When I'm Not Myself

by Deborah J. Wolf

  “Okay, they’ll pass,” she said, trying not to look too shocked, remaining calm. She hadn’t felt like this in years, like a teenager. But she contained herself, wanting to jump up and down, but refraining.

  “God, Cara, curb your enthusiasm, will you?”

  6

  Cara was suffering a headache, the ill effects of one too many glasses of wine. The phone had bolted her awake and she sat up in bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

  “Hello,” she croaked.

  “Cara?”

  Jack. Fucking Jack. What in God’s name did he want at this hour? She brushed her hair from her face and leaned back against the pillow, shading her eyes against the bright light that filled the room.

  “Yeah. What’s up, Jack? Is everything okay?” Her throat was dry, sore, probably from snoring all night. She snored when she drank; Jack had told her that. It was one of the things he found darling about her when they’d first married, and drove him crazy years later in their marriage. He’d told her that, too.

  “No. It’s Kate.”

  Cara’s stomach lurched, her heart beating alive. “What’s wrong?” she asked with alarm. “What’s happened?”

  “She was taken in last night. She and a few kids she was with out on Highway 9.” Jack took a deep breath then, quieting his voice.

  Cara imagined he was trying not to wake the rest of the house, especially their other children. She imagined him standing in sweats in the kitchen, a cup of coffee steaming on the counter in front of him. Jack was incapable of doing anything in the morning before he had his first cup of coffee. Calling Cara would have been impossible for him before the caffeine started pulsing through his veins.

  “What happened?” Cara asked again, because this wasn’t enough information. She needed more. She needed to know every detail, every inch of the story. She needed to know that Katie was all right. Why hadn’t he called her earlier? God, where was Katie now?

  “She was arrested for another DUI. It’s not good, Cara. They found coke on one of the kids she was with. She swears she didn’t know about the coke and hadn’t done any of it, but it doesn’t matter much either way. With her record there was no way they were going to let her off with a warning and a slap on the wrist. They hauled her in faster than she could get an explanation off.”

  Cara’s hand covered her mouth, open and gaping. “Oh, God,” she managed. Katie needed her. Katie needed her and she was not there. Katie needed her and Cara was not there because Katie had been at her father’s house. It was Sunday; she was Jack’s responsibility. She couldn’t get dressed fast enough, pulling on her new denim jeans in one swift move, holding the phone to her ear, begging Jack to fill in the details.

  “She was stopped for a minor violation, a burned-out headlight, then questioned, then given a Breathalyzer, then hauled in. Her blood alcohol was .08, she was right at the limit. They probably would have just called one of us and slapped her with a warning if it hadn’t been Katie, but the cop called her license in and it was over from there. She’s violated her probation, of course, so they didn’t have much choice after that.”

  “Damn it, Jack, where were you? What was she doing out last night? You know you can’t let her go out like that, to some random party. How many times have we been over this?” Cara’s anger flamed instantly. “This never should have happened. If you can’t keep an eye on her, you shouldn’t have her on the weekends. You know how easily she can get into trouble.” Cara was quick to blame him, even quicker to drag his departure out into the middle of the room as if it was his fault.

  On the other end of the line, Jack was quiet. “When can you be here?” he asked, finally.

  “I’m getting dressed now.”

  “You’ll have to see about getting her out.”

  “What?” Cara asked accusingly. “Today? You mean you didn’t bail her out last night?”

  “They wouldn’t let her go, Cara.”

  “Why not?”

  “She violated probation. You get that, right? She vi-o-la-ted probation. She’s seventeen, she was driving on a suspended driver’s license, she has two previous DUIs, and they’ve got a record on her. What do you suppose they should have done with her?” Jack cleared his throat. “What part of this aren’t you getting?”

