Nicky was next to me with a ‘what now?’ expression on his face. I think he sensed that I was making an important decision. He looked ready for action.
I knew that Nicky was ready to stick with me wherever I went and however fast I might go, but I realized that I didn’t need him with me immediately.
If Perry was at the falls, I knew where to find him. If he wasn’t, there was probably less urgency. Nicky could meet me at the falls and we could figure out what to do next from there.
But wherever we found Perry, it would probably be important that he have his clothes. I pointed into the trees where Jason said Dante had thrown Perry’s clothes.
“Nicky, can you climb those trees?”
He looked back at me like I had just questioned his manhood.
“Okay. Sorry.” Of course Nicky wouldn’t have trouble with the trees. I took a calming breath.
I decided that I needed another one.
“I think I know where Perry is.”
Adam was huddled with us and I glanced at him suspiciously.
He looked ashamed. “I promise, Ross. I’m not going to say anything; I know this just needs to be over, with everybody safe.”
I decided I could take him at his word. Aside from Becky and Linda, Adam was one of the saner members of the team. And I was pretty sure he wouldn’t do anything to betray his little brother.
I nodded. “Okay. I think there’s a good chance that Perry is up on top of Chase Falls. Please get his clothes, Nicky. Then meet me there.”
He nodded reluctantly, like maybe he thought I might need him with me. I decided that there was one more very important instruction.
“You have my phone?”
He reached into his pocket and handed it to me.
“I want you to keep this, Nicky, in case you need help.” I thought for a second. “In fact, as soon as you get up into the trees, I want you to call for help. Tell the operator that a kid was injured. That there’s been . . . ” I thought some more, “That you think there was a fight. That way the emergency responders will include a cop, too.”
“Sheriff,” Adam corrected me.
“Yeah. Sheriff.” I vaguely remembered my father saying something about county sheriffs or state troopers being the only law enforcement out in the wilderness.
“If any of those guys,” I gestured toward where Jason was solicitously rubbing Dante’s shoulders, “look like they want to start trouble again, make sure they know that police are coming. That should chill them out real quick.”
“Don’t take any chances. Stay safe, Nicky. I don’t want anything happening to you!” I included Adam in my glance and he bobbed his head to indicate that he understood the importance of my warning.
Nicky looked into my eyes for several seconds, testing the meaning behind my message. Then he nodded, too. For some reason, I thought that his eyes looked sad.
If Perry was at the top of Chase Falls, he would have gone up Ball Mountain and come down from there. I decided that I would take the lower route, to the pool, and then climb the falls from below. It seemed more important that I get there fast, in case Perry was really planning to do something catastrophic. If he had, I knew that down below the falls was where he would probably need help.
While I was running, I regretted giving Nicky my phone. If Perry needed medical help, it was going to take Nicky longer to arrive at the scene. I prayed that wouldn’t be necessary.
When I arrived at the pool, a quick glance around reassured me that Perry wasn’t broken on the rocks below the falls. I also couldn’t see anyone in the water. I hadn’t realized how much I had been panicking until I registered that good news.
My relief was short-lived.
Glancing upward thirty feet, I saw Perry balanced precariously on the rocks at the top of the falls.
My first instinct was to shout. But he was so close to the edge of the falls that I was afraid I might startle him.
Quietly, carefully, keeping one eye fixed on Perry, I started to climb the steep path that was worn into the dirt and ledge of the hillside. At the distance, I couldn’t be certain of his intentions. He didn’t appear emotionally upset or distraught. But he did look almost unnaturally calm. I didn’t fully understand his demeanor, but there was a feeling of dread growing in my heart.
He didn’t move as I slowly made my way up the hillside. He didn’t appear to be aware of my presence, even when I finally crested the top of the climb.
Perry stood about twenty feet away from me. He was balanced on the top of a large boulder that stood sentinel where the waters began their drop to the stone floor below. He appeared to be completely relaxed as he absorbed the peace and quiet grandeur of the natural beauty spread out in front of him and below.
