Between Black and Sunshine (20 page)

I haven’t talked to Rose about Jude…because I don’t talk about Jude anymore – with anyone. Rose knows that she was the reason I went to Anton’s. She has to assume, since I won’t talk about her that she is obviously a huge part of me, of why I am the way I am. But I haven’t been willing to talk about us. I need to talk about her now. I want to ask Rose if there is a chance that I can make anything better.

“How did things go last night with your friends?” Rose asks.

I open my mouth to answer her question, but instead I say, “I’m ready to talk about Jude.”

Rose sets her note pad down and takes her glasses off. “Good, Luca. I think you need to.” She smiles at me then nods her head, wanting me to talk. I don’t know where to start, I can’t think of what to tell her. “She was someone you loved very much, that you were in a romantic relationship with?” she prompts.

“Yeah,” I say, exhaling. “She is the only person I have ever loved. And yes, I was finally in a romantic relationship with her.”

“You had a relationship with her before it became intimate? Jude was your friend also?”

Jude was my friend? “No. She was always more than a friend. I don’t know how to describe what she was to me before we became… romantically involved.” Jesus, I sound like a jackass, back on interview mode.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning - when did you meet her?”

I take a deep breath and sit back on the couch. Eventually I answer Rose’s question. “When I was seven. Her brother, Jonah, was my best friend.”

“What were you and Jude like as children, how would you describe your relationship?”

I suck in a breath and try, like I have a thousand times, to remember. “I don’t really remember much.” Rose cocks her head at me and just stares for a few awkward moments. “I’m not trying to avoid the question, I really don’t have any concrete memories of my first few years with them.”

“Have you suppressed your early memories of them?”

“Suppressed...? I don’t know.”

“Okay,” she says gently, standing and coming to sit on the couch with me. “Luca, I want you to close your eyes and try to remember the two of you as children.”

I know this exercise is pointless, but I humor her and close my eyes.

“Take some deep breaths,” Rose tells me. “Concentrate on clearing you mind.”

I do what she tells me. I breathe and I try to let my mind rest. I do this for a while. At first I can’t see past the pictures on her Facebook page. Eventually they become laced with some of the pictures I remember from the few photo albums Patsy had, but I can only see pictures, no real memories.

I do it for a long time, until the photos of memories start to dissipate too. 

“I can’t rememb…” I begin to tell Rose, but then I see one… a flashback, a memory. “Jesus,” I utter the word in reaction to my memory.

“What is it, Luca?”

“Jesus. Fuck,” I say as the memory becomes more real, more detailed, drawn out over several minutes. “She is so little. Fuck.” I feel my face tightening, the urge to open my eyes, but I fight to stay in the memory. Sweat is beading on my forehead, my leg is like a jackhammer, my hands clamp down into tight fists, but I keep myself there, in the memory.

We are playing tag, the three of us; running through their backyard. Jude is ‘it’. I run from her pretending like she might be able to catch me. I will let her catch me; she’s just a little girl. A kindergartner. I look back at her and begin to run slower. I’m looking behind me, over my shoulder, not paying attention to where I’m going. I run right into Arnie’s garden; the one that’s full of beautiful flowers that we are not allowed to touch, the one that Jonah warned me to not even stand by or Arnie would kill me. I run faster now, scared that I will get into trouble.

As I step safely back on the grass I look behind me at Jude who has followed my path exactly; her little feet trampling the flowers. She gets caught up in them and falls forward. I remember her face as she fell… the panic. I start walking, to go help her, but I stop when I hear his voice.

What the hell do you think you’re doing?

I watch that big man run across the yard towards her and I have a sinking feeling like something bad is about to happen.

What did I tell you about my garden? Huh? What did I say?

He’s got her now. He picks her up and throws her out of the flowers; she lands hard on her backside.

Are you stupid, little girl?

He slaps her hard across the face. She is silent but I’m screaming for him to stop.

Why can’t you listen? Then I wouldn’t have to hurt you,
he spits the words at her and slaps her hard, with the back of his hand this time.
Is there something wrong with you?
He picks her up by the shirt and then forces her back into the ground. I can hear the air being forced out of her lungs. But she is still quiet.
Are you a retard?
 

He stands up and I feel relief because I think that he is going to stop. But he lifts his big boot and stomps on her small stomach.
I catch you in there again and you’ll regret it, do you hear me?
He kicks her in the side. His boot looks like it’s as big as her. An awful sound comes out of her moth. A painful, agonizing sound.

He finally walks away. I want to help her, but I can’t move. Jonah is by her side now. He picks up her torso and cradles her in his arms. He’s crying. I’m terrified. I don’t understand what just happened. There is blood trickling out of her mouth and nose, her eyes are shut and her body is limp in her brother’s arms. He rocks her and cries.

“He beat her… for running through his gardens. Kicked the shit out of her, because she followed me through the garden.”

“Who, Luca?”

“Her stepfather,” I whisper, my mind still focused on the memory that feels never ending.

