Believing Lies

by Elizabeth, Anne

  I smiled for the first time in eight days.

  “Who’s Max?” Marie asked. It was a simple question, but I couldn’t answer it. Hearing his name set off a rollercoaster of emotions. I just hid my head in my hands and tried to calm my breathing. Marie noticed she made me upset and kneeled beside me. “Oh, I’m sorry, Kyle. I didn’t mean—”

  “Max was his little brother. He died when Kyle was eight. Max was only five.” Luke answered for me. He walked behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “I never met him, but I heard stories. He was a sweet boy.”

  It was silent for a while. No one said anything else. Marie remained at my side, Luke sat down in the seats behind us, and Noelle was sitting next to me. After a few minutes, her phone started ringing. She picked it up and answered, trying to whisper. Her eyes grew wide, and she started to grab her stuff. She hung up and explained that her mom needed her home. Something happened that her mom refused to tell her on the phone. She apologized and gave me a quick hug before going home.

  “Kyle?” a deep voice rang out. I looked to see a doctor that wasn’t in scrubs. I got up and raised my hand. He came over to me, checking over a clipboard.

  “Hello, I’m Dr. Davern. I was scrubbing in on your friend’s surgery. The good news is that it was successful, and he is in recovery.”

  Relief hit me like a tow truck. Luke stood behind me, and Marie grabbed my arm.

  “However,” Dr. Davern started, “we had to perform brain surgery because there was fluid in his brain by his frontal lobe, caused by his accident. His Broca area was damaged, and he has dysarthria.” He noticed the confused looks on our faces.

  “He lost his ability to speak.”

  “He can’t talk?” Luke asked. The doctor nodded. He told us that one person could go see him, but he was still in recovery, so he was unconscious.

  “I need to see him. Do you guys mind waiting?” I asked Luke and Marie. I figured it would give them a chance to talk things out, not hate each other so much.

  “Of course,” Luke said.

  Marie smiled at me. “Take as much time as you need.”

  They both turned around and sat down in chairs. The doctor led me down a hallway. The hospital was a lot smaller than the one Mom works at. There were a few staff members and not as much hustling going around. Nurses were showing each other videos online and laughing. It didn’t even seem like people were dying. Or if the workers cared.

  I should’ve insisted that they take him to Mom’s hospital.

  Maybe then he would’ve been able to talk.

  This was just the closest one.

  “It’s a good thing you found him when you did, you know.” Dr. Davern spoke, ending the silence between us. “Another minute and he most likely wouldn’t have made it.”

  I bet they say that to everyone when giving bad news.

  To make them feel like heroes.

  I just grunted and kept my head forward. Passing by the rooms, I took note of the condition most people were in. I couldn’t even see what was wrong with some people. No one had significant injuries, from what I could tell. Just people in beds with flowers and balloons surrounding them.

  “We did have to place him in the children’s unit because he is underage, and his parents aren’t here,” he explained while opening the doors. Inside was wallpaper with various kinds of animals in the forest. The lights were a lot brighter, and the nurses were walking around, doing things. One was pushing a wheelchair with a little girl sitting in it who had no hair. She also had a tube coming out of her nose and a huge smile on her face.

  “Daddy!” she squeaked. An older man came running to her and hugged her.

  “I’m so sorry I was late today, sweetie. I had to work another shift.”

  We continued walking down the hall, and the further down we got, the less kid-friendly it was. The wallpaper was ripping in some spots with stains on it. The lights were dimmed, and some were even flickering. We took a turn, and I already knew which room was Mark’s.

  The last room.

  I could see him from the other end of the hallway. His head was wrapped in thick white bandages. Machines were surrounding him instead of flowers and balloons. A nurse stood by him, checking the machines and writing things down. She noticed me and left the room. I walked in, and the doctor said he would leave me for a few minutes. Mark was incredibly still; I didn’t think he had it in him. The cuts on his face were cleaned up but still visible. I could see how deep most of them were by the edges. His eyes were shut, and his lips were cracking from dryness. I’d only been in this situation once, and it was when I was young. I didn’t know what to do.

  Mom held Max’s hand; should I hold his?

  No, that’s stupid.

  “You can come back in the morning if you’d like,” the nurse said, coming back into the room. “Sorry, I need to check his vitals.”

  “It’s okay.” I blanked. “He is going to wake up, right?”

  She paused. “He was awake earlier. That’s when we knew he couldn’t talk. We sent doctors to get you, but I believe they went to the children’s waiting room. Interns.” She rolled her eyes at the end and giggled. I felt the need to laugh with her, so I let out a small chuckle.

  “Then I’ll come back in the morning. Thank you.”

  She nodded and continued her job. I left the room without another word. I waved to Dr. Davern that I was leaving because he was with another person. He smiled and nodded before continuing to talk to the other man.

  This place is unprofessional.

  Mark would love it.

  ~

  Marie and Luke were waiting for me when I came back. Marie was poking at his cheek, and Luke looked like he was about to slap her. He saw me and pushed her away, which made her stumble in her seat. Luke stood up and came over to me. “How is he?”