I don’t know where the thought came from, but I realized that I had never seen Perry naked before and that he was even more beautiful than I had imagined he would be. Even with smudges of dirt and angry red slashes against his fair skin, he was perfect beyond any fantasy I ever had.
But the thought of that perfect image smashed violently against the bed of granite below wasn’t nearly as unsettling as the realization of the depths of suffering he was experiencing in mind and soul that had brought him to this place. Cautiously, I began to feel my way slowly across the jumble of rocks that lay between us.
Perry never glanced in my direction. But when I had covered about half of the distance between us, he whispered, “Please don’t come any closer, Ross.”
I paused. I really had no idea what I could say that might reach him. So I tried something simple.
“This is still as beautiful as it was yesterday.”
He didn’t say anything.
“It’s going to be just as beautiful tomorrow, too.”
I thought I detected a slight hitch in his breathing.
A number of thoughts came into my mind. But I discarded them, one after the other. I still wasn’t sure which might be safe to articulate. I was feeling intense frustration with my inability to find the right way to connect with him.
“I’m here to help if I can.” I wasn’t able to keep all of the raw emotion out of my voice.
Perry was polite. “I know you are, Ross. You’ve been trying to help. I know that. And I saw you and that Crandall kid go running past here a while ago. I understand that you wanted to stop those guys.”
He paused a moment, maybe pondering what-might-have-beens.
“But it’s too late to help now, Ross. Things have gone too far.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. Any question felt like it was fraught with danger, like the wrong word could set off disastrous consequences. But it still seemed better to have him communicating with me rather than caught up inside his own thoughts.
“How have things gone too far?”
He half turned toward me. “You were there, weren’t you?”
I must have acted startled, like he had accused me of something.
“You got there after I left. You saw what happened, didn’t you?”
The silent confusion on my face communicated more clearly than any shouted response.
“I killed that guy, Ross. I killed a person!” He wobbled unsteadily on the top of his boulder. I measured the distance between us, recognized that it was too far, and simply said a silent prayer.
He steadied himself. I let out a deep breath. And I thought for a second. ‘Killed a guy’?
“Do you mean Jack?” And I rushed on before my words contributed to any further misunderstanding. “Jack isn’t dead, Perry! He was sitting up when I left them five minutes ago. In fact,” I was eager to share the good news, “he probably won’t have more than a bad headache. He’ll walk out of the woods and will be back in school on Monday!”
I realized after I got the words out that Perry might not see that last reminder as great news. But he’d have to be happy that he hadn’t killed anyone!
He looked at me carefully, assessing whether I might be mistaken. I don’t think it crossed his mind to wonder whether I might not be telling the truth. He looked confused.
“He’s all right? He went straight down when I hit him with that branch. He was already bleeding.” The look on his face suggested that the news was too good for immediate acceptance.
“He’s going to be fine, Perry. I had Nicky call for help–you know, that Crandall kid–so even if Jack isn’t up to walking out of the woods on his own, there’ll be medical care to help him.”
Perry acted like there had to be a catch. Maybe he had convinced himself of the worst, and been so ready to accept his role in it that he couldn’t immediately believe that there wasn’t some dire consequence to be feared.
“I attacked him. With a weapon.” He shook his head. “I’ll have to go to prison for that.” I think maybe he wanted to feel guilty about something.
I reassured him. “You had to defend yourself, Perry. You can’t get into trouble for that. Lots of people know what they did to you.” I realized, too late again, that reminder might not be entirely welcome.
“I mean, nobody is going to believe that you took your clothes off to come up here for a swim!” I said, trying to cover my verbal misstep. “It’s too early in the year for that!”
He appeared to absorb some awareness, then shivered briefly in the cool air. I saw the opportunity and took it.
I peeled off my jacket. “Can I give this to you, Perry?”
He gathered his thoughts slowly, then nodded. He glanced down, “This fall probably wouldn’t be enough to kill me anyway,” he added contemptuously.
