Ajar (11 page)

This is where my father had done it. I must
have ridden over this spot hundreds of times, maybe even thousands
of times on my bike. I had thrown stones and sticks into the
stream. Why had no one told me? Did Dan inherit this illness, this
paranoid schizophrenia, from my dad? Was I at risk, too? This is
where my dad decided there was nothing left to live for: not me, or
Danny or his wife. I curled my hand on the railing. It would be so
easy. It would be so easy to just pull myself up and over. The cool
water would take all of this away. But, unlike my father, I had
something to live for. I left the bridge and got into the car.

Chapter
Nineteen

My mom and I moved back into our 35 Mill
Street home. It had the same number but it was definitely not the
same house. I knew I needed to get my mom settled before Lindy and
I firmed up our plans about leaving town. The whole house smelled
like new paint. The insurance had provided for basic furniture, so
we had beds in the bedrooms, a couch in the living room and a table
in the dining room but not much else. There was nothing that seemed
like it actually belonged to us. All our pictures were gone; there
was nothing to hang on the walls. My mother’s china cabinet, filled
with the mementoes of our lives, was ashes now. My aunt had come
over to help us unpack but not my uncle. We really didn’t have much
to unpack. We had lost everything in the fire, but Aunt May had
given us some things. Since they were moving, she was able to give
my mother some things she no longer needed: pots, pans, sheets,
things we’d need. My aunt May did all the unpacking. My mother sat
at the new dining room window staring at the back yard that was
just dirt from the construction.

“I’m really sorry about all of this,” Aunt
May said. But it did not convince my mother to speak.

“He’s right you know,” Aunt May went on.
“You really should sell this place and move on. The house is new;
you could get a good price. The real estate agent said it is a good
time to sell.”

“Where could I go?” My mother’s neck snapped
back and she looked at May, “Where do you suggest I go? I’m going
to be fifty years old next year, May. Who is going to hire me?”

“You would get money for the house. You
wouldn’t have to work.”

“Really? And who exactly is going to buy the
house where the Sawyer Shooter lived?”

May looked away. My mother went back to
staring out the window.

“I think we should sell it, Mom,” I finally
said. “I don’t want to live here anymore.”

She looked at me. Her eyes were cold and
distant.

“You, too.” was all she said. “You,
too.”

She got up slowly, went to her bedroom down
the hall and closed the door.

* * * *

A “For Sale” sign went up in front of my
aunt and uncle’s house. Lindy’s mother called Mrs. O’Reilly but
somehow the communication had got mixed up, most likely on Mrs.
O’Reilly’s end, and we still met at the library with, or without,
Mrs. O’Reilly. Lindy and I started to plan our escape. If Lindy had
it her way, we just would have up and split. But I knew we’d need
some money. I applied to twenty-two places in Sawyer for a job and
not one called me back. My mom put an ad in the paper for
alterations but no one called her either. She spent most of her
days in front of the TV with her coffee cup of vodka.

I felt nervous and guilty when I thought
about leaving my mother alone. What would become of her? But what
would become of me? I didn’t think I could stay in Sawyer any
longer. There was nothing left. But did I owe my mother something?
If she refused to leave, did I have an obligation to stay?

Lindy grew paler as winter approached. There
seemed to be a change in her, too. She seemed desperate to get out
of town. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to get any
paler. She took on a bluish cast in her lips, the tips of her
fingers. Her lips got thinner and stretched across her face. Her
eyes became dark hollow holes in her face. When I told her I didn’t
know if I could leave my mom in the shape she was, Lindy looked at
me, pale and hollow-faced and said, “We have to go. I can’t stay
here anymore. Really.” Then she added, “Gus, if you won’t go with
me, I am going to go by myself.”

“Lindy, you wouldn’t...”

“I have to, Gus. I have to.”

