On the Edge of Wakefulness
Chapter 17
"Never seen you lose your shit like that, Manning."
The Mole laughed under his breath, tossing his cigarette, orange light flickering away. He stood in the darkened park a couple of feet from a benched Phillip Manning who glared at his hired killer.
The Mole stumbled upon the trio just after Jedediah's near-collision. He'd been heading toward the meeting point in the park and was about to help the downed Jedediah when he saw the Emperor himself approach first. Immediately he'd stepped back, not wanting Phillip to see him helping a person he was hired to kill.
Taking aim with his gun from a hidden spot, he watched Phillip and fully intended on taking him out if he tried to hurt the kid. He was surprised though when he saw that Phillip barely took notice of the boy, focusing instead on the other guy, most likely not recognizing Jedediah. So he let them alone. He had to laugh when he saw the young man take off on his motorcycle, skillfully helping the homeless dude up and leaving the Emperor in his dust, so to speak.
"Fuck you," Phillip said coolly. "Mind you own business before you find yourself dead."
"Aww…come on, tell me, what pissed you off about a kid nearly running over some derelict?"
"T'warent no derelict."
"You don't say."
Phillip Manning looked up at the Mole, no emotion registering on his sharp-featured face – not anger, bitterness or sarcastic humor. Nothing. Disturbing. The Mole scratched his chest, the taped wire irritating him. He was set up to record an admission so he had to work carefully, needing the ammo. Gotta bring him down.
"Well?"
"You're awfully pushy for a low-life piece of scum," Phillip growled. "If you ask me again, I will take my business elsewhere. And you will pay for the excess funds I may have to spend."
"Aight. Did we settle on the up-front?"
"Yup. The rest when you complete your… artwork."
"Let me get clear on one thing – last minute regrets and all. I take this money and there ain't no refunds. You and I, we never did this type of… artwork before so I have to be sure... 'bout my subject matter. It's my paints, my brushes, my reputation on the line."
"Fine. It's what I said."
"You want the artwork to be what we talked about? A picture of death in all its suffering glory. The threat of the burning fires a'Hell versus the clouds a'Paradise. The choice – the resolution – in the moments following death. The heavy Book of Names in front of this downed innocent, Angels crying for him, Demons wanting him. Him praying to the Lord for salvation of his precious soul. On his knees, my brother!" The Mole dragged out his words in the sing-song voice of a sidewalk preacher. He could see the annoyance breaking through the Emperor's mask in the way he pinched his lips together and looked away into the dark. One thing Phillip hated: unnecessary talk.
"Yeah, you got it," he said, inhaling a long breath, thinking the Mole was done. He bent, about to pick up the bag, but stopped when he heard the Mole's voice again. He sat back up, stiffly.
"I mean, the subject of the artwork will be a young, fresh kid. Shock of brown hair, messed by the wind of that long tunnel of death. A youth just starting out but already facing his end, his moment of judgment at the pearly gates and all that shit. Barely old enough to drive. To fuck. To cradle a pistol...to vote! Innocent, precious eyes, God's love just pouring through every pore of his body. Lord save that sweet soul! Lord give us His grace –"
Phillip Manning stood up fast, as close to flying off the bench as was humanly possible, and gripped the Mole's jacket. With his face inches away, he spat, "Yeah, a picture of death, a picture of the boy in fucking Hell! I WANT JEDEDIAH CHANT FUCKING DEAD!"
He let go of the Mole roughly and slicked his hair back, taking a deep breath to regain calmness.
The Mole smiled to himself, straightening out his jacket. "Got it," he said, winking at Phillip and picking up the black bag. "Do I need to count the deposit?" Phillip didn't answer him, only stared at him with his soulless eyes and breathing fast from his outburst. "I guess I'll have to trust ya'. I mean… we do want to complete the… artwork."
With that, he turned around and walked into the night, whistling. So comfortable amid the rolling blackness and fellow night creatures.
Phillip watched the hit-man drift into the open park, second thoughts biting at him and it wasn't about morality. The Mole had always been loyal, having been his ferret for information for years. Trustworthy but he wasn't so sure now. That little show… was strange and Phillip had fallen for it like an old lady who got her walker yanked away. He clicked his teeth together and headed back to the Palace Hotel. To sleep for a while. Morning would be here soon and he needed a meeting with the Buchanan boys. To squash the stampeding moral rightists like the cockroaches they were.
