“You were seven.” She gestured wildly.
He grinned. “When we get there, maybe you should stay in the car.”
“How are you not mad?”
Jack looked out the windshield. “I’m mad, but I’m a guy and we don’t show it.” He rolled his head at her and gave her a crooked smile. Her eyes flicked upward. “For years I hated her so much.” He exhaled. “I thought it burned itself out, but I was wrong.”
Replacement sat back in her seat. Jack saw the smoldering in her eyes and made a mental note to keep a close eye on her today. He never knew what Replacement would do, and the last thing he needed was for her to flip out.
“Besides,” he continued, “the doctor said she’s not all there. She was a hooker and drug addict for twenty years. That had to take a toll on her. I should feel pity or something, but I don’t.” Jack cracked his knuckles. “You’re not supposed to hate your mother. I didn’t at first because I didn’t know enough to hate her. I thought all that crazy stuff was normal. After I was adopted, I got to see how a mother was supposed to act. The more I learned what a mom should be, the more I realized how bad mine was. That’s when the hate started. The more love my new mom showed me, the more I hated Patty.”
Replacement turned to look out her window. Jack leaned back and drove with one hand on the wheel; the other rested on top of the seat back. Occasionally he had to force himself to slow down and back off the bumper of the rare car that didn’t get out of his way. After two hours of silence, Replacement looked as if she were about to crack up.
“Can I ask some questions?” She timidly looked at him.
“About what?”
“You growing up. What do you remember about your mom?”
Jack shuddered. Sometimes he wished he could forget. “Nothing good.”
“Nothing? Not even one nice memory?”
Jack forced himself to focus on the road.
“I think I blocked out those times. At least that’s what a couple shrinks told me. They said the same thing. There had to be something good, right? The things I remember most: I remember slaps, I remember screaming.” Jack breathed out. “The weird thing, though…those parts weren’t the worst. She was actually paying attention to me then, so it wasn’t so bad.” He glanced at Replacement. “Screwed up, huh?”
“Yeah,” she said quietly toward the window.
Jack rolled down his window to let the air sting against his face. He leaned his head over and inhaled. After a moment, he sat up and shook his head.
“There were times when she would have a ‘party’ with a man and she’d have to find someplace for me to go. She used to work out a deal with the landlord who ran our tenement. I would end up getting stuck in the janitor’s closet. It sucked. It was like getting solitary confinement, but I was five and I didn’t know any better. It was worse when I was all alone—when I didn’t know if she was coming back or…”
Jack arched his back and flexed his hand. His chest muscles tightened as he thought of the memory.
“What are you thinking about?” Replacement asked softly. “Tell me.”
“One time she passed out in the kitchen. She was pale white and stone cold.” Jack reached out and sprayed the windshield. The wipers squeaked as they worked to clear the grime from the glass. “I tried for hours to get her up, but she just lay there. Looking back at it now, she probably came close to OD’ing.” He shook his head. “It was in the summer and hot as hell. I sat on the floor all night, holding her hand, thinking she was about to die.”
He glanced at Replacement and saw the look of horror on her face.
“I didn’t cry. I remember thinking I should but…it was like something in me died, too. This wall went up and my feelings just shut down.” He swallowed. “I couldn’t call 911 or go to a neighbor. That was the number one rule. I broke it once before, when she didn’t come home for four days. I finally went next door. The places we lived weren’t filled with good Samaritans. They were all drug addicts too. The lady just slammed the door in my face, and when Patty came back, the neighbor told her what I had done.” Jack gritted his teeth. “Patty was high. She stumbled into the living room, and smacked me so hard it broke my nose.”
Replacement gasped.
Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “She was seriously messed up when she hit me. I think she felt sorry about it later. That’s why she bought me a Curious George.”
“Curious George?”
“Yeah, the stuffed monkey. I was so messed up then, I thought it was worth it. Like a dog that’s beaten down—if you show it a little love, it follows you anywhere.”
