Mom took my hand and led me to Jake’s door. She stopped before opening it and placed an unsteady hand to my cheek “Don’t expect much. He didn’t talk to the others.”
“Has he spoken to you?”
“Not coherently, no. Listen, before you go in, I’ve spoken to a few people. We’re going to get you the help you need. It’s already set.”
I wasn’t surprised, but I wasn’t happy either. “I don’t want to be sent away. Not now. I need to be here for Jake.”
“I know. It’s outpatient. But it will become inpatient if you don’t take it seriously.”
I had no choice but to accept her terms, so I nodded solemnly as I tried to step around her.
“One more thing,” she said, stopping me. “I need you to promise that you won’t let what you see in there take you away from us again. We need you here. Strong.”
Promises were easy. Keeping them was where I’d always struggled. But I would give whatever was required to walk into that room.
“I promise,” I said, reaching for her hand and squeezing before pushing the door open and facing my fear.
* * *
If Jake saw me arrive, he didn’t acknowledge it. In fact, he didn’t even blink an eye. My brother just stared blankly at the back wall. The first thing I noticed about him were the patches of baldness scattered over his head. Had he pulled his own hair out or had that been courtesy of Ray Davis?
So many emotions passed through me in that moment, and I wanted to rage for all the injustices he’d suffered, but I knew that wasn’t what he needed. Right now, if I had any chance of reaching him, I had to be the fun brother Jake loved.
“Hey, dude, it’s me, Keith,” I said, taking a step closer.
No reaction. Not even a twitch. And although I’d been warned of his condition, the reality of seeing him this way nearly brought me to my knees. Pale, emaciated, and covered in angry purple bruises, Jake was barely recognizable under all the tubes and wires sticking out all over his broken body. A constricting cast spanned his leg, reaching up to his thigh.
“I brought you something.”
Still no response. No flash of recognition. Could he even hear me? Where was he? Locked somewhere inside his head? Now that I was closer, I could see his bones protruding from his skin. He was so thin. Did he ever get food? What kind of a fiend steals a kid, abuses him, and lets him starve? Flashes of his life in chains forced me to look away. I now understood why Kyle had run out. It was what I wanted to do too, but I couldn’t leave him – not now. Not ever. Mitch might have been Dad’s ideal son, but I was Jake’s favorite, and I’d be damned if I left this room without him knowing my name.
Settling into the chair, I was careful not to touch him. That was a trigger, I’d been warned. Digging into my paper bag, I pulled out a seashell and placed it on the sheets beside him.
“For you. Courtesy of the ocean. It says hi by the way.”
He didn’t move or even swivel his eyes to look at my peace offering.
“Look, I get you’ve been through hell, and I don’t blame you for acting like a zombie, but I’m going to give it to you straight, bud: you keep this shit up and people are going to think you’re a few McNuggets short of a Happy Meal, you feel me? Before you know it, shrinks are going to be coming in here throwing around big words that end in ‘ology’. So here’s what I need you to do, champ. Wake the fuck up.”
Apparently I’d been too engrossed in my inspirational speech to notice movement on Jake’s part. It wasn’t until the shell was flying through the air that I realized what had happened. I watched in shock as the fragile seashell hit the wall with a thud, shattering into a thousand little pieces as it fell to the floor.
“Whoa. Dude. That was gnarly. Nice arm. You’re a destructive little shit, aren’t you? You wanna destroy another one?”
Staring straight ahead again, Jake slipped back into his comatose state.Oh, no, you don’t. Now that I knew he was in there, no way was I letting him go without a fight. I pulled another shell from the bag and placed it beside him. “Do your damage.”
This shell lay idle by his side. I pushed it closer like a dog nudging a ball at its owner. Nothing.
“Okay, I get it. You need a joke first. Why don’t oysters give to charity?”
I waited. Every joke needed a pause for effect.
“Because they’re shellfish.”
I laughed, and I knew if Jake felt better, he would have too. We’d been telling these jokes to each other since we were little kids, the stupider the better.
“Damn, dude. You’re a tough crowd. Fine, time for more surprises.”
Out of one of the plastic baggies, I pulled a clump of seaweed and placed the slimy concoction on his arm. “Did you know that seaweed has a mild laxative effect and is quite useful in maintaining healthy digestion?”