  Katie’s arraignment was scheduled for Monday at 11:00. Despite Cara’s pleas with both the juvenile detention center and Katie’s probation officer, they were holding her at the center until she was scheduled to appear in Room 108, the Juvenile Justice Agency. She wasn’t permitted visitors prior to that, so, spending time pacing the long, cavernous hallways at the courthouse—the hallways Cara had grown all too familiar with—wasn’t going to do anyone any good. So she went home.

  In her house Cara felt protected, safe. She could scream and no one would hear her. She could carry on with her laundry, get her other children off to school, rearrange paperwork, do the dishes, watch television, shower and fix breakfast as if nothing was out of the ordinary. She could talk to herself in long, drawn-out, rationalizing sentences, reminding herself that everything would be okay. Everything will be okay, everything will be okay. She repeated this over and over again, deep breaths, in and out.

  She was on her third cup of tea of the morning, Earl Grey. Nothing was helping to calm her jittery nerves, certainly not the tea. She had spent the night lying as still as she could, listening to the familiar noises her home made, the way it settled this way or that. Near two AM Claire had padded into her room in her pajamas shaking from a nightmare that had left her damp with perspiration.

  “Mama,” she whispered, “when will Katie be home?”

  “Soon, sweetie. I hope she’ll be home soon.” She lay next to Claire and stroked her back softly with the tips of her fingertips, the way Claire liked it best, until her daughter was breathing softly and evenly again.

  Cara heard Mel’s car in the driveway around nine. She had already ushered the children off to school and was sitting at the kitchen table staring at the gray, colorless morning. She took a deep breath and opened the heavy oak door before Mel knocked. Cara was wearing sweats and an old T-shirt. She was disheveled and worn, tired to the bone.

  Mel would have an opinion about what she should do, of course, and she wouldn’t be afraid to offer it. Cara wasn’t sure if she was ready for company, never mind Mel’s viewpoint, which would come whether or not she was ready.

  Cara threw open the door. “Hello.”

  Mel had brought Leah, and they both stood anxiously on her front step as if they were debating about who should ring the doorbell. The morning sun was bright and the reflection off the wide copper porch beams blinded them when they approached. Cara sucked in the dewy morning, the sweet smell from the jasmine that bordered her front walk. She smiled a wide, fake smile when she greeted her friends, as if nothing was wrong, not a thing out of place. Her bottom lip trembled when they walked past her but she swallowed hard the lump that formed at the base of her throat.

  “Hi, babe,” Leah said to her with concern and stopped to hug her tight around her neck, planting a kiss along Cara’s rigid jawbone. Her embrace was quick, rehearsed.

  Cara felt rigid, embarrassed at her daughter’s latest episode that had landed them on her front step first thing Monday morning.

  “She’s not here. They’re keeping her at the juvenile detention center until her court arraignment later this morning. She’s on at eleven, so it’s not likely we’re going to know anything before then.” Cara pushed her honey-colored hair back behind her ears and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Leah pulled Cara close again, wrapping her arms around her waist and not letting her go. “I’m sorry we didn’t see this coming, Cara. I’m so sorry we’re right back here again.”

  Cara shook her head hard. “Katie’s a really good liar, Leah. When it comes right down to it, lying might be one of the things she does best.” Cara cleared her throat. It was unlike her not to defend her daughter, not to find some justification for her latest a
ntics, but even she’d had her fill this time.

  Mel agreed with Cara immediately, broke the silence and clipped across the floor, nodding her head vigorously all the while. “Damn straight she is, Cara. Damn straight.” In a huff, Mel disappeared through the double French doors in the wood-paneled library and out to Cara’s English garden. From the pocket of her black trench coat she pulled out a pack of Camels and positioned one between her pursed lips, cupping her hand to light it and inhaling deeply. She exhaled the smoke in great billows around her, tilted her head back and stared skyward, pacing the yard like a new puppy with too much energy.

  “Damn straight,” Cara scoffed, mimicking Mel. “Christ. As if I need her to remind me.”

  She shook her head, crossed her arms over her chest and headed toward the kitchen. Leah followed her double-time, trying to keep up, making excuses for Mel as they went.

