by Teresa Toten
Just as they were winding down, Captain America took the floor and proposed that the superheroes go back to Batman’s church for some candle-lighting to start the new year off with good karma.
“Yeah!” said Snooki and Wonder Woman in unison. The rest, except for Thor, agreed instantly.
“Batman?” Chuck asked.
“Yeah, cool. I mean it,” said Adam as he got into his coat. “And there’s, like, this labyrinth in the granite floor, right after the holy water receptacles but before the pews.”
That had their immediate attention.
“Outstanding!” said Captain America.
“That place has this deep Game of Thrones feel to it,” said Snooki.
“Yeah,” Adam agreed, even though he didn’t agree. “And, like, I’ve been thinking it would be kind of excellent to walk it again.”
“Walk it?” asked Green Lantern.
“Yeah, you walk the pattern on the floor. Labyrinths are ancient holy things. You walk them and it’s, like, instant chill.”
“I’m in!” said Snooki, standing up.
“Me too!” Robyn snapped to attention and stepped smartly over to Adam.
The rest of Group fell in behind them, with Thor once again protecting or dragging the flank, depending on your perspective.
“Well, okay, then. I’ll look forward to hearing about it.” Chuck gathered his files and papers, smiling. “See you next week.”
Adam was pumped about going back to Holy Rosary with his people, with Robyn. He felt clear, free of the sticky cobwebs and the ceaseless hammering in his head. It was like someone had hit a reset button on him. Adam didn’t count once the whole way over, which was a miracle in itself since he hadn’t been able to go a few minutes without counting the past few days. It was righteous—no, it was a sign from God. That had to be it.
God was pleased with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The church, thank the Lord and all his angels, was empty again. And again it was like a coming home, only better. It was like walking into a hug. It had happened that first time too, but it was then obliterated by the dread he’d felt about bringing his crazy-ass Group to a church he hadn’t set foot in for years.
This time, Adam sent them on ahead while he stayed to perform his cleansing ritual, which was a good thing because it took him twice as long as the last time. No matter, doesn’t matter. And it didn’t matter. The superheroes waited semi-patiently for him at the base of the labyrinth. They all swore that they had faithfully executed “damn good” signs of the cross after liberally dipping into the holy water.
“Except Thor,” Green Lantern whispered. “He just shoved his whole hand in, pulled it out and then nada, nothing.” Green Lantern glanced over at Thor, who was pacing in the vestibule. “Not sure he has the hang of it yet.”
“Okay!” Adam reached over to a table that held various pamphlets and lifted one. “So we start at the start. See that opening? Stay on the pink path and it will squiggle you in the right way. It’s not a test or anything, but try to stay off the dark grey granite part.”
“Okay, Batboy, it’s your show,” Wolverine said, putting his hand to his chest and leaving it there. “If I suffer a myocardial infarction from the exertion, I’m assuming that this is a quasi-decent place to be, right? Your pope guy knows CPR, right?”
No one laughed or rolled their eyes. If none of them quite “got” his thing, they now recognized it as a real thing and left it alone.
“It’s a good place, Wolverine. You’ll be cool,” said Adam as he squinted at the instructions. “All right, so the first part is walking to the centre medallion in the, uh, centre.” He pointed to the bloom of pink in the middle of the squiggles. “That’s called Purgation, which is a ‘releasing and shedding’ as we walk. Then we rest at the centre to ‘receive inspiration,’ and finally we make our way back, which is called Union and brings a ‘new awareness and calm’ to our lives.”
“All that from walking a circle?” Green Lantern was astounded. “That is sick!”
“Okay.” Adam motioned with his hand. “Follow me.” Just as he stepped in, he noticed Father Rick coming towards them. The priest stopped and sat in a pew, but turned to face them.
Jesus. They’d looked weird enough before, but now they were sporting masks and gloves and glowing discs, while stepping gingerly into an invisible labyrinth. All eight of them entered, even Thor.
“Don’t push!”
“I’m not pushing!”
