Carry the Ocean: The Roosevelt, Book 1 (18 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Je
remey

I
should have been happier about my life.

I had a boyfriend who I fell in love with more every day. I hadn’t said the word to him yet—I had said I loved him when I was trying to kill myself, but that was more of a goodbye than a confession. I told him in the hospital too, that first day, but that was possibly drugs. If I had loved him then, I loved him more now, but I couldn’t tell him because I was too scared. I knew, though, someday I’d tell him. I had good medication that kept me even-keeled, enough that with regular sessions with Dr. North, I felt better than I could ever remember feeling. Some days depression made it so I had to stay in bed, but not often, and I never felt as overwhelmed as I used to feel.

My parents were still weird, but they were paying my bills and not trying to mold me into somebody I couldn’t be. I had an incredible place to live, and after my stay at the group home, I knew exactly how precious The Roosevelt was, how lucky I was to have it.

I had so many things to be happy about, and in a way, I was. Except not all the way. I’d never feel the same kind of easiness other people did. Happiness and peace would always be something I worked hard to have, even if my external life looked like a 1950s sitcom. I understood this, but that knowledge still made me sad and lonely thinking about it. I was sure my life could be more. I
wanted
more.

One of the things I wanted, really wanted, was a job. At first I’d wanted to continue staying in our apartment watching TV all day, but Dr. North pointed out that discontented feeling wouldn’t go away with another
Cake Boss
marathon. I started looking at options for employment, and without consciously meaning to, I became fixated on the idea of a good job making that last piece of disquiet fall away. The trouble was, I couldn’t find a good job. I couldn’t find
any
job that I could work at for more than a few days.

Something was broken in me. I swear I wasn’t this way when I started my senior year of high school, but I was certainly a mess now. And then Dr. North pointed out something that made everything worse.

“While your depression was more pronounced before, it seems your anxiety has taken over, at least temporarily, as the more predominant force.”

I straightened. “So what, they can switch around whenever they want?”

“You will always have both, but yes, you’ll have times where one is more dominant than the other. It’s perfectly natural.”

Easy for him to say. I felt as if he’d pulled up a cloth on the table, revealing that instead of a thousand-piece puzzle to solve, I suddenly had ten thousand pieces, all of them gray. “Basically you’re telling me, while I’m calming one down, the other goes out of control.”

“No. Not at all. Think of it as managing dual currents. Sometimes one is stronger than the other. Sometimes they both are. You can’t maintain a perfect calm, but you can accept and control these two elements.”

I sagged in my chair. “It’s all so impossible. I want to be better. I want to be
fixed
.”

“
Fixed
is a dangerous term. This isn’t a little box we’re ticking so I can give you a different colored pill. This isn’t an infection we’re eradicating. We’ve been treating
you
and finding solutions for
your
situation since the day we had our first session. These are life-long conditions. Right now the condition most difficult for you to manage is anxiety. So let’s talk about what’s making you anxious.”

We talked about what made me anxious every single day we met after that. A lot of things made me anxious, but
everything
overwhelmed me when I was working. It was something to do with possibly letting my employer down. It didn’t matter how nice and understanding they were—certainly the library staff had seen everything, between clientele and staff members like Darren, but none of that mattered in my head. It was like living in the aisles of Target every day at work. All I wanted to do was scream or curl into a ball, and usually that’s where I ended up by the end of the day.

I was so ashamed of myself, so embarrassed. Sally and Tammy told me not to be—so did Dr. North, Marietta, even Althea. Emmet told me not to worry about it, that I could work at The Roosevelt, helping. It was true, I could do that. Sally and Tammy always needed another pair of hands. But I worried what would happen when I screwed that up too. I worried, a lot, about what happened to somebody so worthless he couldn’t keep any job, anywhere.

Sally and Tammy gave me tasks to do, but not many, and I could tell they were jobs that didn’t need doing, that if I melted down, nothing serious would come of my failure. They were also solitary jobs: folding laundry, doing dishes, cleaning out bathrooms. Ashamed as I was that this was all I could do, I did feel better for doing them. In fact, I felt more anxious and disconnected when I
wasn’t
working, and I started finding staff to ask for jobs so I didn’t sit on our couch and go nuts until Emmet came home from school.

