He’s getting worse. His hands twist. With his eyes shut, I know he’s imagining an empty jar in his fingers, one hand screwing the lid on tight. It’s been too long for him, too long without his jars. They calm him.
“Mr. Munroe, will you please restrain your client?” the judge asks.
Raymond turns around. His eyes double in size when he sees Jeremy jerking back and forth, arms raised, his fingers working an imaginary jar. The motion looks weirder if you don’t know that’s what he’s doing, pretending he has his jar.
Raymond rushes to Jeremy and whispers fast to him. He touches my brother’s arm, but Jeremy jerks away. He makes a tiny squeal, the sound of an animal caught in a trap.
“Mr. Munroe,” the judge says, “if you can’t get your client under control, I’ll have to ask that he be removed from the proceedings.”
Raymond can’t help my brother.
I turn to Chase. “Give me the aspirin.”
“It’s too soon, Hope.”
“Give it to me!” I’m loud enough that people around us turn to stare.
Chase gets the bottle out of his pack. “You shouldn’t-”
I yank the bottle out of his grip. “Open your hand.”
“What?”
“Just do it!”
He opens his hand, and I dump the entire bottle into his palm. Several pills fall to the floor.
Jeremy’s noise gets louder. He doesn’t speak, but there’s nothing wrong with his vocal cords.
“Mr. Munroe?” the judge demands.
I’m on my feet, bottle in hand, sliding through the rows of spectators, not stopping until I reach the defense table.
People are talking now, and the judge bangs her gavel to stop them. Or me. “Order in the court! Mr. Munroe, do you want to tell the court what’s going on at your table?”
I know any other judge in the world might have thrown me and Jeremy and even Raymond out by now. So I turn to her, picturing that Grateful Dead T-shirt under her robe. “Your Honor, I’m his… his helper?”
“His helper?” she repeats.
I elbow Raymond until he gets it. “Um… my assistant. In a manner of speaking.”
“Uh-huh.” The judge’s eyebrows arch up to her forehead.
I reach across the table to give Jeremy the bottle. I don’t know if he realizes I’m here.
“Just a minute,” the judge warns. “May I ask what it is you’re trying to pass to the defendant?”
“I object, Your Honor!” Keller stands up as if he’s been asleep and has to make up for lost time.
“To what?” the judge asks.
It takes him a second to answer. “To the disruption to the proceedings, Your Honor. This is totally out of order.”
“I’ll take care of my own court, thank you, Mr. Keller. You may sit down.” She turns to me. “Will the attorney for the defense’s assistant please approach the bench, with whatever that is you’re trying to hand over to the defendant?”
I glance at Jeremy. He’s looking at me now. He sees the bottle. His eyes are wide open. He reaches for it.
“Ms. Long?” the judge calls.
“Yes, ma’am. Your Honor.” I head for the bench. Behind me, Jeremy starts up with the animal noise. It’s louder now, filled with pain. I run the rest of the way to the judge and hand her the bottle. “Please,” I beg. “He needs to hold this bottle.” I can imagine what’s running through her mind. Is he addicted to aspirin?
Jeremy whimpers. Then from deep in his throat comes a scream. Not a regular, mouth-open scream, but a throat scream, filled with guts and stomach and insides. The whole courtroom goes silent, making the growl sound louder.
“Your Honor, I object,” Keller says, sounding a little bit scared, I think.
“To an empty aspirin bottle, Mr. Keller? I don’t remember anything on the books about that one.” The judge shoves the bottle back into my hand and waves me off. “Go, girl!”
I run back to the table and put the bottle into Jeremy’s hand. His eyes flick open, and the sound cuts off as clean as if somebody shut off the sound track. I hand him the cap to the bottle. He stares from the bottle to the cap. He breathes more easily as he clutches the bottle to his chest.
“It’s plastic, Jer,” I explain. “I don’t know how long they’ll let you keep it. But if they give it back to me, I’ll put it on the shelf with the rest of them. I’ll try to bring you another one too. I’m sorry I didn’t bring you one before.”
I breathe in the scent of my brother. He smells like mint toothpaste or mouthwash, and sweat. He’s back. The real Jeremy is back. The good Dr. Jekyll.
I risk glancing at the jury as I turn to go. They’re all wide awake now. What are they thinking? What are they saying about Jeremy?
I take my seat next to Chase, but my gaze is fixed on my brother. He sweeps the bottle in the air above him, and with his other hand holding the cap, he brings them together and caps the bottle, as if capturing a rainbow no one else can see. The act itself transforms my brother’s face into something angelic. I want the jurors to see this change, this face. But I don’t think they’re watching. They’re listening to the testimony that’s started up again.
I listen too. But I keep one eye on Jeremy.
I glance at the jurors, and I catch Juror Number Three looking at me. I smile, then nod at Jeremy. She doesn’t look at my brother, but she gives me a tiny smile-I’m almost sure of it.
The instant court is adjourned, I’m out of my seat and heading for my brother. Nobody stops me until I’m almost there. One of the officers of the court puts out his arm. “I’m sorry, miss. I can’t let you get closer. They’re taking him back now.”
I shout over the guard’s arm. “Jeremy! I know you didn’t do it. Everybody can see that. You could never kill anybody. I could, if I got mad enough long enough.” I can imagine an instant of hate exploding out of my hands in a black smoke of anger. “Or Rita. We’ve both seen that temper of hers. It’s not a very big leap to imagine Rita doing it.”
Jeremy stops fidgeting with the bottle and glares at me. The angelic look disappears from his face.
“But not you,” I say quickly, finishing my thought. “I can picture almost anybody I know losing his temper and in a single instant doing something he’d regret. But I can’t picture you doing it.” I lean in and lower my voice. “And I know you’re not crazy. I’d sooner believe the whole world is crazy than believe you were crazy for one minute.”
“We have to go.” The guard steps away from me and takes one of Jeremy’s arms, with a second guard holding Jer’s other arm. He goes with them without a struggle, his back straight, his chin held high, like he’s been invited to visit royalty.
29
After court, Chase drops me off in front of my house. As soon as he drives away, I feel someone watching me. My skin tingles, and for a second I can’t move from the sidewalk. I glance around for the pickup truck I know I’ll see, but it’s starting to get dark, and I can’t make out forms across the street.
Then I see him. T.J. He’s standing in the neighbor’s yard, leaning against a tree, staring at me.
“T.J., you scared me half to death!” I start toward him, but I’m struck with a mixture of sadness, loss, and something else… fear. I stop a few feet away from him. “I’ve missed you.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just keeps staring, his mouth hard, his eyes invisible behind those glasses.
“I look for you every day in court,” I say, my voice sounding thin and false, even though I’m telling the truth. “I can’t believe you stopped coming.”
“I’ve been there.” He doesn’t budge. I don’t think his lips moved. If I didn’t know better, I’d think somebody else had spoken, not T.J.
“I didn’t see you.”
“I saw you. You and Chase.”
“But how-?”
“From the gallery.” His voice isn’t angry or hurt, but something worse. It’s cold as death.
I don’t know what to say to him. “Well, I wish you’d come sit with us.”