Your Voice Is All I Hear Page 11

  “Where are you going? I’m not finished talking to you.”

  “Well, I’m finished talking to you!”

  “April, stop this stupid tantrum and listen to me. I’ve been quiet long enough. But I have to tell you when you’re making a mistake. Look, I understand what you’re going through…”

  “Oh, I bet you do!” I wheeled about to face her again. “Remind me, when your family was pressuring you to turn against my father, what did you do?”

  She gasped as if I’d punched her. We’d always had an unspoken agreement that I would never mention the family she’d lost. I’d never broken that silence, because I didn’t want to hurt her. But in that moment, I didn’t care.

  I fled the house before she could speak again. She called me as I was nearing Jonah’s house. I stared at the phone, then pressed reject, and walked up to the door.

  There was no answer to my knock. I peeked in through the open shades. The main level was quiet, but a faint sound of music drifted down from the upstairs window. I put my hand on the doorknob and turned; it was unlocked, and the door creaked open. I laid Jonah’s math assignment on the dining room table and shouted his name. He didn’t reply, but as I climbed the stairs, the beat of a U2 song echoed in the hallway.

  I’d lifted my hand to knock when Jonah’s voice came booming out from behind the bedroom door. He was screaming at someone inside. “I won’t listen to you anymore!” he yelled. “Please, just leave me alone!”

  There was a short pause, the familiar, rhythmic drum of his boxing glove slamming into the punching bag, and then another cry. “I won’t do it! I won’t! Just burn in hell! I don’t believe you!”

  More thumping sounds and then a string of curses—ugly, hateful words, a wailing torrent of abuse. I’d never heard him swear like that. Who could he be cursing at? I didn’t hear anyone else in the room. Was he on his phone? And if he was, how was he holding up the cell and beating the bag so frantically at the same time?

  Then the screaming faded; there was a pitiful sobbing, the dull thud of a body collapsing to the ground. I wavered uncertainly in the hall for a minute and then placed my ear against the door. “Please, God, I can’t,” he pleaded. “I can’t, I can’t. Please, make them go away. Please just make them stop.”

  This last sound was much worse than the frantic screaming; I couldn’t stand to listen anymore. I tapped softly on the door and called his name.

  There was a brief silence and then the shuffle of footsteps. Jonah threw open the door and stared blankly at me. He looked awful; his hair was mussed and damp, his face was streaked with sweat, and his knuckles were torn and bleeding. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

  “Jonah,” I began hesitantly. “I came by to bring you your homework—”

  He didn’t let me finish. With a rough gesture, he took my arm and pulled me into the room, then grabbed his cell phone off the desk and pressed it into my hand. “Take it away,” he begged. “Take the damn thing away. I don’t want to see it anymore.”

  Without a word, I slipped his phone into my pocket and took his swollen fingers in mine. He allowed me to lead him to his bed, and without protest, he lay back limply on the pillow that I placed beneath his head. I picked up a towel from the floor and moistened it with water from the bathroom sink, then carefully wrapped his bleeding hand. He shivered when I tried to wash the crusted blood away. I suddenly realized how cold it was; he’d left the window open, and the frosty December air had chilled the room. He was only wearing a light T-shirt and boxers, even though his hands were icy and his fingernails were blue. I shut the window, pulled an extra comforter from the closet, and covered him, then ran the wet washcloth over his forehead and smoothed his tangled curls. He turned to face the wall and closed his eyes.

  I watched him for a little while and thought about what I’d heard. Could that have been his father on the phone? Katie had mentioned an awful scene between her father and brother and complained that they hadn’t spoken to each other since. But besides the brief discussion about his dad’s portrait, Jonah had never spoken about his dad, and I’d never pressed him for an explanation. What could Dr. Golden have done to make him scream that way? I’d never even heard Jonah raise his voice before. And I couldn’t imagine talking like that to my parents, no matter how furious I was. It wasn’t just an average yelling match; Jonah had been violently abusive, in a way that actually frightened me.