The speaker clicked and Todd rasped his name to the guard, "Manning, PH2."
"Welcome back, Mr. Manning," a low male voice crackled back.
"Yeah, uh... I'm not here to anyone who asks."
"Mum's the word, sir."
The gate buzzed and glided along its track, opening as Jedediah drove his bike smoothly into the parking lot. He looked over the myriad of expensive cars as he passed by: Jaguar, Mercedes, BMW, all belonging to the wealthy occupants of the choice penthouses. Todd pointed to a spot near the elevator, Jedediah parking the bike. They both climbed off of it. Todd slowed, suddenly afraid of seeing the Penthouse for the first time since his suicide attempt. Was the blood still there? His cigarettes? The knife? He pulled his hair back nervously, fidgeting, eyes all over the place.
Jedediah pushed the call button and took a sideways glance at the obviously stressed Todd. He swallowed hard and shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing like hell he'd stayed put tonight. A bell dinged, however, calling him away from his self-pity and the doors slid open. He started to go in but Todd didn't move. Just stood there, pulling his hair back again and looking away. Like he was about to run.
There isn't any way out of Hell.
With a sigh, Jedediah pulled him gently by the sweater into the elevator, "Come on." Todd let himself be pulled at first. Stepping into the elevator. But he glanced down at the hand on his sweater. Saw his clothes being tugged off, innocence being stolen. Always a first time someone gets hurt. With a gasp, he pushed the hands he saw off him like insects, swatting repeatedly at them. "Let go...let go," he rasped.
Jedediah popped up his hands, scared he'd hurt Todd. He watched him lurch to the back, press himself against the wall, and try to breathe evenly, but not doing it very well. Kinda dazed.
Todd moaned softly at the images washing up on him like an ocean's waves, trembling uncontrollably. Terrified at the realness of the pictures, the solidity. He watched them rise and fall and slip back, then come again. "Come on.. .come on, kiddo," he kept repeating to himself, Tim's voice inside of him, Tim's helping words. Manage this. But his own voice was too loud. Stupid fucking elevator. So fucking hot in here. Home … home… let's get home. A flash of his sister came to him, the jingle of her bracelets, and he tried to hang onto it. His sister… Viki… come on, come on. Stay here.
Jedediah heard Todd say something, but wasn't sure if he was trying to talk to him or not.
The doors finally opened, the bell ringing, and Todd opened his eyes, staggering out in front of Jedediah, practically throwing himself against the door to the Penthouse, thankful for the space and cooler air.
Jedediah followed him, rubbing his face and eyes, not really knowing how to help. He had to call someone as soon as they got inside. Empathy weaved its way through him, now, conflicting with his vow that he would not care about this person. He's Satan, a damn criminal, a rapist.
Except Satan looked pretty harmless now, whispering as he pressed his forehead against the door, "It's okay, it's okay…"
"Hey," Jed said, "sorry about pulling you into the elevator. Did I hurt you?"
Todd didn't answer right away, rolling onto his back against the front door, his breathing and heart rate slowing. After a moment, he squatted and lifted the doormat. Once he found the key, he threw it to Jedediah, who barely caught it, and said faintly, "No...nothing hurts me anymore."
Jedediah looked down at the key then over at Todd again, who had stood back up and was slouching against the wall, rubbing his temples. Thin worming roots of empathy… continued to eat slowly into Jed. He put the key into the lock, twisted it, and pushed the door open. When he walked in, Todd right behind him, he immediately shivered at the cold, looking around for a thermostat and a light switch. Finding the latter to his right, he flipped on some lights in the living room.
His father wandered to the massive windows that showed off the city lights. He stood there silently, nothing but a silhouette.
What a city, Jed thought. Looked a lot bigger from up here, more spread out. He eyed the living space. The furniture was dark, modern with all those sharp lines. A bunch of clothes lay folded on the couch next to an open overnight bag. Two floor lamps shined from opposite sides of the living room. Low light. Artwork decorated the walls, more modern shit, then at the mantel decorated with some languishing bronze figures and one photograph of a girl he now knew was Starr. She was smiling hugely at the camera, super mischievous. That was it, though. Only one picture of Starr, no toys, knick-knacks, books, magazines, jewelry or other things that showed people actually lived here. Only the desk appeared to have some activity associated with it.
