Chapter Eighteen
Jeremey
I should have been happier about my life.
I had a boyfriend who I fell in love with more every day. I hadn’t said the word to him yet—I had said I loved him when I was trying to kill myself, but that was more of a goodbye than a confession. I told him in the hospital too, that first day, but that was possibly drugs. If I had loved him then, I loved him more now, but I couldn’t tell him because I was too scared. I knew, though, someday I’d tell him. I had good medication that kept me even-keeled, enough that with regular sessions with Dr. North, I felt better than I could ever remember feeling. Some days depression made it so I had to stay in bed, but not often, and I never felt as overwhelmed as I used to feel.
My parents were still weird, but they were paying my bills and not trying to mold me into somebody I couldn’t be. I had an incredible place to live, and after my stay at the group home, I knew exactly how precious The Roosevelt was, how lucky I was to have it.
I had so many things to be happy about, and in a way, I was. Except not all the way. I’d never feel the same kind of easiness other people did. Happiness and peace would always be something I worked hard to have, even if my external life looked like a 1950s sitcom. I understood this, but that knowledge still made me sad and lonely thinking about it. I was sure my life could be more. I wanted more.
One of the things I wanted, really wanted, was a job. At first I’d wanted to continue staying in our apartment watching TV all day, but Dr. North pointed out that discontented feeling wouldn’t go away with another Cake Boss marathon. I started looking at options for employment, and without consciously meaning to, I became fixated on the idea of a good job making that last piece of disquiet fall away. The trouble was, I couldn’t find a good job. I couldn’t find any job that I could work at for more than a few days.
Something was broken in me. I swear I wasn’t this way when I started my senior year of high school, but I was certainly a mess now. And then Dr. North pointed out something that made everything worse.
“While your depression was more pronounced before, it seems your anxiety has taken over, at least temporarily, as the more predominant force.”
I straightened. “So what, they can switch around whenever they want?”
“You will always have both, but yes, you’ll have times where one is more dominant than the other. It’s perfectly natural.”
Easy for him to say. I felt as if he’d pulled up a cloth on the table, revealing that instead of a thousand-piece puzzle to solve, I suddenly had ten thousand pieces, all of them gray. “Basically you’re telling me, while I’m calming one down, the other goes out of control.”
“No. Not at all. Think of it as managing dual currents. Sometimes one is stronger than the other. Sometimes they both are. You can’t maintain a perfect calm, but you can accept and control these two elements.”
I sagged in my chair. “It’s all so impossible. I want to be better. I want to be fixed.”
“Fixed is a dangerous term. This isn’t a little box we’re ticking so I can give you a different colored pill. This isn’t an infection we’re eradicating. We’ve been treating you and finding solutions for your situation since the day we had our first session. These are life-long conditions. Right now the condition most difficult for you to manage is anxiety. So let’s talk about what’s making you anxious.”
We talked about what made me anxious every single day we met after that. A lot of things made me anxious, but everything overwhelmed me when I was working. It was something to do with possibly letting my employer down. It didn’t matter how nice and understanding they were—certainly the library staff had seen everything, between clientele and staff members like Darren, but none of that mattered in my head. It was like living in the aisles of Target every day at work. All I wanted to do was scream or curl into a ball, and usually that’s where I ended up by the end of the day.
I was so ashamed of myself, so embarrassed. Sally and Tammy told me not to be—so did Dr. North, Marietta, even Althea. Emmet told me not to worry about it, that I could work at The Roosevelt, helping. It was true, I could do that. Sally and Tammy always needed another pair of hands. But I worried what would happen when I screwed that up too. I worried, a lot, about what happened to somebody so worthless he couldn’t keep any job, anywhere.
Sally and Tammy gave me tasks to do, but not many, and I could tell they were jobs that didn’t need doing, that if I melted down, nothing serious would come of my failure. They were also solitary jobs: folding laundry, doing dishes, cleaning out bathrooms. Ashamed as I was that this was all I could do, I did feel better for doing them. In fact, I felt more anxious and disconnected when I wasn’t working, and I started finding staff to ask for jobs so I didn’t sit on our couch and go nuts until Emmet came home from school.