“How did you feel as a little boy, seeing that?”

“Scared. It was awful. She was so tiny. He beat her like she was a full-grown man.” I’m watching Jude as Jonah and I carry her little body into the house, our bodies not much bigger than hers. We were just kids. I remember being terrified as we walked back into that house that he had disappeared into.

He wasn’t there waiting for us and we got Jude into Jonah’s bedroom and laid her on his bed. His bed was neatly made; his comforter was covered with pictures of robots. I can see it so clearly; her limp body on that robot-covered bed.

“We cleaned the blood off of her face. Jonah got her cleaned up, and I held an ice bag on her lip and we lay next to her, I held onto her body and prayed that she would be okay.”

“How did you feel then, when you helped her?”

“Scared still. But for her. Scared that she wouldn’t be okay. Scared that she was going to die. That this little girl would die because I ran into those flowers. I just wanted her to be okay. I wanted to take her away from there and keep her safe.”

I open my eyes and look at Rose. She offers me a tissue and I wipe my face dry.

“This is the first time you remembered this incident?”

“Yeah. How could I have forgot that?”

“Your mind is capable of blocking out painful memories. But the emotions that the event created would have stayed with you. What were your feelings concerning Jude?”

I don’t want to remember anymore, but I do now. “I always believed that my feelings for her, my love for her, started when she was thirteen and then intensified when Jonah got sick. Jude and I have been part of each other since her brother died, since we watched him die together. But I was wrong. I felt like it was my job to take care of her since that day in the garden.”

“Okay, Luca. Why don’t we take a little break? I’ll go get us some water and give you a chance to process. Try and let yourself feel what your mind wants to feel.”

A million memories start flowing through my brain. Snapshots, like the ones on the computer. They fly by so fast, yet so clear. The fleeting images are reminders of the hours I spent watching her; making sure she was okay. Watching her get off the bus, tying her shoe, watching her sleep, playing games with her, brushing her hair, pushing her on a swing, cleaning up her messes before Arnie got home, leaving the house before that happened and walking backwards until I couldn’t see anymore. 

Jonah is there too, watching out for her. Watching over her, watching out for Arnie.
God damn it
, getting the shit kicked out of him by Arnie.

“Ahhh,” a deep scream escapes my mouth. “Fucking bastard. Fuck.” I bury my head in my hands and let myself feel my anger, my hatred.
Fuck
, it hurts to see him, as a little kid, getting railed by that asshole.

I can feel Rose sitting by me again, but we are both silent. I let myself feel all the hatred in the world, I soak it in and when it becomes manageable I take my head out of my hands and look at Rose.

“Luca, you’re doing great. Did you lose consciousness?”

What? “No.”

“That’s great, Luca. You’re exercising control. You’re doing great.”

“I don’t feel fucking great,” I snap.

“But you didn’t let the mania overcome you. You stayed in the present and expressed your anger in a non-physical way and then you controlled it.”

Did I? Hell, I guess I did. These thoughts, these pictures, are definitely rage worthy.

“How is it that I blocked out all of those memories? I mean, it’s not just that one, it’s years of memories of her.”

“If you can, Luca, think back to the last memory you have of her, of the memories you had suppressed.”

Reluctantly, I close my eyes and let myself see the pictures. We look about the same in all of them. We’re young. I’m seven, eight, nine… at the very most ten maybe. I keep searching… waiting for something. Then I see Jude, the picture stopping in my mind.

It’s her birthday. She’s sitting at the kitchen table. A cake is in front of her. Jonah is on one side of her, I’m on the other. I watch Jude blow out her candles. There are eight pink candles on her cake. I can see them very clearly. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. My mind is telling me this is it, the last memory of Jude. Like this.

“October twenty-fourth. She was eight. I was ten.”

“Can you think of something that would have happened around that time that would have caused your relationship with Jude to change?”

“Yeah. That was the week I found the folder in my uncles filing cabinet.”

“Do you remember how you felt about yourself during that time? How much you understood about your family’s mental health?”

“Clinically Insane. A long proven history of severe mental health problems throughout Mrs. Norris’s family.” I verbalize the typed sentences I can see in my head. “It clicked with me. I understood when I saw those words that there was something wrong with me. That I was just like Arnie, capable of hurting someone, murdering them even. Someone I loved, just like my mother did.”

“So you connected yourself with Arnie, you put yourself in the same category as him – an abusive person that was capable of causing Jude great pain. Someone that she needed to be kept safe from?”

“Yeah,” I mutter, the pain of losing her that first time starting to creep over my body.

“I’m guessing Luca, that that was hard for you. That you would have struggled with that idea. That you had to work very hard to convince yourself that you were not, in fact, the person that could protect her, but the person she needed to be protected from.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you had to work so hard to believe that you could hurt her, that you had to push that boy, the one who was capable of protecting Jude, out of your life completely.”

“Holy shit,” I mutter. She’s right.

This is the second day in a row that Dr. Rose has come here to work with me. Yesterday was… rough, alarming. Exhausting. We talked about Jude for three hours, until I couldn’t do it anymore. Until my mind became blank and shut down.

