I open my eyes. My Roommates are sleeping and the Room is silent and calm and dark. I sit up and I run my fingers through my hair and I look down at my pillow and I see that it’s covered with blood. I touch my face and I realize that I’m bleeding.
I stand and I slowly walk ten steps to the Bathroom and I open the door and I go inside and I turn on the light. I recoil from the brightness and I close my eyes and as I wait for them to adjust, I step forward and I grab the edges of the sink. I open my eyes and I look up into the mirror and for the first time in five days I see my own face.
My lips are cut and cracked and they are swollen to three times their normal size. On the left side of my cheek a row of crusted scabbed stitches hold a deep, inch-long gash together. My nose is bent and swollen beneath its bandage and red lines stream from my nostrils. There are black and yellow bruises beneath both of my eyes. There is blood, both wet and dry, everywhere.
I reach for a paper towel and I wet it and I begin softly wiping. Streaks criss-cross my cheeks and scabs break and I wince in pain and the towel becomes soaked. I throw it away and I reach for another. I do it again.
I do it again.
I do it again.
I finish and I throw away the last towel and I wash my hands and I watch the red drift from my skin into the sink and down the drain. I turn off the water and I run my hands through my hair and they’re warm and they feel good and I try to look at myself again.
I want to see my eyes. I want to look beneath the surface of the pale green and see what’s inside of me, what’s within me, what I’m hiding. I start to look up but I turn away. I try to force myself but I can’t.
I turn and I walk out of the Bathroom and into the main Room. Larry and Warren and John are all awake and in various stages of dressing. They say hello and I say hello and I walk back to my bed and I get inside of it. As I start to get comfortable, John walks over and stands in front of me.
What are you doing?
What’s it look like I’m doing?
Going back to sleep.
Exactly.
You can’t do that.
Why not?
We gotta go do our jobs.
What jobs?
We each got a job. We get up in the morning and we do our jobs.
Now?
Yeah.
I get out of bed and I follow John into the Upper Level of the Unit. Roy sees me and he walks over to me and he takes me to the Job Board and he shows it to me and he explains how it works.
There’s a job, there’s your name. The longer you’re here, the easier the job. Since you just arrived, you have to clean the Group Toilets.
I ask him where the cleaning supplies are and he shows me. As I collect them and I head toward the Group Toilets, he speaks.
Make sure they’re clean.
I will.
Really clean.
I heard you.
I find the Group Toilets, two Bathrooms off the Upper Level that are used by the Counselors, the men who don’t feel like going to their Rooms and Visitors. They are small, with one toilet and one urinal each and one sink each. I go inside and I scrub the toilets and the urinals and the sinks. I take out the trash and replace the toilet paper. I mop the floor. It’s not fun, but I’ve cleaned toilets before, so I don’t mind.
I finish the job and I return the supplies and I go back to my Room and I go to the Bathroom and I get sick. I haven’t had a drink in three days and I haven’t done coke in five so the sickness isn’t as bad as normal, but I’m starting to feel sick in other ways. I close the lid of the toilet and I flush it and I sit down on the toilet seat and I stare at the wall. I wonder what is happening to me.
I stand and begin pacing back and forth across the length of the Bathroom. I cross my arms and begin rubbing my body. I get cold and a chill shoots up my spine. One second I want to cry, one second I want to kill, one second I want to die. I think about running but there’s nowhere to run so I pace and I rub my body and I feel cold.
Larry opens the door and tells me it’s time for breakfast so I leave and I follow him and Warren and John to the Dining Hall and I get in line and I get some food. I find an empty table and I sit down and I begin eating a bowl of warm sugary oatmeal and drinking a glass of water. The feelings have subsided, but not entirely. I think that I’m going insane.
I finish my oatmeal and I sit back in my chair and I look around the Dining Hall and I see Ken talking to a man from my Unit. The man points to me and Ken walks over to my table and he sits down across from me.
You feeling all right?
I’m fine.
Have you done any thinking about our conversation?
Yeah.
Any conclusions?
No.
Keep thinking then.
I will.
You have an appointment this morning with the Dentist.
All right.
I’ll walk you up to the Medical Unit and after you get your meds, I’ll take you to a van. The Driver will take you to your appointment, wait for you and bring you back.
Okay.
Then, after you have lunch, we’re going to have you take a test called the MMPI. It’s a standard psych test that will give us some insight as to how we can help you.
Okay.
He stands.
You ready?
I grab my tray and I stand.
Yeah.