Detachment. Abandonment.
Jedediah sighed, the loneliness of the place cutting deep. His gaze wandered to the stairs, knowing Todd had tried to kill himself in the second level bathroom. The image was beyond him. He'd lived with the story that his mother committed suicide, but he never accepted it as fact. As opposed to the situation with Todd. For a fact, this man tried to kill himself. He himself had never known such despair. He lived with hope.
Todd turned and walked close to Jed. They regarded each other like two war-torn pitbulls; one blind with a sickness of the soul, the other blind with youth. Neither able to see the other.
Breaking their mutual study, Todd considered the clothes on the couch. Remembered how it was before… that day in the shower. The shame of his pain, the burnings, the drugs. Did he really want speed again? Did he really want to go back to that specific level of Hell?
Let me not sleep.
Deciding to move ahead with his search, Todd then offered his world to the boy who was still watching him. "Look around," he said, "take anything. Eat. Sleep on the couch, the floor, I don't care. Just stay out of my fuckin' way."
Out the window went the beginnings of Jedediah's compassion. Hatred slid to the forefront once again and he glowered at his so-called father who started to walk past him. Forgetting Todd's sensitivity to touch, he grabbed his arm and said, "Don't you think we ought to call someone? Your sister, Tim, Kevin...Téa? You really need somebody and it isn't me."
Todd glared at Jed's hand on him. Jed let go.
"You're right," he said. "You should call somebody. Except you promised to take me anywhere I wanted and here we are. You didn't mention telling people where we'd be. I need time alone, not a bunch of do-gooders in my face. So just lay the fuck off. Or better yet, why don't you just blow outta here?"
Jedediah bit down hard to stop the response that teetered at the tip of his tongue because he saw the agony in Todd's effort to get up the stairs. Each step required an exertion of energy that simply wasn't there. He watched each tortuous bend of his knee, every heavy landing of his foot and slow slide of his hand on the handrail. Saw how he'd stop and just stare into the blackness.
Sprouts. Damn it.
Jedediah huffed in aggravation and threw himself on the couch once Todd reached the top step, disappearing around the corner. He leaned back and rested his eyes. Only a moment, only to catch his breath. Then he'd go check on him. Can't leave him alone. Pulling his jacket tight, he sighed and his eyelids fell despite the effort to keep them open.
The doctor's office was somewhat dark, a desk lamp being the only source of illumination and it wasn't very strong at that. Tim sat behind his desk and systematically tossed one pencil after another across the room, ostensibly trying to get them into the basket. Except his tosses were hard and angry. When he ran out of pencils, he went to the pens and then to push pins. He finally threw a handful of them, feeling the pin pricks on his skin, and let slip a frustrated groan. He put his head on his desk and squeezed a fistful of hair in his hand. Sitting up for air, he was surprised by Viki in the doorway.
"What are you doing here," he asked. "Must be...3:00 in the morning?"
She said sharply, "2:50 to be exact. Have you heard anything from him? Because I haven't."
"No, I'm sorry."
Controlling her anger, Viki then demanded, "How did this happen?! I mean, we all knew how anxious he was about staying. Wasn't anyone watching him for God's sake?!"
Tim's shoulders drooped and he rubbed a spot on his forehead, pinching his eyes shut. He finally said, "They were watching him, of course. There weren't any breaches in hospital protocol. Not from the staffers' end. I've gone over this a hundred times and trust me, I'd be the first to admit if there were."
"So explain how my brother could get out, Tim. Please." Fear and concern broke through Viki's anger, revealing themselves in her voice and in her eyes. Tim had to look away, knowing that fear.
"Of course," he said. "There were two nurses at the auxiliary station which is kitty-corner to his room. Both were aware of his fragile state, both had their eyes on him. The doors to the ward are locked at night and they were this evening. Like I said, no breaches. One of the nurses left to retrieve a medical file; the other stayed working at the desk. The nurse at the desk said he must have been very quiet and very fast because she neither heard nor saw anything. They checked at 11:00 and he was asleep. They checked at 12:00 and he was gone. At this point, they think he got out the emergency exit which was… disconnected from the system." He exhaled heavily. "Apparently, there was a fire check by the city today and they disconnected the door from the monitors. Nurses didn't know. I'm sorry."
