,” Wade started, whimpering a little. He shook his head. “I can’t—there’s too much.”

“Just start with the fight,” Mary said to him.

“But it doesn’t start with the fight.”

“That’s what’s important to me right now,” Mary said. “That’s the little thing that we can talk about. That’s what we can deal with before we go check on the baby.”

“That kid has been teasing me for years, Mom,” Wade said. “He used to pick on me every day, calling me faggot. He stole my bookbag. I just, after the neighbor lady made me so mad, I just had to take it out on somebody.”

She looked at him. There he was. She saw him. She saw the boy she recognized.

“You’ve had a bad time of it lately,” Mary said, trying to understand.

“Lately??? Mom, he’s been giving me shit for years. He said I would watch him. He said I had a crush on him. He called me weird. Said I was gay. Like, all the time. Even after Jessa...”

“Wade, do you love Jessa?” Mary asked.

“What? Why does that matter?”

“You’re never home, Wade. You barely see the baby. I mean, I get it. I can’t stand her either.”

He laughed.

“But that’s not what I’m talking about, Wade,” Mary explained.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your life lately is just checked out, wandering around like you have some cloud over you. You’re scared and unhappy. And now you’re fighting everyone all the time.”

“I don’t fight everyone all the time,” Wade muttered.

“You don’t need to fight me, kid,” Mary said. “The only time I see you happy is when you’re walking from the driveway to the basement after work. The only time I catch you smiling is when I go see you at the grocery store. Once you get to the basement door, your smile disappears. It doesn’t disappear with the baby. It only vanishes with that damn girl.”

“What are you talking about? You watch me?”

“Of course, I watch you,” Mary said. “You’re my damn kid.”

Wade confessed, “I thought you were mad at me. You couldn’t even look at me.”

“Your brain isn’t fair to you, Wade,” Mary told him. “You think the world is out to get you and that you can’t do anything right. Your brain doesn’t tell you the truth.”

Wade frowned.

“Why are we talking about this now?”

“I know you don’t love her, son,” Mary said. “Did that boy hit a nerve with you today? Is that why you punched him?”

“Mom, are you asking me if I’m gay?” Wade asked.

“Are you?”

Wade shook his head. “I don’t really—I mean—”

She caught the look on his face, deciphered it, and hugged her son. She held him tightly, as though she were keeping him safe. She wanted him to know that she was doing just that.

“It’s OK,” Mary said to him. “Everything’s OK.”

Wade hugged her back. Relief hit him for a moment. He felt like himself. And he let himself breathe. A small secret was out. His mother was on his side, and that was something good to know. Even though he knew everything was not actually OK. The bloody eyes of Dr. Emmett, angry and unhinged, filled with blame, would never leave him be.