by Abby Bardi
By the middle of that afternoon, I was pretty scared. Alice had come in the morning and gone again, and all anyone could tell her was that nothing had changed. When Alice came back in late that afternoon, she was wearing a big bandage on her arm. I asked her what had happened and she said she had gone to give blood, since some of the injured kids had lost a lot of blood. “Roy, you ought to go give some too. They really need it.”
I told her I was scared of needles, which was true (and a good thing, or I would probably have been mainlining bynow), but she told me that was ridiculous. We went to the hospital cafeteria and had dinner, and she kept bugging me the whole time, saying that Dr. Greenberg had told her that the hospital might end up with a serious blood crisis, and blah blah blah like that. She went home to Puffin again after that and I was left in peace, but she came back again at ten and told me that all the other parents were giving blood, etc., etc.
“Alice, I can't,” I said.
“Of course you can, Roy. I did it.”
“No, Alice, I really can't.”
“Everyone can, Roy. It's easy.”
“No, Alice, I really, really can't.”
“Roy, don't be such a wimp. Think about all those poor kids who need transfusions. You can help them.”
“If you want to help so much, then you go give them some more blood.”
“I only have so much blood, Roy.”
“I already told you, I'm scared of needles.”
“That's not a real reason. Give me one good reason.”
She kept on hammering at me until finally there was only one thing I could do: I took a deep breath and told her that I was a heroin addict, and that my blood would probably kill anyone they gave it to, though it might make them feel a whole lot better in the short term. Alice just stared at me for a minute. Then she put her face in her hands and started sobbing. I tried to put my arm around her, but she shook it off and went on crying. Plenty of people in ICU were crying so it's not like we were conspicuous. Finally, Alice lifted her head and without looking at me, said in an icy voice that didn't sound like hers, “What are you going to do about it, Roy?”
“What do you mean what am I going to do?”
“You have to do something.”
“There's nothing to do, Alice.”
“I have a lot of questions about this, Roy.”
“What kind of questions? It's simple, really, I just—”
“Roy, how could you—? How could you—” Her mouth was flapping open and closed, and I put my hand on her shoulder but she knocked it off and stood up, turning toward me, with her hand up, palm facing me, like she was about to sing “Stop in the Name of Love.” “Roy, what is it you want? What more can anyone do for you? I've given you a home, I've taken care of you, like Dad asked me to do—”
“Dad asked you to take care of me?”
“Of course he did, Roy, and of Mom. I'm supposed to be the, the—”
“Person who takes care?”
“Roy, how could you do this?” She lowered her voice so her words came out all funny, a cross between a hiss and a growl, and she clenched her fist. For a moment I thought she was actually going to punch me. “Think of all the people in the world who have real problems. Think about Mary Fred in there. And here you are, poisoning yourself. Tainting yourself. Your blood. What were you thinking, Roy? What were you—”
“Alice, I wasn't—”
“I know, I know. It's just all about you. It's about whatever you want.”
“That's the thing, Alice,” I said, sniffling a little, like I was turning into a four-year-old. “It's not like I wanted that. It just happened.”
“No, Roy, it didn't just happen. You did it. You. We make choices in life and you made them.”
“I didn't know I was making one, Alice. All I knew was—”
“I don't want to hear about it, Roy.” She gave me this strange look, like she didn't know who I was, and said, “I can'tdo this now. I'm going home for a while. Will you be all right here?”
“What do you mean, will I be all right?”
“You're not going to, I don't know, Roy, what do I know about these things, I mean, you're not going to OD or anything, right?”
“Hey, this is a hospital. Don't worry, Al, I'll be fine.”
“Oh, sure, yeah, you'll be fine, you'll just be so fucking fine.”
“Really, Al, go home, get some sleep, we'll talk about this later.” I wanted to add, “And don't swear at me, you're freaking me out,” but I was afraid she'd just do it some more.
