Crystal Lies

by Melody Carlson

  Jacob turned on the TV, and I made a dash for the shower, praying he would still be there when I finished. Thankfully, he was. And to my utter amazement, we made it into the Land Rover and all the way to Hope’s Wings before he began to balk.

  “I don’t think I really need to do this,” he said as I turned into the driveway.

  “It’s just an interview and evaluation,” I reminded him. “This place is a dump,” he observed.

  I wanted to say that it wasn’t as bad as Daniel’s duplex but managed to bite my tongue as I turned off the ignition. “Looks aren’t everything,” I said.

  “But really, Mom. This isn’t going to do any good.”

  “How do you know, Jacob?”

  “Because this place is totally stupid.”

  “How do you know it’s stupid?”

  “I just know” He exhaled loudly. “It’s what everyone says.”

  “Do you know people who’ve been here?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. And they’re back on the streets right now, doing the same thing they did before they checked in.”

  “Well, it doesn’t work for everyone, but maybe—”

  “It doesn’t work for anyone, Mom. It’s all a crock.”

  “You have to at least give it a chance, Jacob.” I opened the door now “Just do the evaluation.”

  “I don’t need this,” he seethed as he climbed out of the Range Rover.

  “Fine,” I told him. “If you don’t need this, they’ll tell you as much after the interview.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said as we walked across the parking lot. “They don’t turn anyone away, Mom. They’re here to make money, you know.”

  “That’s not true, Jacob. They only accept people who really want to change.” I paused and looked at him as we stood before the door to the office. “You do want to change, don’t you?”

  He just shrugged.

  I reached for the door and prayed for a miracle.

  I knew that I wouldn’t be included in the evaluation or interview. And that was fine. I felt sure there were things I did not need, or want, to know. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss. Although sometimes it can kill you too.

  The whole thing took about two hours, and during that time I paced and flipped through tattered magazines and imagined what an expectant father must feel like while sitting in the waiting room when his wife is in labor. I tried to pray but am afraid my prayers were as befuddled and tattered as my thoughts. Would any of this work? Would they even take him? And if they did agree to take him, would Jacob agree to enroll? And what if he agreed to rehab just to pacify me but really had no intention of cooperating? And what if he cooperated, but it still didn’t work? Or what if this place really wasn’t any good? What if Geoffrey had been right about sending him someplace expensive and “good”? But what if this experience, here today, soured Jacob on going into any form of rehab? It was all too overwhelming. All I could do was to ask God to help. “Please, help us,” I silently prayed. “Help Jacob to get through and beyond this.” It was all I knew to pray I hoped it was enough.

  Jacob finally emerged, and it almost looked as if he’d been crying. I wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or not. Marcus Palmer was with him.

  “This is quite a guy,” said Marcus, patting Jacob on the back as if he was proud of him.

  “I know. How did it go?”

  “Would you like to join us in my office?” asked Marcus. “Of course.”

  Soon we were all seated in his little office. Jacob looked uncomfortable and more fidgety than ever.

  “Do you mind if I speak candidly in front of your mother, Jacob?” asked Marcus.

  “Whatever,” Jacob mumbled.

  “Well…” Marcus leaned back in his leather chair. “It’s my recommendation that Jacob enroll in the thirty-day residential treatment program.” I nodded. “Yes?”

  “He meets all the criteria. He was honest with our counselors, and his lab tests were positive for amphetamines. He seems to be in good general health.” He paused, looking at Jacob. “There’s only one problem.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  He nodded toward Jacob. “He doesn’t think treatment will help him.”

  “But that’s not so unusual, is it?” I said. “I mean don’t a lot of, uh, addicts feel like that. Like there’s no way to help them?”

  “That’s true enough,” said Marcus. “But we don’t enroll patients who aren’t at least willing to give this their best effort. Otherwise it’s just a waste of everyone’s time and money.” He was looking at Jacob now. “And we do have a waiting list…”

  Jacob looked slightly relieved now. “So I’d have to be on a waiting list?”

  “Your mother already put you on the list,” explained Marcus. “You could check in today…if you were willing.”

  Jacob frowned. “I’m just not ready for this.”

  “Why not?” I pleaded. “Why can’t you just try it?”

  Marcus cleared his throat. “It’s not exactly something you try, Glennis. You have to come here with a willing attitude. You have to want to be healthy.”

  “But Jacob told me he was tired of living like that. Remember, Jacob?” I reached over and touched his arm, but he pulled away.

  “Just because people say they want help doesn’t mean they do, Glennis.”

  I nodded. “Yes, I remember that from the codependent class. Addicts will say whatever they think you want to hear,’” I quoted.

  “Sounds like you were paying attention.” Marcus smiled.

  “Just because I can say it doesn’t mean I believe it.”

  He chuckled. “Good point.”

  “So maybe we should quit wasting everyone’s time,” said Jacob, standing. “You don’t want me if I don’t want to be here, right?”

  “It won’t do any good,” said Marcus.