“Are so!”
“You’re not giving me enough room!”
“You’re walking too slow. Hop to it!”
“Guys, enough!” Adam raised his hand. “Everybody out!” Mutter, mutter, mutter, but out they went, even Thor. “Look, guys, you’re supposed to enter this in the spirit of contemplation and with an open heart kind of thing.” Wolverine sighed, his hand still firmly on his chest. “So let’s start again, but give the person in front of you lots of room before you step in. Ready?”
They nodded somewhat sheepishly.
“Okay, then. Let’s commence.”
This time there was a concentrated silence.
“Holy crap!” said Captain America as soon as he exited. “Sorry, man, but that was superior! Absolutely superior. It was superior, wasn’t it?”
The rest of them mumbled in agreement before they turned towards the cross and then raced over to the candles. For them, Holy Rosary was better than a theme park.
“Adam?”
It was Father Rick.
He moved towards the priest and was surprised to feel Robyn’s hand slip into his.
“Hey, Father, how are you doing?”
Father Rick wore his clerical clothing, black pants and shirt with the white-collar tab. It made him look so official, all Roman Catholic Church–like.
“I’m sorry if—”
“Your friends are welcome here anytime, Adam.” He smiled at Robyn. “I hope Holy Rosary is a refuge for them, and for you especially.”
Adam stood mute, whiplashed by memories of compulsively counting the stained-glass windowpanes, the gold granite specks on the floor, the candles, the carvings in the pews…
“You taught them the labyrinth?”
“Yeah, Father. I forgot how much I used to like it.”
“Did you know, Miss …”
“Plummer,” said Robyn.
“Forgive me, I should have remembered. Miss Plummer, did you know our Adam was my very finest altar server?”
Robyn looked confused.
“Altar boy,” Adam explained. “Thanks, Father.”
“It’s true.”
“Oh, I’m not surprised at all.” They were distracted by the unmistakable sound of coins hitting the stone floor. “Hey, I’d better—” Robyn let go of Adam’s hand, taking away all her warmth. “I’ll go over with the guys and monitor the signs-of-the-cross part. See you later, Father.”
“I hope so, Miss Plummer.”
They watched Robyn thread her way through the pews.
“Adam?” Father Rick stepped closer as soon as she was outside of earshot. “You did—do—have a spiritual gift. We’d welcome you back in any way, whenever you’re ready. Whenever it becomes okay with your mom to …” The priest glanced over at the candle stands and back at Adam, then glanced away again. “Uh, forgive me, but your friends are fine, mainly, aren’t they?”
“Oh yeah. OCD is the major presenting and we’re all medicated and not violent. Not even Thor.” They both locked onto the behemoth, who was immobile and transfixed before the candles. It looked like he was going to eat them. “At least not that we know.”
Adam would have to count and adjust the candles before they left; at the moment there were thirty-four lit ones.
“And your mother? Are things okay for you at home?”
Home. Adam sat down in the pew behind Father Rick and started. Five sets. Just like that. It was back. One, three, five, seven, nine, eleven…
“Adam.” Father Ric
k spoke so softly that Adam had to lean in to hear him. “I’m here. I know you need more. I can sense it, like before. But sometimes God can help a little too.”
Adam must have nodded. But not very convincingly. The priest looked pained as he got up and walked towards the altar. He turned back for a moment. “Anytime, Adam, anytime.”
He could sense it? Just how crazy was he? Father Rick could sense what? Seventeen, nineteen, twenty-one, twenty-three…
Could people see?
Jesus, they could see!
And there was no reset button after all. Twenty-five, twenty-seven, twenty-nine… Not for him. Wisps of smoke formed into strands and then knitted themselves into the familiar spider’s web that had trapped his mind for so long, Adam could only note its absence not its presence. Jesus, not again. Adam raised his eyes to the crucifix that had so mesmerized them on their first visit. Christ looked back.
Are you with me or not?
Suspended and sad.
Well?
Silence.