One afternoon when I went to find Sally, she was in the hall with David, having an argument while down the hall Stuart wailed bloody murder about God only knew what. I hung off to the side, trying to be polite and wait my turn for her attention, but David didn’t look ready to relinquish her anytime soon. His left arm jerked in time to his anger as he angled his head to the side and shouted at Sally.
“I’m going outside. Nobody has to go with me. I’m going to sit under the fucking tree and stare at the goddamned clouds, all right? I don’t need a babysitter for that.”
“I understand your frustration, but you haven’t been here long enough for us to learn how far your independence can go, and I don’t have the call button for your chair yet. Missy will be back in fifteen minutes. You can wait that long.”
Missy was one of David’s many aides. I got the idea David didn’t like her as well as he did Jimmy.
“She texted and said she’d be late because one of the prescriptions wasn’t called in. If I wait for her, it’ll be time for my evening shitshow.” He waved his right arm at her. It was so strange to watch, like a club attached at his shoulder, awkward and uncooperative as he screwed up his face in anger. “I want some fucking time to myself outside. I’m not gonna die sitting underneath a tree.”
Sally was just as angry, but when she waved her arms, they worked fine. “I have twelve other residents to take care of, and one of them is waiting for me right now while I argue with you.”
“So go to him already, Jesus.”
“David. I cannot leave you unattended yet, not out there without your call button. What if your chair fell over? What if—”
“I don’t give a shit. If I die, I fucking die—”
“You’re not going out unaccompanied right now, and that’s final.”
David’s face got red, and he started to sputter, unable to swear anymore, he was so angry. Except it wasn’t just that. He was frustrated. Helpless, furious, completely unable to control his life enough to go sit outside alone. I understood why Sally couldn’t take him—people down the block had to be able to hear Stuart howling—but I felt awful David had to ask permission and have a chaperone for something as simple as going outside to sit in the shade.
A thought occurred to me, and almost as quickly it tumbled out of my mouth. “I could go with him.”
I hadn’t spoken loudly, but David turned his head toward me in the same lopsided way he’d done to Sally. I held still, nervous and unsure as he looked me up and down. “Jeremey, right? You live with Train Man?”
I winced at the nickname, remembering how much Emmet hated David. I wondered if I shouldn’t do this because of that. But how could it hurt to sit outside with David for a few minutes?
I glanced away, self-conscious. “I wouldn’t mind going outside with you. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to help you if your chair fell over, but I could go get help. Plus, I have a phone. I could call Sally or even an ambulance. I mean—that’s probably too much. But I can help. If that would be okay with you.”
David grinned, and I blushed. He was handsome enough most of the time, but when he smiled, he looked like a young Hugh Jackman. The smile evaporated as he tilted his head toward Sally. “Go help Stuart. My new best friend Jeremey’s going to take me outside.”
Sally glanced from David to me and back again. “Jeremey, you’re sure?”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure, but I did want to help. “It’s fine.” I was pretty sure I could sit under a tree with a quadriplegic without having a panic attack. Though if it turned out I couldn’t manage that much, I was going to ask Dr. North to up my prescription on something.
“Okay.” Sally pointed a finger at David. “Behave.” She lowered her finger as she addressed me. “I’ll be in Stuart’s room if you need me. If he gets hurt, don’t bother finding me. Call 911 first.”
“Fucking Christ.” David rolled his eyes as she hurried down the hall.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing. I wasn’t so sure of myself now, alone with David. I wished Emmet wasn’t at school so he could come too. Though as much as Emmet hated David, that probably wouldn’t have happened anyway. “Wh-what do you want me to do?”
It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d said nothing or made a sarcastic remark about how he didn’t need help, but instead he said, politely, “If you could hold the door open, that would be great. I know it’s automatic, but it doesn’t stay open long enough for me. Dad says he’s going to fix it, but the repair guy can’t come until next week.”
“Sure. No problem.” I hurried to the door, held it open wide and waited patiently as he navigated his chair through. It did take him a long time, largely because he kept overshooting his angle, heading for the frames instead of the center.
“Sorry.” His cheeks reddened and he glowered as he tried again to make the approach. “I suck at driving when I’m pissed.”