  Suddenly I felt like screaming. I mean, here I had gone to all this work getting Jacob to come—setting up the appointment, handling him with kid gloves, waiting and worrying. Why couldn’t they just go ahead and enroll him now, and sort out the rest of it later? I felt disappointed in Marcus, too. I had expected him to be more helpful. Honestly, it almost seemed as if he didn’t want Jacob at all.

  “But he’s here,” I said. “He’s here right now. And he’s been through the evaluation…and I just don’t see…I mean, can’t he just…” I was starting to sputter and knew I was very close to tears.

  Marcus leaned forward now. “I know you really love your son, Glennis. It’s obvious, but you need to accept that you can’t change him. He has to want to change himself.” He turned to look at Jacob, who was standing by the door, ready to leave. “Right, Jacob?”

  “That’s right,” snapped Jacob, his hand on the doorknob.

  “And, clearly, you don’t want to change,” added Marcus.

  “Not at the moment,” said Jacob glibly. “And not here. I know I can change if I want to. But I don’t need this.”

  “But you’ve said that before,” I insisted. “And it hasn’t worked, has it?”

  “Sometimes it works,” he told me. “Sometimes I go for a week or two without using.”

  “But you go back to it,” I reminded him. “You always go back.”

  “Like I told Jacob,” said Marcus. “Crystal meth is one of the most addictive substances known to man. It’s nearly impossible to quit without some form of help. He needs therapy and counseling and—”

  “I know, I know,” he interrupted. “It’s like you’re beating it into my brain. I just want to get out of here, Mom. Can we go now?”

  I felt torn. I glanced over at Marcus, begging him with my eyes to do something.

  “I wish I could help,” said Marcus. “I think Jacob has a lot to offer this world, but only in a life of sobriety. Without that, he’ll have nothing.”

  “That’s not true,” said Jacob. “I have my music.”

  “How’s that going?” asked Marcus with a knowing look. “Is your band getting lots of gi
gs? Any recording contracts?”

  Jacob swore at Marcus, then went out, slamming the door behind him.

  “I’m really sorry,” I said.

  “It’s not your fault, Glennis.”

  I shook my head. “You can say that, but it sure doesn’t feel that way” He stood up now. “You need to keep coming to the codependent classes, you know. Even if Jacob refuses treatment, you still need to take care of yourself. Perhaps even more so if Jacob continues doing meth.” I nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “Believe it or not, I know how you feel right now.”

  I frowned. “I don’t think anyone knows how I feel right now.”

  “You feel like a failure. You feel like giving up…like God has turned his back on you.”

  I studied him closely. “And…I feel like I’ve lost my son.”

  “You haven’t lost him yet.”

  “Meaning, I could”

  “It’s always a possibility.”

  “I’d better go,” I said. “I’d better go find him.”

  “He can still change his mind, Glennis.”

  “Right.” I’m sure my doubt was obvious.

  Jacob was standing by the Range Rover, smoking. It was the first time I’d seen him smoke, but even so I was slightly shocked. “You smoke?” He shrugged.

  I wanted to grab him and shake him and say,“What’s wrong with you?” But instead I unlocked the Range Rover and climbed in and waited as he finished his cigarette.

  Finally he got in. “There are worse things, Mom.”

  I nodded. “Yes, you’ve made me well aware of that.”

  He turned and faced me. “Look, Mom, I don’t need this place. The people in there are a bunch of losers. Did you see them?”

  “Who?”

  “The patients.”

  “But they’re in there for help,” I tried.

  “But you should see them, Mom. They’re a mess. This one woman… she was like about forty and totally out of her head. She was in the detox area barfing her guts out. It was sick.”

  “But she’s trying to get help,” I said.

  “Yeah.” He shook his head. “She needs it.”

  “But, Jacob—”

  “I’m not like them, Mom. I’m not that messed up.”

  “But you’re using—”

  “I can stop anytime I want.” He nodded his head. “I can stop right now. In fact, I think I will. What day is it today?” I considered this. “I think it’s November 8.”

  “Okay, then, on November 8 Jacob Harmon has officially quit using crystal meth. There, are you happy now?”

  I didn’t know what to say. “I wish it could be that easy, Jacob.”

  “It is that easy, Mom. Don’t you get it? I just quit. I kicked the habit. End of story. Watch me and you’ll see.”

  “But, Jacob—”

  “Don’t you believe in me, Mom? Don’t you think I have the will power to kick this thing on my own?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Crud, Mom. I would think that you of all people would believe in me.”

  “I do believe in you, Jacob. It’s just that I think you need some additional help. At least you could go to some meetings and—”

  “That’s for losers. Look, I had a bad habit. I’ll admit to that. But it was just for fun. Recreational, you know. I’m done with it now. Really, you gotta trust me on this, Mom.”

  I just shook my head. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. I wanted to believe him. And I certainly didn’t want my lack of confidence to trip him up. Finally I nodded. “Okay, Jacob, I do believe you can do this. But are you sure you don’t want any help? What about Jack Smart downstairs? He’s such a nice guy Maybe you could go to AA with him.”

  Jacob actually seemed to consider this. “Yeah, I suppose I could do that, Mom. Would it make you feel better if I did?”

  I smiled. “I think it really would. And it couldn’t hurt, could it?”

