Dolphins in the Mud

by Jo Ramsey

  “Dr. Harlow,” Mr. Silver said.

  I shook Dr. Harlow’s hand. “I’m Chris Talberman.”

  “And you’re a friend of Noah’s?”

  I nodded, though after Noah’s tantrum in the kitchen, I wasn’t sure if he and I were still friends. Or if I still wanted to be. “I met him a few days ago. The day the dolphins were stranded.”

  “I heard about that on the news,” Dr. Harlow said. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “Not especially.” I didn’t know why I’d been brought in there, and I didn’t plan on staying any longer than I had to. “What’s going on?”

  “Noah—Noah has problems.” Mr. Silver stayed on his feet and shifted back and forth like he would have rather sat down. “You saw how he just acted. It might be better if you left him alone.”

  “I don’t think so.” While my thoughts had been running along the same line, I didn’t like being told what to do. Especially when it came to a friend. “Noah and I haven’t known each other long, but we’ve gotten to know each other a little.”

  I stopped myself from telling them anything more. Outing Noah wasn’t up to me, and I was afraid it would make things worse. “He told me you don’t like him having friends. Is this what you do every time someone tries to be friends with him?”

  “You don’t understand,” Mr. Silver said.

  “I think he needs to.” Dr. Harlow sat down. “Chris, have you heard of bipolar disorder?”

  “Sure.” One of Mom’s sisters had it. We didn’t see her anymore. She’d flipped out one day and told the entire family she never wanted to see them again, and then had moved away without telling anyone where she was going. I’d been about nine then, and Dad had tried to explain to me why she’d acted the way she had.

  Which, now that I considered it, hadn’t been that different from how Noah had just acted.

  “So that’s why you’re here?” I asked. “Noah has bipolar?”

  “I wish you hadn’t told him.” Mr. Silver sighed. “Chris, this is just between us. I want your word that you aren’t going to tell anyone else.”

  “Who would I tell?” Except maybe Dad, if I ever started talking to him again. “Are you ashamed of him?”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “Actually, no.” One thing I’d learned from having Cece as a sister was that it was pointless to be ashamed if your kid had a disability or something. Disabilities weren’t anyone’s fault; they just happened.

  On the other hand, given what Noah had told me about his family and his father’s career, it didn’t surprise me that Mr. Silver would be embarrassed. After all, having a kid with a mental illness might make him look bad in the jet-set circles. “I guess that explains a lot.”

  “You aren’t going to tell anyone,” he said again.

  “No, I’m not.” I headed for the door. “And I’m not going to—”

  A loud series of thuds interrupted me. All of us turned toward the staircase in time to see Noah plummet over the railing at the top of the stairs.

  Chapter Twelve

  WE ALL froze, staring at Noah sprawled on the floor. His arm was bent in a way that arms should never bend, and he didn’t move. For a second, I couldn’t even tell if he was breathing.

  Dr. Harlow jumped off the couch and ran to kneel beside Noah. “Call 911,” he ordered. “He might have broken some bones.”

  “You promised.” Noah moaned the words in such a low voice I barely heard him. “You promised you wouldn’t make Chris go away. It hurts!”

  “Chris, you need to leave,” Mr. Silver said. “Now. And so help me, if I find out you told anyone about this—”

  I saw red. My fists clenched without me realizing it. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was trying not to be violent. “Instead of threatening me, why don’t you take care of your son?”

  “Don’t go,” Noah begged.

  Ignoring the death glare from Mr. Silver, I went over and knelt beside Noah. “I have to go home right now. You’re going to have to go to the hospital. When you come back, I’ll be here, okay?”

  “Promise?”

  I hesitated. All I wanted to do was calm him down, but I couldn’t make a promise I didn’t know I’d be able to keep. The guy had major issues. Finding out about the bipolar hadn’t bothered me too much, but watching him take a dive from the top of the stairs had scared the hell out of me. If he was that willing to hurt himself just because he thought his father was making me leave, I didn’t want to know what he’d do to himself—or me—if something more serious came up.

