Chronicles of Jonathan Tibbs 1: The Never Hero Read online

  He was holding open a copy of the New Testament he hadn’t read since catholic school, and it had become an unmanageable cluster of rainbow sticky notes. At first it was just a distraction, a way to pass the time as they played bodyguard for Jonathan. They’d picked up their conversation about writing a graphic novel Bible reboot and soon forgotten they weren’t supposed to leave. Hours flew by unnoticed while they brainstormed.

  Occasionally Jonathan would walk through the middle of one of these sessions when he was hungry enough to bother eating. In one instance Collin had actually started drafting some of the comic book panels.

  “So when Mary gets impregnated, should we draw an angelic sperm flying into her uterus, you know with a halo and everything, or just a magic embryo?” Hayden asked.

  “Well, which one do you find more offensive?” Collin asked.

  “Halo Sperm,” Hayden replied. “Oh! and give it a cape!”

  Apparently since he was the resident Christian it was his job to gauge what would be considered more controversial in the retelling. They tried to be more boisterous about it when Jonathan was around, hoping they might pull a smile out of him.

  “What should be Jesus’s Kryptonite?” Hayden asked once while Jonathan sleepwalked through the living room.

  Lost in thought, Collin looked up at the ceiling for inspiration.

  “Radioactive pieces of heaven? Heavon-ite?” Hayden asked.

  “No, Heaven didn’t blow up like Krypton,” Collin said. “How about science?”

  “Too obvious,” Hayden said.

  “Doubt-inite?” Collin said, cringing at the sound of his own suggestion.

  “No,” Hayden said. “Hell no, jeez.”

  “Wait, okay, the name sucks, but if Superman gets his powers from the sun, then Jesus must get his from faith.”

  “Okay,” Hayden replied. “I guess it’s an angle.”

  “Well, think about it; a God without faith is just a superhero anyway,” Collin said.

  Hayden’s eyes narrowed, “What are you implying, Ass Hat, that without faith the New Testament is a comic book?”

  “If it’s any conciliation,” Collin smiled, “it would be a seriously boring one.”

  Hayden mocked a frown. “If it’s any conciliation, why don’t you go punch yourself in the dick.”

  Jonathan would just walk out of the room, like he hadn’t heard a word of it, no reaction at all.

  He woke suddenly. In the darkness, he looked for the clock to see it was six at night.

  He’d been dreaming, but could only remember fragments. His father had been there again, speaking to him, but it wasn’t clear. Jonathan felt so ashamed, but wasn’t sure why.

  If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

  But make allowance for their doubting too.

  They weren’t his father’s words; it was a line from a poem Douglas had read to him as a child, the same poem that Jonathan’s grandfather had read to Douglas as a child. It was all he could remember of the dream. It was enough.

  Just get your feet on the floor, Douglas used to say to him, when he woke Jonathan for school and he was struggling to fight off the urge to go back to sleep.

  He rose in his bed, forcing his feet to touch the wood floor. He looked to the cigar box on his desk, and he knew where the shame came from, even if he couldn’t remember the details.

  His father had been a big man, strong. He wasn’t the type to have a vague poem framed in his office, not something left up to interpretation of the reader. His father would never have hidden like this, wouldn’t have drugged himself into a coma just to flee his own mind. If his dad were here beside him now, Jonathan would not have let himself do whatever it was he was doing to himself.

  With the thought of his father there watching him, he couldn’t bring himself to take another pill. He looked at the bottle for a moment, deliberating on it, and then thrust them into the pocket of his robe. He forced himself out of the bed and down the stairs.

  They were gathered on the living room couch waiting for him. Collin and Hayden said nothing, but Paige walked across the floor to him, put her hand on his shoulder, and leaned in close to his ear.

  “Jonathan, I think it might be time you took a shower,” she whispered, “and maybe changed out of the robe and pajamas. At least wash them.”