“It’s okay. I’m not in a hurry.” I remembered he said he wouldn’t have much time outside and added, “If there’s something I can do to help, let me know. But don’t rush on my account.”
It might have been my imagination, but he relaxed a little after that, and it wasn’t long before he found the correct angle and went sailing through…to the next set of doors. I hurried around to open them too. They both opened out, which was great for this direction, but he’d have to drive off to the side on the return trip while I opened the inner door. I frowned. Doors kind of sucked, for wheelchairs.
“No worries.” David breezed through the last barrier between him and the outside, and he sped up as he headed down the ramp, letting out a lusty sigh at the bottom. “Damn. I feel as if I got a reprieve from prison. Thanks, bro. Owe you one.”
I hadn’t ever been anyone’s bro before. Folding my arms over my belly, I came hesitantly around the side of his chair. What was I supposed to say? I felt panic start to spiral, but I set my teeth and didn’t let it take hold. No. All I had to do was stand here and be his live-action help button. If he wanted to talk to me, he’d talk. If not, I didn’t mind enjoying the moment of quiet.
He enjoyed it too, shutting his eyes and tipping his head back in the chair’s headrest so his chin stuck up toward the sky. “Perfect fall day.”
There wasn’t much to say to that, so I said nothing and continued to study him. He was handsome. Dark brown hair cut close to his head, a smart goatee—though I could see the rough spots under his chin where he hadn’t been shaved properly. He would have to be shaved too, since his hands clearly didn’t work well enough for him to do it himself. He wore a bright green shirt with yellow and white geometrics across the front, and a pair of jeans. I wanted to stare at his still torso and legs, mesmerized by how little he moved. His legs were smaller than seemed right too—atrophy. I didn’t get around much, but I did enough movement to build basic muscle. The only way his muscles moved was if someone moved them for him.
When I glanced up at his face, he was watching me. I blushed, ready to stammer an apology for ogling him, but he spoke before I could.
“Are you seriously dating Train Man?”
I wasn’t expecting that question, and I glanced around awkwardly. “Yes. I’m dating Emmet.” My face heated as I got ready for him to make fun of me, and panic encroached as I realized I couldn’t leave if he got insulting.
“Like—dating him. You’re not playing along? You’re straight-up boyfriends?”
He didn’t sound as if he were making fun, more earnestly asking a question, but I still felt uneasy. “Yes.”
“How did that happen?” He turned his chair so it faced me more fully. “I mean—I thought they were all no-touchy and isolated.”
They being autistic people. I began to understand why Emmet hated him so much. I didn’t know what to say, so I looked away and hoped he’d give up.
No such luck, though he did ease up a little. “Sorry. That was crass.” He stared off into the playground. “I’m asking because it’s what I want back the most. Being able to date somebody. I’d figured I was out of the scene, now that I’m glued to this chair and live in the Special Snowflake House. But you’re dating someone. For real. Not a game. That’s what I’m asking about. How you got it. What it’s like. If you don’t mind talking about it.”
I leaned against the tree, hunching my shoulders as I put my hands in my shorts pockets. “We met at a picnic earlier this year. He introduced himself to me. We hung out, and…” I averted my gaze to the ground, thinking of the right turn my summer had taken.
“What are you in for again?” David’s voice was light, but not teasing. “You seem so normal.”
“I’m so far from normal I can’t see it anymore.” I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye, so I stared at the handle of his chair. “I have major depressive disorder.” I thought of what Dr. North had said and added, my lips pursed, “And clinical anxiety.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
I grimaced. “I was in the hospital until a few weeks ago because I tried to kill myself.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah. That’s bad.” He got uncharacteristically quiet, and when I dared to glance at his face, all his bravado had fallen. He couldn’t meet me in the eye now. “That’s the thing about being a C4 quad. You need an assistant for suicide.”
His confession hung in the air a few seconds, and I remembered what Emmet had overheard the day David moved in. “Do you still wish you could? Kill yourself?” Then it hit me how that sounded and added, “I’m not offering or anything. Just wondering.”