Answer me for once, goddamn it!
There was a kerfuffle by the candles. His friends were scrounging for quarters, blowing out tapers and making inept signs of the cross. Half of them were kneeling. Three, five, seven…
Adam returned his gaze to the cross. The Jesus was hurting. Guilt simmered and then boiled in him. Jesus had a whole world of suffering and horror to worry about and here Adam was in all his punk puniness. He didn’t want to add to Jesus’s burdens, but…
Sorry about that. Look, I know you’re busy and I don’t want to get greedy with your time, but still, if you could just help me … If you could find a minute, please, please, please, dear sweet Jesus, fix me.
It took Adam twenty-three minutes to get into his house that night. It would have gone much faster but he was interrupted. He was racing through the rituals when Mrs. Polanski from across the street came trotting over in her Sunday grey wool coat with the fake fur collar and slippers.
“Adam, dear? Adam?”
He turned to her.
“Are you okay, dear? Locked out? I sometimes see you, see that it takes so long to—”
“I’m fine, Mrs. Polanski, really. Thank you very much. I’m not locked out and I think Mom’s home. It’s just … I have to … well, see, I have to do things in a certain way before … I’m fine, ma’am. Really, I am.” Shame shot through every syllable and strangled the words. “Sorry if I worried you, but honest to God, I’m fine.”
Mrs. Polanski wrapped the coat around her a little tighter, nodded and began to walk away, but then she turned around again. Clearly, she was not happy about leaving him at the door. “You know I’m right across the street, if ever … well, I’m home is all.” And off she went.
The universe was dialling down and Jesus, as it turned out, was busy. So later that night, Adam called Chuck.
He thought he was going to leave a message. But Chuck picked up, even though it was 8:37 p.m.
“I need help,” he said.
“Adam?” Chuck’s warm voice stilled the tremors.
“I need help.”
“Are you okay for tonight?”
“Yes, sir. I think so.”
Chuck sighed. And Adam remembered just how much the therapist hated being called “sir.”
“Tomorrow? Can you make it for three-thirty?”
“Yeah, I can skip biology.”
“Good. I’ll write you a note if need be. And, Adam?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Breathe.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll start right now.” Seven sets. One, three, five, seven…
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The next day Adam felt better, so he felt like a punk for calling Chuck. Not better-better, but better. True, he couldn’t stop counting and there was that annoying low-level vibration that seemed to be buried somewhere in his bone marrow. Still, it was douchebag-ish to call Chuck at home, and to get Eric Yashinsky to cover him in biology, and to lie to his mom about why he’d be late and … well, so many things. This was a mistake.
“This is a mistake,” he said to Chuck while hovering at the door. “I feel better. Sorry, this is nuts.”
“Sure, but come in anyway, Adam. Take a load off.” Chuck moved from around his desk to the plush beige armchair he sat in for sessions. Adam didn’t budge. “If you’re not having a threshold issue, come in and relax. Look, we can do this rather than next week’s one-on-one if it makes you feel any better.”
Adam sat in the big overstuffed wing chair he liked best. Chuck let his people choose from four different chairs. The wing chair had a mushy pillow that Adam always hugged into himself even though he felt like a wuss every single time he did it.
“So how did it go at the church?”
“Good.”
“The Group?”
“Good. They were good. It was good.” What the hell was he doing? Why was he here?
“So what triggered last night, do you think? Any thoughts? Are things, the rituals, escalating?”
“Trigger? What was the trigger? You’re kidding, right? My life is the trigger, sir.” Adam became aware of his breathing. It was like he was breathing into a microphone. The sound filled up the room.
“Fair enough. The threshold rituals, are they escalating in response?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugged. Now he could hear his heart. Thump, thump, thump, pa-thump, thump. Wait, was that right? That didn’t sound right. Thump, thump, thump, pa-thump. He was perspiring. Was this how it was for Wolverine? He was going to have to cut the guy more slack—this sucked. But what if it was Wolverine who was sending the sick crap to Mom? No. That just didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t that crazy. He was just like him. Poor guy. Pa-thump.
