Necessary enemy so healing could begin
From the message of apology his heart might soon break free
For now he walks that island all shipwrecked, and ready..."
- Jars of Clay, Shipwrecked
Chapter 22
Shipwrecked
Raine threw her bookbag down at the door. "Oh my God," she yelled into the house, "Can you even believe how hot it is out? I mean seriously, you'd think we were in the tropics!" Raine kicked off her Doc Martins and headed into the kitchen. "We should go swimming later, seriously, it's that hot out." She grabbed the freezer door and pulled it open. "I'm gonna have a popsicle -- do you want a popsicle?"
When she didn't get a response, she shrugged and grabbed only one lemon pop, pulling the wrapper off and wrapping it around the stick before doubling back and heading for the living room. She assumed he would be there, since his car was sitting in the driveway, but when she crossed the threshold and found the couch empty, she stood, sucking on her popsicle and staring at the place she'd expected Nick to be. "Hmph," she grunted, and bit a large chunk off her pop before heading for the stairs.
Raine took the steps two at a time, "Nick?" she called down the hallway. She noticed his bedroom door wasn't closed all the way and walked toward it, slurping on her popsicle. She pushed open the door without knocking, "Dude, do you want a popsi--" Raine stopped midsentence.
Nick was laying on his bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling, his face wet with tears. He didn't move or look up when she'd entered, he'd only stayed laying, staring, his nose flared, as though holding back a great wave of emotion.
Raine dropped what was left of the popsicle into the waste bin beside Nick's desk and, for the second time that week, sat on the edge of the bed. She grabbed Nick's hand as she'd done Max's and stroked the skin gently with her thumb. She looked at him, waiting, and when he didn't move, she lowered herself across him and hugged him. "Nick," she asked, listening to his heart beat in her ear, "What's wrong?"
"I never wanted to see him again," Nick muttered.
Raine tilted her head against Nick's chest so she was looking up at his chin. "Who?"
"My father."
Raine's heart skipped a beat and she sat up and stared at Nick for a long moment. "You saw your father?" she asked.
Nick nodded.
"Where?"
"At the hospital," Nick answered.
"When you went to see Max's father?" Raine sounded incredulous, "What are the odds of that?" she asked, perplexed, "That's insane Nick, it was clearly meant to be... I mean, what are the odds of you going for one father and finding another?" her voice rambled on, "It's like destiny or something like --"
"The odds get better when it's the same person."
Nick's voice was so flat that at first Raine wasn't sure she'd detected the true meaning of the statement. She hesitated. "You mean your father and Max's father?" she asked.
"Yeah," Nick answered, his voice a monotone, "Same guy."
Raine stared at Nick in shock, "Did - did you know that you were -- brothers?" she asked slowly, carefully.
Nick's eyes rolled to meet hers. He blinked up at her, his skin hot with surprise. The word brothers had not crossed his mind yet, in all that had gone through his head, this thought, this connection with Max had not yet. He felt the wind leave him and he closed his eyes. "Oh God," he whispered.
Mimi hung up the phone and looked out the window at the cardboard box, sitting on the grass halfway across the lawn. She sighed and made her way downstairs and out the front door. "Max," she called from the stoop, "Sweetie, Nick's not coming over today."
The box was still, though it seemed disappointed, as though the box's shoulders had slumped. Mimi knew this was crazy, she was projecting onto the box the things she was sure the little boy inside was feeling.
"You might as well come inside now," she said quietly, "It's supposed to rain soon." Slowly, the box turned over and inched its way across the lawn to the stoop and into the house.
Mimi looked around at the clouds overhead and shivered before letting herself back inside and closing the front door.
"I don't know how I overlooked it," Mimi was saying into the phone. Max had been listening to her talking for over an hour to Barry. She sounded sad and Max hated it when grown ups sounded sad. Mimi shuffled around the kitchen in her sparkly mules and Max listened while she put dishes away. He listened carefully, hoping she would say something about Nick.
He hugged his knees to his chest, hoping and waiting.
"I know it isn't my fault," Mimi explained, "But I should've seen the last names, I should've remembered. I spent months trying to build a strong case against that man. I should've seen the name and recognized it."
Max rocked himself a little.
After a long pause, Mimi said, "He hasn't been around here since. Max is starting to get a little restless, I think, though it's hard to tell. He hasn't come out of the box."
Max picked at the toes of his Converse sneakers.
"I'm really getting worried, Barry," she said quietly. "I mean it's been three days..." Mimi closed the cupboard door and Max saw her shoes shuffle by, heading for her rocking chair. He shifted his box so he could see her chair and watched as she lowered herself into it and began rocking, her knees bending and unbending as the chair moved.
"If anything will help, that will," Mimi said, "I really hope you can get in touch with him, I haven't been able to get him to answer his phone. His room mate has been calling to tell me he isn't coming," she explained.
Max sighed.
"Well, thank you," Mimi said, "Please, if you get in touch with him, tell him that there's a very sad little boy here who would really like to see him, okay? ...Thank you. Have a good night." Mimi hung up the phone. With the beep of it, Max tensed and pressed himself as far back into the box as he could go.
Mimi had warned him it would be bath time after she hung up the phone.
Mimi knocked on the box flaps. "Max," she called gently, "It's time for a bath." Max pulled his knees to his chest as Mimi opened the box and peered inside. "Come on, Max," she pleaded, her voice soft. "Please come out of the box."
Max shook his head and hugged his knees tighter.
"Max..." Mimi reached into the box and took hold of Max's shoe and gently tried to pull him out.
Max kicked. "No!" he shouted.
Mimi stopped in surprise. This was the first time Max had ever spoken to her. Once she'd processed that thought, she grabbed hold of his foot once more. "Max, this isn't a game, you need a bath."
"No!" Max kicked again, pulling his foot away from her and tucking it beneath him, "No, leave me alone, I don't want you, I want Nick! I want Nick!" he bellowed. Tears flooded his eyes, "I want Nick!"
"Nick isn't coming and you need a bath," Mimi said sternly. She went to reach for his foot again, but Max kicked at her foot. "Max!" she shouted.
"No!" he yelled, "Don't hurt me!"
"Max!"
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" he screamed the words in a shrill, high pitched voice, and his face buckled into a sob that he'd been restraining for months. "Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me," he cried, kicking his legs against the box. His foot hit the side of it and the box gave way and the next thing he knew, the box wall had ripped away and the sides fell away from him, and he rolled onto his back, shipwrecked on an island of cardboard. Tears poured across his face and he wrapped his arms around himself, shaking. "Don't touch me," he sobbed.
Mimi's mouth hung open and and she stayed where she was, kneeling several feet away, her hand hovering in midair, her eyes wide. She didn't know what to do or how to help.
Jake came jogging into the room from the stairwell. "What's going on?" he asked, coming to a stop. He stared in disbelief at the remains of the box and Max's wailing, flailing body on the floor before him.
Mimi looked up, her eyes filled with tears, and she whispered, "Max."
Jake bent down low, inching closer to Max's side. "Max, it's okay," he said quietly.
"No," Max cried, "No! I want Nick," he begged. "I want Nick."
Jake looked up at Mimi. "Where's Nick?" he asked.
Mimi frowned, "I can't get in touch with him."
Jake looked down at Max, then back up at Mimi as Max writhed across the cardboard, his little fists smacking the flattened box. Jake reached down and grabbed Max's wrists, stilling his punching fists, "It's okay Max," Jake said, trying to think of things that Nick might say, but nothing came to mind.
Max squeezed his eyes shut tight, feeling like nothing was going to be okay ever, ever, everp again.