  Jonathan hadn’t had the honest inclination to bathe for days. He realized she must be right, that he must smell terrible by now. A look over Paige’s shoulder to Collin and Hayden was met with nodding.

  “Um,” he replied, “right, probably a good idea.”

  He headed back up the stairs to shed the clothes. He started the water and stayed there longer than he’d planned. The shower was a small walk-in. Tiled with a glass door, it was a tiny chamber. It reminded him of the MRI, the cocoon, the safety of the small spaces he kept trying to hide in. He sat on the floor and let the water run over him. He lost track of time listening to the sound of the running faucet, the trickling of the drain below him.

  The water washed away the buildup of human grime. It poured over him, waking the nerve endings that had been numb and unfeeling; the hot steam helping to leach away the prescriptions built up in his system.

  He remembered what his mother had said when his father had died. Her words seemed as apt now as they had then.

  For now you’ll just have to redefine what you consider normal, he thought.

  He had to find a new measuring stick, a new normal; hiding in bed while his roommates stood guard on the house had to end.

  Tomorrow, he thought. At least leave the house. Try.

  When he finally turned off the water, he stood in front of the mirror. He was halfway to having a beard as thick as Hayden’s. So he shaved. By the time he was done with that, it was just a little more effort to brush his teeth and comb his hair. He realized he hadn’t worn any of his real clothes since the episode. The hospital had given him scrubs and he had tossed those for his pajamas and a bathrobe upon arriving home. Jeans and a t-shirt actually felt pretty good, sturdier somehow.

  He went back down and joined his roommates who, obviously planned, gave him a standing ovation. He pretended to smile, at least it was a start, then handed Paige the pills he’d been prescribed.

  “I’ll try not to ask for them,” he said. “Can’t guarantee anything.”

  She nodded.

  “If you really want them,” she said. “I’ll understand.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MONDAY | JUNE 27, 2005 | 9:15 AM

  JONATHAN pulled himself out of bed. He hadn’t slept well. His body had lost all sense of rhythm and he couldn’t tell the difference between night and day without looking out a window.

  The new normal, he remembered.

  He decided to go for a jog. It was exercise, it would force him outside, and he knew he needed it. He put on shorts and a ratty t-shirt, pulled his sneakers out of his closet and got them laced on. He looked back at his bed longingly, fighting the urge return to it.

  His eyes wandered to the cigar box on his desk, and like a ghost watching him, his father stood between him and the bed. Douglas shook his head, as if to say, you can’t allow yourself to crumble this easily. He turned away, making his way downstairs, surprised by how powerful the thought of failing that ghost had been.

  It was clear his friends approved. Paige and Collin were both packing their bags, heading out the door to get to class. Hayden said he would be home for the next few hours, finishing some assigned reading he needed to write a paper on. Jonathan hadn’t had to ask, Hayden had volunteered the information. He could see they understood. He was trying to ease himself into being alone again, even if at first alone only meant out in a populated area during broad daylight with no one he knew personally. It wasn’t as though he thought he might be assailed in his driveway.

  He was surprised after a few blocks, he was able to run longer than he’d expected. After hardly moving for two weeks he expected to be easily winded. It didn’t seem to be
the case; too much pent up energy he supposed. It was morning and other joggers passed him, people with dogs and baby strollers, the city alive with the comings and goings of everyday humanity. It was surreal to Jonathan; the degree with which his internal world could change so drastically and the external world couldn’t know or care. Life went on no matter what happened to any one person.

  He headed to one of the parks near his house, a large community field where a neighborhood soccer team was out practicing. He quickly worked up a sweat, circling the field. The exhilaration of movement, the throbbing of his heart and the quickness of his breath felt novel after such a long stretch of stagnation in a dark bedroom. Briefly, he stopped worrying if he was being stalked, watched from afar by some blond man in dark clothing. It was a fleeting distraction gained only from the act of engaging in something that required him to pay attention to what he was doing.