When she was gone, I went into the bathroom and did another hit, but it didn't make me feel well enough, so I did some more, making sure to save myself a little bit for the morning. Then I went back into Mary Fred's room, laid my head down on my arms on the side of her bed, and fell asleep.
When I woke up, it was morning, and I could tell she was worse. Her breathing was rough and the beep of her heartbeat sounded funny. I got a nurse to check on her, and she seemed worried. She called a doctor—it wasn't Dr. Greenberg, which I was glad about, since I was sick of him—who came in and said they needed to run some more tests, that she wasn't responding to treatment. I ran and called Alice. When she arrived, she spoke to me in an exaggeratedly polite voice and never met my eyes. We sat in the hall for a while, not talking, just watching TV. It was Monday, and the hospital seemed a lot busier, which seemed weird to me since it wasn't like sick people got better all weekend so the hospital staff could take off. All the usual shows were on, and we watched some soap opera with people running around pretending to be doctors.
At noon, there was a news update, some Happy Talk about the School Accident, as they were calling it. Apparently the kid who did it, this Dylan kid, the Lone Teen Driver, had beenshowing signs of schizophrenia, hearing voices in his head, that kind of thing, but it was still not clear whether he had driven into the crowd by accident—he had only had his license for six months—or on purpose. He was now locked up in the loony bin under observation. There had been a total of two kids killed, twelve more injured, and seven of those were out of intensive care. Two were home. The Redskins had lost to Dallas, but we still had hopes for the Super Bowl.
As the news was ending, I suddenly had a horrible realization. It was 12:30, and I was supposed to be at work. Worse still, my runner was always gone by noon, and I had used up my entire supply of dope. I was just about to tell Alice that I had to go home and clean up, that I needed a shower, or a facial, or a manicure, but before the words were out of my mouth, the doctor came back in. He said that they were trying a new antibiotic but they weren't sure it would work, and that we had better go sit with Mary Fred. The words “and say goodbye” were not said, but I heard them. Alice wanted to go call Puffin, but I told her not to bother her, though what I was really afraid of was that there wasn't time. We went into Mary Fred's room quietly, practically on tiptoe. People in white or green were still crowding around her, fiddling with all the machines and tubes and bags. Mary Fred lay there, her face very pale, and again I thought of Snow White.
I sat there for as long as I could, but even as I looked at the Little Chick's poor pale face, I found myself thinking that I was going to have to leave. My head was starting to ache, and I was getting dizzy. I held on to the metal rail of the bed for a while to steady myself, but my arm started to hurt, and then all my joints. I don't know how much time passed then—it seemed like ages, but maybe it wasn't. At some point, I stood up and said, “I'll be right back. Can I take your car?” Alicehanded me the keys without asking me where I was going. If she'd been thinking straight, I think she would have realized what I was up to, but she was watching Mary Fred's face like something was written on it, and trying to hold her hand, despite the IV in it, talking to her in a low, soothing voice. She barely seemed to notice when I left.
When I got home, Puffin was sitting on the couch, watching a game show. I said hello to her and gave her a quick hug. She looked miserable and lonely, and I felt sorry for her, but I
had important things to do. I ran upstairs and rooted around in Alice's sock drawer where I knew she kept money. I found a bunch of twenties so I grabbed them, vowing of course that I would pay her back before she missed them, and rushed back out again.
Heroin was a daytime drug, who knows why. On Oak Street, the day shift was already gone, and the night shift, who specialized in cocaine, had not arrived yet. I walked up and down the street, not searching for my guy, since he was long gone, but hoping for some shifty-looking little bastard to run out and find me something. If someone looked like he had just escaped from a maximum-security lockup, I went up to him like he was my oldest friend, but no one said anything to me, and I was scared to approach them in case they were narcs. Maybe because it was Monday, everyone seemed to be rushing off somewhere, and no one was loitering, muttering the magic words.