Viki sighed, disappointed and frightened to no end for her brother. Having a hard time maintaining her composure. "I guess pointing the finger won't change anything. He's still gone."
"Yeah, still gone."
"I thought of staying home, but I couldn't sleep. I somehow… knew you'd be here." Viki sat in the chair in front of his desk, studying the old-fashioned library lamp.
"That's me… dedicated." He said it sarcastically, bitterness revealing itself and catching Viki off guard. She was surprised to see a fissure in his sheath of professionalism. He laughed tightly. "Welcome to the world of mental illness. Hard work, long hours, all in the hopes of saving a few people."
"We always hope for that."
"Thing is, some people don't want to be saved. So why do I keep doing it? I've spent so many nights here for so many patients. And it's been no different with Todd. Yes, I spend a little more time at your special request – waiting for him to wake up, sitting with him, talking him through one crisis or another. Stopping him from hurting himself because of the hallucinations. And now...we worked so hard to get him to stay. He worked so hard to allow himself to stay. What happened?"
Viki was quiet a moment, considering his question. Slowly moving away from anger into sadness. She knew Todd. Understood very much where his head was at. "Something scared him," she said, "and that's very powerful. Even if it was as simple as a dream."
Tim lifted his eyes to her, registering the fear and concern he saw by softening his tone. "Yeah. That's exactly what happened. Fear is his main driving force. Oh – Jedediah's gone missing, too. That really doesn't surprise me though."
"Yes, Kevin told me." She creased her brows in concern. "He's out scouring the city for both of them. He said he was headed to check the Penthouse, the Sun offices, the parks, and so forth."
"Téa called me, panicked. She's waiting for news."
She nodded at Tim's update and then said, "Jedediah left on his motorcycle so I'm not too worried. He's very resourceful and independent. I'm sure he just wanted to be alone. He has a lot on his mind."
"I don't know why but instinct tells me that maybe they're together. Except if that's the case, then all of Llanview has slipped into some haze because nobody has seen a pair of messed-up, long-haired kids out after midnight, on a motorcycle, with no helmets, no jackets, God damn it." With that. he slammed the side of his fist on the desk. Immediately, he looked up at Viki, tiredness in his voice. "I'm sorry. I'm not acting like a doctor is supposed to act."
"That's alright, we're all worried." She said, understanding the failure of the professional demeanor, knowing the difficulty of staying in line sometimes. Especially when personal history gets mixed up with business. She recognized the doctor was dealing with something that went beyond Todd.
"Not worry – failure."
"Failure?"
"Yeah. I lost someone a long time ago, early in my practice. He wasn't a patient, but I've always considered him my biggest failure. And Todd walking out… brings it all back. You do not want to hear this story, though. I'll just make things worse for you." He chuckled sadly.
"No, please tell me. I want to hear it, even if it will make me worry more. I'd like to know more about you."
Tim considered it. Then sighed, "Okay… let me tell you about Jonathan."
"A close friend, then."
"Something like that. We knew each other from pre-school, believe it or not. We hung out, did everything together, in and out of school groups. Experienced everything at the same ages, from smoking to concert-going to sex to...drugs."
"Ah."
"We both went to University of California at Santa Cruz. Hallucinogenic mushrooms were our thing, marijuana, lots of alcohol. We were fine. Did well – never aroused any concerns. About half-way through our third year, though, Jonathan…" He paused. "This is him." Tim reached for the picture on his desk, handing it to Viki. She looked at it as she had many times before and, as so many others did, smiled at the man's infectious grin. At the obvious affection between the doctor and him. At the obvious love.
"He looks sweet."
"He was just that, sweet, loving, caring… perfect." Tim laughed, remembering how they were, their antics and adventures – their relationship. But his expression changed, growing serious and then, woeful. "So yeah, he started hallucinating, talking to himself and saying weird stuff about insects crawling on him, people living in his closet or under the bed. I attributed it to our recreational activities so we cooled it. But… things didn't get any better."
"That must have been terrifying."
"It was. He was finally diagnosed a couple of long, frustrating years later with schizophrenia. So he lived at a halfway house, taking medications, doing great. He didn't have any family anymore. Just me. I was in medical school at the time and we stayed in contact as much as possible. When I graduated I took a psych residency in Santa Cruz to be near him."
"How giving, passing up other things just for him."
