That was a complicated question. I frowned. “No. Supposedly visitors might be bad for his sobriety.”
“Have his parents gone?”
Oh, Chrissy. If only you knew…
“I seriously doubt it,” I said.
I felt more and more uncomfortable amid the sounds of our chewing and Curtis slurping his drink.
“How have you been?” I asked. “How are things in the dorm?”
“The job at the dorm is getting dull, if I can be honest with you. But I shouldn’t complain. Anyway, there are lots of jobs out there and I’m sure I can find something as soon as I really start looking. As for everything else… It’s hard, you know, working all day, trying to do your best, and then people treat you like you don’t exist, you know? They don’t answer your calls, they won’t tell you why they don’t want to see you again, and then you randomly bump into them hanging out with one of your friends… I don’t know. I feel like I deserve better than that. Once you reach a certain age, you should be able to shoot straight with people, right?”
As Curtis blinked, Chris stood and balled up the bag he’d brought his food in. “You know what?” he said. “I just remembered I’ve got somewhere to be. See you guys around!”
We were both shocked as he walked off.
I told Naya the story that night. She clapped her hands and applauded, saying, “Now that’s my brother! He’s finally standing up for himself!”
Sue was sitting across from us and frowned. “I seem to remember you were the one who was obsessed with them going out.”
“Listen,” Naya responded, “I’m perfect at almost everything, you can’t expect me to be the perfect matchmaker, too. Anyway, he’s my older brother. It’s time he learned to walk on his own.”
It was hard to focus on our conversation because Mike was lying on the couch with his arms and legs in the air like a baby with a can ofbeer between his knees, trying to pour it into his open mouth. When he noticed everyone was staring at him, he asked, “What?”
“Nothing,” Sue said, shaking her head.
Mike sat up, put his beer on the coffee table, and asked, “How is my brother doing in the nuthouse, anyway?”
“It’s not a nuthouse!” I snapped.
“Mental wellness facility,” Will corrected him, “but the answer is, we don’t know. Not from him, anyway. We’ve talked to a nurse, she says everything’s fine, but he’s basically closed down. I don’t know why. He told me the contact isn’t good for him, that he can’t work on himself with everyone bugging him and trying to make sure he’s OK.”
For a long time, Mike didn’t say anything. We ordered some pizza, and when it came, he toyed with his portion and barely took a bite. Out of nowhere, he told us he’d be heading out early tomorrow, and he left before anyone could ask why.
The next day, Will spoke with the nurse at the facility, and she told him Mike had gone to visit Jack. Apparently, he’d stayed there the whole day. He must have said something to him, because Jack called me that night.
I didn’t recognize the number, and I was shocked when I heard his voice saying, “Hey, Jen…”
I was down in the laundry room at the time, scrubbing out a stubborn spot in a pair of jeans. It had been forever since he and I had really talked. I called him whenever I could, but he always seemed so distant. This time, there was something different: a shyness, but also a presence.
“Mike was with me this morning.”
Seriously? Those were his first words to me? I stopped what I was doing and grunted. “Great. And?”
“I don’t know where to begin. Are you mad at me?”
That was a beginning, at least. But no, I wasn’t mad. Frustrated wasprobably the better word. “You mean because every time I’ve called you it’s been like talking to a brick wall?”
“Yeah,” he responded. “Because of that.”
“Look, I get it, OK? You need space. You’re going through some shit. It isn’t easy, but I can deal…”
“That’s not it, Jen,” he cut me off. I noticed then he sounded a little congested. “It’s not that… It’s not that I don’t want to talk. I mean, dammit, you’re all I ever think about, you and our friends, but especially you. I just don’t want you to see me like this, though. I don’t even want you to hear me like this.”
He was silent so long, I wondered if he’d hung up. I knew what he was getting at. I had tried to remind myself of what he was going through. And I was sad for him. But he needed to know the rest of us had feelings, too.
“Jack,” I began, trying to sound understanding, “we’re here for you if you need us. Nobody’s going to judge you. Nobody cares what situation you’re in.”