I put my tray away and we leave and we walk back to the Medical Unit. I get my pills and I take them and we go to the front Entrance of the Hospital where a white Transportation Van sits waiting. Ken gives me a jacket so I won’t be cold and we go outside and he slides open the side door of the Van and he talks to the Driver while I climb into the front seat and make myself comfortable. Ken says good-bye and I say good-bye and he shuts the door and the Driver starts to drive and we pull away.
The weather has gotten worse. Black clouds fill the Sky and patches of snow gather along the Ground. What once was green is brown. What once had leaves now has none. It’s cold and it’s winter and the World has gone to sleep.
I stare out the window at the drifting frozen landscape. A mist from my breath collects itself on the glass and I begin to shiver. I huddle up and I look at the Driver who is also huddled up and is driving slowly and watching the Road.
You think we could get some heat in here?
The Driver looks over at me.
You cold?
I return his look.
Goddamn right I’m cold.
He laughs.
It’s coming, Kid. Once the engine is warm, we’ll be warm.
We stop at a lonely intersection where the light is red and the roads are empty and the wind sends scraps of paper and leaves whipping through the air. The Driver looks ancient. He has messy white hair and a messy white beard and bright blue eyes. His skin looks as if it’s made out of leather. He has thin forearms, but they look strong, and despite his age, he looks strong. He reaches out to shake my hand.
I’m Hank.
We shake hands.
I’m James.
What happened?
Don’t exactly know.
You fucked up?
What’s it look like?
Looks like that might be an understatement.
Looks are not deceiving.
We laugh and the light turns green and Hank continues driving and we continue talking. He’s from Massachusetts, where he spent most of his life as the Captain of a Commercial Fishing Boat. He was always a Drinker, but after he retired it got worse. He lost his House, his Wife, his Family, his mind. He came here to get help and after he got well he decided to stay and see if he could help others. He’s an easy talker and as the ride drags on, I begin to think of him as a friend.
We drive into a small Town and turn onto what seems to be its Main Street. There’s a Grocery Store, a Hardware Store and a Police Station. Halloween decorations hang from the Streetlights, and People, who all seem to know each other, wander in and out of the Shops. Hank pulls into a parking spot in front of a Bait-and-Tackle Store and we get out of the Van and we walk to a small door next to the main Entrance of the Store. Hank opens the door and we walk up a flight of stairs and we go through another door and we enter a small dark Room with two couches, a sliding-glass Reception Area and a small table littered with magazines and Children’s books.
Hank heads to the Reception Desk and I walk over to one of the couches and I sit down and I begin looking through the magazines. On the other couch a woman sits with a young Boy looking through a picture book about Babar the Elephant. When I find a magazine and I lean back to start reading it, I can see the woman watching me out of the corner of her eye. She moves closer to the Child and she puts her arm around him and she leans over and kisses his forehead. I know why she does it and I don’t blame her and as I open my magazine my heart breaks and I hope that the little Boy doesn’t grow up to be anything like me.
Hank comes back from the Reception Desk.
They’re gonna take you right now.
I set down the magazine and I stand.
Okay.
I’m scared and Hank can see it.
You all right?
He puts his hand on my shoulder.
Yeah.
He looks me straight in the eye.
I know this is a podunk Town, but these people know what they’re doing, Kid. You’re gonna be fine.
I look away.
A Nurse calls my name and Hank moves his arm and I walk toward an open door where the Nurse waits for me. Before I go in I turn around and I see the woman and the Child staring at me. I look to Hank and he nods and I nod and for a brief second I feel strong. Not strong enough to face myself, but strong enough to keep going.
I walk through the door and the Nurse shows me to a clean white Room and I sit down in a large dentist’s chair in the middle of the Room and the Nurse leaves and I wait. A few seconds later the Dentist walks in. He’s in his forties and he is tall and he has dark hair and dark eyes and rough skin. Except for the white coat and the clipboard, he looks like a Lumberjack.
You’re James?
He pulls up a chair and sits in front of me.
Yes.
Doctor David Stevens, nice to meet you.
We shake hands.
You too.
He puts on a pair of thin clear latex gloves.
I got some info on you from the Doc at the Treatment Center.
He grabs a small flashlight from his pocket.
But I need to check you out more myself, see what exactly we’ve got going on here.
He leans forward.
Can you open your mouth?
I open my mouth and he turns on the flashlight and he moves toward my face.
Can I lift your upper lip?
I nod yes and he sets down the flashlight and he lifts my lip and he picks up a long thin metal tool with a sharp end.
This might hurt.