  There was a distant rumble of a car engine and the sound of the front door opening below. Lady barked, and Katie’s chirping voice echoed through the house. I was strangely relieved that they were home; for the first time in our relationship, I was actually afraid to be alone with Jonah. He’d never been anything but gentle with me, but the person I’d heard swearing into the phone was a stranger. I needed to understand this better. I had to ask his mom about Jonah’s history with his father.

  But then I realized there was an easier way. I held the answer in my pocket; Jonah had handed me his phone. I crept out into the hallway, closed the door behind me, pulled out his cell, and clicked on “call history.”

  I expected to find a call from his father. I was actually hoping for it, because at least that would have made some sense. A screaming match with his dad, some bully from his past, even a call from an old girlfriend would have been okay. Anything would have been better than what I found.

  The phone’s log showed nothing. He had not dialed a number or received a call from anyone that day.

  Chapter 20

  How could I talk to Jonah’s mom now? How could I reveal what I’d just discovered without worrying her even more? And wouldn’t that be the worst betrayal of all—to poke around his phone list and then report my findings to his mom? And yet, what else could I do? Was I really protecting him by watching silently while he suffered? Was my mother right? Could he really get worse? I remembered seeing a movie where a kid collapsed and died of a bleeding brain tumor in front of his family. Before he died, he’d gone through a strange personality change. What if we were ignoring something serious that could really hurt Jonah in the end?

  I’d made up my mind by the time I walked down the stairs. Jonah’s mom was putting away some groceries when I came into the kitchen. She looked up and waved at me, but her smile faded when she saw the expression on my face.

  “Mrs. Golden,” I told her. “I think Jonah needs to see a doctor.”

  She bowed her head and leaned against the breakfast counter. “I’ve been trying to convince him. But I can’t drag him kicking and screaming to the pediatrician.”

  “Let me talk to him. I’ll do my best to make him understand.”

  She hesitated briefly and took my hand. “April, I know that you care about him and that you’re only trying to protect him, but you would tell me, wouldn’t you? You would tell me if he was doing something—if he was into something—unhealthy…”

  “It isn’t drugs,” I assured her quickly.

  She nodded. “I just don’t know what else to think. He’s never acted like this before. I used to brag to all my friends about what an easy kid he was. Even when that tragedy with Ricky happened, he was still my sweet and thoughtful boy. But he took it so hard. I thought that moving away from Boston would be best for him. To put some distance—”

  She paused uncertainly and looked up at the stairs. A door slammed above us, and there was the sound of footsteps. Jonah came into the kitchen and glanced up at the clock, then gave me a bewildered look.

  “What—what day is it?” he asked.

  “It’s Friday. You’ve only been asleep for a few minutes.”

  He looked relieved. “Well, I feel better anyway. Is there something to eat? I’m starving.”

  His mother grabbed her purse from the counter. “I was thinking of getting takeout. I’ll go to the Chinese place you like around the corner. How does a plate of lo mein sound?”

  Sh
e took our orders and bustled purposefully out of the house, throwing me a grateful smile as she went. She was obviously hoping that I’d talk to Jonah right away. But I was dreading our conversation. I didn’t know how long Mrs. Golden would be out though, so I couldn’t waste any time.

  “Jonah, can we talk?” I asked him.

  He gave me a frightened look and sank down into a chair beside me. I hesitated for a moment, unsure about how to begin, but after a minute of silence, Jonah spoke up first. “I know what you’re going to say,” he said in a resigned voice. “And I understand. You don’t have to spell it out for me.” He was sitting with his head down, like a guilty convict about to receive his sentence, and his hands were shaking in his lap. “Just go, okay?” he begged me. “I can’t listen to the speech about staying friends right now. Please, just spare me that.”

  Of course he’d jumped to that conclusion, I thought miserably. I hadn’t even begun, and already I’d managed to screw this up. “How can you think that I was going to break up with you?” I asked him. “I just want to ask you for a favor. Really, I promise.”

