The Vanishing Point

by Elizabeth Brundage

  Theo snorted a laugh. Yeah, we’re getting somewhere, all right. But to answer your question, there wasn’t any reason I can think of. Nothing I can put into words, anyway. No big bones in my closet. You do it once, twice. It rolls up on you. The only reason you do it is because it feels good. In fact—

  Theo started to roll up his sleeve.

  Please don’t, Theo.

  Give me one good reason.

  Rye sifted through a hundred answers in his mind. Because I’m here, he said. It came out sounding lame. Because I’m here with you.

  But Theo was already engaged in the procedure, tapping the powder into a spoon. You’re too late, man, he said. You’re too fucking late.

  Rye rose to his feet. All right. Then what should I tell her?

  The boy flicked his lighter and held it under the spoon. Tell her whatever you want. I don’t really give a shit.

  I don’t believe that.

  That’s your choice, man. You want to believe I’m better than this. Right?

  I know you are.

  Well, you would be wrong.

  He drew the murky liquid up into the needle. It looked like burnt butter. He glanced up at Rye before shooting it into his arm. This one’s for you, Dad.

  Rye watched the drug hit him, its effect languorous, torpid. He slumped down in the chair and closed his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. He tilted his head just enough to crack open an eye and focus on him. He stared at Rye like that, like the one-eyed head of a squid, dumb, reeling.

  He couldn’t look. He rose to his feet. He wanted to leave. He turned toward the enormous room. He saw people lying against the walls, each in their own world. They were like travelers, victims of unforeseen delays, waiting to get somewhere.

  Theo was breathing funny. His lips looked blue.

  Theo? You don’t look so good.

  The boy said nothing.

  Rye stood there, watching him closely. Theo? Theo, can you walk?

  He slowly shook his head. Another minute passed before he fell to the floor.

  Hey, he called to the room. Hey, I need some help!

  Nothing. Not a sound.

  Hey! Rye shouted. Anyone!

  One of the skateboarders ambled over. He ain’t gonna make it, man. Seen it a hundred times.

  He will. Come on—grab his legs. I got a truck out there.

  I can’t, man. Wish I could.

  Without giving it a thought, Rye punched the guy in the face. The guy cowered and winced. Hey! That wasn’t—

  Get the fuck out of here.

  True appeared in the dark hallway. She hesitated like she was frightened, then ran over. She found a small plastic bag on the floor with a red flag on it, and her expression went dark.

  This is…it’s cut with Fentanyl— She shook her head helplessly.

  Come on and help me. He gripped the boy under his arms, and the girl grappled with his legs. He was deadweight. Rye ended up dragging him most of the way. His head lolled from side to side. They were out in the cold, now, fighting the onslaught of branches. She dropped his feet and sank to her knees. I can’t, she cried.

  It’s not that far, Rye said. Get up.

  This is my fault. I can’t—

  But he grabbed her arm and pulled her up, light as paper. I’m tired of that word, stop using it.

  Tears came to her eyes. She wouldn’t look at him.

  It’s all right. Now get his feet. Come on, now. Help me.

  She helped him to the bridge, up the steps, and then a power he’d never known came over him, and he hoisted the boy over his shoulder and ran with him in his arms. The truck was a hundred feet away. He could make it, he knew. And he did.

  Get my keys, he said, and she groped inside his coat pocket. Open the door.

  She did, and he set Theo on the passenger seat.

  Get in, he said.

  No. She backed away.

  He looked at her a long moment.

  I loved him, you know.

  Did you?

  Then he got into the truck and pulled out of there.

  He drove with one hand and groped with the other to feel the boy’s pulse. He couldn’t find one.

  He glanced at his face. He looked gone.

  He followed the blue H signs. The hospital wasn’t far, just a few miles. He pulled into Emergency and parked at the curb and got out, shouting like a crazy man. They came out with a gurney and pulled the boy out of the truck and laid him on it and rolled him inside.

