“Then how can you help them?” I demanded.
“Reckon you can’t.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Not unless they’re willing to help themselves.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that.”
“But you threw him out?”
“Yes, that’s what my counselor recommended. She said if I didn’t, I would be an enabler.”
He nodded. “Your counselor is right.”
“Then why do I feel so horrible now?” I asked him. “Why do I feel so guilty that I’m certain I must be the worst mother in the civilized world? Maybe even the uncivilized world. I can imagine that third world mothers do a much better job than what I’ve done.”
“Can’t blame yourself, Glennis. Doesn’t do no good. Your Jacob is the only one who can fix this thing.”
“But what if he won’t? What if he goes out and shoots up so much of that stuff that it kills him?”
“That’s the chance we take.”
“The chance we take?” I demanded. “Don’t you think there’s a pretty good chance that my son’s life is going to be destroyed by this, Jack? Am I supposed to sit idly by and wait until the police or the hospital calls to inform me that my son has just died of a methamphetamine overdose? Or maybe he’ll get in a car wreck while he’s under the influence. Maybe he’ll kill someone else as well as himself. Or maybe he’ll get hit by a train while he’s so high he can’t even see it coming. Or maybe—”
“Or maybe he’ll get so sick of his drugs that he’ll wake up one morning and say enough is enough,” added Jack.
“I wish it were true.”
“In the meantime, you’d better be taking care of yourself, Glennis. When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”
“I can’t even remember.”
“Did you know that people who go around driving cars or operating machinery while sleep deprived are as dangerous as drunk drivers?” He nodded as if to accentuate his point. “I saw that on the Today show last week.”
“Are you suggesting that I shouldn’t be operating that washing machine?” I asked, eying my basket of dirty laundry still sitting on the washer.
He chuckled. “S’pect that won’t hurt none.”
I got up and went over to fill the washer.
“But you need to take care of yourself, Glennis. You need to be eating right and getting enough sleep.”
I put the last item in and began digging around in my backpack for my roll of quarters. I knew I had put a brand-new roll in there just days ago. I dug and dug but couldn’t find anything. Finally I dumped the contents of the backpack out on the folding table and really searched.
“Whatcha looking for?” asked Jack.
“My roll of quarters,” I told him. “I just put it in here.”
“Where do you usually keep that backpack?” asked Jack.
“In the coat closet,” I told him. “With the extra laundry baskets.”
“Is it possible that your son might’ve—”
“No!” I turned and stared at Jack. “Jacob wouldn’t take my laundry quarters. My son may be an addict, but he’s certainly not a thief.”
Jack nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t convinced.
“I probably just misplaced them,” I told him as I turned away and began reloading the backpack. “I’ve been so absent-minded lately. Who knows what I may have done with them.” Then I turned back around just in time to see Jack putting the last quarter into my washing machine. He pushed them in and closed the lid.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
He smiled. “Just my good deed for the day.”
“But what about the soap?” I questioned, reaching into my backpack for my laundry soap.
“It’s in there.”
Now I felt foolish. I’d just jumped all over this kind and generous man for suggesting that Jacob may have taken my quarters, and now he was helping me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re probably right. It’s possible that Jacob did take that roll of quarters. But he’s never done anything like that before.”
“Addiction changes you,” he told me. “Makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do.”
“I guess.”
“You gotta understand, Glennis, the thing that drives an addict is getting his next drink, his next high. Nothing else matters. Can you understand that?”
“I’m trying.” I sighed. “But it just doesn’t make much sense.”
“Never does,” said Jack,“to someone who hasn’t been there.” He put his hand on my shoulder now. “Why don’t you go back to your apartment and have a little rest.”
“But my laundry—”
“It’s all right,” he assured me. “I’m gonna be down here for a while. I’ll take care of it. You just promise me that you’ll take a nap.” He was guiding me to the door now. “But I can’t—”
“Don’t you worry about nothing, Glennis. Just go on up there and lie down and rest a bit. You hear?”
And so, feeling like a zombie or a robot with Jack holding the remote control, I trudged back up the stairs, lay down on the couch, and fell fast asleep.
When I woke up, I remembered Jack and the laundry. Surely it had been done some time ago. But when I opened my door, there sat my basket of meticulously folded laundry, with a folded piece of white paper on top. I took the basket into my apartment and picked up the paper, wondering if perhaps it was a bill for laundry services, but it appeared to be a note.
Written in blue ink and uneven handwriting, the note said,“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Unsure as to the meaning of what I assumed Jack had written, I used a plastic magnet that Sylvia had given me at More-4-Less that said “We Save U More” to adhere this mysterious note to my refrigerator.
Then I put away the laundry, taking time to notice how neatly Jack had folded each piece, with such precision and care. But I did little else that day. It seemed that every ounce of energy I’d ever had was completely spent or lost or maybe even stolen. It was as if I had nothing left for anyone. Not even myself. I slept a bit, then wandered aimlessly around my little apartment. But time after time, I found myself standing in front of the refrigerator, not because I was hungry. I couldn’t remember what that felt like. But because I couldn’t quit staring at those words. Oh, I’d heard them before, but what did they really mean? What did they mean for me? Was it meant to be prophetic? Was Jack saying that God had given me Jacob and now he was taking him away? And that I should thank him for that?