“How would you describe your feelings for Jude today?” she asks after her general checking-in questions have all been asked.

“Today? Um, blurry, I guess. I can’t stop seeing her as a little girl. I can’t get those pictures to leave my head. I’m feeling that same overwhelming love for her and the need to keep her safe. I feel guilty that I wasn’t able to do that. I feel stupid for even trying. I hate myself for hitting her just like he did.”

“Do you understand that there is a very big difference between what her stepfather did to her and what you did?”

“No,” I can’t help but laugh the word.

“You love her Luca. You have spent most of your life making sure she didn’t get hurt. You would not have hit her if you would have realized that she was in front of you.”

“Well, no. But I’m capable of hurting anyone, even her.”

“Luca, I don’t think you’re capable of hurting her. In fact, I believe that if we can work through your inherent need to protect her then we can take away most of your aggressive tendencies.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think back, for a moment, about the times that your mania has gotten so bad that you have blacked-out. I also want you to remember the times you have physically assaulted people while you were in a state of awareness.”

I let out a slow breath, then lean back on the couch and recount all of the times that I have turned into a raging monster. Some I see as they are happening. Others, I just see the aftermath. I open my eyes and look at her.

“Can you think of a time when you assaulted someone for a reason other than because you thought you were protecting Jude?”

I flip through my assaults. “One time.”

“Can you describe it for me?”

“I broke my roommates arm.”

“What was your trigger?”

“Um… I don’t know why I did that to him. I was using heavily at the time. I was high on drugs. I was blacked-out, but not from my mania, at least I don’t think so.”

“What had caused you to use so heavily? This is not typical for you, even during the time leading up to your manic episodes, correct?”

“No. In fact I don’t use at all, really. I was afraid that I would lose control if I did.” I stop and think, knowing already what her response will be. “I was trying to cope with the fact that Jude was coming to live in Portland. I thought if she saw what a junky I was she would want to stay away from me.”

“So you were protecting her from yourself.” It’s not a question. “Your instinct was right about drug use and alcohol abuse. It always propels the highs. Do you see this as a problem in your life, something you need to get treatment for?”

“No. I don’t use. Haven’t since that day.”

“If you ever feel the need to start, you have to seek help. It’s important that you understand that.”

I nod at her.

“Your roommate was an unfortunate casualty of your coping mechanism.” Again, not a question.

“Let’s go back to the brief period where you let yourself express your love for Jude. What do you think it was that allowed you to trust yourself with her? Or did you believe you were still capable of hurting her?”

“No. God, if I thought I could have hurt her, I wouldn’t have done that.” She nods. “It was just too hard, to stay away from her. I love her, I always have. It’s never been easy to deny myself of Jude and she’s always been adamant that we be together. She never gave up on us. She’s why I moved here, so I could stay strong, so I could stay out of her life and keep her protected. But once she was here with me and I could see all of the ways my rejection was hurting her, I just couldn’t handle it anymore.

“She told me that I was going to love her better than anyone ever would but that I was never going to give myself to her. I knew she was right. She called what I was doing a game and, although I wasn’t trying to play a game, I was. I would give up anything for that girl. I would give her anything she wanted except for me. That wasn’t fair to her, and I finally realized it. Once I let myself have her, once I knew what it felt like to be allowed to have her, I guess I just wasn’t afraid anymore. I knew that I could never hurt her.”

“I bet that was a huge relief for you. To no longer worry about her safety.”

“Yeah,” I agree seeing it clearly for the first time. “I was so happy… at ease. I felt peaceful.”

We sit in silence for a while. She’s letting me
process.
This is huge for me… it would have been huge for me… if I could still have Jude. If I could lock us away in our protective vessel. I could be peaceful. I could be happy. Fucking, irony.

“Have you had any contact with Jude since the incident at Anton’s house?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Do you have any desire to try and reform that relationship?”

“That’s not possible.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she can’t love me anymore, not after what I did. I wouldn’t ask her to.”

“Would she be open to speaking with you? Would you like to apologize to her for the things that you’ve done to her?”

“Yeah, of course. But I wouldn’t do that to her. I wouldn’t step back into her life.”

Rose takes a deep breath. “Do you see a pattern here?”

I stare at her blankly, I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“You make assumptions about the people who love you most. About Jude and about your adoptive parents. You cut them out of your life on the basis that it’s what they want. But you don’t know this, Luca. You are projecting your feelings about yourself onto them, and that’s not only inaccurate, but it’s also unfair. Maybe they miss you. Maybe they wonder why you have cut them out of your life.”

I get what she’s saying, but I can’t believe that. I shake my head at her.

“Okay, Luca. I won’t push you right now. You did a great job sharing your feelings with Anthony, Rake and Clara. I said that would be the easy one. If you’re not ready to contact Jude, how do you feel about working on Miles and Anton?”

Fuck. “Yeah, I can do that. Let’s start with Miles.”