NUMB by Judy Colella (the best books to read .txt) đ
- Author: Judy Colella
Book online «NUMB by Judy Colella (the best books to read .txt) đ». Author Judy Colella
âWhat? Really? This is the first time heâs said anything, yes?â
Jax shook his head. âI said âsort of,â Dad. He, um, I donât think he can actually talk. His voice isnât working.â
âWhy not?â His motherâs alarm was cushioned by her natural ability to remain calm in most situations. Even this one.
âOh.â Jax hadnât told them about the screams that had rendered their other son incapable of making normal sounds, mainly because what he had told them had been disturbing enough.
âWhat is it, Ajax?â
He took a deep breath. âLook, Dad, thereâs something I didnât want to talk about before, but I guess youâll find out. I mean, he thinks he should be well enough to come home in a few more months, and unless something changes radically, youâllâŠright. He â Jett had horrible nightmares. I donât know if he still does or not, but, um, and I explained about how he kept trying to keep himself from thinking about what happened, right?â
Brysonâs raised brows were the equivalent of crossed arms and impatient foot-tapping.
âOkay. Heâs been screaming in pain almost every day, and his voice is pretty much gone.â
âWhy wouldnât they give him pain medication?â
âThey did, Mom. For his injuries. This pain was different. It couldnât be treated with medication. Something the doctor told me the last time I was there made me think that the nightmares were worse when they did sedate him, so they eventually stopped doing that. I have no idea how that would be possible, but there you go. They said the yelling and all that increased every time they knocked him out.â
âWell, that sucks,â she said, surprising her son. âAll right. How did he talk to you, then?â
âHe wrote. Said he loved us all and was sorry for putting us through all these months of worry. He told me heâd tried to avoid hurting us by not committing suicide, but what he ended up doing instead was probably worse. Something like that.â
Bryson sat again, moving his book to the table beside his chair. âHow does he look?â
âHeâs gained a few pounds since the last time I saw him, and heâs walking on his own. His eyes arenât the same, though. Theyâre, I donât know, cold. Could be a continuation of whatever defenses he set up in his mind.â He shrugged.
âBut heâs getting better, you say?â
âYes, Mom. He also said you could both visit him if you wanted.â Before they could say anything, he added, âBut I think you should wait a little while. He doesnât look like himself at all, and that would upset you guys more than you might want to admit. Why not wait a couple of months? They tell me his appetite has improved, and now that heâs talking, well, writing, heâll probably start trying to get back in shape, too.â
His parent exchanged a look he couldnât quite interpret, but that gave him the impression they were agreeing on something.
âYouâre right, of course,â said his father. âWeâre plenty upset enough as is, so why make it worse, eh? Weâll wait, but Iâd like some kind of progress report. Are you up to making another trip out there in the interim?â
Given the choice to do so, Jax would have gladly stayed at the Foundation until his brother decided he was ready to come home. âI am. When would like me to go back?â
âA couple of weeks, maybe? Yes?â
He nodded. âThat makes sense. Thanks, Dad. Iâll do that.â
Celia stood and stretched. âAll right! Thatâs settled and now I think Iâd like to make us an early supper. I need to get some sleep â I have to be up practically at daybreak to go shopping with Trish. Her son is graduating early and they need to find him a suit.â
Sheâd made it sound like an impossible task, so Jax gave her an odd look. âIs this something unusual?â
âHave you met Brad?â
âI live out of state, Mom. And if Iâm not mistaken, they had him after I moved away six years ago. SoâŠwait. Graduating? How the heck old is this kid?â
Bryson laughed. âItâs a kindergarten graduation, Ajax. Heâs only five.â
âWow. Werenât his parents a little old to be having another baby?â
âTrish is only forty-one â itâs perfectly normal these days to have children late in life.â Celia patted him on the arm as she went past, heading for the kitchen.
âWhatever.â He gave his father a shrug and removed his coat â he hadnât bothered after coming in, and realized he was still wearing it. âGood thing Jett and âTarah hadnât had any, though.â
His fatherâs steps toward the door faltered for a nanosecond; Jax dismissed it as one of the manâs leg twinges.
After supper, they went to their respective rooms, but Jax paused at Jettâs door. It occurred to him that with all the traveling heâd been doing he hadnât kept up with his personal life. His business life was still intact â heâd been given a paid leave of absence after returning from his two-week absence. His brother was practically worshipped by two of his bosses, and when he explained the situation, they had readily agreed to give him as much time as necessary to make sure Jett recovered. The next Summer Olympics were only two years away, and without the astounding skills of Jett Kinsley, the American team would be in serious trouble.