Replacement’s lips pressed together. She shook her head. “I never realized how screwed up you had it.”
Jack scoffed. “Thanks.”
Replacement settled back into her seat and put her feet back on the dash.
After another couple of miles, Jack clicked his tongue.
“What?” Replacement turned away from the window.
“I just thought of something…I wonder if I can find out my real name?”
Replacement nodded. “I couldn’t find out your real name online. You’re just listed as ‘boy.’ Stratton is your adoptive parents’ last name, right?”
“Yeah. It’s kinda weird that I picked my own name. Think about it. I chose Jack, and I gave myself my middle name, too.”
“Aunt Haddie is very proud that you picked Alton to honor her husband.”
“Aunt Haddie was the best foster mother in the world.” He gripped the steering wheel with one hand, looked over at her, and decided to joke. “She did okay with you, too.”
“Okay? I was the pick of the litter.” Replacement made a goofy face.
Jack kept glancing at her, searched her eyes for some clue…
Aunt Haddie had known Jack’s whole backstory. But she still said that Replacement had it harder than him growing up. Jack wondered what had happened to her.
Jack tried to drive the list of “what could be worse” out of his head by concentrating on the road. The miles slowly went by. Jack rolled the window three-quarters of the way up. As he listened to the car’s tires echo against the guardrail, he scanned the objects that had collected on the side of the road: bags, old tires, a baseball hat. That hat bothered him.
Did it just get blown off someone’s head or was it tossed aside? What am I, then? Did she throw me out or could she not hold on to me?
The guardrail ended, and Jack stared at the road as it sped by.
Either way, it’s trash now.
Jack felt the familiar burn of shame in his chest. His lips pressed together, and his throat tightened.
Just like me. Why do I keep doing this…thinking about her? It was so long ago, but I can’t get what happened out of my head. I shouldn’t let any of that junk define me, but I still do. I’m driving in circles, caught in some loop that I can’t break out of. I want to know why she abandoned me…but some things, I guess, I’ll never know…
Thanks For Scaring Me
They turned off the highway, and Jack flexed his hands. They hurt. He must have had a death grip on the steering wheel. The off-ramp led to a commercial section outside of the cute little postcard town they’d just passed. Homes with manicured lawns gave way to auto shops and supply companies. He slowed down as they drove past an empty shipping facility and turned onto a long curving driveway. The mental hospital wasn’t anything like Jack expected. He was anticipating a prison, but instead it looked like a large, brick school building.
“Everyplace has lepers.” Jack stared straight ahead. “They used to take them all and put them into one place, a leper colony.”
“That always freaked me out.” Replacement shuddered.
“What?”
“Lepers. I mean…a disease where stuff rots and falls off you. Aunt Haddie told me that Bible story and I wanted to puke.”
“When she read it to me I got pissed.” Jack glanced over at her.
“Why?”
“Jesus hea
led ten lepers; only one came back and thanked him. One? Not a good return on his investment.”
“I don’t think he did it for that.”
Jack shrugged.
Even though it was cold, people walked around outside. As they pulled up, Jack noticed that everyone who walked around was in pairs.
It’s not a retirement home; it’s an insane asylum.
Jack thought about asking Replacement whether she wanted to wait in the car, but she hopped out before he turned the engine off. He was nervously sweating and wanted to cool down so he left his jacket in the back of the car. It was a short walk to the large granite steps in front of the building, and the brisk air did little to ease his anxiety.
“You know, I bet that one leper really appreciated it.” Replacement stretched.
“Good point.” Jack stopped and watched a patient being escorted by. He leaned closer to Replacement and fired off the words as if he were instructing a squad of soldiers. “Listen. Don’t talk to anyone. Stay next to me. And don’t get too close to anyone. Got it?”
“Keep your hands and feet inside at all times during the ride.” She flashed a huge smile, and he grinned back in spite of himself.
“Seriously. These people can be dangerous.”
“They could also be nice and just need some help.” She turned her hands out. “You told me yourself that everyone is a little crazy.”
