Just as the body goes into shock after a physical trauma, so does the human psyche go into shock after the impact of a major loss.
Anne Grant
Finn and I were released from the hospital the next day, as soon as Dad and Carole got in. I left much the same as I had arrived, while Finn got to go home with a prescription for antibiotics and a list of psychiatric referrals. No one had come right out and said to take him as soon as possible, but no one would meet our eyes when Carole asked if it wasn't better to just give him some time.
It wasn't exactly the reunion that any of us had expected, or hoped for, for the past few months. In my dreams, the police brought Finn home from wherever he had been, and he rushed to, telling us how sorry he was that he had gotten lost like he had, and promising to never leave our sight again.
The reality was that Finn leapt out of the bed and thrown himself into Carole's arms, sobbing brokenly but silently. With a strength I hadn't thought she possessed, she lifted him into the chair and rocked him gently, muttering soothingly and telling him over and over how much she loved him. I went to Dad, and while he sat down next to me on the bed with his arm around my shoulders, I couldn't help but feel a little jealous of Finn.
"You did a good job, Kurt. You did everything right and we couldn't have done it better." The unexpected compliment brought tears to my eyes and suddenly all four of us were crying and I honestly couldn't tell if it was because we were happy or sad or both.
Once everything had settled down, Dad put a hand out to pat Finn's shoulder. "I'm glad to see you again, kid."
His hand never connected. As soon as Finn saw him reaching forward, he threw himself back against Carole, burying his face in her shoulder and starting to shake. Dad put his hand down instantly. "Ok, I won't touch you. I've missed you very much." His voice was hurt, and if I could pick up on it, I knew that Finn could, too.
Carole attempted to salvage the moment. "It's ok, Finn, it's only Burt. You know who Burt is." She glanced at Dad over Finn's head. "I'm sorry, Burt, I think we're all a little out of sorts tonight. Things will be better once we've all had a chance to get used to sleeping in our own beds again.
Only it hadn't happened that way. Finn had now been home an entire two and a half weeks, and he didn't seem much different from when I found him sitting on the porch. He still didn't talk, he barely slept and he either devoured everything he was offered to eat without regard to table manners, or refused it entirely. There was no rhyme or reason to what he would or wouldn't eat, and it was wearing us all down. Two nights ago Carole made three different dinners, and he still went to bed hungry. After that, Dad had put his foot down and said that Finn could either eat with the family or not at all, but it was ridiculous for her to act like a short order cook. No normal teenage boy would willingly starve himself to death.
This, naturally, led to a massive fight, which they held behind closed doors in whispers, and Finn and I heard anyway through the vent in the bathroom. I had tried to shoo him from the room, so I could eavesdrop by myself, but he had remained stubbornly glued to my side.
The gist of the fight was that we were supposed to be making things as normal as possible for Finn, and Carole running herself ragged to cater to his whims wasn't normal. She countered that Finn needed to eat to survive, and he would start eating normally soon. This was something that she could do for him, at a time when it didn't seem like she could do anything else. I noticed that neither one of them said what they had to be secretly thinking, which was that Finn wasn't normal these days, and nothing else could possibly be.
I had been convinced that that would be the end of them, and that Finn and Carole would be living in their own house by the next day, and, from the look in his eyes, Finn felt the same way. Just a few months ago, I would have been able to read the worry in his entire face, but now I had to go off of the slight color change in his irises. Somewhere along the line, Finn had learned how to close off his face.
But that didn't happen either. The fight got quieter and quieter until we couldn't hear anything at all. When they finally emerged, it was impossible to tell that they had ever been at odds. It was an impressive show, but it only served to make me wonder what else they might be trying to hide from us.
The only thing that had changed for the better was that he seemed to have lost his fear of me. We were still sharing a bedroom, and he went downstairs at night without complaining. He still dressed and undressed in the bathroom, though he made no effort to put the screen up between us.
You know why he's not scared of you any more? Because he's found out what sexual harassment really is, and he knows that was you did wasn't the same. Actually, I would guess that he knows a lot more about harassment, and sex period then he should.
Deep down, I knew that. But I was afraid to push Finn, especially since it had gone over so poorly before. So I ignored that voice as best I could and let Finn do as he pleased.