I made my way carefully across the rocks between us and handed the jacket to him. Then I realized that I also had a long-sleeved t-shirt under my button-up flannel. So I took off the shirt, too.
Perry draped the jacket over his shoulders. I thought he might need some help tying the shirt around his waist, but instead he sat on the boulder and wrapped the shirt loosely around his feet with a brief, apologetic glance at me. After being barefoot in early spring weather for more than an hour, I guess warming his feet was just a higher priority.
I imagine that it must take a fair amount of courage to make a conscious, rational decision to end your own life. For a few moments, as he sat there on that boulder, Perry seemed to be surrounded by an aura of defeat. He appeared to be accepting of the fact that he was alive, and that he would go on living, but he didn’t seem to be entirely pleased with that outcome.
I figured that the best thing I could do, at least until I could persuade him to climb down from the top of the falls, was to keep him talking(...)x and to avoid conversational landmines.
“You know that there are a lot of people on your side, don’t you, Perry? Me. Becky and Linda. Brian Gilchrist. Nicky Crandall.” I hoped that I wasn’t overselling Nicky’s commitment to the cause. “We all know that what those guys have been doing to you is wrong.”
He nodded. But it was affirmation without confirmation. Perry understood. He just wasn’t sure it would make the least bit of difference in his life.
“If you want, and if you let us, we’ll all have your back. We’ll all support you if they give you any more crap.”
He nodded again and glanced at me sadly. “I know, Ross. And I appreciate that. It just isn’t easy for me.”
He sighed. “I’ve got some problems. Ghosts. They’re really hard for me to shake.”
“Is that why you’re... homophobic?” Damn! Landmine! It wasn’t a good choice of words.
Surprisingly, Perry wasn’t upset. “I’m not homophobic, Ross. Not really. Not in here.” He tapped his chest.
“Or in here.” He tapped his head as an afterthought. “It’s a long story.”
“I’d like to hear it... if you’re willing to share with me.” I didn’t say it just trying to keep him talking. I really wanted to find out more about him; maybe gain some insights that would allow me to help. “If it makes it easier, I can share, too. I’ll tell you anything you want to know about what a geek I was, growing up. Every embarrassing detail, if you want. But it feels like today should be about you.”
It felt good that he maintained eye contact with me while I spoke; like he was ready to engage in a conversation. He listened with his ears and with his eyes. When I paused, he nodded.
“Gay people really don’t bother me. But there are a lot of things in my life that stacked up to make me . . . sensitive to people thinking I might be gay. That’s how my counselor explains it to me.” He paused and watched me a bit more closely, like he was wondering how I might react to that revelation.
I nodded. I tried to look wise.
“I’ve always been small for my age, Ross. I guess I’ve always been . . . pretty, too.” His expression turned sour, like he was disappointed in himself. “At least prettier than a boy should be.”
I tried to look supportive. Supportive and still wise. I had nothing to say. I thought it was a great thing that he was so beautiful. But it didn’t feel like the right time to share that opinion.
“Sometimes it wasn’t bad. The attention wasn’t always bad. But when I started school, it bothered some of the other kids when I got attention. I guess some of them resented me for it. There were always a few kids . . . ” He looked off toward a distant memory. “I guess they were looking to take me down a peg or two.”
“For most kids, it might not have hurt so much. But I already knew the words. Pretty boy. Princess. Fairy. Homo. Gay. I knew they were hateful, were intended to hurt. I had been hearing them for years.” His voice broke a little and he brushed at his eyes.
I wasn’t sure what I should say. I wanted to help take away some of that pain I saw in his eyes. But I was worried that I might cause more pain if I said the wrong thing. I wanted to hug him—I felt he desperately needed a hug—but it might have been the exact wrong thing to do. I just watched him with a concerned look on my face and waited for him to continue at his own pace.
“My father hated me, Ross.” He chose to meet my eyes bravely instead of continuing to look at distant memories. “I think he hated me from the day I was born.”