He touches the shards of my outer teeth with the end of the tool and he starts pushing into some of the damaged areas of my gums. The pain is instant, sharp and overwhelming. I want to close my mouth and make him stop, make the pain go away, but I don’t do it. I close my eyes and ball my hands into fists and I squeeze. I can feel my lips quivering and I can taste blood and when the Dentist touches my teeth, they move. He finishes the exam and I hear him set the tool in a tray. I lean back and I open my eyes.
We need to do some X rays, but from what I can see with my eyes, we’re going to have to do some surgery.
I squeeze my fists. Squeeze tight.
The outer two teeth are broken, but the roots seem to be intact.
My lips quiver.
We can cap those and you should be fine.
I can taste the blood.
The front two, though, are dying.
I run my tongue along my upper gum.
We’re going to need to do root canals and build a bridge.
I feel the remains of my teeth. Short sharp shards of teeth.
It won’t be pleasant, but unless you’re comfortable without teeth, it’s the only option.
I nod.
I’ll set up an appointment for you in a few days. The swelling in your lips should be gone by then and we can’t do this until it is.
I nod.
Nice to meet you, James.
Nice to meet you too.
He stands and we shake hands and he leaves. Another Nurse comes in and she washes out my mouth and she stuffs it with cotton wads and plates and she takes some X rays. When she’s finished the cotton wads are covered in blood and my mouth feels as if it’s been brushed with sandpaper and slammed with a hammer. She tells me I can go and she leaves and I stand and I walk back into the Lobby. Hank is sitting on one of the couches reading a magazine about the personal lives of Movie Stars and I walk over and I sit down next to him and he sets down the magazine and he looks at me.
How’d it go?
It was fine.
They gonna fix you up?
They say they are.
I’m gonna go find out when you gotta come back.
He stands and he walks to the Reception Area and he talks to the Receptionist and he comes back and we leave the Office and we get in the Van and start driving back to the Clinic. Hank tries to be friendly and talk to me but I tell him my mouth hurts so he leaves me alone. I stare out the window.
I think about her. I think about the first time I saw her. I was eighteen and at School and I was sitting by myself under the orange and yellow of a fading October tree. I had a book in my hand and I was reading and for some reason I looked up. She was walking alone across the lawn of the School with an armful of papers. She tripped and the papers fell to the ground and as she bent over to get them she looked around to see if anyone had noticed. She didn’t see me, but as she scrambled to pick up her papers, I saw her. She didn’t see me, but I saw her.
The Van pulls up to the Entrance to the Clinic and Hank and I get out of the Van and I walk over to Hank and I thank him for driving me and helping me. He tells me I look as if I could use a hug and I laugh at him and he ignores me and steps forward and puts his arm around me and hugs me. I warm at the simple pleasure of human contact and for the first time in a long time I actually feel good. It makes me uncomfortable so I pull away and I say good-bye and I thank him again and I walk back into the Clinic. The Receptionist tells me it’s lunchtime so I go to the Dining Hall and I get in line and I get a bowl of soup and a glass of water and I find an empty table and I sit down by myself and I do the best I can to force some food past the bloody wreckage of my mouth.
Hey, Kid.
I look up. A man stands across from me. He’s about fifty, medium height, medium build. He has thick brown hair that is thinning on top and a weathered face that looks as if it has taken a few punches. He’s wearing a bright blue-and-yellow silk Hawaiian shirt, small round silver glasses and a huge gold Rolex. He stares at me. He sets his tray down. He looks pissed.
Remember me?
No.
You been walking around the last two days calling me Gene Hackman. Now I know they got you doped up on that detox shit, but I’m not Gene Hackman, I’ve never been Gene Hackman, I’ll never be Gene Hackman, and if you call me Gene fucking Hackman again, we’re gonna have a big fucking problem.
I laugh.
Something funny?
I laugh again. He looks like Gene Hackman.
You think this is funny, you Little Fuck?
I stare at him and I smile. I have no teeth and the thought makes me smile more.
You think this is fucking funny?
I stare at him. He has hard, angry, violent eyes. I understand his eyes and I know how to deal with them. This is familiar territory.
I stand and my smile disappears. I stare at the man and the Room becomes quiet. I speak.
I don’t know you. I don’t remember ever seeing you, I don’t remember ever speaking to you and I certainly don’t remember ever calling you Gene Hackman, but if I did, yeah, I think it’s funny.
I can feel that most of the People in the Dining Room are watching us and my heartbeat increases and the man stares at me and his eyes are hard, angry and violent. I know I’m in no shape for this, but I don’t care. I feel myself getting ready. I tense up, clench my jaw, stare straight ahead, eyes fixed, focused and unblinking.