Just because he started out in our shared bedroom, it didn't mean he would stay there. Sometimes he would fall asleep, sometimes not, but he would always get up and go upstairs before midnight. Every morning I got up and found him on the couch, watching a movie. Or, more accurately, he was staring at the menu screen of a DVD. I couldn't tell if he had fallen asleep watching the movie and woken up when I came up the stairs, or if he had spent all night staring at the menu. He would much rather stay awake until Carole got home from work, then sleep in her and Dad's room while she watched over him.
The normal thing to do would have been to call him on it, but, like I've said, there isn't much normal in our house these days. Instead I would make us some breakfast, then sit down with him and watch the movie. This was how I found out that there were three American Pie movies, four Scary Movie movies, and about a million episodes of South Park. Dear God, no wonder Finn acted like he didn't have any brains. They had all been rotted out by this drivel.
Then I came down this morning and found that he had raided my DVD shelf and was watching My Fair Lady instead. Finn was sitting quietly, watching Eliza dance across the menu screen without any discernable expression. "Musicals, Finn?"
He grinned at me and patted the couch next to his leg. My heart stuttered and almost stopped. Finn Hudson wanted me to sit with him. Finn Hudson wanted me to sit with him and watch a movie. Backtracking from there, it was logical assumption that Finn had chosen the movie for me, since he would generally rather stab himself in the eye then watch a classic.
Don't get your hopes up. Neither one of us knows what's going on in Finn's brain right now, but I'm guessing that flirting with you isn't high on his list of plans. Maybe he chose the movie deliberately, but if he did, it was a friendly gesture, rather then a romantic one. Plus, this is Finn we're talking about. He probably thought My Fair Lady was about insane Carnies chasing a girl with huge tits and a distinct lack of smarts.
Why did that voice have to ruin every good moment I ever had? Yes, I was fully aware that Finn wasn't making romantic overtures at me, but he was acknowledging that I existed, which was more then he was giving Dad. Well, I guessed vanishing from the room every time Dad entered it was acknowledging him, if you wanted to be picky, but Finn was showing that he knew I had preferences different from his own and being willing to accommodate that.
I made us some cereal (Lucky Charms for Finn, Museli for me, something that made his nose wrinkle). "Do you even want to know what that processed sugar is doing to your colon?"
He made a confused face and held out his hands. Carole had bought him a pad of paper that he could use to write out things he wanted or needed, but Finn was forever losing it or just plain refusing to write things. Still, he was pretty good at acting things out. "Your colon? It's the lowest part of your intestines. With the amount of sugary crap you're throwing into it, I predict that it will be another few weeks before it falls right out of your rectum."
Finn apparently did know what a rectum was, because his eyes widened and he cocked his head, making that face he always made when he was trying to figure out if I was serious or not. Then he gave me a goofy grin and shook his head, telling me that he knew I was bullshitting him. "Not much gets past you, huh?"
He chuckled without making even the smallest noise, then started the movie. That was something else I had noticed about Finn since he came back. It wasn't just that he didn't talk; it was that he didn't make noise at all. Not when he laughed, not when he cried, not even to try and get our attention. His silence was so total that he had been referred to the Cleveland Clinic for more tests to see if he had a physical problem. He didn't, though it had taken both Carole and Dad to physically drag him out of the house and into the car, and he barfed twice on the ride because he was so stressed out. It hurt all of us, to see him so scared, but not be able to do anything to help him.
That had finally broken Carole down, and she had made an appointment for Finn to be seen in two days by a therapist who apparently specialized in teens with mutism problems. I had had no idea that there were enough of them to warrant a specialty.
I let the movie play for a few minutes before cautiously speaking. "Finn?" He looked over, the question in his eyes. "I wanted to give you the heads up that Mercedes and Tina are coming over this afternoon. We've been planning a mani/pedi and movie date for three weeks, but we can change it if you're uncomfortable. I mean, we could order you a pizza and you could stay downstairs if you wanted and-"
Wrong comment. Finn jumped backwards, drenching both of us with oversugared milk from his cereal, as he scooted to the other end of the couch. His head shook back and forth so hard that I was afraid that he was going to hurt himself. I mentally reran my last statement, trying to figure out what the problem was. "Finn! Chill!" Was it that he didn't want Tina and Mercedes around? He had refused to see anyone outside of the family since he had been back. "I'll make them leave you alone. They don't even have to see you if you don't want them to."