  When the thoughts started to leak back in, he let his legs pull him into a sprint and ran as hard as he could, and the effort pushed them away again, but only until the need to breath overcame the desire to forget.

  As he paced to a stop and put his hands on his knees, the rush and energy of the run started to fade with the slowing of his pulse. He started the walk back to the house, in a better mood than he’d started with.

  His mood stayed positive until he stood in front of the house again. Immediately he felt uneasy. Nothing was blatantly wrong. There was no blond man holding a syringe staring out the front window, but Hayden’s car was gone.

  Dammit Hayden.

  It wasn’t like him to be untrustworthy.

  Jonathan stared at the house. He wondered, really considered, if he was going to stand outside just to avoid being alone inside. The answer was simply no. Whatever normal was going to be, he wasn’t going to set the bar that low. He could spend weeks being afraid on the inside; he’d endure that, but there was no way he was letting his behavior be governed so drastically.

  He hesitated a bit longer, but eventually he opened the front door and walked in.

  The scene in the house was surprising, if not of a horrific nature. There was a child, maybe six years old, sitting pretzel style in the middle of the kitchen floor. The boy had a small pile of toy vehicles in front of him. They were pouring out of an overly colorful and hardly functional looking child’s backpack on the ground near him. The kid had singled out two cars. He was pushing them in circles around him as though they were having a race. He made sounds of tires peeling out and vehicles ramming each other for effect.

  Jonathan was disturbed for a moment, not by the child, but that the kid sat on the linoleum where he’d lost so much blood.

  “Hello,” said the boy, looking up at him, “I’m Jack.”

  The kid was smiling at him. The innocence of it brought Jonathan back to reality. Jack had short brown hair and a thin frame. He seemed alert, aware, like Jonathan’s presence was an exciting turn of events. It was sad, Jonathan thought, but even the presence of this child in the house gave him comfort, it was better than being alone. Still, who was Jack and why was he sitting in Jonathan’s kitchen?

  “Hello, Jack,” he said politely. “I’m Jonathan.”

  Jonathan looked around the room again and searched for an explanation for the kid. When he didn’t find one, he spoke again.

  “Those look like some cool cars you’ve got there. I used to have ones just like them when I was younger.”

  “Yeah? I like cars, but I like motorcycles more. I can’t wait till I can have one. I mean a real one, not one with pedals,” Jack said.

  “I have a roommate who likes motorcycles. He has one. Maybe you can come see it sometime,” Jonathan said.

  Jack’s eyes grew wide.

  “Speaking of roommates,” Jonathan said, “have you seen a big man with a beard around here today?”

  “Yeah, he left in a big hurry,” said Jack.

  “Oh,” Jonathan said. “Did he say where he was going?”

  Jack thought about it for a moment but shook his head no.

  “He might have told my sister.”

  Jonathan realized then that he’d heard the sound of water running from the upstairs bathroom. Had Hayden somehow managed to invite two neighborhood children into the house, then leave, in the span of Jonathan’s half hour jog? Was he trying to show him what it was like to babysit someone?

  A moment later, Jonathan heard the bathroom door open followed by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. An attractive woman was suddenly in his living room. When he looked into her eyes she appeared to be as confused as he was.

  The woman’s face said she’d been put in a strange predicament, but was just choosing to take it as it came. Jonathan was not a good judge of age but she had to be in her early twenties. Her hair was a dark auburn and long, down past her shoulders. She had on jeans and a white tank top, and what looked to be an expensive camera hanging from a strap around her neck. As she made her way over to him he tried not to be so transparently distracted by the way she walked. His mind had gone blank in an effort to focus his eyes in appropriate places.

  She was too pretty to just be in his house like this. It made him nervous; not nervous like when he thought about being followed by an inhumanly strong blond man, but the good kind of nervous, the kind that made him worry he was about to say something stupid, the kind that made him worry he might be on the verge of blushing and she would know his thoughts.