If you’re gonna force me to beat your ass, Old Man, we might as well get on with it.
He’s shocked. Not scared or unwilling, just shocked. I stare straight ahead.
What’d you just say?
Eyes fixed, focused and unblinking.
I said if you’re gonna force me to beat your ass, we might as well get on with it.
What’s your name, Kid?
James.
James, I’m Leonard.
He smiles.
I don’t know if you’re the stupidest fuck I ever met or the bravest, but if you answer one question for me, I’ll consider letting that last remark slide.
What’s the question, Leonard?
Are you fucked up, James?
Yeah, Leonard, I’m fucked up. I’m fucked up real bad.
Good, cause I’m fucked up too. I like fucked-up people and I try to associate with them as much as I can. Why don’t we sit and have lunch together, see if we can forget about our differences and become friends. I could use a friend in here.
All right.
We sit and we eat our lunches and Leonard talks and I listen to him talk. Leonard is from Las Vegas and he has been here for a week. He’s addicted to cocaine and has been planning his stay here for over a year. For the last twelve months he’s done nothing but eat rich food, drink expensive wine, play golf and snort enormous amounts of blow. He has done enough, he says, that if he does it again he will die. I don’t know what he does for a living, but I know it’s not legal and I know he does it well. I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his words, recognize it in the easy way he speaks of things most people would consider horrific. I am comfortable with Leonard. More comfortable with him than anyone else whom I have met in here. He speaks easily of horror. He is a Criminal of some sort. I am comfortable with him.
We finish eating and we put our trays away and we leave the Dining Room and we go to the Lecture Hall. Female Patients sit on one side of the Hall, males on the other, and the total number of Patients is around two hundred and fifty. Everyone sits with their Unit and as Leonard and I sit down among the twenty men of Sawyer, a Doctor on a Stage starts speaking to us about the concept of Alcoholism and Addiction as a disease.
I start to feel sick. Waves of nausea pulse through me. I get cold. I close my eyes and I open them and I close them again. I do it quickly, I do it slowly. I start to shiver and I stare at the seat in front of me and it’s moving. It starts to talk to me so I look away and I see blue and silver lights dancing everywhere. I close my eyes and the lights dance through my brain. I can feel my blood crawling slowly through my heart and I think I’m going to pass out so I grab my face with one of my hands and I squeeze my face. It hurts, but I want the pain because it makes this nightmare a reality and it keeps me from going insane. The pain is immense, but I need it because it keeps me from going insane.
The Doctor finishes speaking and the Patients start clapping and I let go of my face and I take a deep breath and I stare straight ahead. Leonard taps me on the shoulder.
You all right?
No.
You need some help?
No.
You look like you do.
I need something, but it’s not help.
As the Doctor onstage answers questions I stand and I walk out of the Lecture Hall. I head back to the Unit hoping to make it to my bed and hoping that my bed will make me feel better. As I walk by Ken’s Office he calls for me and I ignore him and I keep walking. He comes into the Hall and he calls for me again.
James.
I stop.
What?
I lean against the wall.
You all right?
He walks toward me.
I feel like shit, I need to lie down.
He stops in front of me.
You can lie down later. It’s time for your test.
What test?
The MMPI. I told you about it this morning.
I don’t want to take it.
Why?
Because I feel like shit and I need to lie down.
You’re gonna feel like shit for a while.
Maybe, but I still don’t want to take your test.
It’s not optional.
I can’t take it later?
No, we need you to take it now. It helps us know how to help you, and we want to start helping you right away.
Fine.
We walk past the Lecture Hall and through a maze of carpeted Corridors and we enter a small bare white Room with two chairs and a table. Ken sits down and I sit down. On the table in front of us is a large stapled booklet and a form answer sheet and a pencil. Ken speaks.
It’s a very simple test. All of the questions are true or false, you can take as long as you want to answer them. When you’re finished come back to my Office and if I’m not there, leave your responses on my desk. A staff Psychologist will analyze everything and in two days we’ll go over the results together.
All right.
Any questions?
No.
Ken leaves and I grab the pencil and the answer sheet and I open the booklet and I start reading it. The pages are filled with questions and I begin answering them.
I am a stable person.
False.
I think the World is aligned against me.
False.
I think my problems are caused by others.
False.
I don’t trust anybody.
False.
I hate myself.
True.
I often think of death.
True
Suicide is a reasonable option.
True.
My sins are unpardonable.
I stare at the question.
My sins are unpardonable.
I stare at the question.
My sins are unpardonable.
I leave it blank.