  Rye stood there.

  A nurse came up to him. She wanted to know who he was.

  I’m his father was all he said.

  Theo

  Theo awakened in a hospital bed, wearing one of those gowns and hooked up to an IV. He looked around, getting his bearings. He felt dead.

  Fuck, he thought.

  Adler was sleeping in a chair. Theo watched him. It was hard to get used to the idea that he was connected to this stranger. This stranger who had saved his life, he thought. Not that he wanted to be saved. It had been a stupid thing to do, shooting the heroin in front of him. He hadn’t really needed to at that moment. It was just to show off. It was just to say fuck off. Adler was older than Julian by a couple years. Worn down. He looked like somebody who had walked through a strong wind. He watched the rise and fall of his chest. His gray hair was greasy. His hands as they lay in his lap were square and still. He had on an old gray sweater, unraveling along the hem.

  He suddenly thought of True.

  It was a good time to leave. He thought: I’ll just pull this thing out of my arm and walk the fuck out of here. But then some guy in scrubs came in with a tray of food, and Adler woke up.

  Hey, he said.

  Hey.

  You okay?

  No.

  Give it some time.

  You should’ve left me alone.

  I’m glad I didn’t. Are you hungry?

  No.

  Have a little tea, maybe?

  He hadn’t eaten in what seemed like days, but he couldn’t imagine eating now. I don’t want anything, he said.

  He wasn’t thinking clearly. He only knew how he felt, like his insides were on fire. He yanked out the IV and his arm started bleeding. He wiped it away angrily and tried to stand. He was fine.

  So, what now? Find the girl?

  We’re in love.

  Are you?

  What would you know about it—you fucked my mother over.

  Maybe. But we’re not talking about me here.

  Fuck you. Go fuck yourself, Adler.

  He found his clothes on the chair. They were dirty compared to the hospital gown. He put them on anyway. His father watched him.

  Later, he said. And walked out.

  He was like a criminal fleeing a crime scene, he thought. And it was an awfully long corridor. He was thinking, any minute somebody would come up and grab him and drag him back to the room and, like, put him in a straitjacket or something. But nobody did.

  He had to wait for the elevator. It was really slow. He felt stupid standing there, his whole stupid life crashing down on him. Finally he heard the ding of the elevator, and the doors opened.

  And there she was. Mom, he said.

  It looked like she’d been crying a lot. He thought she was going to be mad, but she stepped out of the elevator and opened her arms. He let her hug him, and he found himself melting in her embrace like a little kid, and he started to cry, and he cried a lot, and it was all he wanted to do.

  They went back to the room and he got back on the bed and his mother sat next to him and Adler was in the same chair as before and his mother took a sip of water and her hands were shaking and Adler reached out and took her hand and looked at her and it seemed like they had this silent language where neither of them had to speak and they were like communicating with their eyes and they just knew, you know, they just knew.

  A nurse came in and showed her how to use Narcan, and his mother watched the woman’s slim brown hands as she explained the steps
. Then the nurse looked at Theo. Are you planning to go to rehab?

  He glanced at his mother.

  I called around, his mother said. They can’t take him for three weeks.

  The nurse nodded; she wasn’t surprised.

  We’re going to do this on our own, his mother said.

  The nurse looked at Theo. You okay with that?

  He nodded.

  Do you want Suboxone?

  No, ma’am. No I don’t.

  Are you sure?

  I’m gonna do this cold.

  I believe that, the nurse said, and left.

  After a while, the nurse came back in and checked his vitals and said he could go. By now it was dark and pretty late, although he couldn’t say what time it was, and Adler helped them out to the parking lot to his mother’s SUV. He handed her an old iron skeleton key and she held it in her hand and looked at him and wrapped her fingers around it. It’s the only one I have, he said.

  His mother nodded.

  I’ll be out there as soon as I can. I need to stop and get gas and check my tires.