“Just…stay close to me.”
Jack held open one of the wooden double doors that led to a large intersection of two linoleum-tiled hallways. After speaking with three different nurses, filling out two separate forms, and showing their IDs four times, they were escorted upstairs.
They passed through a heavy steel door and sat on a padded bench in a corner of the third floor. The mesh and the bars covering the windows made it clear this was the floor for patients who weren’t too stable. Jack noted that on the first floor, they had nurses. Second floor, they had orderlies. Third floor, giant male orderlies.
The man at the door was six feet and weighed at least two hundred sixty pounds. He stood with his hands at his sides and smiled politely, but Jack saw his eyes; his main role was a guard.
“There are different types of crazy,” Jack whispered to Replacement. “There’s the life-has-beat-me-down and I-have-a-problem-and-need-some-help type of mental illnesses. There’s also the Joker type of crazy that will kill you.”
“Thanks for scaring me.” She moved closer to Jack.
A weary-looking man dressed in khaki pants and a white shirt headed their way. He looked to be in his thirties and was just slightly shorter than Jack. His collar was open, and he wore his blue tie loosely fastened around his neck. His worn-out appearance enhanced his worn-down expression.
“Doctor Vincent Jamison.” He introduced himself and shook both their hands. “You’re here to see Patricia?”
Jack nodded. “Thank you for letting me see her.”
“Mr. Stratton, as I explained on the phone, Patricia has led a hard life. Unfortunately, that’s taken a severe toll on her, both physically and mentally. She may not even recall you.”
“I didn’t think she’d recognize me.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “I mean…she may not recall she even had a child. Her dementia is very similar to advanced Alzheimer’s. She’s gone weeks without even saying a word.”
Replacement’s expression saddened.
The doctor looked over at her. “There have been a few times, though, when she’s been lucid.”
Jack nodded.
She’s not going to have a clue who the hell I am.
“We’ll go in the room first,” Dr. Jamison explained. “And then I’ll have Patricia brought in.”
Jack wiped his hands on his thighs. His mouth was dry, and his throat was tight. They went through a heavy metal door that led to a long hallway. The left side had windows covered in mesh and bars that overlooked the front of the building; Jack could see the parking lot below. The right side of the hallway had large, thick, safety windows that allowed you to see through to an open common room.
Jack watched the men and women behind the glass. Some sat on couches, watching TV, or they sat at tables that were haphazardly scattered around the room. No one seemed to talk to anyone else. There were people talking, but they appeared to be talking to themselves.
Twenty-two people and six orderlies. One exit. Key card access. Guard nearest the door has a card. Jack squeezed his hand and forced himself to keep moving. Think about what you’re going to say to her and not how you’d escape if you were in here, stupid.
The doctor held the door open to a small room that had a table with two chairs on each side. There was a door on the other side of the room, and Jack couldn’t take his eyes off it.
“Please, sit down.” Jamison motioned to the chairs and walked over to the door.
The metal chair scraped across the floor, which caused Jack to involuntarily shudder. Cold sweat ran down his back. He wiped his hands on the front of his pants, but he never took his eyes off the door. The doctor opened it, and Jack knew he said something but couldn’t make out what it was. Jamison stepped aside, and then an old woman in a plain, blue dress walked through the door.
Jack wanted to tell Jamison there had been some mistake. His mother had long, blond hair, not short gray hair that was thin and wispy. She was tall and fit, not frail and bony. “There must have been a mix-up—” Jack started to say, but when the old woman raised her head, Jack saw her blue eyes.
The years of drug abuse and prostitution had ground her down to a shell of a woman. Her hand trembled as she leaned against the table. She sat down. Jack could see her head shook slightly with an almost constant tremor.