As I wandered around frantically, I started making deals with myself. By this time, I had totally forgotten about Mary Fred, and could think only about my own little problem. The whole time I'd been doing heroin, I had managed never to land myself in this situation, since I'd been very prudent and well organized, you might say, but now I found that I was being completely overtaken by my physical need to get well. I was likesomeone dying of thirst, and every time I saw some thug coming toward me, it was like one of those mirages in the desert. “Okay,” I finally said to myself out loud, “it won't take long, I'll just drive down to the District and find somebody and I'll be back here before Alice even misses me or her car.” I jumped back into her disgusting old Volvo and started rattling down Pine Avenue, which turned into Thirteenth Street as I got into the city. I followed the road as if I was being divinely led to my oasis, and ended up in a promising part of town, walking down a street full of boarded-up houses. People stood on the corners, stomping their feet, since it was cold, and no one even looked at me funny, since it was pretty clear what I was doing there. Finally I saw a group of men on a distant corner, and they looked beautiful to me, like a choir of angels, and as I walked up to them, it was as if I was walking in slow motion, and I waited to hear the heavenly words come from their mouths like music, “Poison's in,” or “Murder's in,” or “Terminator's in,” or “Body Bag,” or “Mike Tyson,” or “Tango and Cash,” or “Liquid Steel,” or “China White,” or “Body and Soul,” or “Mob Deep,” or “John Gotti” or “Deathtrap” or “Charles Manson” or “Genghis Khan” or “Jerry Lee Lewis” or “Search and Destroy” or “Leopold and Loeb” or “Bozo the Clown” . . .
By the time I pulled into the hospital parking lot, I felt fine. Just fine. But the weird thing was, when I looked at the clock, hours had passed. I had left at around one in the afternoon and it was just past six. It occurred to me to worry about what Alice might say to me, but I felt so calm now I was sure I could deal with it. I went up in the elevator with a couple of doctors and a geezer on a stretcher who looked like he was dead. I felt so hallowed that I could just about bless the old guy back into life. It wasn't until I got off on the fourth floor and walked down the hall that I started feeling afraid.
Alice looked up at me when I came in the room. She didn't even ask me where I had been, just gave me this look of absolute disgust. I was probably a little messy and glassy-eyed, and when I opened my mouth to say hi, my voice was all low and raspy. “How is she?” I asked, trying and failing to sound normal.
“The same,” Alice said without looking at me. “I need to go now. Puffin's been home alone all afternoon.” Her words landed on me like little poison darts.
I handed her the car keys. She snatched them out of my hand and went out into the hall, where I could see her talking to Dr. Greenberg. As I saw him coming toward me, I thought, oh, great, and I tried to look invisible, but he came in looking like he wanted to chat. He asked how I was, and said that Mary Fred was still febrile, which I guess meant feverish, but that they were doing everything they could. Then he asked how I was and said that he was glad I'd come back, that Alice had been concerned. I opened my mouth to say something but all I could think of saying was how outraged I was that Al had been discussing me with him. “Your sister is worried about you,” he said in a gentle voice. Asshole! I thought to myself. I was sure there was no way Alice could possibly have told him anything about me and my problem, but if she hadn't, then what the fuck was he talking about?
“I'm fine,” I said. Which was true. I felt great. “She shouldn't worry so much. But that's Al, always worrying about everyone, always trying to save every flea-bitten old dog that limps her way.” I gave him an evil, pointed look but he didn't seem insulted, just patted me on the shoulder and said he'd be back in a bit to check on Mary Fred.
I sat there for a while feeling indignant. I wanted to go into the bathroom and do another line, but I was a little nervous about Greenberg checking up on me, so I waited until itlooked like he was nowhere around. As I sat next to Mary Fred, I found myself talking to her, like I was explaining the whole thing to her. “I just want to be happy,” I said. “Is that too much to ask? I need to feel well. Things in this world are just too complicated. I want them to be simple.” She didn't answer me, just kept lying there, breathing with this rough sound that scared me. “Mary Fred, I wish you'd wake up,” I said to her after a while. “The truth is, I really miss you. We all need you. We're used to you now. You have to come back to us.” She just lay there, and nothing changed. I sat and watched her.