"I loved him in spite of his illness, because of it, because of who he was, inside. That wasn't affected by the misfiring of his brain. He'd always be the same person to me – even if some days I couldn't quite see him." Tim swallowed the inevitable lump in his throat whenever he ventured into these memories. The blackness of the night infected his melancholy and he found himself looking into the eyes of the equally sad woman in front of him.
"Funny," Viki said. "I've been on both sides of that fence – the sick one who was loved unconditionally and supported throughout, and now loving someone else who's ill."
"M-hm. And thank God you had people to support you. Jonathan didn't have enough – I wasn't enough. One night I got a call from the halfway house. Like I did tonight. He'd stopped taking his meds and split. Days he was missing. I looked and looked. Then… I can't believe how this still gets to me..." Tim's eyes moistened and he breathed out a heavy breath, standing up and walking to the window. "I then got another phone call. Jonathan had been hit by a car as he ran across a highway, obviously delusional. Nameless, a John Doe, a nobody. One of the orderlies from county recognized him and called me. But it was too late." Tim dropped his head and he fought to not let go of this pain. "He bled to death from an internal injury. Alone, drugged to silence his rants, lost." He whispered his last words.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"I hate failure and take it personally. I know that's wrong, but I still do."
"Sometimes that attitude can make a person better at their work."
"Maybe. I don't have a lot of family. Got a mother who lives in San Diego with her damn social calendar. A dad who spends most of his time avoiding my mother, hiding out with his golfing pals. And they both avoid me. My 'lifestyle' doesn't agree with them. Jonathan was my family. After he died, I went to Davis and did some work there, then came out here to try something different."
He smiled at her, knowing how much she loved her brother. Knowing how much "family" she was to him.
"He's like Jonathan in that he's accomplished so much, but can't see in front of him, can't see who he really is. I mean, he has people who love him, but his understanding of love is so warped he can't appreciate it, can't feel what people have to offer. I've seen a lot worse disorders, but I don't think I've ever seen self-punishment or self-denial like this. He won't let go of his crimes. Most criminals I've dealt with have no conscience. He's the opposite. Too much conscience. I think it literally is killing him."
Viki stopped an upsurge of tears, her fear of just that coming round and hitting her smack in the face. Tim knew he wasn't helping, wasn't doing his job. But he was human, tended to be prideful, and he always found himself caring for certain patients too much.
Just then, a nurse popped her head into his office, "Dr. Graham, I heard you were here. I know you're not on call, but..." Tim had turned around and Viki saw his face change, an openness, a willingness there.
"No problem, Lauren, what can I do for you?"
"It's Darlene Bennett downstairs; she's experiencing psychotic symptoms and we really need your input. The on-call physician..." She smiled pleadingly, "isn't you."
He laughed, "Now, let's not play favorites..." The nurse gave an expression of gratefulness and went on her way. Quick steps down the hall.
"Excuse me," Tim said. "I need to go."
"Of course. I'll be in the waiting room."
"Hey...thanks for listening. We'll find him and he'll be okay. We aren't going to lose him no matter what I say when I'm...emotional."
Viki nodded and forgave him. He was not going to lose faith or hope. Dr. Graham was dedicated, no doubt. He'd put himself back within the proverbial lines. Where he belonged.
Jedediah was startled by a yell coming from upstairs. He thought he might have been dreaming, cursing himself for falling asleep. He looked at his watch and was thankful it had only been about twenty minutes. Something fell, making a thud that resonated throughout the penthouse and he realized he wasn't dreaming. Jedediah pounded up the stairs and looked up and down the unlit hall, wondering where the sounds were coming from. He saw one of the rooms had its door ajar, light seeping through the small opening.
Walking into Todd's room, Jedediah saw him clearly searching for something. Drawers were emptied, a bed comforter flipped up, a closet door flung open with its contents a wreck. Todd was exploring one last chest of drawers, clothes flying out behind him and, abruptly, he stopped, his whole body seeming to wither.
"Oh, thank god..."
Jedediah said, "What'd you find?"
Todd swung around, a small foil-wrapped packet in his hand, exposed. He jammed his hand behind his back, not even attempting to act natural. Caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He looked hopelessly… pathetic.
"None of your fuckin' business," Todd snarled.
Jedediah knew that whatever Todd held had to be taken away because in his short lifetime, he learned that anything wrapped in foil, worth upturning a room over, meant serious trouble. He walked slowly toward Todd who warned, "Stay away, kid. You go away. I told you..."