  I didn’t have to promise, though. Maybe just repeating myself would be enough for him. “I’ll be here.”

  “Okay.”

  I waited a moment, but Noah didn’t say anything else. Relieved, I left. As I closed the door behind me, I heard Dr. Harlow telling Mr. Silver again to call an ambulance. The jackass had been so worried about whether I’d tell his secret that he hadn’t even called for help for his son yet.

  With nowhere else to go, I headed home. Dad’s car was still in the driveway. I wouldn’t be able to avoid another conflict with him. Maybe if I told him what had just happened with Noah, he’d go a little easier on me, but no question I would still have to deal with the fallout from taking off the way I had.

  It didn’t matter. My friend—boyfriend, whatever—was so sick he’d jumped off a second-floor landing because he was afraid his father would end our friendship. I couldn’t handle that by myself. I needed my dad.

  Since Cece had already gone to school, Dad hadn’t locked the house door. I went inside. “Dad!”

  “Chris?” he called from the basement. After a moment he hurried upstairs, wearing an unbuttoned work shirt and the sweatpants he’d had on earlier. “Where did you go? You can’t just run out of here like that!”

  “I’m sorry.” I leaned against the door. “Dad, please. I need to talk to you.”

  “Yes, we definitely need to talk.” He sat down on the couch and glared at me. “What?”

  “Noah just tried to kill himself.”

  His mouth dropped open. “What?”

  I started over to the armchair to sit down, then decided I wouldn’t be able to sit still yet. Instead, I paced around the living room. “He has bipolar. I just found out. He was listening when his dad and his psychiatrist or whatever he is told me about it, and he figured they were trying to make me end the friendship, so he jumped off the top of his stairs.” My eyes were wet, and I couldn’t quite figure out why. “They’re supposed to have an ambulance coming. I should have stayed to make sure he’d be all right.”

  “He has people there helping him.” He came over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “He’ll be all right, Chris.”

  That broke the dam. I started crying like I hadn’t done since I’d broken my arm when I was six. This was a whole lot worse than a broken arm. Mom had left, I’d had a fight with Dad, everyone wanted me to take care of my sister, and now the first real friend I’d made in Wellfleet had turned out to be so sick I didn’t know if I could be around him. I couldn’t handle any of it.

  Dad put his arms around me and held me for the whole time I took to calm down. I didn’t know how long that was, because every time I thought I was done crying, I started again.

  Finally, I managed to stop and pull away from him. I wiped my eyes and nose on my sleeve. “Sorry I took off like that.”

  “You’ve had a lot of things dumped on you lately,” he replied. “I didn’t realize how much stress you were under. I’m sorry, Chris. I was so busy thinking about my own problems that I didn’t think about what you were going through.”

  I shrugged. “That’s how it works, isn’t it?” I hadn’t considered his stress either.

  “It shouldn’t be. Parents are supposed to help their kids cope at times like this.” He sat down again and patted the cushion beside him. “Sit. Please.”

  I heard a siren outside and hurried to the window over the kitchen sink in time to see an ambulance speedi
ng—as much as anyone could speed on a dirt and gravel road—toward Noah’s house. At least his father had finally called one. Either that or Dr. Harlow had.

  I still didn’t want to sit down, so I went over to the other window and stared out at the cove. “I don’t know if I can be friends with Noah anymore.”

  “You hadn’t known him very long.” Dad paused. “Were you just friends?”

  “No. Not just friends.” I banged my forehead against the window. “I don’t think we can be anything anymore. I can’t handle him doing stuff like that.”

  “You must have been scared when he did that. I’m glad you weren’t alone with him.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I might not have known what to do if no one else had been there. Worse, he might have done something to me, not just himself.

  My aunt had tried to stab my grandfather once when he tried to make her take medication. She’d been on it, and when she took it, she seemed okay. But then she’d decided she didn’t want it anymore.

  If Noah took meds, he might not have jumped over the railing. He might feel okay. “Why isn’t Noah on medication?”