  Thank you, Rye, she said. Thank you for this. I’ll never—

  It’s all right.

  He wasn’t the type who liked to be thanked, Theo thought.

  Theo climbed into the passenger seat and Adler came around to his side and stood there a minute and put his hand on the top of his head, and it was warm and heavy, and he slid his hair back off his forehead. You all right, Theo?

  He wasn’t all right, of course he wasn’t, but he nodded, and Adler looked at him and nodded back, and that was all. Then he shut the door and walked around to his mother, and she was looking up at him, and you could see the thing they had between them, the love. He did the same thing to her, smoothed the hair back from her face, curling it behind her ears like she was a little girl, and then he kissed her.

  As his mother pulled out, Theo watched his father in his visor mirror standing there under the streetlamp with his hand in the air. He kept watching till he couldn’t see him anymore.

  It was quiet on the road, and they didn’t speak, and it was dark, and he was really scared. After a while he fell asleep, but then he woke up, feeling sick again. He’d broken a sweat and now he was shivering, and he started machinating a way to find somebody to make a drop for him at a rest stop along the highway, and his mind kept on churning like that for a long while. She looked over at him and saw that he was shaking, and she covered him with a blanket.

  Hold on, now, she said. You’ve got this. We know what’s coming. I’m right here. I’m right here, okay, Theo?

  He nodded. He felt really nauseous. She had a bucket there in case. She was prepared. She had done her homework. She’d bought some candy bars to help him deal with the cravings, but he didn’t feel like eating anything now, and he was regretting not taking the prescription, but he’d heard about Suboxone, that it was like this whole other thing, and instead of the dealers making money, it was the drug companies, which kind of sucked, and he didn’t want to be a part of that.

  He knew he had to do this cold, if only he could.

  But on the other side of his brain, he was still playing out his plan for getting more. It was still right there, that word, like a blinking cursor on a computer screen: MORE, MORE, MORE. Maybe if they stopped and she went in to use the bathroom, he could text somebody on her phone. He needed to pay attention; he needed to be vigilant.

  You’ve got this, Theo, his mother said.

  I’m gonna need to—

  I’ll keep my eye out, she said, even though he knew she had no intention of stopping. Try to relax now. You’ve been through a lot. We’ve got a long drive ahead.

  She turned onto the interstate, and they didn’t talk for a while, and she was alert and making her own plans, and finally she said, Look, Theo, I need to tell you this. I need you to listen. This thing. This thing is about trust. I need to trust you. And I need you to trust me.

  I do, he said, but he wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d never really trusted her. Sometimes she said one thing and did another, made a plan then thought about it and changed her mind. When he was little, it drove him crazy. And sometimes she lied. She’d say she was fine, happy, when he knew she wasn’t. She always told him she loved Julian, always making excuses for his failures, but he knew she didn’t.

  But even more important, Theo, she went on. Even more important: you need to trust yourself. That’s the only way this is going to work. You need to trust that you can do this. I know you don’t feel that way right now. I know you’re doubting everything. That’s okay. That’s part of it. Doubt isn’t a bad thing. It keeps us safe sometimes. It guides us. But not now. Not here. Right now, doubt is your enemy. You have to fight it. With everything you’ve got.

  I’ll try.

  That’s not good enough, Theo. I can hear it. I can hear your doubt. It’s still controlling you. You have to commit to this. You have to massacre it. You have to commit to it harder than anything you’ve ever tried to do in the past. This is like the fucking Olympics, okay? It’s like a marathon. And you have to finish. You have no choice.

  I know.

  You have to finish, she repeated.

  I’ll try, Mom.

  Still, that wasn’t good enough. She was wide awake. Like sleep was no longer necessary. Like her determination was the only thing she needed now. She was like one of those people who could lift a car with their own hands if it meant saving a life.