Jax found their willingness to help an act of selfishness more than one of compassion. After all, they invested large amounts of personal funds betting on the winners in the Games. Regardless of the motive, however, he was grateful for the time. Staying in touch with them was a peripheral consideration at this point. His friends were another story. He may not have been in a committed relationship, but he did have a large circle of friends â both male and female â who cared about him for him and not for his relationship to some famous athlete.
The last time heâd been at his parentsâ home, heâd brought his laptop. This time he hadnât bothered. Well, heâd use Jettâs. It wasnât all that late, and he needed to check his emails, perhaps answer one or two.
Like the last time, being in his brotherâs room felt strange, even though he now knew where Jett was and that he was recovering. In fact, this made it harder not to feel like he was violating his brotherâs privacy. Couldnât be helped, though.
Because he used the same email service as Jett, his brotherâs account automatically popped up. Jax was about to log out and enter his own information, when an email address caught his attention.
ajohanansmom123@....
Why on earth would Chara be sending Jett an email? Hadnât his mother told her he was MIA? And as far as Jax new, there hadnât been any further communication between the two women since. How odd, then, that sheâd be emailing â and wait. Why would she email Jett and not Celia?
Proving too much of an enigma to be left alone, he opened the email. A minute later, he was overjoyed that he had, yet almost wished he hadnât.
Atarah Kinsley was alive and well. It had all been staged to protect her from some doctorâŠbut he had found her and she was with himâŠhad severe amnesiaâŠwouldnât touch her until after she had the babyâŠWHAT?!
Jax suddenly remembered his fatherâs miniscule stumble when heâd expressed relief that Jett and Atarah hadnât had any children. He knew! Which meant his mother knew, too! ButâŠdid they know his sister-in-law was still alive?
âHoly shit!â He sat back, struggling to get his emotions and thoughts unscrambled so he could make a sane decision about how to deal with this information. Emptying his mind, he closed his eyes, told himself to relax and stop thinking for a moment. Then, a tiny bit more calm, he opened his eyes again, blinked back a new wave of panic, and re-read the email.
When he was done, he realized he had some choices to make. Did he tell his parents about this? Did he write back? Chara had written the message with the understanding that Jett was gone, but that she had faith heâd be back at some point and would need to be told exactly what had happened. Fine. So what would Jax say to her if he did respond? And finally, should he tell Jett?
âDamn it!â He needed an aspirin. Or a glass of wine. Something. He wondered how dangerous this doctor was, if he would harm Atarah to keep her from being returned to her family and husband â that whole if-I-canât-have-her-nobody-can craziness.
He read the email again to confirm something. Nope. Chara had given no indication that she knew where the doctor and âTarah were. Was that because she was afraid Jett would try and go after them himself, or because she didnât know? He groaned, frustrated, and went back downstairs to put on a pot of coffee.
Until he figured out some kind of plan of action, he for sure wasnât going to be getting any sleep.
*12*
âWho has it? Who? Who? I want it!â
âAw, shut up, Fitz. Mr. Nobody took it. Heâs outside practicing his throwing, Iâm told.â
The first man, a middle-aged former lawyer known by the other patients only as âFitz,â scowled, crossing his arms over his chest, and paced to the nearest window. âI donât see him.â
The second man, a much older gentleman named Jules who was at one time an EMT, and who had seen one too many mangled bodies, snorted. ââCourse you donât, Fitz. The field is on the other side of the building! Idiot,â he added under his breath.
âGreat. Is that the only baseball we have? I really wanted to have a game of catch.â
âYup, itâs the only one, and you know why, too.â
âYeah, yeah, I know. So we respect it, or some such crap.â Fitz took a quick, deep breath and went to the ping-pong table where he picked up a paddle and began to pantomime hitting a ball. âYou notice Mr. N has started to look better these days?â
âHmm. Yeh, almost like an athlete. They must have improved the way they do physical therapy, ha!â
âWell, it helps that heâs so doggone tall to start with.â Fitz tossed the paddle back onto the table and threw himself into one of the recliners nearby. âYoung, too. Wonder whatâs wrong with him?â
âBesides him not talking, you mean?â Another man, closer in age to Jett who was recovering from a drug-induced psychosis that had caused him to attempt suicide twelve times during the previous year, smiled at the other two. âMaybe thatâs why we all like him. He never says anything that pisses anyone off.â
Fitz shook his head. âMaybe not, but taking the baseball gets pretty close.â
âHell, man, it isnât like heâs leaving the planet with it!â
âShut up, Jules.â
Silence took over for a while, broken only when Jett and one of the orderlies entered. Everyone looked up, but before any of them could speak, Jett walked across the room to Fitz and held out the ball.
âHey, thanks, kid. Howâd you know I wanted it?â
Jett shrugged, smiling. He was still underweight, but now had a healthier glow to his skin; he had also begun filling out and no longer looked anorexic.
âNâs got one hell of an arm,â said the orderly.
Comments (0)