  Leah apologized for Mel immediately. “You know that’s not what she meant, Cara. Mel’s just that way. She didn’t mean to hurt you; she’s just worried about Katie. You know how much Katie means to her, to all of us. You know how she can get.”

  Cara stopped in front of the refrigerator, opened it and pulled out a sparkling water before she slammed it closed. “No, how can she get, Leah? Are there any limits? Any boundaries she’s not willing to cross?” Cara replied sarcastically, her words cutting through the dead air. Leah stood helplessly watching her work the cap off the water bottle, twisting and turning it in her fist. “Does she have to have an opinion about everything? About my marriage? About my kids? Can’t she just support me one time? Just one time. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “I do support you.” Mel’s dry, throaty voice poured into the kitchen long before the wafting smell of fresh nicotine followed her. “You just don’t see it. You never have.”

  Cara felt her face grow hot, red with shame, caught like a child in a lie. Scarlet washed over her pale skin, crept its way down her neck.

  “What are you going to do with her this time, Cara? What’s the magic cure this time?” Mel continued, wedging her way in between them and propping open the refrigerator door, reaching for a Diet Coke. “What’s your solution this time?”

  Cara shrugged her shoulders, “I, I, well, I guess I’m not sure yet. We’re going to have to see what the judge says. What kind of program . . . ?”

  Mel cut her off immediately, refused to hear anything more. “And Jack? What’s his opinion?”

  “We haven’t even talked about it, Melanie. I don’t know yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “We haven’t had the chance. He had to deal with the rest of the kids yesterday when everything fell apart. He dealt with them and I dealt with our esteemed juvenile justice system.”

  Melanie let out a deep breath and shook her head back and forth vigorously. “It figures,” she said, curling herself into the cushion on the window seat, pulling her long legs up under her like a cat.

  “You’re not helping, Mel,” Cara fired back, her voice shaky and erratic. “You’re just not helping.”

  “You’re not helping her, Cara. Don’t you understand that?” Mel stared at Cara, willing her to make eye contact. “YOU are not helping HER. Neither one of you. You refuse to see what’s right before you, what’s going on with your daughter; and Jack . . . Christ, Jack barely knows who she is these days. He picks her up for dinner on Wednesdays and drags her over to a three-bedroom condo so she can waste away the weekend. When was the last time Jack sat down to talk to her? When was the last time you sat down to talk to her? I mean really, really talk to her?”

  “As soon as I get my hands on her, I will, Mel. She’ll be back in a full program with Dr. Levine. Back in school with no car privileges, no dating, no weekend parties, nothing. I’ve got my eye on her.”

  “You’ve had your eye on her, Cara. It hasn’t worked.”

  “Jack is going to have to step things up, too. She’s going to know we’re serious this time. She doesn’t have a choice.”

  Mel stared at Cara long and hard for a few minutes, looking her over. “Listen to yourself, Cara,” she said. “Listen to exactly what you are saying. At what point is Jack going to talk to her? Over a quick dinner at fucking Bakers Square? Or while they’re painting the nursery for the new baby he and his model girlfriend are going to have? And when he does talk to her, what is it that you think he’s going to say to her? What profound thing do you think Jack’s got rolling around in that midlife crisis head of his that would possibly make sense to the daughter he barely recognizes as his own?”

  Leah started to interrupt. She had been a witness to Mel and Cara’s bouts before, hundreds of times. They could start like a fire; one of them would set the other off like a match and before you knew it, an inferno had erupted over the room, burning like tinder through a dry forest. And they could get nasty quickly but were nearly always resolved in laughter. Still, they made Leah uncomfortable, fidgety. She was usually left on the sidelines, watching.

  “Leah?” Cara whispered quietly without turning her head, staring through Mel at the wall behind her. “I think it’s probably best if you go. Both of you. I could use some time by myself before I have to go down to the courthouse. I’ll call you later.”