  I can’t hold you here, she said. I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to. I can’t make you stop. I can’t do this for you. I can’t. She was crying now. This is one fucking thing I can’t do for you. I’ll pull over if that’s what you want. And you can go back to where you were. And we can say goodbye. You just let me—

  No, I don’t want that, he said.

  Okay. Good. Good. I’m glad.

  They looked through the windshield at the long, dark highway. They hadn’t passed even one rest stop. He was starting to see the strain on her face. You look really worried, he said.

  Of course I’m worried. And I’m scared for you. I’m scared out of my mind. Because I know how hard this is. I know, and I’m really scared.

  I’m scared too.

  She glanced over at him and nodded. But I figure if we’re both scared, we can protect each other. We can help each other, you know. I’m talking a lot.

  It’s okay. I like it. It distracts me.

  I do know this, she said. I know it’s going to get easier. Maybe not the first week. But after that, it’ll start to. Time is our friend in this case, you know. I promise, Theo. I promise, okay?

  He slept for a while, at least a couple hours, and when she woke him, they were there. The sky just getting light, and he could see the ocean all around them, and it calmed him down, and he felt like he was away from everything, from his old life, and this was all new and fresh and good. She pulled up the dirt driveway and parked, and they sat there a minute, just looking around. It was an old house, like a sea captain’s house, and there was nothing around but the ocean, not even any trees. Just the wind and the ocean. And the ocean was black.

  He felt like crying, he couldn’t help it.

  What is it?

  I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve to be here. You should have dumped me in some rehab.

  If I’d done that, you’d never stop. I’m not going to ignore you. I’m not letting someone else do this. You are my son. You are my fucking problem.

  He nodded that he understood.

  I’ve got you, Theo. I’m your protector. So let me do that for you, all right? Please, just let me.

  He cried some more. He couldn’t explain it, but he was afraid. Like, what if he couldn’t do it?

  Look at me, Theo. Do you see me? Do you see the mother bear in me? Look at me! Look how strong I am. Look how fierce. Look at my hands. My claws. Do you know I would kill for you? That’s how much you matter to me. Because your survival is my own. Do you understand?

  Yes,
he said.

  Listen to me. Let’s try not to question anything—this. Let’s just try to be here in this amazing place. This is a gift from your father; let’s use it. Let’s not doubt it. I’m so tired of doubting, aren’t you? I don’t want to be this person anymore.

  Me neither, he said.

  She stared out through the windshield a minute, into the nothing that was out there, then put her hand on the door and grabbed her bag.

  They got out, and he felt his feet on the earth, and his bones ached like he was a hundred years old. The wind circled around them like a stray dog.

  They walked up the brown lawn and stepped onto the old porch, and again he looked out at the ocean, and it was still nearly black, but now there was a glimmer of light in the middle of it like the stroke of a white paintbrush. The wind smashed up against them, and he felt like it was angry, and he was angry too, and he wanted it to keep blowing and howling and he hoped it would.

  His mother unlocked the door with the iron skeleton key and pushed it open, and they peered inside, at the furniture covered with white sheets, the old grandfather clock, and she was shaking a little, and he could tell she was scared. Are you ready?

  Yeah, he said. Let’s do this.

  Part Five

  The Aperture

  I have roamed distant corridors of the planet where nature’s wonders never end; where, in some place or another, humanity reveres or defiles them. Tyrants, dictators, dethroned kings, beggars, queens, harlots, priests, the uplifting and the despoilers—all stared into my camera with eyes that were unveiled. The camera revealed them as they were—human beings imprisoned inside themselves.

  —Gordon Parks, Half Past Autumn

  Rye

  He had saved Theo’s life, that’s what they told him, and he sat there in the waiting room with his heart pumping, jacked up on adrenaline. He had no idea what to do with his hands. He felt a little light-headed, and his muscles ached, and when he thought of the incident now, carrying Theo in his arms, driving like mad to the hospital, he could hardly believe it had happened. In those moments, he had been in another place, an ethereal warp of time.