So, I agreed. We decided we’d sell the car
and hitchhike south. We made up signs and I copied them at the
library and we hung them around town. The car wouldn’t give us a
lot of money, but it was a good car. I figured we could get about
$1500. It wasn’t a fortune, but it would be enough to get us out of
here. No one would know me in the south. I’d be able to get a job.
Lindy said she had about $100 from past birthdays and Christmases.
Since she never went out, she never spent any of her money. We even
picked a date: April 12
^th
. By then it would be spring.
This buoyed Lindy a little. It would give me a little time to
prepare my mom. I wasn’t going to tell her I was leaving but I
would try to make sure things were in order.

And then Lindy didn’t show up one day at the
library. I drove by her house and there were no cars in the
driveway. I even worked up courage to knock on the door and no one
answered. I could not imagine where she could be. She never went
anywhere except for the library or out with me. The same thing
happened two days in a row. I was terribly worried.

When I got home that second day my mom was
at the dining room table staring into the back yard.

“A girl called for you, Gus,” she said
absently.

“Lindy?” I said grabbing the back of a
chair.

“Yes. Is that the girl you study with?”

“Yes, yes,” I said urgently. “What did she
say?”

“She is at the hospital.” My mother didn’t
even seem to care.

I raced out of the house. There was only one
hospital and it was in Hutton.

I had a little trouble finding her. They
were slow to find her name on the list. They told me she was in
ICU. I didn’t know what ICU was but they told me I couldn’t see her
unless I was family. I told them I was family.

When I finally got to the ICU nurses’
station, I said, “I’m here to see Melinda Stevenson. I have her
schoolwork.”

The nurse looked at me sympathetically and
said, “I’m sorry. Melinda can only see family. I don’t think she’s
going to be able to do schoolwork for a while but you can leave it
here with me.”

“No!” I said, tears forming in my eyes, “I
have to see her.”

The nurse looked at me a moment.

“OK,” she said finally, “but only for ten
minutes and not a minute longer, do you hear?”

I nodded obediently and followed her down
the hall. In the room Lindy lay small and pale in an oversized bed.
She was propped up with pillows and tubes ran from her nose and
arms. A box next to her bed beeped out her heartbeat. There was the
sound of raspy breathing from a machine. Her eyes were closed when
we entered but when she heard me she turned her head. Her eyes grew
round and I could see she was happy to see me.

“Gus.” Her lips formed the name but there
was no sound.

I stepped forward next to the bed. I had
only ever seen Lindy in her gray sweatsuits. Now, she was in a
hospital gown. Her arms were resting above the blanket. They looked
like skeleton arms. The skin was a yellow-white and covered with
large ugly maroon bruises. Her neck was thin and her collarbone
stuck out at a sharp angle. I was shocked at how sick she looked.
How long had she been like this?

“Hi,” I said trying to sound casual and
light.

“I’m glad you got my message,” she said as
her thin lips worked laboriously into a smile, “I wasn’t sure if
your mom would give it to you.”

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

“Oh, just the eating thing.” Her words came
out very slowly and deliberately. I had to lean in to hear her. “I
passed out at home and they got me hooked up to get some nutrition
in me or something like that.”

“Well, that’s good,” I said because I could
think of nothing else to say, “I’m sorry I didn’t bring
flowers.”

“That’s OK. We’re still going to run away,
aren’t we? Please tell me we are.”

“Lind, you look pretty sick.”

“No, really, I’m fine. This has happened
before.” She sounded desperate again, “You have to promise me that
we’re still going to do it, OK?”

“OK,” I said placing my hand on her arm. It
took everything I had not to pull it away. I felt like I was
resting my hand on a cold bone.

“I love you, Gus.” She seemed to relax.

“I love you, too, Lindy.”

She smiled and rested back into the bed. In
a moment she was sleeping. The nurse came and I left with her.

“Is she your girlfriend?” the nurse
asked.

“Yeah,” I said and could feel my face redden
a little. It was the first time I had acknowledged Lindy as my
girlfriend. Then I asked seriously, “What happened to her?”

“She had a heart attack.”

“A heart attack? Kids don’t have heart
attacks.”

The nurse stopped and looked at me. I could
see pity in her eyes.

“Melinda is very sick. She has a condition
called anorexia nervosa.”