  “He looks awful,” I admitted. “And this place is awful. He was awake earlier, and they didn’t even tell me. That’s how they knew he couldn’t talk.”

  Marie stood behind Luke, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Wow, what a bunch of—”

  “Unprofessional doctors.” Luke finished for her. “I don’t swear.”

  “No one asked you to, Frankenstein.” She pushed him with her elbow to stand in front of me. “Can we go now?”

  I nodded, and we headed for the exit. The chilly night air blew against my face, brushing the hair out of my eyes. Lights from the hospital shined on the ground as we left. Luke started to talk about his plans for the upcoming week. He said how school might be canceled for a snow day, which Marie disagreed with, saying how there’s only a sixty-five percent chance of snow.

  “Why do you have to fight me on everything?” Luke groaned.

  “Because you are wrong about everything,” she snapped back. We walked past Marie’s neighborhood, which was filled with nice houses. Most three stories tall, with huge balconies. I watched as Luke’s face dropped at the sight of them.

  “I’ll see you later, Marie,” I said, giving her a quick hug. “Thank you again for coming.”

  “Sure thing.” She smiled. She turned to Luke and pushed his shoulder. “Later, loser.”

  She ran off into the dead-end street, climbing the stairs of a huge house that was painted white. Her bright red door opened, then she disappeared inside.

  “So, she’s rich?” Luke asked when we started walking away.

  “Grandparents are,” I answered. “What’s your problem with her, anyways? Marie is awesome.”

  Luke kicked a rock on the sidewalk, and we watched it roll into the grass. “When I met her, she had this weird vibe. I don’t know; I just didn’t think we would be friends. I bet she wouldn’t even go to a protest with me.”

  “I don’t go to protests with you,” I pointed out. “In fact, I mostly make fun of you for them.”

  The street was empty, not a car or person in sight. Honks could be heard in the distance, and the wind was howling. The darkness felt calming to me, mostly because I had Luke with m
e this time.

  “Yeah, but that’s different,” he explained. “You still support the causes. I don’t think she would.”

  I decided to mess with him a little bit. “Causes like what? LGBTQ?” Luke nodded, and I laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” His ears turned red. I could tell he was getting embarrassed by me laughing at his ignorance. Which just made it even funnier to me. “What’s so funny about being homophobic?”

  “Luke,” I said calmly, “why would she be against herself?”

  Luke stopped in his tracks and faced me with his eyebrows furrowed together. His mouth was inching over to one side as he thought about what I said. I turned and continued walking. After a few seconds, I heard him yell, “She’s gay!?”

  “Yes, Luke,” I replied, letting him catch up with me. “She’s gay.”

  “That makes so much sense! It wasn’t a weird vibe I got; it was my gaydar going off!”

  I looked over at him, shoving my hands into my pocket. My fingers were starting to get cold. “Gaydar?”

  “Yeah, you know. Like a vibe.” I just nodded. He clicked his tongue before speaking again. “Ah, it makes so much sense! That’s why she has these walls built up and fought me on everything. Out of fear that I wouldn’t accept her because, in reality, she wanted me to be her friend.” I gave him another look so he would elaborate. “I have like ten million psychology books. I study them for fun.”

  I had to ask. “For fun?”

  He nodded. “I met someone that I wanted to diagnose. He always seemed off.”

  He’d better not be talking about me.

  Luke and I made it to my house, and before we said goodbye, Luke gave me some news.

  “I didn’t want to say it earlier, but they figured out that the blood we found in the forest did belong to Nick. I guess they tested it or something.” I nodded and thanked him for telling me, even though I already knew. Luke smiled and started walking home. I felt weird being dropped off at my house, but Luke insisted on walking home with me.

  When I walked through the doors, I realized it was time to take my medication. No one else was home even though it was late. I thought at least Henry would be home, but the house was empty. I checked the counter for my pill bottles, and they weren’t there.

  Who moved them?

  I sent Mom a quick text asking her if she put them someplace else. I was just going to wait for a response. After a few minutes, I concluded that she was busy at work. I started checking in places that I thought Mom would put them. I looked in drawers, cabinets, and even in the living room. All I found were utensils, cereal boxes, and quarters on the couch. I thought that she put them in her office.

  I opened her door, and the chilly air hit me. I was only in a short-sleeved shirt. Goosebumps appeared on my arms and legs. I looked to the window and realized it was open.

  Mom never leaves her windows open.

  Maybe she was in a rush.

  I quickly closed it before looking for my medication. I started pushing papers out of the way and checking under the desk. I bent down and went on all fours. I was too big, though, and my head hit the bottom of the desk. I felt something sharp jab me in the head.

  What the hell?

  I sat back down on the floor and reached my hand under the desk. I pulled on it and saw that it was a key. I felt the back of my head for the bump, but instead, I found a cut. When I took my hand away, it had blood.

  Ow.

  There was a locked drawer where the key fit. I unlocked it and slowly opened it. There was something in there being covered by a piece of cloth. I took the cloth away, and a small pistol was sitting in the drawer.

  What?

  I slammed the drawer back and locked it quickly. I put the key back where I found it and raced out of the room.