That didn't help. Now he was shaking violently and starting to wheeze. If I didn't do something quickly, he was going to have a panic attack, just like I had had at the hospital. But how could I help him if I couldn't figure out what was wrong?
You know what's wrong. Let me say your words back to you, exactly how they sounded to him. Finn, I'm having company over, but you need to say out of sight. I'll allow you to eat, but you're going to stay in the basement the entire time. You are not allowed to be seen. I'm hiding you away somewhere where no one that you know will be able to see you. Do you get it now?
Yes, I got it now. I reached out and wrapped my arms around Finn's shaking body. "Easy, Cowboy. Be calm, you don't have to go downstairs if you don't want to. If you like, you can even join us. What color do you prefer for your nails? Pink would look nice with your skin. Or, if you wanted to go for drama, silver is very in this season." I kept talking, keeping my voice as calm as possible, and Finn started to relax. "No reason to freak out, but you're probably going to want to be out of your pajamas when they get here."
He cautiously eased back down, making sure to avoid the wet spot from where he had spilled milk. That probably should have been my cue to let him go, but he didn't make any move to pull away. I rubbed his back with my free hand, feeling his heart race against my fingers. "Calm now."
I was surprised at how easily he accepted my touch. Then again, Finn had always liked to snuggle and be touched, and his options were limited these days especially since he wouldn't let Dad get within ten feet of him. Actually, I could remember him letting me do this before, back when we still thought the baby was his. Of course, that he been before everything happened between us, though he had yet to give any indication that he wanted to discuss that further. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
That voice started singing in the back of my mind, cheerfully rambling on to the theme of the Mickey Mouse Club. D-E-N! I-A-L! Let's call it denial! If he lets himself remember how things ended with the pair of you, that means that the only person in the house he can trust is Carole. He has to do this, to block out the fact that he was afraid of you, or he's not going to survive.
Still, the patting seemed to help, and his head lolled back. I kept rubbing, my eyes staying on the screen so I wouldn't have to look at Finn. His breathing slowed and his heartbeat gradually became normal again. We were three songs in before I gathered the courage to look over again. He was calm for the moment, but he might freak out later. Finn was unpredictable since he had reappeared (actually, he had been a little unpredictable before, too).
When I finally looked, I got another surprise. Finn was nearly asleep; his chin slumped down to his chest. For the first time since he came home, he actually looked relaxed. I eased my hand down and just looked at him for a minute. Finn's skin isn't as pale as mine, and his tan made it even darker, but I could still see the dark circles underneath his eyes. Catching a few hours of sleep after Carole came home, added to the hour or two he spend sleeping in our shared room still didn't add up to much. Four hours, five tops. Before he had vanished he had needed 9 hours or he was crabby and bitchy. He wasn't crabby now, though, he just kept getting more and more detached. We were losing him, even though we had barely found him.
I would have liked nothing more then to just let him rest, but we were running out of time. "Finn? Hey, Finn?"
He looked blearily at me, one eyebrow rising slightly. "Why don't you go down and take the first shower? Then you'll have plenty of hot water and you won't have to rush because I took too long. I'll stay up here, so you can leave both doors open."
That was another new thing with Finn. Whereas before he never minded crawling around under the bed or hiding in the closet to jump out and startle me, he had become extremely claustrophobic now. He wouldn't even go in the closet (which meant that his clothes were all over the dresser and floor and it just made me want to cry) and he insisted on all the doors being open at all times. This tended to get sticky, as his new worries included both the bathroom and shower doors as well as the one at the top of the stairs. It wouldn't have been that long ago that I would have been thrilled at the thought of getting to see Finn take a shower, but that time was over. Almost. Ok, I still kind of wanted to see him in the shower, but I knew it wasn't in either of our best interests.