“Anorexia nervosa? What’s that?”

“It’s a condition where a patient starves
herself.”

I furrowed my brows looking at the nurse in
disbelief.

“She’s starving herself? Why would she do
that?”

The truth was I had never seen Lindy eat
anything except for those little tiny bites in the diner and those
she spat out.

“We don’t know. That’s the other reason
she’s here. But her body got so weak she had a heart attack. Now we
have to work very hard to help Melinda recover.”

“But she’ll be OK, right? She’ll be able to
come home, right?”

“A lot will depend on her. But with the
right treatment she should be able to go home.”

The nurse led me to the elevator. I left
slowly. Lindy was starving herself? I couldn’t wrap my thoughts
around the idea. Why would Lindy starve herself? For what possible
reason? I always thought that Lindy had a disease; that something
was happening
to
her. I didn’t think she was doing something
to herself. Why would Lindy want to starve herself?

Chapter
Twenty

When I got home, there was a car in the
driveway. I remembered Mr. Richards and wondered what bad news he
was bringing now. But, for once, I was wrong. Mr. Richards and my
mom were sitting at the dining room table. Mom looked...well, she
didn’t exactly look happy but she didn’t look as bad as she had
been.

“Hello, Gus.” Mr. Richards stood as I
entered the house. He extended his hand and I shook it.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, not greeting either
Mr. Richards or my mom.

“I was just explaining to your mom that your
brother is going to stand trial.”

“Stand trial? What does that mean?” I asked
not sitting down, “Is he well now?”

Mr. Richards glanced at my mother then back
at me.

“As I was explaining to your mother, Daniel
has been moved to the county jail. The hospital says he can assist
in his own defense. I have met with him and I have my doubts
whether he really will be able to assist much. However, they have
him on medication and he seems to have stabilized so we can start
the process of getting ready for Daniel to be tried. I am going to
have him examined again before we proceed. After talking with
Daniel, I have decided that an insanity defense just might work in
his case.” Mr. Richards was speaking smoothly and firmly.

“What does that mean?” I asked. “What does
the insanity defense mean?”

“It means that I am going to try to prove
that Daniel was not responsible for his crimes because he suffers
from a mental disease. I am going to try to prove that he was not
aware that he was doing something wrong when he killed Naomi
Tillson and Phillip Moretti.”

“How can you prove that?” I asked the air
more than Mr. Richards. How can you prove that someone didn’t know
shooting a woman in the head wasn’t wrong?

“Luckily, your brother kept rather extensive
journals. The police have them as evidence. He has also been under
the care of doctors. It seems he was very delusional during the
commission of the crimes.”

“Does that mean he will be able to come
home?” my mother asked. Her face was so hopeful it hurt me to look
at her.

“No,” Mr. Richards said, “no, I’m sorry. If
the jury acquits him, he’ll have to stay in the hospital for a long
time. However, it does open the door for him to come home
someday
.”

My mother sucked in air. You could just hear
her filling with hope but I knew it wasn’t real hope. Danny would
never come home. I had accepted that, my mother never would.

“Please don’t get your hopes up,” Mr.
Richards went on, “first there will be the trial. That could take a
very long time. But I will keep you informed. There is some good
news, however. You will be able to visit Daniel in the county jail
when he isn’t in court. Call the jail, the number is in the phone
book. They have regular visiting hours. It would be good for Daniel
to get some family support. You will also be able to attend the
trial if you’d like. You wouldn’t have to come every day. But it
might be good for Daniel if he saw you there. ”

Mr. Richards stood up.

“Oh thank you, thank you,” my mother kept
repeating.

I watched Mr. Richards drive away. This was
the first good news we received in a long time. We certainly needed
it. I also knew this would be good for my mother. If Daniel was
close, even if he was in jail, and my mother could visit him maybe
she would come out of this funk she was in. Maybe Dan was getting
better. He was seeing a doctor and getting medication. Maybe then I
could leave with Lindy and not feel guilty. Even though I tried not
to I, too, began to fill with hope.