  He shrugged. “Probably not.”

  “And Jack does seem kind of lonely. I’m sure he’d like to get to know you. I think he said the AA meetings are on Wednesday nights, but maybe you could stop by and ask him for the specifics. I wrote down his apartment number somewhere.”

  I was rambling now, probably a result of stress and nerves as well as disappointment mixed with hope. But I realized there wasn’t much I could do besides move on. So I started the engine and began driving toward town. By now I knew enough to realize that this plan with Jack and AA probably wouldn’t work. But what else did I have? And, I asked myself, what if Jacob’s plan could work? What if Jacob and Jack formed a real friendship, and what if Jacob really opened up to the old guy and managed to work some things out? And what if AA meetings really helped Jacob? Maybe he’d come to accept that recovery groups weren’t so bad after all. Okay, it was a long shot, and someone like Marcus would probably think I was a fool to nurture such feeble hopes. But what can a mother do?

  I have been wrong about so many things in life. Why was I surprised to find out I was wrong about Jacob? Again. Not only did he completely avoid every attempt made by Jack Smart to get him to attend an AA meeting, but he continued to deceive me over and over about what was really going on in his life. First, he told me he’d gotten a job at another gas station. False. Then he told me that he had to give up the job so Daniel’s band could perform at a local restaurant on weekends. Untrue.

  But the worst lie of all was when he would look me straight in the eyes and swear that he was clean. He was convincing, too. And, of course, I wanted to believe him. Jacob put a great deal of effort into appearing credible. He was the master of cover-up and double-talk and smoke screens. And I fell for it. Again and again and again. As a result, I allowed him to stay in my apartment for nearly two weeks during November.

  But the day came when I discovered three more used hypodermic syringes wrapped in tissue and discreetly wedged behind the tank of the toilet. Almost unnoticeable. Almost.

  “I just don’t know what to do anymore,” I confessed to Marcus after a codependent session. I think it was about my fifth session by then, and it didn’t seem that I’d progressed at all. I felt certain I was either the most gullible woman on the planet or a born enabler. Or perhaps I was simply stupid.

  “You do know what to do,” he reassured me.

  “Throw him out?” It was as much statement as question. My head knew this was the correct answer. But my heart was still unsure. Marcus said nothing.

  “But he hasn’t even been home in three days.” I held up my hands in frustration. “How do you throw someone out who isn’t even there?”

  “Maybe you box up his things and—”

  “What?” I demanded. “Throw them out the front door? Maybe toss them down on the sidewalk and ignite them?”

  He laughed. “Just pack them up and get them out of his room so it won’t be so easy to allow him back in.”

  “Seriously?” I considered this. “But really, what am I supposed to do with his stuff once it’s boxed up? Just set it by the door so I have to look at it every day—a reminder that I am throwing my only son out in the middle of November?”

  He smiled. “That might not be such a bad thing. Kind of a visual aid, you know? Or maybe you could put his stuff into storage.”

  I sighed. “Why does life have to be so complicated?”

  Marcus glanced around the nearly empty classroom. “You want to grab a cup of coffee?”

  I was caught off guard by this invitation. Was he asking me out? No, of course not, I told myself. He was probably just trying to get me out of the center so they could close up for the night.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m taking up too much of your time. I should just get—”

  “No. That’s not what I mean, Glennis. I’m not trying to get rid of you. I only wondered if you’d like to get a cup of coffee and just talk as friends.”

  “Just talk?” I queried. “As friends?” He shrugged. “If you�
��d like to.”

  I considered this. I hadn’t really “just talked” to anyone during the past couple of weeks. Sherry, still grieving over Matthew, had taken some time off work and gone to stay with her mother in the mountains. Other than seeing Jack in the laundry room occasionally, I’d lived the life of a hermit these past few weeks.

  “How about it?” Marcus asked.

  “That actually sounds kind of good,” I admitted.

  We agreed to meet at Starbucks, but as soon as I began driving over, I started to feel nervous. Was I making a mistake? Could this be perceived as a date? And what if someone saw us together? What would they think?

  Then I had to remind myself that Geoffrey had served me with divorce papers just last week, and everyone in town seemed to accept that he and Judith were a couple now. I’m sure the story circulating the community was that I had left him. And perhaps that was true. But I knew he had left me long ago.

  Then, as if my life wasn’t miserable enough, Geoffrey had decided to sell the Range Rover. He didn’t even ask me about it. And, of course, since he’d purchased it without me, only his name appeared on the tide, so it was legally his property, to do with as he liked. He had “generously” given me a small portion from the sale, which was why I suddenly found myself driving across town in a seven-year-old Taurus. Quite a step down from the Range Rover, I’ll admit. But at least this car was paid for and registered in my name alone. Now if it would only get me through the winter.

  I parked on the street by Starbucks and asked myself what I was doing meeting a man for coffee at nearly nine o’clock at night. Was I totally crazy? Perhaps, I thought as I pushed open the door, but then why shouldn’t I be?

  We ordered our coffees and sat down. I knew I was glancing around, still nervous that someone might see me here.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I just feel a little awkward.”

  “Having coffee with a man who’s not your husband?”