If You Stay (22 page)

Pax nods as he stares at the red light on the recorder and it’s as if he’s staring into my eyes.  I can see the anxiety on his face, even though he’s trying to hide it.  I really wish I could sit next to him, to hold his hand, to comfort him in
some
way, but it’s impossible.  So I sit in my own chair and watch, my hands twisting together. 

“What I’m going to do is walk you through some mental imagery using verbal commands and repetition, just like we’ve done the past two times.  Nothing will be different, we’re just going to take it a little farther today.  I need you to relax and breathe deeply.  Can you do that?”

I notice that Dr. Tyler has changed his voice.  It is even more soothing now, deep and slow.  I decide that he has already started the process.

Pax nods.  “I’m comfortable.”  He leans his head against the back of his seat and adjusts his legs.  

“Good.  Now I want you to close your eyes and breathe deeply.  Deep breath in, deep breath out.  Allow the air to rush over your tongue and past your lips, like you’re breathing through a hollow reed.  In, out.  Deep breaths.  Think about a time when you were up much too late and you grew very tired.  You are that tired now, in fact.  Your eyes are heavy, so very heavy and all you want to do is sleep.”

The doctor’s voice is smooth and calm and even I feel sleepy.  I’m surprised.

“I want you to take a few more deep breaths and you are tired, very tired.” He pauses and looks at Pax. “Are you tired?”

Pax nods. “Yes.”

“Good.  Now, I want you to think about that place, that place that you keep dreaming of.  It is dark there. I want you to remember how you got there.  As you remember, recite your memories aloud so that I can hear them.  Are you there now?”

I look at Pax and find that he is so relaxed that his jaw is slack.  His eyes are still closed, but I can see them moving behind his lids.  I wish I could see whatever it is that he is seeing. 

“I’m walking down a hall.”

His voice is so stilted and abrupt that it startles me.  A monotone. He doesn’t sound like himself anymore.  I watch him with morbid interest as he continues to speak. 

“There is sunshine on the floor.  I can see pieces of dust spiraling in the light.”

“That’s good,” Dr. Tyler assures him. “You are doing very well.  What else do you see?”

“I am stepping over a toy dump-truck with logs in the back.  I almost tripped on a rug, but I didn’t.  There are pictures on the wall.  This is my house.”

“Good.  Is it nice to be back home?”  Dr. Tyler asks.  I am utterly fascinated by this process.  I have never experienced such a thing in my entire life.  It’s amazing. 

“No.  There’s a noise. Something scary.” Pax almost sounds like a child as he speaks.

He grips the arms of his chair, his fingers digging into the blue fabric.  Dr. Tyler answers him calmingly. 

“It’s okay, Pax.  Nothing can hurt you. You are safe here.  Listen closely.  Do you know what is scaring you?”

Pax pauses, seeming to listen. 

“My mother is crying.  I’ve never heard her cry before, so it scares me.  I’m running now, all the way to the end of the hall to her bedroom.  But her door is closed.”

Dr. Tyler makes notes and then looks up.  He looks as fascinated as I am.

“Can you open the door, Pax?  Remember, nothing can hurt you now.”

“Okay.”  Pax seems nervous.  “I’m opening the door.”

He startles now, and his face turns white as he flinches. 

“What do you see, Pax?” Dr. Tyler asks quickly. 

“My mom is sitting on the bed and her shirt is ripped. Her nose is bleeding, and the blood is spattered onto her shirt.  There’s a man next to her, and he is holding a gun pressed into her side.  He’s got yellow teeth.”

The doctor is still.   “Do they see you?”

“Yes,” Pax answers in his strange monotone.  “My mom is screaming for me to run.  And she’s saying, ‘Not him, not him.’  But the man grabbed me.  He’s holding my arm so tight that I can’t feel my hand anymore. I can’t move.  I can’t run.”

“Does the man speak to you?” Dr. Tyler asks slowly. 

“Yes,” Pax replies.  “He just said, ‘Lookie here, kid.  Can you make your mom behave?  Can you help her be a good girl?”

Pax is silent for a minute. Even his foot, which he was banging against the chair, has gone still.  He swallows.

“I want to tell him that she already is a good girl,” Pax says.  “But I know the man is a bad man, so I don’t.  My mom is still crying and she’s got black streaks on her face.”

It must be her mascara
, I think.  And I am stunned that Pax saw something like this.  Who is the man with his mom?

He’s got yellow teeth.