  He looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed and full, and my throat contracted painfully. Oh God, how could I go through with this? How could I go on when he already looked so hurt?

  “I love you,” I told him. “But the truth is that I’m scared to be with you sometimes. I’m scared of what might happen.”

  He stared silently at me for a moment. Then he shook his head and his eyes grew dark. “Hold on, what do you mean?” he asked me. “Do you really think that I could ever hurt you? I’ve been going through a rough time, but I have never, I would never…”

  “No, no, that isn’t what I meant!” I paused, speechless with frustration. With each sentence, I seemed to be making it worse. I had to change course quickly or I’d lose my chance. Acting on instinct, without a real plan in mind, I went over and put my arms around him. “Jonah,” I began in a low voice. “I am scared, just like I told you. I’ve been reading about depression, and I’ve been finding some terrible things online. There was this case of a guy who ignored his symptoms until it was too late, and they found that he had a tumor and it made him have a seizure, and he got really sick…” I swallowed and felt the tears start in my eyes. I no longer knew what I was saying. I was making this stuff up as I went along, but somehow it was affecting me anyway. “Last year, I saw Ms. Lowry have a seizure,” I continued. “No one in the class knew what to do, and she almost died in front of us. I’m worried that something like that will happen to you too, that I’ll be standing there helpless while you—” I broke off again and dropped my head. He was looking at me with such pained concern that I felt guilty for my dramatic lying.

  “Okay, I’ll go,” he told me before I could speak again. “I’ll tell my mom to call for an appointment.”

  I stared at him. “You will? Really?”

  He nodded. “If it will make you feel better.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I’d gotten exactly what I wanted, and it hadn’t even been that hard. So why didn’t I feel relieved? Why did I suddenly regret what I had done?

  “But, April, would you come with me?” he asked timidly. “I really don’t want to go alone. I don’t trust them. I don’t trust their pills and brain probes and magnetic scans. I don’t know what they’ll try to do to me, but if I know that you’re on my side, that you’ll stand by me, then I can go through with it.”

  And so I promised him, of course, and the next day, my mom set up an appointment with Dr. Steiner.

  Chapter 21

  Texting Kris had become a chore. She sent me messages almost every day, but I was finding it harder and harder to come up with things to tell her. I wanted so much to brag about my gorgeous, talented boyfriend. But I found myself deleting most of the messages I started. It would have been easy enough to gush about the painting Jonah had done of me. But what would I say when she asked to see it? Sorry, Kris, I promised him I wouldn’t show it to anyone, not even my mom.

  I couldn’t say that—so I didn’t mention the portrait hidden in my closet.

  Falling in love with Jonah meant protecting him from everybody’s judgment. So I automatically filtered out the strange and scary whenever I spoke of our relationship, even to Kris. Recently though, every day with Jonah had needed “sanitizing” before I could talk about it.

  And that evening when Kris told me that someone named Danny had asked her out, I responded with eating dinner at the Goldens’ tonight. Can’t wait to hear about your date! And the next day, going to the doctor tomorrow, Jonah isn’t feeling well.

  When she asked me why I was going with him, I snapped back, Because that’s what a girlfriend does when her boyfriend is sick.

  She replied, Why? Can’t his mom take him?

  That’s when I stopped texting her.

  On the day of the doctor’s visit, I came by as soon as school was out. “I’m glad you’re early,” Jonah told me when I walked into his room. “I want to give you your Hanukkah present before we go.”

  It was a sweet gesture, even though Hanukkah was actually several days away, and I hadn’t bought his present yet. He reached behind his pillow and pulled out a small thin package, wrapped in colorful menorah paper. I tore it open, and a dark wool beret fell into my lap.

  “A hat?” I asked with a bemused smile. “It’s very pretty, thank you.”

  “I need you to wear it to the doctor’s office,” he told me seriously.