"Tell me what you have there and maybe I will."
"You don't understand. You're too young to know. Too innocent to see."
"How do you know? Maybe you don't see how I really am."
"Stop, please, you don't know..."
Jedediah didn't stop. He kept advancing and Todd started to look for a way out. A way to escape. He needed the meth. He'd waited so long for this. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He looked at Jedediah again who'd become the tormentor now.
"Tell me then. Explain." Jedediah stood a bare yard away from Todd, cornering him despite the obvious panic – the sweats, the shakes, the panting, the wide eyes.
"No," he growled. "Leave me alone, Jedediah. You gotta go. Get…get…get away from me." He stood in the middle of the mess, battling how far he was going to go. Push him, punch him, kick him? It was his boy, though. He saw the familiar eyes, the face… the kid looked like him.
"You gotta hand it over to me," Jed said firmly.
"No," Todd spat, deciding he was simply going to make a run for it, right past the kid. But Jed managed to grab him around the waist and wrestle him to the ground, Todd screaming raggedly, tears starting, the floor hard and unforgiving. He had no energy, no strength tonight. Jedediah, though, for a kid, was strong. Found himself real fast face down, arms and legs pinned. He began gasping for air, eyes on Jed's hand working Todd's fingers, trying to pry them open to get the foil packet.
Now the panic really started.
All of a sudden, it wasn't a disillusioned teen trying to prevent further damage to his crazy father, but an attacker trying to violate him, to hurt him. Todd tried to scream, tried to yell bloody fucking murder, but nothing came out except an agonized choked sound. He could feel the weight on his back, legs on his, physical force pressing him down. He gagged at the threat...bile firing up. Todd dug deep at that, really fucking deep, because nobody was ever going to do that to him again, so finally, violently, he threw the weight off him, hearing the guy grunt hard with the pain of it.
"Oh my god…"
Yeah, he hurt that guy, heard it in the noise he made… yeah, he got him away. Todd crawled away on his elbows, his arms not quite able to take his weight, the muscles still weak. His breath sawed in and out of his mouth and throat… aiming towards the bathroom, aiming someplace safe. He fought, yeah? He did, yeah? Except physical memories slammed their way front and center and he groaned at pain shooting through his core. Which he didn't understand because he got rid of the rapist… but it still hurt…. it was still hurting...
"Please...no more, no more… oh god..." He half crawled, half dragged himself towards the open door. "You're killing me… please stop…"
Jedediah had gotten the breath knocked out of him, Todd had slammed him so hard to the ground. He sat up, catching his breath, stretching his muscles to work out the pain. He saw that Todd had left the foil package behind, too messed up in his head to notice. When he finally felt the cool marble tiles of the bathroom under his hands, he lay down completely, placing his cheek on the floor and moaning softly.
"I can't fight you anymore," Todd rasped.
Jedediah unfolded the twisted package and saw that it definitely contained a chemical substance. Looked like crack, truth be told. Jesus. Not only was his father mentally ill, he was a goddamn drug addict. He rubbed his eyes and put the stuff into his jeans pocket. He almost laughed. His angel daddy was turning out to be such a PEACH. Wow. Just… WOW.
"I'm not gonna do anything to you," he grumbled. "You didn't have to go crazy on me. You just can't take this garbage. It can kill you."
"You wanna rape me again? Go ahead. I don't care anymore."
Jedediah's mouth opened in total disgust, not to mention shock. "What did you say? The hell are you..."
His words stuck in his throat when he realized Todd wasn't talking to him, but rather to someone else. Todd mumbled, "I hate you, you fucking bastard..."
Talk to me, Todd. Tell me where you are.
I don't know where I am.
Jed stared at the flattened Todd Manning. Did he say rape? You wanna rape me again? Is that what he said? He must be confusing something with what he did. His rapes. 'Cause men like him don't get raped. His dad might be crazy but he's tough. He's mean. Satan, man. He'd beat the shit out of someone who did that to him.
"What are you talking about, pops? Huh?"