His shoulders rose clumsily—that was a shrug. “Sometimes. I’m not as serious about it as I used to be. I used to lie awake in my bed trying to figure out how I could get it done. The realization I couldn’t made me more suicidal.” He jerked his head at the building. “That’s when Dad started The Roosevelt. I told him I didn’t want it, but my therapist pointed out I’m so busy being angry at him now for spending all his money on this that I don’t wish myself dead anymore. So I guess it’s good for something.”
“I’m glad your dad set up The Roosevelt. Otherwise I’d be living in a group home.”
He frowned. “But why? Depressives don’t have to live in a clinical setting, right?” When I glanced away, feeling awkward again, he continued. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be a jerk.”
“I’m embarrassed I’m such a mess.”
David snorted. “Somebody has to reach into my rectum with a finger and pull out my turds every night after dinner. I’m pretty sure anything you have to confess isn’t any grosser than that.”
I blinked at him, and I’m embarrassed to say my mouth fell open. I thought for sure he had to be kidding, but he wasn’t. Holy crap.
Pardon the pun.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “So. You were telling me about why you have to live here or in a group home.”
“I get anxious and panicky, and I’m easily overwhelmed. I have a difficult time keeping things put away, and sometimes thinking about what to make for dinner exhausts me. Emmet kind of handles all that. I mean, I cook with him, but he decides what we’re eating. He asks me, but mostly I agree with whatever he says.” I rubbed my toe in the dirt in front of me. “I can’t live at home. My parents think I should get over it, but I can’t. They make me worse. I love living here, but I can’t keep a job. I’ve filled out Social Security paperwork, but I need to work too. For money, but also because it’s not good to sit there watching TV all day until Emmet gets home from school. I can’t even shelve books at the library, though.”
“Why not? What happens?”
I shrugged, the shock of his poop story wearing off, leaving me feeling like a freak again. “In public places I panic. Not all places, not all the time, but it’s always a danger. I didn’t use to be this bad, but I keep getting worse. Dr. North says it’s okay, that this is how I’m finding safe spaces or something, but I feel like a big loser. Everybody else has a job.”
“Hello. I have to have a babysitter to sit under a fucking tree. You think I have a job?”
“No, but people don’t expect you to. Everyone thinks I’m normal. They can’t see the mess in my head, so they get annoyed I don’t behave the way regular people do. You at least have the chair to make them leave you alone.”
“Huh.” He tipped his head to the side, looking thoughtful. “I’ll be damned. So I feel normal but look like a mess, and you look normal and feel like a mess. We need to get together more often, dude.” He straightened his head, and his eyes went wide. “Hold it. Hold it. That’s it. That’s totally it.” He rolled closer, his expression excited and intense. “You should work for me.”
“Work for you?” I thought about the turd removal and got nervous. “What…would I do?”
“All kinds of shit. Open doors for me. Help me do my hair in a way that doesn’t make me look dorky. Feed me my lunch without treating me like a baby. Hang out with me in the shade. Anything. Everything.”
It sounded simple, wonderful even, but I was sure there had to be a catch. “I’m not a nurse or an aide. I barely got through high school.”
“I don’t want you to be a nurse. A companion or whatever. Someone to help me get to class, if I ever get the guts to go back to college.”
How did agreeing to sit with him outside for a few minutes turn into this? “You want to pay me to hang out with you?”
He made another clumsy shrug. “Not like that, no. But hanging out with me is work.” He grinned. “Come on. Say you’ll do it. I don’t have to ask my dad. I know he’ll go for it.”
I wanted to. It surprised me, but it was true. And since I wanted it so much, I tried to tear it down. “I’ll screw it up. I screw everything up.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know me enough to know that.”
“You’re right. But, dude, I want to try. You have no idea how crazy I get, sitting inside this head by myself. I’m a rolling sob story to most people. Not to you, though. I don’t care if you melt down every few feet or can’t figure out what you want for dinner. You’ve treated me more like a man than anybody has in a long time. I’d pay you to sit and talk to me.”
I felt warm, and hopeful—and nervous. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll talk to my dad. He’ll convince you.”
The back door to The Roosevelt opened, and a short, round, smiling woman came down the ramp toward us. “There you are. David, are you ready to go have dinner?”