  “Do you know for sure that he isn’t?” Dad asked.

  I paced a little more and thought about it. Mr. Silver and Dr. Harlow hadn’t said anything about medication. They hadn’t had time before Noah took his dive. “No, but if he was, he wouldn’t act like that, would he? And his dad said he’s ashamed that Noah has bipolar, so I bet he doesn’t have Noah take anything for it.”

  Dad’s eyes widened. “His father said that?”

  “Not in those words, exactly, but I asked him if he was ashamed, and he said, ‘Wouldn’t you be?’” I stared out at the cove, but I didn’t see anything. “He doesn’t want Noah and me to be friends. I don’t think he wants Noah to have any friends because he’s too afraid someone will find out the truth. He pretty much threatened me if I told anyone.”

  The ambulance, siren wailing, went past the house in the other direction. After a few seconds, the unfamiliar car from Noah’s passed too. I figured that was probably Dr. Harlow.

  “He threatened you?” Dad sounded pissed.

  “He was ticked about the idea that I might tell someone Noah has bipolar.” I laughed, even though there wasn’t anything funny. “I guess I just did. Too bad for him.”

  Dad went into the kitchen and picked up the phone. “I’m calling your school, then I’ll call my boss. I don’t think either of us is going anywhere today.”

  “You’ll get fired.” Dad couldn’t give up a day of work for me. He’d complained when he’d had to stay home the day after Mom had left, and that had been for something important.

  “Then I’ll find another job. I need to make you and Cecelia my priorities, and if my boss doesn’t understand that, I don’t want to work for him anyway.”

  I doubted Dad would still feel that way if his boss actually did fire him. I didn’t argue, though. I’d already escaped from major trouble for running off earlier, and I didn’t want to push my luck.

  Dad made the phone calls then sat down again. I stayed by the window, staring out at the cove. At one point, I saw something that might have been a dolphin. I figured I was just imagining it. The rescued ones had probably told their pals to steer clear of Drummer Cove. At least if they were as smart as some people seemed to think.

  After a while, I got tired of water and birds, so I went into my room and closed the door. Dad didn’t bother me, which surprised me. And irritated me. He’d taken the day off to make me his priority, whatever that meant, so he should have been trying to spend time with me. Then again, I didn’t have anything to talk to him about. He wouldn’t have known what to do about any of the things going through my head.

  Around lunchtime, I left my room. Not because I wanted to. My stomach had started growling and churning so much I couldn’t relax, so I figured I needed food.

  “Do you want me to order pizza?” Dad asked.

  “You need to go grocery shopping.” I looked in the fridge. “Definitely. We’re out of almost everything. Do you even know how to grocery shop?”

  “I’m not that incompetent.” He walked into the kitchen. “Tell you what. I know it bothers you when I ask you for help with your sister. In this case, I don’t have much choice. I don’t know what she likes and doesn’t like to eat, and you seem to have a good idea. So if you’ll make the list, I’ll go do the shopping this afternoon before Cecelia gets home.”

  “Deal.” I didn’t mind making lists. I didn’t consider that helping to take care of Cece. As long as he didn’t try to make me responsible for her, I was fine.

  I took the pad of paper Mom used for lists out of the junk drawer and started writing stuff down. Dad read over my shoulder part of the time, which bugged me a little. I didn’t tell him that, because I was pretty sure he was doing it to start learning what was on a typical list. I had no problem with that idea, because maybe next time he’d be able to write the list himself.

  “Do you want to go to the store with me?” he asked after I handed him the piece of paper.

  “Not really. I’d kind of like some time alone.” Being alone with my thoughts about Mom and Noah wouldn’t be great, but at least I wouldn’t feel like I had to interact with Dad. And I wouldn’t feel so ticked off about him not trying to interact with me.

  “I should go now to be sure I’m home before Cecelia. I’ll bring home pizza.” He paused. “Does Cecelia eat pizza?”

  “Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It depends on the day. She doesn’t like grease, doesn’t like any toppings, and doesn’t like if there’s too much sauce.” In other words, she probably didn’t like pizza at all, but she did eat it sometimes.