Finally the long day was almost over. Sitting in my sweats, I curled up under a blanket to watch the eleven o’clock news, mostly waiting for the weather predictions since I was concerned about Jacob being homeless just when it was beginning to get really cold. And the forecast didn’t look good, with near freezing temperatures tonight, and colder tomorrow. How cold did it have to get before a person got hypothermia? Jacob was probably crashing at Daniel’s again. But suddenly I needed to know my son was okay. It wasn’t as if I planned on doing much actual sleeping anyway. And if Jacob’s car was parked at Daniel’s, I would at least know that he was sleeping someplace warm. Of course, there were other issues to worry me about that, but at least my son wouldn’t be dying from exposure. Still in my sweats, I hurried down the darkened steps, noticing again that the outdoor light was still out. Then I dashed over to the parking lot and into the Range Rover where I finally felt safe.
I slipped the key in the ignition and remembered how I’d never considered myself much of a night person before. I’d always depended on Geoffrey for any evening excursions. But, of course, that had all changed these past couple of months. Still, I didn’t want to think about Geoffrey just now. Maybe I was repressing things, or even in denial, but whenever thoughts of Geoffrey intruded into my otherwise muddled mind, I would push them far away. One has only so much room in one’s mind when it comes to madness.
I drove slowly over to Daniel�
��s duplex dump, looking both ways down all the side streets. But I didn’t see the Subaru anywhere. I even went by the Red Devil, but it had already closed for the night. I tried a couple of other spots where Jacob used to hang out, but my search seemed futile, and finally I had to give up and return home.
Feeling even more like a crazy woman for running around in the middle of the night like that, I tiptoed up the darkened stairs so as not to disturb my neighbors, but halfway up I realized I didn’t have my apartment key with me. I fished around my sweats pockets just to make sure, but it wasn’t there. I hadn’t brought my purse, so I didn’t even have my cell phone. All I had were my car keys and the clothes on my back. I went back down the stairs and sat at the bottom and tried to think. That’s when I noticed I didn’t even have on real shoes. I was wearing a pair of old slippers that my mother had given me for Christmas years ago. It was getting colder now, and all I had on was my sweats. Not unlike my son, I had taken off without thinking to get a jacket. I suppose madness runs in the family.
I don’t know how long I sat there before it occurred to me that if I hadn’t taken the apartment key with me, that meant I probably hadn’t bothered to lock the apartment door. Feeling hopeful and foolish, I dashed up the stairs to discover it was unlocked.
Not only was it unlocked, but someone was inside. Of course, I didn’t realize this until I was safely in and had locked the door and turned the deadbolt. I heard movement in the hallway, and before I could find anything like a baseball bat, which I didn’t have anyway, the intruder appeared.
“Jacob?” I said in shocked surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to pick up some things,” he said in a quiet and sober voice.
“Oh.” I looked at him, trying to discern his condition—was he high or not? But I couldn’t really tell.
“The door wasn’t locked,” he told me. “I was getting kind of worried that something might’ve happened to you.”
Jacob was worried about me?“Really?”
“Yeah. I thought maybe you’d had an emergency or something. I didn’t think you’d go off and leave the door unlocked like that.”
“I haven’t been thinking too clearly today.”
He nodded. “Well, I just wanted to pick up some warm clothes and stuff.”
“That’s fine.” I took a deep breath to steady myself. It would be so easy to say,“Oh, just forget everything I said last night. It’s okay; you can stay here.” But I remembered what Dr. Abrams had said, what Jack had said, and I decided to stand firm. “Get whatever you need, Jacob.” Then I turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes.
I went into the kitchen and pretended to be highly interested in making a pot of tea. Finally he came back out with an old sports duffel bag stuffed full.
“Well, I’m gonna go now,” he told me.
“Do you need something to eat?” I asked.
He brightened a little. “Sure, that’d be great.”
“What would you like?”
“Oh, that’s okay, Mom. I can fix myself something. I know it’s late, and you look tired. I’ll just make a peanut-butter sandwich to take with me.”
“Sure, help yourself.”
I took my cup of tea over to the other side of the breakfast bar and watched as my son lathered on a thick layer of peanut butter. He was being very careful and neat, almost how a guest might act in someone else’s home. When he was done, he wrapped the sandwich in a paper towel and turned to look at me. “Thanks, Mom.”
Again I fought to hold back the tears. Then I thought of something. “I didn’t notice your car in the parking lot, Jacob. Or even on the street. Where did you park?”
He sighed. “It’s kind of a long story.”
I nodded. “Want to give me the sweet and condensed version?”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s impounded.”
“Impounded?”
“Yeah. I got stopped last night after I left here.”