  I should have asked him what he meant, I guess. But he looked so grave and firm that I didn’t question the request. As I slipped the beret over my hair, there was a sound like rustling paper, and a smooth, cool strip brushed against my forehead.

  “Hold on, there’s something stuck in here,” I said and pulled it off my head. Inside the beret, several sheets of tinfoil had been taped together to cover up the cloth; as I looked closer, I saw that the edges of the foil had been stapled to the beret’s rim.

  “I’ve reinforced it,” he explained simply. “They can’t get their magnetic scans through that. So you’ll be safe.”

  Why didn’t I react then? I think that I would have laughed at Jonah’s suggestion if it had come completely out of the blue. I would have tossed the ridiculous helmet back at him. But this was just the last in a string of actions that I couldn’t explain. And I was completely focused on getting him to the doctor. My job was to bring Jonah to the pediatrician so he could run a few tests and come up with a diagnosis. Then he could give him an antibiotic, an antidepressant, an antisomething, and we could get back to our normal lives.

  So I just did what Jonah asked. I nodded quietly and pulled the tinfoil beret over my hair without a comment. And I wore it as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

  When we got to the pediatrician’s, my mother waved the three of us into his office. She’d scheduled Jonah for the last appointment of the day, so the waiting room was empty.

  Dr. Steiner had been my mother’s boss for several years; he recognized me and greeted me pleasantly as we entered. He was a middle-aged man, and he looked and talked like a doctor from a movie: gray-haired, clean-shaven, big glasses.

  Jonah had started getting anxious from the moment we entered the building, but when Dr. Steiner smiled and asked him to be seated, he appeared absolutely terrified. He shook his head and slowly backed away, one hand gripping the door handle, as if getting ready to flee.

  “Jonah, we’re only going to talk,” the pediatrician assured him. “There’s really nothing to worry about.”

  “Oh, sure,” Jonah snapped back. “That’s what you all say. And then you hold your patients down and shoot them up with tranquilizers.”

  Mrs. Golden got up and walked quickly over to her son. Her face was flushed with shame, and her voice was hoarse with desperation. “Jonah, please, I need you to stop this now! No one’s going to do anything to you. I just want to listen to t
he doctor.”

  But he was vibrating with hostility; his fists were clenched, his pupils were dilated, and the veins were standing out on his neck. “You just want to listen to him? Well, good luck with that! How the hell can you hear anything he’s saying? How can anyone hear anything above those screaming babies?”

  We all looked blankly at one another. The office was completely quiet; Jonah was the only patient there.

  “What…what babies, Jonah?” his mother asked.

  “Out there!” he cried. “Someone’s torturing them out there—” He paused uncertainly and glared at the doctor. “Why are you staring at me like that?” he hissed. “What are you trying to do to me?”

  The doctor half rose from his chair and studied Jonah intently; there was a concentrated, troubled look in his eyes. “Jonah, what are you hearing now?” he asked him quietly.

  “Nothing!” he shot back. “Just your stupid asshole voice.”

  “Jonah!” Mrs. Golden grabbed him by the arm and tried to pull him into a chair, but he threw her off and backed up against the wall.

  “Mom, we have to leave here now! That man is in on it, just like I knew he’d be.” He threw open the door and motioned to me. “Let’s go, April.”

  “One minute, Jonah,” the doctor called out. “Your mother came all the way here to see me. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, and that’s fine. I’m not going to try to force you. So why don’t you sit outside in the waiting room for a little while? April’s mom is out there. You know her—you can trust her. I’ll just talk with your mother for a minute, and then you can all go home.”

  Jonah hesitated and glanced at me. He looked ready to protest again but then appeared to change his mind. “Okay. But April, you stay in here with her. You can tell me afterward what he says.” His eyes flickered over my hat, and he gave me a meaningful look. “Don’t worry. He can’t hurt you.”

  And before I could say anything, he touched his head and then shut the door behind him.