A few tears had started to trickle down his face, but he continued to look at me directly as he revealed his pain. “He named me after someone. A hero of his, I guess. When I came into this world, a tiny kid with delicate features, wispy blond hair, and a too-pretty smile,” he shook his head, “I guess that was too much disappointment for him to bear. He wanted someone to carry on his genes and carry the name of his hero. Instead he got me.”
The bitterness in his tone was painful to me. I wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but it wasn’t the right time for such a close personal gesture.
I decided to be a sponge, to try to absorb as much of the hurt that was pouring out of him as I could. To take some of that burden from his shoulders, from his heart, from his soul.
“So when I started school, those words were already ringing in my ears. I understood what they meant. They meant that I was hated.
“My name just made it worse.” He paused like he was making a calculation. Like he was wondering if his next words might hurt too much if they were exposed to the open air. Or maybe he was contemplating a revelation that was just too personal to let loose from his chest.
Whatever his calculus, I watched a brief spark appear in his eyes as he measured me, found me worthy, and decided to share.
“Perry isn’t my real name,” he said. “Or at least it isn’t my full name. On important papers, I’m G. Perry Nolan. But my father named me Gaylord Perry Nolan.” He waited a moment for the full implication of that information to sink in.
That bit of news made me cringe. “And when you started school?” I asked.
He nodded. “I didn’t understand. But I soon did.”
We exchanged a long glance as I absorbed that information. Subtly, because I understood that it was important that he know, I zipped my lips with my right hand, then crossed my heart.
“I don’t know whether it was a relief or just piling on more rejection, but during the summer between my first grade and second grade years, my father left us. We haven’t heard from him since then.
“The rejection and insults continued at school, because by then a lot of the kids had figured out that they were always good for a reaction from me. But at least there was a respite from those hurtful words at home.
“My mom did care about me and she did her best to help me cope. But I think that maybe by that point in my life, I really needed a man’s guidance.
“And maybe my mom knew that, too. She did everything she could for me for about a year. Then she started dating. But the first few guys she met didn’t work out. Maybe they wanted things from Mom, but they didn’t want me. She didn’t say anything to me, but I knew that sometimes that was the problem.
“And then everything happened perfectly. We were living in Shelburne, in western Massachusetts. But Mom was working in Brattleboro. And one day the people she worked for had a guy in to do some electrical work for them. For some reason they didn’t hire a local electrician. They had this guy come in from right around here. I think he lived in Canterbury then.
“Jeff was older, like over forty. And Mom wasn’t thirty yet. But for some reason they really liked each other. He asked her out. She knew that a child might be a deal breaker, but she told him about me. He thought it was great!
“They dated for almost a year. He spent a few weekends in Shelburne with us. We spent a few weekends with him up here. We went on vacation together for a week at Lake Bomoseen. It felt like I suddenly had a real family!”
I don’t know why, it was old history, but it really felt good to hear that Perry’s life got better then. I think my smile was almost as big as his smile at the memory.
“One night Jeff invited us both out for dinner to celebrate the first anniversary of the day he and Mom met. He took us to a really nice restaurant in Greenfield. It was a bit intimidating for me, but it was like he understood how I was feeling and went out of his way to make sure I was comfortable.
“After the meal we were waiting for dessert. Mom went to the ladies room and Jeff got real serious. At first I didn’t know if I had done something wrong. But he asked me if it was all right with me if he asked Mom to marry him. Like it was my choice! So of course I said yes.
“And before Mom got back, he handed me a tiny box. When she got back, he whispered to me and said he wanted me to hand Mom the box and ask her to marry him.
“That was more than six years ago and I still can’t describe how good I felt. But it was like I had been empty for years, maybe like a piñata constantly getting smacked by people, and suddenly I was whole, and solid, and I felt like maybe I was finally a real person( . . . )because I mattered to other people.
“Jeff wanted my permission to marry Mom. And then I helped him make it happen.