Jack had expected her to look twenty years older, but he was wrong. She didn’t look as if she were in her mid-forties; she looked closer to seventy. He felt Replacement’s hand take his. He squeezed her hand, but didn’t move. The woman who had haunted a thousand of his dreams sat only a few feet from him, but it was all wrong. In his mind, he always had had this conversation with the mother he remembered: a strong, beautiful young woman. He looked at this broken husk of a person. Anger clawed its way to the surface and burned inside him. Time had cheated him of the chance to confront the woman who scarred him for life. How could the woman who hurt him so deeply and the poor creature who sat rocking back and forth in a chair muttering possibly be the same person?
But it is her. This is my mother.
The doctor walked over and sat next to her. “Patricia?” She looked up, smiled at the doctor, and gave a quick spasmodic wave. “Some people are here to see you. We talked about it this morning.” He nodded his head. She nodded her head, too, but Jack could see in her eyes she had no idea what he was talking about.
The doctor pointed toward Jack, and she turned to look at him for the first time. She smiled and gave him the same spastic, quick wave.
Nothing. No recognition. Wonderful. She doesn’t know me.
After a long minute, Jack finally said, “Hi.”
Patty’s face went white, and her eyes widened in a mix of terror and bewilderment. She raised a bony, trembling hand to her mouth. “Steven?” she gasped.
Steven? Is that my name?
His mother exhaled and let her hands fall into her lap. “You’re okay. I’m so glad. I was so worried about you. How are you?” She sat back in the chair and smiled.
There was a long pause. Jack tried to smile, too, but he couldn’t. He swallowed and slowly nodded his head. “I’m fine.”
Patricia nodded her head along with him, until her eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward. Her head stopped going up and down, and she shook it side to side. “No…no, you’re not. You’re dead.”
“Patricia, this is your son,” the doctor tried to explain.
“Yes. I had his son. I tried to take care of him but…I couldn’t anymore. I…you’re dead.” She shook.
The doctor placed a hand on her shoulder. “Patricia, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. He’s dead!” She thrust both hands at Jack.
Jack looked to the doctor. He just shrugged.
“I didn’t know. I didn’t know they were going to…” She stood up and moved back to the wall.
“Mom.” Jack cringed when he said the word.
Had his son? She thinks I’m my father. Do I look like him?
“I didn’t know they were going to be there. I didn’t know that they’d hurt you. I didn’t…I’m sorry.” She started to cry.
The doctor looked at Jack as if to say “I’m sorry” and then raised his hand and waved to someone. Jack knew the orderlies would be there soon.
Jack stood up. “What happened?”
His mother covered her face. “Terry told me to get you to meet us. Sorry! Sorry…I went right back. Please?” She moaned. “You…I brought you water…I came back to the pond. You forgave me. You…love me. SORRY!”
“What happened? When?”
His mother sobbed and pushed herself into the wall. “It was… There was… Right after I found out about it. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know… You were so nice. Why would you…? You couldn’t love me. No one could love me.” She let out an enormous sob and started to hit the wall. “You’re dead. They stabbed you…”
The orderlies came into the room. The doctor held out his hand to Patricia. “Patricia? It’s okay.”
Jack took a step forward. “Terry who? What’s Terry’s last name?”
She screamed, “No!” over and over, as if Satan himself had walked into the room. Jack looked away as the orderlies restrained her.
The doctor moved toward the door. Jack followed. Replacement led him back down the hallway, back down the two flights of stairs, and past all the patients, nurses, and orderlies. He pushed the big doors open and then gasped for breath, like a drowning man whose head had just broken the surface of the water. He stopped and tried to breathe deeply.
Replacement rubbed his back. “It will be okay,” she whispered.
Jack closed his eyes. Replacement meant the world to him, but he wanted to scream in her face right now. Instead, his words came out as a low growl. “How? How will it be okay? She’s totally off-the-rails crazy and thinks I’m my father. She just said he’s dead. Stabbed. How the hell is that going to be okay?” Jack stood up and pressed his hands against the sides of his head. “Sorry.” He walked forward and looked back up at the third floor. “Did you hear her?”
JACK KNIFED Page 2