“Adam? Is it the tapping?”
“No.” He sighed in relief because that, at least, was the truth.
“All right, then. Uh, dare I ask if you completed a List?”
The List! He did! He remembered doing it in the library last week after he’d finished his homework and trying to hide it from Eric Yashinsky, who was keeping him company.
“Yeah, I did one!” Adam fished around in his backpack. “By the way, don’t you think it’s time we stop punishing me about the Internet access? I am so over—”
“It wasn’t a punishment, Adam. But I agree the rituals don’t seem to centre around the Internet compulsions, and so very soon we can—”
“Here it is!” He handed his List to Chuck.
The therapist unfolded the paper.
January 24 THE LIST Batman
Meds: Anafranil 25 mg 2 × per day
Ativan as needed
Primary presenting compulsions: Counting, Thresholds
1. I believe
“Adam?” Chuck took off his aviators. “There’s nothing here.”
Adam got up and retrieved the paper. Thump, thump, thump, pa-thump, pa-thump. “Oh. Oh yeah. No more Ativan; I need another prescription. I forgot to tell you after Group. I lost a bunch down the school drain the other day.” He hadn’t written anything. He could have sworn…
“I’ll call the pharmacy as soon as you leave, and maybe we should increase the Anafranil to 75 milligrams—25 milligrams three times per day.”
Adam was already doing that. It didn’t help. He’d crank it up some more.
“But, Adam, the List is—”
“I did, like, a million of them, I swear to God. It’s just that I rip them up after. I don’t know why, honest. I thought that was a finished one.” He had to fight the instinct to jump up and run out of the room.
Chuck leaned forward. “Try it straight. This is important. Has the counting moved exclusively into your head, no physical or visual ritual attached?”
Adam shoved the pillow into his gut. “Pretty much.” One, three, five, seven…
Chuck nodded. “That’s significant. Even or odd numbers?”
“Both,” he admitted. “Different situations call for, uh, different scratchings.”
“Scrat
chings?”
“It’s like my brain gets itchy, uh, hot sometimes.” Adam barely said it out loud. Chuck had to sit at the end of his chair to catch it.
“How are things at home? Is your mother’s hoarding escalating?”
Adam shouldn’t have told about that. That was disloyal. That was wrong. It would hurt her. It would come back on him—it was coming back on him. Betraying her, making everything worse. He remembered the garbage bags, winced.
“She’s, like, taking out two green garbage bags a week.” And it was true. She still was. She made a big show of it every single week.
“Excellent.” Chuck nodded. “So something else with your mom. Do you want to talk about her a bit?”
“No, sir.” You are an abortion. Die bitch die. You are ruining your son’s life. A dread hiding a guilty truth pounded harder and harder. Jesus. Was there some disgusting part of him that agreed? Adam shook his head. Jesus, thump, pa-thump. Jesus. He was a monster. “No. I’m good.”
Chuck frowned. “Okay, we’ll leave that for the moment. How about at your dad’s? How is it going with your stepmother?”
“Brenda?” Brenda? Mrs. Brenda Ross loves you more, she said. “Brenda’s good.” Thump, pa-thump, pa-thump, pa-thump, thump, thump.
“Adam, I feel it’s time for us to seriously consider commencing with the exposure response and prevention therapy. Now, I can’t make you talk and I certainly can’t make you undertake this stage, but the interior quality of the counting has moved it into what some in the profession call pure OCD and …” Words, words, words.
“Yeah, sure, Doc. Absolutely. But not now. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. I think that I had a panic attack is all and I didn’t have any Ativan left, like I said. Yeah, for sure that was it! So …” He stood up. “If you’d just call the pharmacy. Thanks for helping me sort that out in my own head.” Three, five, seven, nine, eleven… “Sorry for freaking you out.” He headed for the door.
“Adam, you didn’t. Adam, wait! Our time—”