Missy did talk to him as if he were an infant. I think it was probably how she’d talk to anybody she was taking care of, not something personal to David, but I understood how frustrating that would be, to have everyone treat you that way all day long. I still wasn’t sure I’d be right for the job he was talking about, but I wished I could be.
David ignored his nurse, still looking at me expectantly.
“I’ll think about it,” I told him, and he grinned.
David ended up calling his dad then and there, and when Bob heard the idea, he came right over.
“So we’d hire you as an informal aide?” Bob’s eyes had the same intensity as David’s. “Kind of a modern-day companion. He’d still need a professional nurse’s aide for day-to-day care, but you could help him with simpler things, ordering and eating lunch, getting on a bus.”
I balked at that. “I get anxious in public. I’m not sure how well that would work. I wouldn’t be any good if something really bad went wrong.”
Bob waved this objection away. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll find some things work and some don’t. But if you were with him on a bus and something went south, you could call me or his mom, or an ambulance. From what I understand, David wants you to help be his hands and legs. We wouldn’t want to put you in a situation that triggered your own issues, but from where I sit, there’s a lot of room between those and what David’s looking for.” He beamed. “This is a great idea. I’m one hundred percent on board if you decide to do it, Jeremey.”
David huffed. “I’ll convince him.”
I drifted to my apartment in a giddy haze. I’d told them I’d think about it and get back to them, but I wanted to do it. I would do it. I’d try, at least.
I was nervous but excited too. I felt good about myself, and I loved the idea of getting up to go hang out with David as my job instead of moping around feeling useless and worthless. When Emmet came home, I still felt good, and as I looked at him, handsome and familiar and smiling at me, all the good feelings swirled like a tornado, and I went soft inside, wanting him.
This was what I’d been missing. A sense of purpose, an idea that I wasn’t a waste of space. Normally I’d try to tear down all my own potential, but every time I tried, I saw David staring at me with so much yearning and hope, wanting, needing me to help him. To help him not feel like a waste of space, either.
I could do this, I thought. I really could do this. The thought made me feel as if I could fly.
Emmet’s gaze didn’t meet mine, but he smiled. “You’re happy. That’s good. You usually aren’t happy.”
“I am.” I wasn’t just happy. I was giddy, bouncy.
Horny.
Feeling brave, I gave the sign for sex.
He paused, still holding the strap of his backpack. His gaze moved closer to me. “Right now? I haven’t had a snack yet.”
Once upon a time that comment would have made me self-conscious, but this wasn’t a rejection from Emmet, only him processing a potential alteration in his schedule. Smiling, I made the sign again.
I grinned wider as he put down his backpack and took me by the hand, leading me toward his bedroom as he said, “We’ll have a snack after.”
The sex was better than usual too. I was electrically charged even before Emmet told me to get undressed, but when he kissed me and rubbed our bodies together, I felt like I was full of bubbling orange soda. I came quicker than usual, then lay there vibrating until he’d come as well. As he cleaned me up with a warm wet wipe, I smiled sleepily at him as he touched me.
“I have something to tell you.” I needed to touch him. Catching his hand carefully, I drew it to my mouth and kissed the tips of his fingers. “I think I might have a job.”
“That’s good. Let me clean up and put my shorts on, and you can tell me about it.”
I waited, watching as he wiped himself off and climbed into a pair of boxers. When he’d finished, he lay beside me and took me into his arms. We were less clumsy now because we knew how to move together.
“Tell me about your job,” he said.
I knew he didn’t like David, but I told myself he’d understand. I’d work him in slowly, talking about the abstract and not the specific. “It happened by accident. But I’m going to be helping a resident here, maybe. With things that are no big deal to you and me, but everything to him. It’d be more than Sally having to find something for me to do to keep me busy. It would be real work. Taking him out into the community and everything. I think I’m going to tell them in the morning that I’ll do it, after I think on it tonight.”
Emmet squeezed my hand. “That’s good news. Who would you be helping?”
My belly flipped over with nerves, but I told myself this one time I’d believe for once everything could be okay. “That’s the craziest part, actually. It’s David.”
Wouldn’t you know it. The one time I don’t panic and think everything will fall down around me before I have a chance to try, this time it turns out everything wasn’t okay.