“What is your mom saying?” Dr. Tyler asks.  Even his quiet voice seems very loud in their room right now. You could hear a pin drop.  Since I am utterly frozen, my room is even quieter.  I think I can even hear my own heartbeat. 

“She’s saying, ‘Leave him alone. Please.  I’ll do anything.  Just don’t hurt him.’  But the man is ugly and his breath smells.  He just said, ‘Anything?  So, you’ll behave now?’”

My heart is pounding, so hard that it almost hurts.  What does the man want Pax’s mother to do?  I almost don’t want to know and I feel a big sense of dread building in my chest. 

“My mom nods and she says, ‘But please let my son go.  I don’t want him to see.’ She’s sad but the man is laughing and he yanks my arm and pushes me into my mom’s closet.  I kneel down, but I can still see through the tilted slats.”

Oh, god no. 
I want to shout at little boy Pax to look away, to not watch whatever is about to happen, but obviously that is impossible. Whatever he sees next is going to scar him forever.  My hands shake as I wait. 

Dr. Tyler swallows loudly and I can hear it.  His mouth is dry.  He’s probably hesitant to hear this, as well. 

“What does the man do?  Can you see it, Pax?”

Pax nods slowly, still gripping the chair. 

“The man is unbuttoning his pants and they fall on the floor. He’s got a tattoo on his hip.  It’s a black snake, coiled up.  It says,
Don’t Tread On Me.
 He’s holding the gun to my mom’s head now.  He says, ‘Do it.  Or I will kill your son as you watch.”

Holy hell. 

Oh My God. 

Please God, no.

I am completely filled with dread now, and my blood has turned to ice.  I want to rush to Pax, to comfort him, to stop this progression of events, but I know that I can’t.  Because until he remembers, we can’t help him.  I grab the arms of my chair as he continues, a sick feeling in my stomach and tears dripping onto my shirt.

“What happens now, Pax?” Dr. Tyler asks quietly.  “Please remember that you are safe now.  The man cannot hurt you.”

“The man’s back is to me and I can’t see my mom very well, but I know she’s still there.  I can see her moving.  Her head is moving up, then down.  Up, then down.  She’s crying still and I can see her shoulders shake. The man just slapped her hard.  He just said, ‘Stop crying, you fucking bitch.  A blowjob never killed anyone!’”

Tears are streaking down my face at will now.  I can’t believe that Pax saw this.  He must have been terrified.  It makes my heart break and I ache to fix it for him. But how can anyone truly be fixed after seeing something like that? 

“No one has ever hurt my mom before and I want to help.  But I’m afraid. I’m the only one home, though.  My dad is still at work and I know he would want me to be brave.  I’m his little man and I’m supposed to take care of the house when he is gone.  So I stand up and run out of the closet. 

“I jump at the man with the gun, and he turns just as I grab his hand.  The gun is cold and metal.  I feel it in my fingers and then there is a noise so loud that my ears ring.  My mom falls onto the bed and there is a lot of blood.”

I am completely frozen. 

Oh my god.

Oh my god. 

Did Pax bump the trigger?

Oh. My. God. 

“The man is screaming, ’What the fuck did you do?’ and he shakes me.  Then he screams more. ‘You killed your mother!’  My mom isn’t moving and her eyes are open, staring at me. But she isn’t seeing me.  The man is right.  I killed my mother.”

My eyes are wide and I ache to lunge into their room and hold Pax.  His eyes are watery and a tear finally breaks rank and slips down his cheek.  I ache to go to him and Dr. Tyler must know that, because he turns and looks into the camera—at me. 

“We’ve got to know,” he says quietly.  Calmly.  He’s talking to me. 

Fuck.

I perch on the edge of my chair, my fist pressed to my mouth as they continue. 

“What happens next, Pax?” Dr. Tyler asks.  “Remember, you are safe.  He can’t hurt you now.”

“I am crying and the man slaps me.  He’s screaming again.  ‘You fucking kid. This wasn’t supposed to happen.  You fucking little snot nose kid.  I’m not going to jail for this.  No fucking way.  And there’s only one way to make sure that doesn’t happen.’  He grabs me by the neck and shoves me onto the bed next to my mom.  I look down and her blood is on my shirt.  I grab her hand and hold it.  The man is telling me to close my eyes.  The gun makes a clicking sound.  I close my eyes tighter. But nothing happens.”

I realize now that I am holding my breath.  This can’t be happening. This can’t have happened.  It’s too grotesque, too unreal.  No wonder Pax is damaged. 
No. Fucking. Wonder. 