  “Bullshit,” Mel answered her, stopping Leah from gathering her things. “Bull. Shit.”

  “What is it that you want me to do, Melanie? What is it that you want me to say to you?” Cara asked her slowly. She was tired, more tired than she’d felt in a long time. And she couldn’t defend herself against Mel, not today, not in this condition. Couldn’t Mel understand that? Couldn’t she see that Cara wanted what was best for her daughter?

  “I want you to tell me that you’ll get your daughter some help. Stop covering up for her, Cara. And for God’s sake, stop covering up for Jack. Stop thinking you can handle this, that you can make it better. Stop thinking that you’ll just ground her for the weekend, or that taking the goddamn car away, or even taking her back to that ridiculous psychotherapist, is going to fix her addiction to booze, her dependency on drugs. She’s an alcoholic, Cara. Tell me that you will admit to yourself, to me, to all of us, and especially to Katie, ’cause she can’t do it for herself yet, but tell me that you’ll look her in the eye and say, ‘Sweetheart, you’ve got a problem, we need to get you some help. Some real help.’”

  Cara yawned audibly. She was weary from the ordeal and tired of arguing. She took a deep breath before she addressed Melanie again, more collected. “I know she needs help, Mel. I’m doing my best; really, you have to know that.”

  “I know that you want to do your best for her. I know that you want what’s best for her, too. But what you’ve been doing ain’t working. We gotta find something else.” Mel’s voice was kinder this time and had softened just a little. “We all love that girl, Cara. Lord knows I love her like I love Bella. But what you’ve been doing, well, sweetheart, it’s just not working. Not this way.”

  “But what? What else is there?”

  “I don’t know,” Melanie said to Cara. She uncurled her legs, stood and walked over to face her. Mel’s height dominated, she was nearly a foot taller than Cara, and she cupped Cara’s face in her hands, pulling her into her chest like a mother would hold a child. “I don’t know what it is, sugar, but I can tell you this. I can tell you that we’ll find it.”

  Jack called just as Cara and Mel were walking into the courthouse. Cara had to dig through her bag to find her cell phone while Mel stood next to her in the long sterile hall, intolerant and impatient, hot-tempered. Cara took a few steps down the hall for privacy but Mel followed close behind like a loyal pet.

  “Cara, I got your message,” he barked when Cara answered the phone. “Listen, about me picking up the kids after school today. It’s impossible; I’m buried in meetings and there’s just no way.”

  “But . . .”

  “But, nothing. It’s just not feasible. I can’t make it work. I suspect you’ll be out of there before they get out of school, an
yway.”

  Jack was short-tempered and uncompromising. He had called with one thing in mind and it was this. Cara knew it had less with him being available to pick up the kids and more with him not being ready to deal with his daughter’s latest episode. Katie’s illness—and Cara could finally bring herself to call it that—had hit Jack the hardest. It had not only been especially embarrassing to him, but personally devastating. He’d lost his little girl in a way he’d never expected. Cara had spent enough time thinking about it to know that Jack could have stomached Katie’s addiction to a first love, a sweet, puppy dog romance. He wouldn’t have liked it, but he could have gotten through it. He’d just never expected her first love, the thing that pulled her away from him, to be the bottom of a bottle, or a line of coke. He had no conception of how to compete at that level.

  Cara took a deep breath, measuring her words carefully. “Can Barbie get them?”

  “No,” he answered her flatly. “She can’t fit all three of them in her convertible.” His answer was rehearsed, practiced.

  “Of course,” Cara answered. She was fuming and had to work to keep her voice calm. “I’ll take care of it, Jack.” She clicked off her cell phone and checked her watch. Nearly eleven o’clock and her stomach was a mess of nerves.

  “What’s so important?” Mel asked Cara, disdain crossing her face.

  Cara shook her head, shook Mel off. She clipped down the hall at a quickened pace, not wanting to be late for Katie’s proceedings. “Someday that bitch is going to be forced to drive a van,” Cara answered. “Someday.”