A few hours later, Alice came back and sat down next to Mary Fred on the other side of the bed. “How's Puffin?” I asked.
“Not too good,” she said. “Dr. Greenberg gave me a sedative for her. Paula is with her.” Alice didn't look too good herself. When she was tense, she held her lips differently, so they disappeared, and her eyes got all pinched up like she was squinting into the sun. Her hair had obviously not been washed and looked grayer than usual, messy and dull. I suddenly remembered Puffin and Mary Fred offering her a makeover—it seemed like a million years ago, though it had probably only been last week. “Ve vill dye les chevaux—quel couleur do you crois, Marie Fred?” Puffin said.
“You're going to dye my horses?” Alice asked. We were all laughing, and she had danced across the room toward them as if she was a teenager too.
I put my arms across my stomach and started to rock back and forth. Then, to my surprise, big bark-like sobs started to wrench themselves from my body. Alice turned around and looked at me, and I could tell she wanted to comfort me but was stopping herself, like someone had told her to practice Tough Love. I wanted to talk to her, but I couldn't seem to form any words, all I could do was go on making this horriblebarking noise and rocking. As I cried, I looked at Alice every so often, hoping that her face would melt and that she would put her arms around me and hold me, but she just sat there, though her mouth was twitching like this was pretty hard for her to watch. I remembered how when I was a little kid, I had cried in my room until I made myself sick, I'd be choking on the snot that poured from my nose and mouth till I felt like vomiting, until one of my parents would come in and tell me to shut up, and that only made it worse. When I saw that I had gotten a rise out of them, I would begin crying louder and louder, till I was standing in the doorway shrieking, and all I really wanted was for someone to come and comfort me, but no one ever did.
I was inclined to cry louder and louder now, until Alice felt sorry for me and went back to being my sister, but instead I found another way of upping the ante. “Al, you've got to help me,” I said. “I need to go into rehab.”
This was clearly music to her ears, though I have to say that I didn't mean a word of it. “Oh, Roy,” she said. I even thought she was going to call me Binky, which was what everyone had called me until I was five. “Of course I'll help you. I've already talked to Diane about it and she says she can get you into a good program. It's hard because you don't have health insurance, but she knows a few places she can pull strings. Oh, Roy, you're making the right decision.”
“You talked to Diane?” I came out o
f my crying for a moment and snapped at her. “Alice, what were you thinking? Do you want everyone in town to know about this?”
“Roy, she's an incredible resource. And Bob—Dr. Greenberg—wants to help too.”
“Oh my God, Alice. Did you place an ad in the Mount Pleasant Gazette?”
“Roy, you're a person who needs help. People are willing to help you. But it has to begin with you.”
“Oh, for Christ's sweet sake,” I rasped, though I was still crying. Alice stood up and walked to the doorway. “Where the hell are you going?”
“I'm going to go call Diane. She said she can get you in somewhere immediately. I don't think we can afford to wait.”
“But Alice, I—”
She was out the door before I could stop her. I sat there shaking my head, still sniffling, though now I was feeling as pissed off as I was sad, in fact I felt furious about everything, everything in the world, I just wanted to scream at how unfair it was that things were so fucked up, and Mary Fred was lying here, maybe dying, while every other idiot in the world was running around in the pink of health. I thought of all the other people I would rather see lying there: Lyndon Larouche; Oliver North; Newt Gingrich; Regis and Kathie Lee; the kid who drove into Mary Fred. It's not fair, it's just not fair, I said out loud, and I started crying again. I lay my head down on the bed next to Mary Fred's IV tube and sobbed until the bed shook.