  Growing up, my parents had always been against guns. Dad used to say that a man could defend his family without a gun, and Mom never liked guns. She said that they were too violent and that they didn’t need them. She went to the shooting range once and left two minutes after being there.

  “The noise they made was too loud,” she told me, “and they are dangerous.”

  Why would she have a gun if she hated them so much?

  I sat down on the couch, waiting for her to come home. I couldn’t move. I kept thinking about why she would have a gun. Nothing made sense to me. She didn’t like guns. Every scenario I came up with didn’t match up.

  Maybe she found an interest in them?

  No, she just talked about it last week.

  She could have found it and didn’t know what to do with it?

  She would’ve turned it in.

  “Kyle,” Mom said, walking through the door. I didn’t even hear her car pull up. “Honey, I just got your text. I moved them to the bathroom. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you.”

  I stood up and faced her. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was still in scrubs. Her eyes had bags under them that I could see from five feet away. She placed her bag down and walked toward me with her arms held out. I returned the gesture.

  Mom hugged me and started talking about her day. “I had to work late, a surgery came in, and I really wanted to do it. You won’t believe what—”

  “Why do you have a gun?”

  She stopped talking. Her arms remained around me, but her mouth was closed. I wanted to apologize for going into her office, but I couldn’t form words.

  “Did you touch it?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Good,” she replied. She pulled away from the hug and sat on the couch. After a few minutes of her messing with her outfit, she patted down for me to sit. I obeyed, wanting her to tell me. She coughed before answering my question.

  “When you were really young, there was an accident here,” she explained. “You weren’t even three months old, probably. Henry was only two, so he doesn’t know about this either.” She took her hair out of her ponytail and ran her fingers through her hair. “Your dad had this big murder case. The man was accused of killing a family. Your father was his attorney.”

  I knew Dad took complicated cases. Ones where there doesn’t seem to be any hope, but he always wins. I’ve never seen him lose a case. He always came home with a happy look on his face.

  “Your father proved the man innocent. He opened a new case about the father of the family, Larry Johnson. He was the only one that survived.” She sighed, shaking her head. “The poor family was murdered in their sleep. And yet not a single scratch on this guy. When the new case opened about Larry killing his own family, he got so upset and mad that he broke into our house and tried to kill your father in his sleep.”

  I was silent. I didn’t know what to say. I have never thought of Dad in such a vulnerable state. He was always “the man” of the house. The one that would do anything to protect his family, but this one lunatic was able to break in.

  “I was actually in the nursery with you when it happened. I heard him yelling from the other room, and I knew something was wrong. I grabbed you and your brother, then I ran downstairs and grabbed the phone. Dialing nine-one-one was the hardest thing to do because my hands were shaking. I ran to the neighbors to drop you guys off, then I came back for your father.”

  I looked at her and couldn’t read her expression. It was as if she told this story hundreds of times.

  “What happened next?” I asked.

  “When I came back, your father was standing over Larry’s body.”

  Dad killed someone.

  “When the police arrived, they questioned us and such. One policewoman told me that I should think about getting protection for the family. She said that this time the guy was small, but with jobs like ours, many people would be getting mad and upset at us,” she explained.

  “Why would someone get mad at you, Mom?” I questioned. “You save people.”

  She grinned and placed her hand in my hair. “I can’t save everyone. People die, and families can get upset about it. There was an incid
ent with the chief of surgery years ago. A guy’s daughter was pronounced dead, and the chief was the one who performed the surgery. It was a spinal osteomyelitis surgery, common but has a remarkably high death rate. Anyways, she ended up getting a secondary infection from the surgery and died from it. Her father came back to the hospital a few weeks later, walked right into the chief’s office, and killed him. That’s why we have so much security now. So, I am safe there; I just wanted to be safe here.”

  I understood why she had a gun, but one thing was left unclear.

  “Then why did you act like you didn’t like guns?”

  She moved her head to the side. “Oh, I don’t like guns. But I acted so harshly against them because I didn’t want you boys to find it. Boys can be stupid and play and get injured. Or if one of you were suicidal…” She trailed off, tears forming in her eyes. “I just didn’t want you guys getting hurt. Especially after Max, I thought of getting rid of it entirely. Everyone was just so depressed I didn’t know what to do.”

  I nodded and hugged her. She sniffed and wrapped her arms around my neck, placing a hand on the back of my head.

  “Promise me you won’t ever look in that drawer again. Don’t ever touch the gun,” she pleaded with me.

  “I promise.”

  I promise.

  14

  Day Twenty-Two

  I went to see Mark in the morning, just like I told the nurse. Mom dropped me off on her way to work. She kept talking about how she hated the place I brought Mark to. At first, I thought she was angry at me for taking him there. But when I asked her, she denied it.

  “Of course not, sweetie. I think you were smart about it. Considering it was the closest place, but I just hate that he can’t speak any more. Poor boy.”

  We arrived at the hospital, and it didn’t seem busy at all. At Mom’s hospital, there are people all over the place. Even in the morning, doctors running, nurses searching for things, patients groaning. At least in the emergency room. This place seemed as if they had no patients. I walked inside, and everything was a lot different in the morning than at night. Nurses weren’t sharing videos, they were drinking coffee and typing on their computers.