Beautiful Boy (42 page)

In 1986, Nancy Reagan, who started the "Just say no" antidrug campaign, famously said, "There is no moral middle ground. Indifference is not an option ... For the sake of our children, I implore each of you to be unyielding and inflexible in your opposition to drugs."

I don't know any mature person in favor of drugs like meth. We must instead understand the complex world in which our children are growing up and help them as best we can.

People said to Nic, "Well, just stop."

I have learned that it's not that easy.

People told me to let go of my worry because there was nothing
I could do. "Put it out of your mind." I never could. I finally learned to do the hard work it took to put it in perspective, because it does not help anyone—the addict, the rest of the family, you—when it becomes the only thing in one's life. And so my advice: do whatever it takes—therapy, Al-Anon, lots of Al-Anon—for you to contain it. And be patient with yourself. Allow yourself to make mistakes. Be easy on yourself and extra loving toward your spouse or partner. Do not keep secrets. As they often repeat in AA, you're as sick as your secrets. Though it is not a solution, openness is a relief. Our shared stories help us remember what we're dealing with. Addicts need ongoing reminders and support, and so do their families. It helps to read others' stories. And it helps to write, at least it did for me. As I said, I wrote frantically. I wrote in the middle of the night and made it to morning. If I were a painter like Karen, I would have painted what I was going through. She often did. I wrote.

I am no longer preoccupied with Nic. This could change, but at the moment I accept and even appreciate that he is living his life his way. Of course I will always hope that he stays sober. I hope that our relationship continues to heal, knowing that this can happen only if and while he's sober.

Where has my worry gone? I have a mental image of it. The artist Chuck Close once said, "I get overwhelmed by the whole." He learned to break down images into a grid of small, manageable squares. Painting one square at a time, he creates mesmerizing wall-sized portraits. I was often overwhelmed by the whole, too, but I learned to contain my worry about Nic in a square or two of the grid that would be there if Close were to paint my life. I check into them once in a while. When I do, I feel an entire range of emotions, but they don't overwhelm me.

Sometimes I still freak myself out about the future, but far less than I used to. I'm better about taking it one day at a time. It may sound simplistic, but it's as profound as any concept I know. I can still worry what will happen to Nic in five years, in ten—to Jasper and Daisy, for that matter—but then I return to today.

Today.

***

It is June. Daisy's birthday. She is ten today. Ten! It's also step-up day—Daisy stepping up to fifth grade, Jasper to seventh.

Their graduation song this year is "I Believe in Love," with verses written by the children with the help of their teachers. The World Beat Band plays. "Fourth grade was the door," sings Daisy and her friends, "and knowledge was the key. The fiesta was fantastica. We sang in harmony. Gold country and Ohlone Days kept us in the groove. Fourth grade time is over; we're fifth graders on the move. I believe in music. I believe in love..."

Jasper's grade stands and the children sing their verse: "Sixth grade was heck-a-gnarly, the Angel Island trip kind of scarred me. Ancient Egypt, China, and Greek philosophies. And nothing really rhymes with Mesopotamia. I believe in music. I believe in love..."

In the evening, our weekly dinner at Nancy and Don's is devoted to celebrating the kids' graduation, Nancy's and Daisy's birthdays, and my anniversary. It has been exactly a year since my brain hemorrhage.

The kids are at the kitchen table playing Chinese checkers with Nancy, who is losing and not taking it well. "That's not fair," she huffs when Jasper wins.

Jasper, Daisy, and their cousin drag out an old piano dolly tied to a long rope. They take turns pulling one another on it, almost as if they're water-skiing. The rider goes careening around the living room. In the kitchen, Nancy tosses a handful of chopped shallots into a skillet of melted butter. When they're crispy and brown, she adds red wine vinegar. After stirring it, she leaves the sauce to simmer on the range and goes onto the deck. Looking up into the trees, she makes a funny birdcall. Crows and jays come down for crackers.