I finish five hundred and sixty-six of the five hundred and sixty-seven true-or-false questions of the test and I close the booklet and I lay down my pencil and I take a deep breath. Hours have passed and I am exhausted and I want a drink. Vodka, gin, rum, tequila, bourbon, scotch. I don’t care. Just give me a drink. A nice strong alcoholic drink. I tell myself that I only want one but I know it’s not true. I want fucking fifty.
I grab my answer sheet and I stand and I leave the Room and I walk back to Ken’s Office and I leave my test and my answer sheet on his desk and I walk into the Unit. The day’s activities are done and the men are spread out in small groups across both of the Levels. They are playing cards, talking shit, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. The phone is free and I haven’t talked to my Parents, my Brother or any of my friends, so I walk down to the Lower Level and I grab a chair and I sit down by the phone and I pick up the receiver and I start making collect calls.
I call my friend Amy. I call my friend Lucinda. I call my friend Courtney. They were all originally her friends but when she left and everybody else left they stood with me. I love all three dearly and the conversations upset me. I call, they answer. I tell them that I got hurt, that I came here, that I’m going to try to get better. I tell them I don’t know if I can. They cry and they ask me if I need anything and I tell them no. They ask if they can help in any way. I tell them they’ve given me enough. We hang up.
I call my Brother. He asks me how I am and I tell him that I’m holding up. He tells me that he’s worried about me and that he wants to come and see me. I tell him I don’t know what today is but that Visiting Day is on Sunday and I’d like it if he came. He tells me to be brave and I tell him that I’m trying. He tells me that he’s proud of me and I say thanks. I tell him I need to go and he says to call if I need anything and I thank him. We hang up.
I call my Parents at a Hotel in Chicago and my Mother answers the phone.
Hello.
Hi, Mom.
Hold on, James.
I hear her call my Father. My Father picks up the phone.
Hi, James.
Hi, Dad.
How are you?
All right.
How is it there?
It’s fine.
What’s happened so far?
I’m being detoxed and that sucks, and yesterday I moved down to a Unit and that’s been fine.
Are you feeling like it’s helping?
I don’t know.
I hear my Mom take a deep breath.
Anything we can do?
I hear my Mom break down.
No.
I listen to her cry.
I gotta go, Dad.
I listen to her cry.
You’re gonna be okay, James. Just keep it up.
I listen to her cry.
I gotta go.
If you need anything, call us.
Good-bye.
We love you.
I hang up the phone and I stare at the floor and I think about my Mother and my Father in a Hotel Room in Chicago and I wonder why they still love me and why I can’t love them back and how two normal stable people could have a created something like me, lived with something like me and tolerated something like me. I stare at the floor and I wonder. How did they tolerate me.
I look up and I see most of the men leaving the Unit to go to dinner so I stand and I walk through the Halls to the Dining Hall and I get in line and I get some soup and a glass of water and I sit down at an empty table and I eat. The food tastes good, and when I finish my bowl I want more. My body is craving and wanting and requiring and though it can’t have what it normally has, it needs something. I get a second bowl and then a third and then a fourth. I eat them all and I want more. It’s always been the same, I want more and more and more and more.
I finish eating and I leave the Dining Hall and I go to the Lecture Hall and I sit with Leonard and I listen to a woman tell her life story. The woman has been to seventeen Treatment Centers in the last decade. She lost her Husband, her Kids, all of her money and spent two years in Jail. She’s been clean for eighteen months and says she’s happy for the first time in her entire life. She says she’s devoted her life to God and to the Twelve Steps and that each new day is better than the last. Good luck, Lady. Good fucking luck.
She finishes her story and People clap and I stand and I go back to the Unit and I go to my Room. I want to go to bed but I can’t so I play cards with John and Larry and Warren. Larry, who has a Wife and newborn twin Girls waiting at home for him in Texas, is grief-stricken. He found out this afternoon that he has the HIV virus, which he probably contracted during ten years of mainlining crystal meth and fucking whores. He wants to tell his Wife but he’s scared to call her so he sits with us and he plays cards and he talks about how much he loves his Children. I want to try to comfort him but I don’t know what to say so I say nothing and I laugh when he makes jokes and I tell him his Girls are beautiful when he shows me their picture.
It gets late and we put away the cards and we get into our beds. My body still wants what I cannot give it and I’m unable to sleep so I lie on my back and I stare at the ceiling. I think about where I am and how I got here and what the fuck am I going to do and I listen to Larry cry and pound on his pillow and curse God and beg for forgiveness. At a certain point my eyes close and at a certain point I fall asleep.