  “Make a new friend, Jack?” the woman said.

  The little boy nodded.

  When she reached Jonathan she put her hand out, close enough now he could see the blue of her eyes.

  “I’m Leah. We’re neighbors,” she said.

  Jonathan took her hand, he was about to respond, but before he knew what was happening she drew in close to him. He tensed excitedly as she was suddenly whispering in his ear, “Hayden promised you wouldn’t be creepy.”

  When she pulled back, she smiled. Thoughts crashed through Jonathan’s head as he tried to decipher the meaning of what she had said. Had he been leering at her?

  “Um. Hi, Jonathan,” he said, stuttering a bit. “I meant, I’m Jonathan, and yes, I mean no, I’m not. Creepy that is.”

  She was still smiling at him, and he realized she was playing with him.

  He cleared his throat. “Did Hayden say why he left in such a hurry?”

  “Not really. He promised that he’d be gone for less than an hour and that he needed someone to stay here with his roommate while he was out.”

  Jonathan looked at her like it still didn’t add up.

  “So how do you know Hayden?” Jonathan asked.

  “I don’t actually. I just moved in next door a few days ago. Jack and I were out in the front yard. I was taking some pictures of this interesting little nook we share. Your garden is beautiful, by the way. Anyway, when Hayden came out of the house, he said there was an emergency and that he needed someone to watch his roommate until he got back.”

  Leah looked at Jonathan with a curious tilt of her head.

  “I realize now he was playing the vague pronoun game because I thought for sure he meant the girl I’ve seen coming and going.”

  Jonathan was embarrassed now, and he felt it showing on his face. This was bad nervous, and if he ever needed a reason to get over his fears, he’d found it. For a moment, he worried he might have to explain why a grown man would be afraid to be alone in his own house. Or worse, he wondered if Hayden had left out the part where she might be acting as a temporary deterrent to Jonathan’s would be attacker.

  “Well played on his part,” Leah said. “But hey, I’m new to the city, so I guess this is one way to meet people.”

  Jonathan had to wonder what had gotten Hayden so desperate to find him a baby sitter that he tricked their neighbor into it. It must have been pretty serious, especially if he had continued with it once he’d noticed how stunningly attractive she was.

  He looked up and realized Leah was still looking at him with that curios
ity she had before. She looked like she was struggling within herself to ask a question, then finally decided to take the chance that it might be taken as rude.

  “So, what’s the story then? Seems a little odd that you need someone to watch you,” she said, quickly adding, “I understand if it’s none of my business.”

  Jonathan, still embarrassed, looked down at the floor. Pleading the fifth was tempting. There really wasn’t any good way to spin the truth, no way he wouldn’t come off looking fragile at the least. He decided to just be vague, it had worked for Hayden, and it was better than telling her that her little brother was sitting where he’d woke up in a puddle of his own blood last week.

  “I recently had an episode, got attacked in the house. It rattled me a bit,” he said. “My roommates got a little protective. You really don’t need to stay if you’re busy, I’ll be fine.”

  She gave him a look of sympathy, then leaned in again to whisper. He liked it when she did.

  “Um yeah, Jonathan,” she said. “Sounds like it’s time to nut up a bit.”

  When she pulled away he could see she was playing again and he smiled back.

  “Nut up,” he repeated.

  The first day back to campus, Jonathan felt like he’d arrived late to the movies. He paid attention, but wasn’t sure there was enough time left in the quarter to learn all that he’d missed. Still, the distraction was worth the effort. After classes were over, he showed up for his first shift at the hardware store.

  James Fletcher, his boss and the owner, was an older man who had lost his hair long ago and wore nothing but blue collars. His wife had passed away some years earlier, and as a result, he didn’t have much in life other than his business, his employees, and a smoking habit he was no longer trying to be rid of. He often said he smoked half as much when his wife was alive because she wouldn’t let him into bed smelling like an ash tray. He hadn’t expected to see Jonathan so soon.