It had taken two days of fighting (both of us- me yelling and him gesturing frantically), tears (him), and raging temper tantrums (me) before we managed to come to an agreement of sorts. The bathroom door could be open no more then 5 inches, because there was no toilet cubicle and there were just things we did not need to see each other doing, the light in there always had to be on, even at night, though it was ok for the door to be completely closed then, and the door at the top of the stairs had to open at least half way at all times. As far as the shower door went, I had just given in and gotten used to the floor being wet after he showered. It was a small price to pay to have Finn back, no matter how many times I almost slipped on the sopping floor because he hadn't cleaned up the water like he had promised he would. At least I thought that that had been what he was promising. I was planning on getting him a sign language book later this week, just so we could at least go over the basics together. Of course, this therapist might have him talking by then, so maybe it would be a moot point.
Bullfrogs. Wings.
That voice had a point. It had taken Finn four months to get in this condition, and it was foolish to think that he would be better in just a few days. I forced a smile, even though I knew that Finn wasn't fooled by it. "Ok?"
Thumbs up. He slid off the couch, picking up both bowls and taking them to the kitchen. He hadn't been so tidy before, so there was at least one positive change in him. "They'll be here at one, so ready before then. If you change your mind about seeing them, it's fine."
His head shook firmly. "Ok, but I'm coming down there in a half hour, so you better be decent."
Finn's a speed demon in the shower, which I guess is easy when you don't even know what conditioner is, much less things like exfoliants and moisturizer and toner. Damn the fact that he was still stunning without any of that.
On the other hand, Finn wasn't deaf. He wasn't autistic or otherwise unaware of the world around him. When the mood struck him, he could actually be quite communicative, especially when there was something in it for him. If anything he was more aware of us then he had been before, always keeping one eye on the action. I just…I wanted him to be Finn again.
He's back, I kind of think you got one miracle there. How many do you think you should be allowed?
I guess I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. So instead of sulking, I picked up the phone and dialed Mercedes. "Hey, Gorgeous Girl."
"Hi, Baby, we still on for today? You would not believe how terrible my nails look."
"Of course we are. I just wanted to talk to you about Finn." I did my best to make my voice strong and calm, like it was totally normal to have to warn people how to behave around my newly crazy brother.
"How is he? He talking yet?" She didn't sound hopeful. After all, she had been getting almost hourly updates since Finn came home, just so I could talk to someone who was one step removed from the madness. Though, with as much as she had to listen to me complain about things, she was entrenched almost as deeply as we were.
"No." My voice cracked and I took a minute to steady it. "He's….I guess he's doing alright. He's interacting with me a little more, not clinging to Carole as much. It's just…I though that things would be better when he got back, but they're not. And he doesn't mop up the bathroom floor!" The last part was the least important, but somehow it just summed everything up and my voice shot up an octave.
"Make him go back and mop it. It doesn't sound like he's gone stupid, just a little bit crazy and a lot lazy. You can't make him talk, it's not possible. And if he's as panicky about being shut in as you say he is, it's not right to force him to close the doors, but he can clean water off the floor just fine."
Easy for her to say. Even though everyone kept telling us to treat Finn as normally as possible, it was hard. Yes, I wanted the old Finn back, but every time I got ready to yell at him, or make him do something, I remembered how close we had come to not having him at all. Then I thought about everything he had been through, and I just couldn't bring myself to push.
Not that any of us actually knew what he had been through, though. The first night he had been back I had tiptoed over to his bed and softly whispered that he could tell me anything, that I would listen and wouldn't tell our parents or anyone else, even Mercedes. He had shrugged and looked down at the blankets, so I had backed off, telling him that the offer stood at any time. He had blocked Carole out as well, so maybe it was a good thing that he was going into therapy. Maybe he would be more comfortable with someone outside of the family.
There were a few things we did know. Finn had tested negative for all STI's, which meant he could discontinue the antibiotics. That didn't rule out that he had been abused or molested, but at least he was physically healthy. His wrists were less tender and the worst of the bruising had gone away. They were still an amazing variety of colors, but at least the total blackness was gone.
The neighbor who was supposed to be watching the house filled in another piece of the puzzle. The day before we found Finn, she had seen a strange white SUV turn around in our driveway. That wasn't unusual, considering that we were close to the end of a poorly marked dead end street, and people were forever turning around in our driveway. But the man who had taken Finn drove a white SUV and hadn't been seen in New Mexico recently. Had he known that he was in trouble, and thus brought Finn home? Or had it just been another lost person, trying to get back to a main road?