One afternoon when I went to find Sally, she was in the hall with David, having an argument while down the hall Stuart wailed bloody murder about God only knew what. I hung off to the side, trying to be polite and wait my turn for her attention, but David didn’t look ready to relinquish her anytime soon. His left arm jerked in time to his anger as he angled his head to the side and shouted at Sally.

“I’m going outside. Nobody has to go with me. I’m going to sit under the fucking tree and stare at the goddamned clouds, all right? I don’t need a babysitter for that.”

“I understand your frustration, but you haven’t been here long enough for us to learn how far your independence can go, and I don’t have the call button for your chair yet. Missy will be back in fifteen minutes. You can wait that long.”

Missy was one of David’s many aides. I got the idea David didn’t like her as well as he did Jimmy.

“She texted and said she’d be late because one of the prescriptions wasn’t called in. If I wait for her, it’ll be time for my evening shitshow.” He waved his right arm at her. It was so strange to watch, like a club attached at his shoulder, awkward and uncooperative as he screwed up his face in anger. “I want some fucking time to myself outside. I’m not gonna die sitting underneath a tree.”

Sally was just as angry, but when she waved her arms, they worked fine. “I have twelve other residents to take care of, and one of them is waiting for me right now while I argue with you.”

“So go to him already,
Jesus
.”

“
David.
I cannot leave you unattended yet, not out there without your call button. What if your chair fell over? What if—”

“I don’t give a shit. If I die, I fucking die—”

“You’re not going out unaccompanied right now, and that’s final.”

David’s face got red, and he started to sputter, unable to swear anymore, he was so angry. Except it wasn’t just that. He was
frustrated
. Helpless, furious, completely unable to control his life enough to go sit outside alone. I understood why Sally couldn’t take him—people down the block had to be able to hear Stuart howling—but I felt awful David had to ask permission and have a chaperone for something as simple as going outside to sit in the shade.

A thought occurred to me, and almost as quickly it tumbled out of my mouth. “I could go with him.”

I hadn’t spoken loudly, but David turned his head toward me in the same lopsided way he’d done to Sally. I held still, nervous and unsure as he looked me up and down. “Jeremey, right? You live with Train Man?”

I winced at the nickname, remembering how much Emmet hated David. I wondered if I shouldn’t do this because of that. But how could it hurt to sit outside with David for a few minutes?

I glanced away, self-conscious. “I wouldn’t mind going outside with you. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to help you if your chair fell over, but I could go
get
help. Plus, I have a phone. I could call Sally or even an ambulance. I mean—that’s probably too much. But I can help. If that would be okay with you.”

David grinned, and I blushed. He was handsome enough most of the time, but when he smiled, he looked like a young Hugh Jackman. The smile evaporated as he tilted his head toward Sally. “Go help Stuart. My new best friend Jeremey’s going to take me outside.”

Sally glanced from David to me and back again. “Jeremey, you’re sure?”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure, but I did want to help. “It’s fine.” I was pretty sure I could sit under a tree with a quadriplegic without having a panic attack. Though if it turned out I couldn’t manage
that
much, I was going to ask Dr. North to up my prescription on something.

“Okay.” Sally pointed a finger at David. “Behave.” She lowered her finger as she addressed me. “I’ll be in Stuart’s room if you need me. If he gets hurt, don’t bother finding me. Call 911 first.”

“Fucking Christ.” David rolled his eyes as she hurried down the hall.

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing. I wasn’t so sure of myself now, alone with David. I wished Emmet wasn’t at school so he could come too. Though as much as Emmet hated David, that probably wouldn’t have happened anyway. “Wh-what do you want me to do?”

It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d said
nothing
or made a sarcastic remark about how he didn’t need help, but instead he said, politely, “If you could hold the door open, that would be great. I know it’s automatic, but it doesn’t stay open long enough for me. Dad says he’s going to fix it, but the repair guy can’t come until next week.”