“Mom was probably more excited for me—she could see how I felt—than she was for herself. She finally had a man who had treated her with love and respect. And I finally had a father!
“And then he made it official. He pulled out another small box with a ring in it, like a plain gold band that had the Mason family crest engraved in it. He gave it to my Mom and asked her to give it to me and ask if I would be his son!”
I was wiping tears from my eyes. It was such a happy ending! No one deserved that happy ending more than Perry.
“My life was perfect after that! I stayed high on those good feelings for months. And before I could ever come down from that high, he gave me more things to feel good about.
“We moved up to Canterbury to live with him. He was already building the home in East Grange, in the Mountainview development, where we live now. He even let me help him build our home. He taught me all sorts of things about electrical work and general construction. I went from having a dad who hated who I was, to having a dad who wanted to share everything he had with me!”
Perry had looked so desolate just a few minutes ago. Now he was glowing from the warmth provided by the internal fire of his memories. I was feeling warm, too.
“Before I enrolled in school up here, Jeff and I had a talk about my name. I don’t know if Mom had said something to him, or if he just saw the potential for trouble, but he suggested that I might prefer to go by my middle name, Perry, when I started at my new school.
“That had never occurred to me before, but I was barely nine. And of course I thought it was a great idea. With just that one change, and because I had a real dad, a lot of bad feelings about myself that I had been carrying around for years almost disappeared overnight.
“That was just a first, small step in the ways he helped me to fit in here. Almost every night after work, and especially on weekends, he spent time with me tossing a baseball around or kicking a soccer ball. Then he encouraged me to get involved in local sports.
“I played youth soccer and Little League baseball. I proved my value on those teams and became part of the community. Instead of being picked on by other kids for something I couldn’t control, they were eager to have me be part of their activities. Once I got used to the idea that people could see me that way, I made a lot of friends.
“I was the shortstop for our Little League team the last two years I played. I was picked for our league all-star team both years. I was thrilled, but Jeff was bursting with pride. He was probably more excited by what I was doing than I was. I completely forgot about my birth father. Jeff became my dad. We were talking about him adopting me!
“I know! Perry Mason,” he snickered. “But I would have been proud to carry Jeff’s name, even if the combination sounded strange.”
I felt energized by the change that had come over his mood. His narrative had become positive and upbeat. He was sharing his past with pride in his accomplishments and with fondness for the personal connections he had made. I could identify with that personal growth and the pride that followed it. I had experienced the same thing, in my own way.
“By the time I was in seventh grade, I felt like I was no different than anybody else. I really belonged here. I played Babe Ruth baseball that spring and summer. I never felt more comfortable with myself or where I was.”
Just as I had sensed the elevation in Perry’s mood as he narrated his successes, I could feel a sudden plunge in the temperature.
“Electricians do dangerous work. No matter how good they are, or how careful they try to be, sometimes things go wrong. Around the middle of that July—I had just turned thirteen—Jeff was on a job with a lot of other workers. Somebody made a mistake. Jeff paid for it.”
I almost didn’t want to know. Tears had started pouring down his cheeks. I was wondering if he would be able to continue. He turned to me with an agonized expression. “He died, Ross. Jeff died. My dad died.”
Perry was breathing hard, almost gasping for breath. I couldn’t think of a thing to say to comfort him, so I tried to do it with silence. I said a prayer for Jeff, the kind man who had given Perry the father he needed. I said a prayer for Perry.
We sat together silently for several minutes while Perry wrestled with his ghosts and I prayed. After a while, I noticed Perry’s gaze panning across the vista in front of us. I hoped that what he saw was bringing him peace.
“My life changed, Ross. Nothing would be the same again. My friends tried to help. They called. They stopped by to see me. But it was no good.
“Jeff had been the anchor holding my new, better life together. With him gone, I couldn’t seem to stay connected to anything. I couldn’t figure out how to make those connections work. My counselor says I had a mental breakdown.”