If it had been Finn's captor returning him, and there didn't seem to be any other way for him to have gotten home, then Finn had been sitting on our front steps for almost 24 hours, scared and unable to find his family in the one place that we all should have been. Dad had made me sit in a few different places on the porch, and, if Finn had been quiet and very still, the bushes and shadows of the porch would have effectively shielded him from our neighbors.
He must have been terrified. He probably thought that you three had moved away or been eaten by dragons or one of his other strange thoughts and that he was alone in the world. Poor guy.
I didn't like thinking about that, because it made my heart clench so hard. I had been up late gossiping with Mercedes and hanging out by the pool with fruity cocktails while Finn had been sitting on the porch, injured and scared.
"Hello!" Mercedes sounded pissed and I realized that I had drifted off in the middle of the conversation. "If you aren't going to listen to my suggestions, don't ask for them."
"Sorry. I just…I know I should make him do it, but I just can't force him right now. I get pissed, but then I look at him and I think that, with everything he's been through, I really shouldn't be so upset about a little water."
She huffed. "Ok, look at it this way. The longer you pussyfoot around Finn, and don't make him pull his weight in the house, and make him special meals and give in to his every whim, the more you make him feel like there really is something wrong with him. That he has to be babied and coddled because he's damaged in some way. He's not going to act normal until someone tries to treat him normal."
I could see the logic in that. Was our trying to help Finn just making him worse? "I guess so. You just don't see the way he looks at us, though. He acts like Dad is going to kill him. Not just that he's uncomfortable with him, that he actually thinks Dad will do him physical harm. It's just sad."
"It is sad, but it has nothing to do with you, him, and the floor. Tell him to clean it up, or this is going to end up escalating in your mind until you freak out on him. Then it really will turn ugly." Her voice became perky again. "Now that I've solved your family problems for you, why did you call?"
God, things sounded easy when she put them that way. "I'm just wanted to give you the heads up on Finn, now that he's in the bathroom and can't overhear us. Now that he doesn't talk, he's freakishly quiet. You can pass everything on to Tina."
The line was quiet for a minute, long enough that I thought I had lost the connection. I was about to say something lese when she spoke again. "Is he really that bad, Kurt?"
"Yes. No. I don't know. I mean…just; however he acts, no matter how strange, could you not make a big deal out of it? You're the first people he's seen outside of the family, other then doctors, and I want it to go well."
"Act like White Boy is fine, even if he's being a freak, got it. Honestly, Kurt, Tina and I know how to handle the crazy. Besides, he's still Finn and we missed him, too."
I hadn't really thought about that. On one level, I had known that the rest of the Glee club had lost Finn too, but things were so bad in our family that I hadn't really thought about it. "Thanks Mercedes, you're the best. Oh, and don't say anything about Puck under any circumstances. The doctors said not to bring it up until he does."
"I'll tell Tina. Listen, my sister's bugging me to make some breakfast, so I need to go. I'll see you in a little bit."
I wanted her to stay on the line, to tell me everything I needed to know about taking care of Finn, because I obviously couldn't figure it out for myself, but I just whispered a goodbye and hung up. It hadn't quite been a half hour, but I went to the top of the stairs anyway and called down. "Are you finished?"
There was an enthusiastic series of thumps on the wall, Finn's own version of Morse code. That meant he was out of the shower and decent, so I came down. Finn was dressed in jeans and a long sleeved shirt, his feet bare, rummaging around under his bed, his body pressed as far back as possible, so he wouldn't actually have to go under there. "What are you looking for?"
He jumped, then shot me a guilty look, almost like I had caught him doing something wrong. Our staring contest went on for a few seconds before I shrugged. "Question withdrawn. Though if it was your porn, it's hidden in my closet. I didn't want you mother to see it."
I must have been pretty good at interpreting Finn after all, because he gave me a big grin and jumped up to hug me. He mouthed a 'thank you' at me, but of course didn't speak. "No problem, but I do not ever, ever, want even the slightest inkling of what you and that porn do together, ok?"