“And?”
“My insurance was expired.”
“Your insurance? What do you mean?”
“The card in my glove box was outdated.”
“Well, didn’t you explain that you had a new one?”
“I don’t. Dad hasn’t paid it.”
“So they took your car because of that?” I stood up now. “That’s ridiculous, Jacob. We can have that insurance reinstated tomorrow. I can’t believe your father did that. We’ll go down to city hall first thing in the morning and straighten this out.”
“Well, there’s something else, Mom.” He looked slightly sheepish.
“Yes?”
“I had an open bottle of vodka in the car.”
“Vodka?” I could hear the shrill tone of my voice.
“It wasn’t mine, Mom. It was Daniel’s. I didn’t even know it was there.”
“So the police searched your car?”
“Yeah. I guess it was because of the MIP”
“But I thought that was all taken care of. I thought you had six months to do your community service, and that was it.”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, they don’t expunge the MIP from my record until I finish the community service.”
“Oh, and I suppose you haven’t even started yet.”
“I’ve been busy, Mom.” He shook his head. “My life isn’t exactly easy, you know. I’m trying to work and make some money, and now I not only don’t have a home, but I don’t have a car.” And then to my total surprise, he began to cry.
“Oh, Jacob,” I said.
“I know it’s my fault, Mom. I’m a real screwup. And I’m sorry. But I just don’t know what to do anymore. It’s like things start looking up, and suddenly everything is caving in around me.” He sat down on the stool and put his head on the breakfast bar.
I wanted to remind him that the caving-in part was most likely a result of his drug use, but I didn’t have the heart to kick him when he was down. Instead I put my hand on his shoulder. “It’s true you have blown it, Jacob. But it’s not too late to fix things,” I told him. “I could call Hope’s Wings and—”
“I don’t need rehab.” He sat up straight and looked at me with a blotchy face and hardened eyes. “I can do this thing myself, Mom.”
“You’ve tried that,” I reminded him. “Remember, you told me you were going to straighten up before. But it’s not working. You need help, Jacob. There’s no shame in that.”
He put his head back down on the counter and said nothing.
“What would it hurt to just go in, Jacob? You could talk to a counselor and find out what they have to offer—”
“Yeah, and then they’ll lock me up,” he muttered.
“Oh, I don’t think it’s like that.”
He sat up straight again. “But you don’t know, do you?”
“I can find out.”
“Yeah, sure.” He shook his head. “But you’d probably say anything just to get me in there.”
“Jacob!” I gave him my sternest look. “I have never lied to you.”
“Everybody lies, Mom, It’s just that some people can pull it off better than others.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that but didn’t want to derail our conversation by asking. “What do you say, Jacob?” I continued. “How about if I call and set up an appointment?”
He studied me for a bit, and I could tell he was trying to decide whether to trust me or not.
“When have I ever let you down?” I demanded. “Don’t you know that I would give up my life for you, Jacob? You’re my son. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
“You threw me out.”
“It was just because my counselor said it was the only way to help you. Believe me, Jacob, I wouldn’t have been able to do it otherwise.” And even as I said these words, I felt a tiny ray of hope. Maybe Dr. Abrams had been right after all. Because here we were just twenty-four hours later having a conversation about rehab therapy, and he
seemed to be softening. “Let’s make a deal, Jacob,” I offered. “I’ll let you stay here tonight if you’ll agree to go in for a counseling session.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. As soon as we can get one.”
“And you’ll find out whether they can lock me up against my will or not.”
“Really, Jake, I don’t think they do that.”
“I want to know for sure.”
“Okay, I’ll ask. No problem.”
“Well, I have to work tomorrow.”
“That’s good,” I told him, relieved that he at least still had a job. “What are your hours?”
“Nine to three.”
“Fine. Well, I’ll see what I can do and get back to you. Okay?”
“I guess.”
Then I grabbed him and hugged him. “You do know how much I love you, don’t you, Jacob?”
He nodded and appeared to be choking back tears again. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just that everything is so messed up right now.”
“I know.” I held him back and looked into his eyes. And, although I knew I wasn’t an expert, I really thought he was sober. “But things are going to get better. I really believe it.”
“I hope so, Mom.”
And then, unlike the previous night, we both went to bed. And for the first time in weeks I slept for most of the night.
I felt so hopeful the next morning, even remembered the words from a poster I’d had back the sixties: Today is the first day of the rest of your life. That was how I imagined it would be with Jacob. I’d schedule him an appointment at the local rehab center, and he’d finally receive the help he so badly needed. Just like that we’ll be on the road to recovery, I assured myself. I thought I could actually see a light at the end of the spiraling tunnel.
After Jacob went to work, I phoned Hope’s Wings, the place Dr. Abrams had recommended, and after a short wait I was connected to a helpful man named Marcus Palmer.
I gave him a brief history of my son, concluding with,“But now he’s ready to get help. He’s agreed to meet with a counselor.”
Crystal Lies Page 16