  “This is going to be harder than I thought. I’ll be back.”

  He left, and I settled on the couch and turned on the TV. There was nothing on except talk shows and game shows. I didn’t care. The noise gave my brain something to focus on besides what had happened at Noah’s that morning. The whole time Dad was gone, I just sat there watching TV and pretending everything was fine.

  He came home a couple hours later, and I helped him bring the groceries into the house. He’d bought more than Mom usually did, and as we put stuff away, I noticed that he hadn’t bought some of the same brands Mom bought. Not that it mattered. The food would taste the same no matter what the label said. I’d gotten used to everything being the same all the time for Cece’s sake, so having something different was just weird.

  As promised, he’d also brought a pepperoni pizza. As the smell hit my nose, my stomach growled loudly.

  I sat at the table and put a couple slices of pizza on a plate. “Thanks for buying this.”

  “Thanks for helping me put things away.” He sat down with his own plate. “Have you heard anything about Noah?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know if he’s still at the hospital, or if his father’s still with him, or anything. I don’t think Mr. Silver would bother letting me know anything, honestly. He doesn’t like me much.”

  “He trusted you enough to tell you Noah’s bipolar,” he pointed out.

  “That doesn’t mean he likes me. He told me that so I wouldn’t be friends with Noah anymore.”

  We ate without talking for a couple minutes, then Dad said, “If you have their number, I can call and find out what’s going on. Even if his father doesn’t like you, he might be willing to talk to another adult.”

  “He told me not to tell anyone what happened this morning,” I reminded him. “So if you called, he’d know I told you, and that would piss him off. Then I’d probably never see Noah again.”

  “You said you weren’t sure you wanted to.” Dad pulled a long strand of cheese off his lower lip. “This is good pizza, but the cheese is a little too stringy.”

  “I’m not sure. That doesn’t mean I don’t want the chance.” I put down my slice of pizza and leaned back. “You have to meet Cece’s van in fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes, and I should call Jillian and let
her know we don’t—” He paused. “No. You know what? Jillian can come stay with Cecelia, and you and I can go somewhere and talk. I work so much, I feel like I don’t know what goes on in your life, and I don’t like being that out of touch with my own son.”

  I stared at him. “Yesterday you got on my case for leaving Jillian with Cece, even though Nina and Kadie were here too. Today, no one else will be here.”

  “I was wrong about that.” He took a deep breath. “I was wrong to make you think I expect you to do everything for your sister and to come down so hard on you for not doing it. You aren’t your sister’s caretaker. That’s my job, and it should be your mother’s.”

  “Do you think Mom’s going to try to take custody?” I didn’t bother asking if they would end up divorced. If Mom had another guy already, she obviously didn’t plan on coming back.

  “Not of Cecelia. Of you, I don’t know. I hope not.”

  “I won’t go. I’m old enough to make up my mind.” I remembered hearing that from someone at school who’d gone through their parents splitting up. The girl had been asked which parent she wanted to live with, and she’d been upset about it because each of her parents had tried to force her to choose them. She’d ended up with her grandmother.

  “Yes, you are.” He studied me. “You’re angry at your mother.”

  “Duh. She screwed around on you, and she bailed on Cece and me. Of course I’m pissed.”

  “I hope that you won’t always be this angry.”

  I stared at him. He should have been at least as angry at Mom as I was, if not more. What did he care if I hated her the rest of my life? “Why shouldn’t I be?”

  “Because she’s your mother, and she does love you and Cecelia,” he said quietly. “She just didn’t know how to handle your sister anymore. She didn’t have any support, and that’s my fault. I should have been around to help more, and I should have made sure she met other people around here. She and Jillian would have gotten along great.”

  “She didn’t want anyone to know about Cece.” She’d been a lot like Mr. Silver, actually. Both of them were ashamed of having a kid who was “different,” and neither of them seemed to know how to handle it. I wondered if Mr. Silver had ever tried taking off on Noah.