Still lying on his stomach, Todd shuddered and rubbed his face against the floor. Real. This is real. He reached down and touched his jeans, running his hand down his leg. Real. I'm dressed. He pulled himself into a sitting position, facing Jedediah. Okay, okay… he was in his room at the Penthouse. And there across the floor is his kid. Jedediah. He yanked off his sweater. Ran his hands down his chest. Real. I am real. I am old, not young anymore. I am here. He touched the stiff material that wrapped his left arm. He touched the ugly cuts on the other. Oh...there they are. Healing. I'm real. I'm not there anymore. I'm here. Here in the Penthouse.
Jedediah saw the slashes, too, and the suicide attempt became soberingly real to him. Before it had been a concept, a thought, an image – to see the wounds was different – made him look at Todd the way Viki had described: a thorny demanding rose bush. Also triggered a thought that positively Mimi hadn't done anything remotely close to suicide – she was profoundly healthy and happy in comparison to this.
See me, now? Is it real now?
"What's wrong with you?" Jed asked. "Why are you so screwed up?"
Todd lifted his eyes to the boy in front of him, empty, unfocused. Tell me what you see, kiddo. It's all right. They are only memories.
"It's hard to talk about," he said softly. He was so tired.
"Try me. Start with my mother. Tell me, pops, did you rape her? Is that how I got here?"
Todd groaned at the question, looking away from Jedediah and shaking his head. Then he said, "No. But maybe...yeah...maybe you can actually say that."
But before the boy allowed the words to truly sink in, to butcher their way into the part of him that acted without thinking, Todd expanded on his rape of Michelle, his voice cracking with the memory of her and gaining strength as he moved along a dreamy pathway. "I took everything from her by loving her, by giving myself to her, by taking what she gave to me. By letting her get hurt at the end. Isn't that rape of a sort?"
Jedediah pulled back on his intended unleashing of fury, confused now, "I don't understand."
"A long time ago, we loved each other. We wanted to get married. We talked about YOU before you were you. You'd be named Jedediah, my beloved… you'd look like me. That's what your mom said." Todd smiled just a little. Looking right at Jed. And Jed knew in that moment that his father was talking to him. That his messed up pops was present and knew who he was speaking to. No hallucinations.
Todd looked down at his cut-up arms. Said softly. "But that was stupid because she was perfect and I was...I was me. And… we were only fourteen… and what were we thinking?" His voice was muted, weighed down. He appeared resigned to his illness, to his inability to pull himself out of it.
"Ok. So you didn't actually rape her. Ok."
"Not in the technical sense of it, no." He then laughed lightly, closing his eyes, tipping his head. Remembering. Chuckling softly. Dreamily. "We were...enchanted with each other. My enchanted Chant…that's what I called her. I wanted to be closer to her. As close as two people can be."
Jedediah swallowed hard, trying to picture this. Trying to imagine the love they felt. They were so young. Kids. Younger than he was now. At sixteen, he knew the raging hormones thing, but not the love thing. He'd never been in love. But he remembered how his mother talked about his angel daddy. She always said, she loved him.
It was the real thing, 'baby brother.'
"Something happened, though," Jed said. "You were together and then everything changed. That's what Kevin said. That you were this quiet kid and then… it all changed. Things changed for my mom, too. My grandparents talk about a great shift in her. It's why they moved to West V." He paused. Looked at right at Todd… hazel eyes open and needy.
"What happened?"
Todd tore himself away from that hungry gaze of his child. He grew dark again, breathed out hard. He was here, in the present, in the Penthouse. His son come to life. Oh god, how could he explain the truth to him?
"My father...Peter Manning… was a monster. He did things to me… unspeakable things… he hated me so he punished me. All I knew was hatred from him. Your mom… she showed me something else. She was the first person since MY mother… to show me love." He smiled a little, then didn't, the darkness coming back. "But she was broken, too. In her way. I never knew where her sadness came from. It was just there. A part of her. It made us kindred spirits."
Jedediah had never heard that before. But it made sense? Why people could even believe she'd commit suicide? Why so few people doubted its truth? Jed shrugged. "I don't know…"
"She rose above it, though. She did. She put on this face, this beautiful, you-can't-get-me face. I loved how she was. Everything I wasn't. I could never pretend. She made me happy. Truly, deeply… happy."
"And then it all ended."