He gave me a long, searching look, then smiled. Only it wasn't like his normal smile. It was a sneaky quirk of his lips, and it made me wonder just what he was planning. Then he gestured to the closet. I was tempted to tell him to go get it himself, but decided I had upset him enough for one day. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get it. Can I touch those boxes without gloves and an immediate need to sterilize my hands?"
A nod that I wasn't 100% sure I believed. I retrieved the two boxes, noticing the way Finn set one carelessly on his bed, then tenderly cradled the other, setting it in his lap and carefully picking the tape off. I hovered, not sure if he wanted me to leave, or even if he really remembered that I was there. In the end I stayed, because…well, I guess because I was nosy.
And because you love him.
There wasn't much I could say to that, since I knew that it was true. I wasn't over Finn, I would never be over Finn, and he was barely aware that I existed.
Barely aware is still aware. And anyway, he's more then barely aware. Right at the moment, you're the second most important person to him, after Carole.
The voice in the back of my head is schizophrenic. Before Finn left, all I had heard was 'leave Finn alone' and 'you're acting like a stalker creep'. Now it was all lovey and 'oh, Kurt, you're important to Finn' and 'you love him, don't you?' What was I supposed to think?
Things are different now. He's different, you're different, everything is different. What was right then isn't right now.
I was drawn back to reality by the soft jingle of music notes. Finn had removed a music box from the box, so small that it fit easily in his hands. The lid was raised and it played a soft song that I was able to instantly place. He pointed at me, and I softly sang a few bars, keeping time with the chiming notes.
Why do birds suddenly appear
Every time, you are near?
Just like me, they long to be
Close to you
Those were the only lyrics I knew for sure, but Finn didn't seem to mind the repetition as he rewound the box a few more times. Finally he let it run down, and I realized that I had somehow sat next to him on the bed. "Where did it come from?"
He closed the lid and tipped the box up so I could see the names carved into the front. Carole and Christopher, April 5th 1994. "Christopher was your Dad?"
A quick nod and he reopened the lid to show me the two wedding rings and set of dog tags inside. He picked the rings up, the gold looking comically tiny in his huge hand. "She doesn't wear it any more?"
The question was too intrusive and I knew it, but Finn didn't really react. He shook the rings lightly and put them back on the velvet. Then he looked at me and started to gesture. He nodded, then pointed upstairs, then shook his head and pointed back at the rings. "I have no idea what you're trying to tell me."
He bit his lip in frustration, then reopened the box. He pointed at me, then his mother's name. I interrupted his gestures to make sure I understood. "Ok, I'm your Mom?"
A quick thumbs up while he reach back inside. He came up with the smaller ring and slid it on my pinky finger. "She used to wear it. You remember her wearing it, even." The intimacy of the gesture nearly took my breath away. I'm sure that Finn didn't even consider what he was doing or how it might look when he put a ring on my finger.
That's a good thing, honey. It means he's seeing you less as 'Oh my God, gay!' and more just as Kurt, who happens to be gay. He's not planning his every move based on how you might take it.
Finn, naturally, was completely unaware of my inner monologue as he nodded, then sat back for a minute, clearly contemplating how to express himself next. Then he stood and walked over to my side of the room, picking up a picture off the dresser and bringing it back. It was one of the last that had my mother in it, with the three of us sitting outside the house. Finn pointed to my father, then used one finger to draw a circle around the house. Then his hand was back on mine and he took the ring off, returning it to its rightful place with his fathers. I reran the sequence in my mind and made a good guess. "She wore it until my father came along, and then you moved in here. After she got serious with Dad enough to move in, she took the ring off, and she gave the box and both rings to you."
I could always tell when I had gotten it right, because Finn's entire face would light up with happiness. It was one of the only genuine emotions I had seen from him this past week, and it thrilled me every time. For once, I was doing something for Finn that no one else could. Carole tried, but, while she understood a lot of what Finn wanted by instinct, she didn't read his gestures as well as I did.
The box closed, and Finn put it next to his bed. Almost at the same moment, the doorbell rang. Could the girls really be this early? I hadn't even showered, much less put on my face, but I also couldn't send Finn up there by himself. We both looked up and my phone started buzzing. I picked it up. Kurt- Tina has to go to the doctor later, so we came early. Let us in!
I took a deep breath and tried to sound cheery. "Well Finn, they're here. You ready?"
Please let this go well.