Don climbs up the path from the garden, where he has been watering. He wears a pocket radio with earphones. The kids charge into the kitchen, trailed by the pack of barking dogs, including Brutus, who makes his slow way behind the others. Nancy made a leg of lamb with the vinegar-and-shallot sauce, and white beans with kale, fresh thyme, and garlic. Karen's brother carves. For dessert, her sister made a lemony cake with pale pink and blue icing and tiny monkeys, elephants, and bears with candles in them. We sing happy birthday to Daisy and Nancy, who blow out the candles. Af
terward, Jasper, sitting next to me at the table, says, "I can't believe it's summer."

Summer. Surfing in Santa Cruz. We are here with our dear friends on a quiet day at the hook at Pleasure Point. The waves are small, so most of the hardcore locals have stayed home. But the silky, gently peeling sets are perfect for the children. The water is clear and warm. Sitting on my board, awaiting the next set, I take a moment to survey the grid inside my head until I reach the squares in which Nic resides. He and I spent so much time here together.

On the drive home up the coast, Jasper chooses a CD. Like his older brother when he was younger, Jasper's favorite musician of the moment is Beck, and he hands me
Midnite Vultures
to slide into the player. The car is sandy and we are all sandy and salty and the sea air rushes in the open windows and Beck is singing—Jasper and I along with him. Daisy complains, telling us to turn it down. I look out at the blue ocean, feel Nic so strongly.

At home, Jasper is sitting on the deck with Daisy, consoling her. She is upset because she watched a video about global warming. "I feel like I'm standing against a wall and a giant monster is coming slowly toward me and I want to stop it but I can't," she says. She's actually teary. "I want to fly up there and sew a patch on the ozone layer." If that wasn't enough, she also overheard that Pluto is no longer considered a planet. "The poor little nugget," she says, wiping a tear. But soon she pushes aside her sadness about Earth and Pluto, and Jasper is directing her and himself in a play they wrote called
Queen Mean.

I am in my office writing when an email arrives from Nic's girlfriend. She has attached some photos from their recent road trip. Nic, his hair longer, wears big sunglasses, a newsboy cap, a black T-shirt, and bell-bottoms. He stands by a river. He's in front of a geyser at Yellowstone National Park. He smiles—a joyful smile.

In the morning, the garden is swathed in lacy fog. Karen got up early to drive Daisy to swim-team practice. Jasper is upstairs noodling on the guitar. I call Nic to say hi. We talk awhile. He sounds—he sounds like Nic, my son, back. What's next? We'll see. Before hanging up, he says, "Give Karen, Jas, and Daisy my love." Then he says he has to go.

With great respect, I would like to thank Steve Shoptaw, Edythe London, Walter Ling, and especially Richard Rawson, all at the Integrated Substance Abuse Programs at the University of California, Los Angeles, for helping me to understand addiction. I also would like to thank the people who vetted sections of the book and offered their corrections and suggestions. Along with Drs. Rawson, Shoptaw, and London, they include Dr. Judith Wallerstein and Gayathri J. Dowling, Ph.D., Deputy Chief, Science Policy Branch Office of Science Policy and Communications, National Institute on Drug Abuse.

This book grew out of an article that appeared in the
New York Times Magazine.
I cannot adequately express my thanks and deep respect to my editors there. They guided me with immaculate skill and flawless consciences. They are Katherine Bouton, Gerry Marzorati, and, in particular, Vera Titunik.