"Yeah, it did." He whispered, his fingers spread, mimicking… fireworks, "Ended in glorious fucking bright color. One day, we had an opportunity to be alone. At my house. He wasn't supposed to come home that night. We kissed in front of a fire…" He chuckled dreamily, bitterly. "She said I was beautiful … imagine that? Me." He laughed again then didn't. The silence heavy. "She saw me undressed and said I was perfect. She touched me ... but it didn't sicken me and didn't send me into blank space. We ... made love. Right there in front of the fire. It was honest and innocent and I learned what a body could do. In a good good way."
Jedediah couldn't move, entranced. Todd was going to tell him the truth. He felt it. Knew it. Nobody ever did this for him. Everyone… always… lied.
"Everything ended that night…." Todd said, repeating Jed's words. His voice turned at that… deepening...tightening. Familiar anger and hate in it that Jed already was witness to. Satan. Now he didn't seem to be talking to Jed so much, the story just rolling off his tongue. He seemed to be there again. Watching it happen. His eyes weren't moving, just gazing into the space in front of him.
"When we were done, when we were just lying together...on this couch… this soft… flowered couch… realizing just how amazing everything was, that we wanted to do it again? I heard keys. Keys in the lock. He came through the front door. Peter Manning, my father… he came through the front door." Todd gritted his teeth. "He...uh… he d-dragged me off your mother ... and then he beat her. I tried to stop him, but he threw me down so hard I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I lay there like a dead... fish." Todd dipped his head, hair hanging. He was quiet for some long moments. When he lifted his head, the light of the room showed tears on his cheek. Rolling down his face. His eyes swam in the water…
Jedediah wiped his own face dry. He realized he was shaking.
"When he thought Michelle was out, he came after me." Todd nodded, chewed on his lip. He was quiet...
Then he said, "Peter Manning flipped me onto my belly... and raped me. He wrapped his arm around my throat… and pulled… and I can still feel it. I was dying… as he was ripping me apart. Your mom saved my life, I think. She must have moved or something because he stopped just long enough to let me take a breath. I tried to crawl away in that little moment, but he got me again. He was too big, too strong." Todd smiled, so sadly… "I was just a kid. So he got back to it. Made sure… to finish."
Todd adjusted himself on the floor, feeling the stickiness and blood and the breathing of Peter on him. He closed his eyes, his face full of disgust and revulsion. "When he was done and the blood cleared from my vision… when the blackness cleared… that was when I saw her… so scared… staring at me from that fucking flowered couch. She saw everything. She picked up her clothes and ran out the door. Forever changed. Forever lost. My life was over."
Jedediah and Todd sat quietly in the breaking light coming through the blinds and lightening the room. Jedediah fought the tears. Fought the easy ability to throw up. Jesus… CHRIST. It was too much, too hard… he could not imagine where his mother must have been in HER head… and then to learn she was pregnant. He eyed his father… lost… staring at his hands, at the cuts.
This is real. This is why you are what you are. You were physically and sexually abused and to boot you were raped in front of a great love. And then you turned around and made sure to punish as many people as you could for it. You learned to hate as bitterly as Peter Manning did.
Jedediah stood up and walked over to Todd who now gazed up at him. Jed said softly, "Thank you for telling me the truth. Everyone has been so quiet. Trying to protect you, probably, trying to protect me… maybe." He stretched his hand out to his father. "Let me help you up. Maybe you should sleep."
"I can't. He'll come for me. Peter will come."
"I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."
"You can't stop him. You're just a kid. He'll roll right over you, you have no idea."
"Todd, I have an idea. I understand a little of what you've been fighting so let me watch over you until someone can come. I'll wake you up if Peter's the one to show and you'll take care of him. You'll finish him off. I won't have to."
After a long moment, Todd slowly gave Jedediah his hand and let himself be helped up. Once on his feet, he felt his legs giving way, but his son caught him and helped him to the bed, where Todd collapsed heavily, mumbling, "I can't ... I can't ..." As he began to fall asleep against his will, against all the fight he had left in him, he murmured, "Call Tim ... tell him where we are..."
Jedediah swallowed hard and looked at this person whom he now understood a little more about, sleeping quite deeply already, clearly taken beyond a point of mere tiredness. Jed was utterly broken-hearted. The experience beyond words.
"I'll try to be more patient with you like your sister wanted," he said. "I promise. But unlike my mom… I'm not perfect." He picked up the phone and dialed the only number he knew.
"Cassie, this is Jed. Todd and I are at his Penthouse...can you call Dr. Graham?"
To be continued...