I am numb as the doctor asks Pax what happens next.

“The man tells me that he can’t kill a kid.  He says he just can’t do it.  He takes my hand and holds it down tight. He squeezes it too hard, but I don’t cry anymore.  He pulls a big knife out of his pants and cuts my hand with it.  He makes an X.  Then he dips the knife in blood and traces over the cut again and says, ’Swear on your mother’s blood that you will never tell what I look like.  This X is to remind you that I have marked you.  I can always find you, anytime, anywhere.  If you ever tell anyone about me, I will kill you just like your mom.

”Then he says, ’You’re the one who killed her. They’ll take you away too, you know.  And bad men in prison do bad things to little boys who killed their mothers. They’ll hurt you over and over, every day.’”

Pax has tears running down his face now, like the seven-year old boy that he currently is in his memory.  I am literally aching.  I look at the doctor and I can taste my own tears.

“Please,” I beg.  “Bring him out of this.”

I know the doctor can’t hear me.  But I can’t help but beg anyway. 
For Pax.
  For the little boy who shouldn’t have to see this anymore. 

The doctor nods, finally.  He must have decided the same thing. 

“Pax, you are safe. When I tell you to wake up, you will wake up.  And you will remember everything that you have told me today.  Do you understand?”

Pax nods.

“Wake up.”

Pax opens his eyes and they meet mine through the TV screen.  His are filled with a horror that I have never seen before and I hope to god I never see again.  I leap from my seat and burst into their room, dropping to my knees next to him, stroking his back, gripping his shoulders, holding him tight. 

The man with the yellow teeth scarred him in so many more ways than one.  He didn’t need to carve up his hand to do it. His heart will be scarred forever.  I honestly don’t see how Pax will ever be able to overcome any of it. 

The thought makes me weep.

“Are you okay?” I whisper to him, forcing him to look at me. It’s a stupid question, really.  Of course he’s not okay.

He stares at me.  “I don’t know,” he says honestly.  “I just don’t know.”

Chapter Twenty

Pax

I am numb.  Utterly frozen as I watch the doctor write out another prescription for Xanax and hand it to Mila.  She promises to have it filled in case I need it.  He tells her that I shouldn’t be alone and she agrees.  She won’t leave me, she says. 

I can’t imagine why not- not after what she heard today.  I’ve always told her that I’m fucked up.  But this… this is
fucked up.
 

The doctor spent an extra hour talking with me after I woke up, but I can’t remember anything that he said.  It was all words and blurs and noise.  Static.  It doesn’t matter.  There’s nothing that he can say that will help.  He has to know that.

Mila grasps my elbow.  “Ready?”

I nod and we walk silently out to the car.  My feet feel wooden.

“Want me to drive?” she asks as she looks up at me. 

“I’m good,” I tell her as I open her door automatically.  I’m on auto-pilot now.  I’m moving, but not feeling.  Mila slides in and looks up at me again.  I don’t know what she’s waiting for.  I close the door. 

I buckle in and sit still for a second, staring at the snow in front of us.  Everything seems to be a blur to me.  Blurs of movement, blurs of shapes.  Colors that bleed into each other.  Nothing makes sense.

“Pax,” Mila whispers.  I can feel her eyes on me, waiting for something. What the fuck is she waiting for?  But I don’t ask.  She leans over and embraces me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and burying her face in my neck.  I don’t feel her warmth.  I’m too numb. 

“It will be okay,” she finally whispers as she pulls away.  She’s wiping her tears away and I wonder why I’m not crying.  I’m the one who should be, but my emotions seem to be gone.  I can’t feel a thing. 

As I start the car up and drive, the silence yawns between Mila and I.  I keep my eyes on the road, unable to focus or concentrate.  I feel numb, every bit as numb as I felt after I dove in the lake after Mila.  My heart is like a block of ice; frozen, suspended.

“Pax,” she murmurs, staring at me.  I can feel her gaze, her soft expression.  I don’t want to see it though, so I don’t look.  I don’t deserve it.  I don’t deserve her goodness. 

“We should talk about this.” Her voice is soft, but insistent.

She puts her hand on my leg.  Her fingers are cold.  Normally, I would grasp it, hold it, tuck it into mine to warm it.  Not now.  I don’t deserve to touch her with the same hands that killed my mother.  So, I keep mine clenched on the steering wheel and I stare at my scar.  It is jagged and deep, the edges of it white.