“Sure. No problem.” I hurried to the door, held it open wide and waited patiently as he navigated his chair through. It did take him a long time, largely because he kept overshooting his angle, heading for the frames instead of the center.

“Sorry.” His cheeks reddened and he glowered as he tried again to make the approach. “I suck at driving when I’m pissed.”

“It’s okay. I’m not in a hurry.” I remembered he said he wouldn’t have much time outside and added, “If there’s something I can do to help, let me know. But don’t rush on my account.”

It might have been my imagination, but he relaxed a little after that, and it wasn’t long before he found the correct angle and went sailing through…to the next set of doors. I hurried around to open them too. They both opened out, which was great for this direction, but he’d have to drive off to the side on the return trip while I opened the inner door. I frowned. Doors kind of sucked, for wheelchairs.

“No worries.” David breezed through the last barrier between him and the outside, and he sped up as he headed down the ramp, letting out a lusty sigh at the bottom. “Damn. I feel as if I got a reprieve from prison. Thanks, bro. Owe you one.”

I hadn’t ever been anyone’s
bro
before. Folding my arms over my belly, I came hesitantly around the side of his chair. What was I supposed to say? I felt panic start to spiral, but I set my teeth and didn’t let it take hold. No. All I had to do was stand here and be his live-action help button. If he wanted to talk to me, he’d talk. If not, I didn’t mind enjoying the moment of quiet.

He enjoyed it too, shutting his eyes and tipping his head back in the chair’s headrest so his chin stuck up toward the sky. “Perfect fall day.”

There wasn’t much to say to that, so I said nothing and continued to study him. He was handsome. Dark brown hair cut close to his head, a smart goatee—though I could see the rough spots under his chin where he hadn’t been shaved properly. He would have to be shaved too, since his hands clearly didn’t work well enough for him to do it himself. He wore a bright green shirt with yellow and white geometrics across the front, and a pair of jeans. I wanted to stare at his still torso and legs, mesmerized by how little he moved. His legs were smaller than seemed right too—atrophy. I didn’t get around much, but I did enough movement to build basic muscle. The only way his muscles moved was if someone moved them for him.

When I glanced up at his face, he was watching me. I blushed, ready to stammer an apology for ogling him, but he spoke before I could.

“Are you seriously dating Train Man?”

I wasn’t expecting that question, and I glanced around awkwardly. “Yes. I’m dating Emmet.” My face heated as I got ready for him to make fun of me, and panic encroached as I realized I couldn’t leave if he got insulting.

“Like—
dating
him. You’re not playing along? You’re straight-up boyfriends?”

He didn’t sound as if he were making fun, more earnestly asking a question, but I still felt uneasy. “Yes.”

“How did that happen?” He turned his chair so it faced me more fully. “I mean—I thought they were all no-touchy and isolated.”

They
being autistic people. I began to understand why Emmet hated him so much. I didn’t know what to say, so I looked away and hoped he’d give up.

No such luck, though he did ease up a little. “Sorry. That was crass.” He stared off into the playground. “I’m asking because it’s what I want back the most. Being able to date somebody. I’d figured I was out of the scene, now that I’m glued to this chair and live in the Special Snowflake House. But you’re dating someone. For real. Not a game. That’s what I’m asking about. How you got it. What it’s like. If you don’t mind talking about it.”

I leaned against the tree, hunching my shoulders as I put my hands in my shorts pockets. “We met at a picnic earlier this year. He introduced himself to me. We hung out, and…” I averted my gaze to the ground, thinking of the right turn my summer had taken.

“What are you in for again?” David’s voice was light, but not teasing. “You seem so normal.”

“I’m so far from normal I can’t see it anymore.” I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye, so I stared at the handle of his chair. “I have major depressive disorder.” I thought of what Dr. North had said and added, my lips pursed, “And clinical anxiety.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

I grimaced. “I was in the hospital until a few weeks ago because I tried to kill myself.”