It is even more difficult to fully express my gratitude when I get to Eamon Dolan, the editor of this book. It is impossible to overstate his contribution. At every stage, I was inspired by, and learned from, his wisdom, intelligence, and elegant editing. I am also grateful to Janet Silver for her sensitivity, kindness, and devotion to
Beautiful Boy.
Reem Abu-Libdeh and Larry Cooper contributed their skillful and artful copy-editing. Michaela Sullivan and Melissa Lotfy created, respectively, the jacket and book design. I would also like to thank Bridget Marmion, Lori Glazer, Megan Wilson, Carla Gray, Lois Wasoff, David Falk, Sasheem Silkiss-Hero, Chester Chomka, Sanj Kharbanda, Elizabeth Lee, and Debbie Engel in the United States, and Suzanne Baboneau, Ian Chapman, Rory Scarfe, Emma Harrow, and Jeremy Butcher in the United
Kingdom. Binky Urban, my agent, lived through much of this story, provided unwavering support, and helped me navigate minefields. Also at ICM, thanks to Ron Bernstein, Jacqueline Shock, Liz Farrell, Karolina Sutton, Molly Atlas, and Alison Schwartz. Special thanks to Jasper Sheff for his suggestions and corrections.

Throughout the past few years I have been awed by the brave and dedicated people who work to help addicts and their families. My family was counseled, guided, and supported by David Frankel, Rick Raw-son, Paul Ehrlich, Jace Horwitz at Herbert House Sober Living Environment, and humble saints who prefer to be mentioned only by their first names, Randy and Ted. I reserve special, and boundless, gratitude for Mary Margaret McClure, Don Alexander, and our children's remarkable teachers.

Finally, I would like to thank the wondrous communities of Point Reyes Station and Inverness, and of course my dear family and friends. If they got sick of our endless crises, and how could they not have—I did—they never once showed it. Thank you Sarah, Mike, Ginny, Annie, Peggy, cowgirls Sue and Nan, Armistead, Christopher, Lee, Steve R., Heidi, Bo, Jenny, Jim, Mike M., Marshall, Jennifer, Suning, Ginee, Fred, Jessica, Peter, Ilie, Jeremiah, Taylor, Vicki, Susan, Buddy, Debra, Mark, Jenny, Becca, Bear, Susan, Lucy, Steve, Mark, Nancy, Don, Sumner, and Joan—and Jamie, Kyle, Dylan, and Lena. On one of the worst days, I checked my voicemail and Jamie had called from New York. "I want to fly home and build a retaining wall around you," he said. You and Kyle did (and do). And with my boundless love, thank you (again) Daisy, Jasper, Nic, and Karen.

For further reading and help. This is by no means an exhaustive list, but the following books, articles, and Web sites may be useful.

Addiction.
HBO Series. Produced by John Hoffman and Susan Froemke. DVD available.
www.hbo.com
. Home Box Office, 2007.

Al-Anon and Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters.
The Al-Anon Family Groups—Classic Edition.
Virginia Beach, VA: Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc., 2000.

Al-Anon and Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters.
Alateen—Hope for Children of Alcoholics.
Virginia Beach, VA: Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc., 1973.

Al-Anon and Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters.
Courage to Change: One Day at a Time in Al-Anon II.
Virginia Beach, VA: Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc., 1968, 1972, 1973.

Al-Anon and Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters.
One Day at a Time in Al-Anon.
Virginia Beach, VA: Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc., 1968, 1972, 1973.

Al-Anon and Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters.
Paths to Recovery—Al-Anon's Steps, Traditions, and Concepts.
Virginia Beach, VA: Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc., 1997.

Black, Claudia, Ph.D.
Straight Talk from Claudia Black: What Recovering Parents Should Tell Their Kids About Drugs and Alcohol.
City Center, MN: Hazelden Publishing, 2003.

Brown, Stephanie, Ph.D., Virginia M. Lewis, Ph.D, with Andrew Liotta.
The Family Recovery Guide: A Map for Healthy Growth.
Oakland, CA: New Harbinger Publications, 2000.

Cheever, Susan.
My Name Is Bill: Bill Wilson—His Life and the Creation of Alcoholics Anonymous.
New York: Washington Square Press, 2005.

——
.
Note Found in a Bottle.
New York: Washington Square Press, 2006.

Conyers, Beverly.
Addict in the Family: Stories of Loss, Hope, and Recovery.
Center City, MN: Hazelden Publishing and Educational Services, 2003.

Didion, Joan.
The Year of Magical Thinking.
New York: Knopf, 2005.

Hoffman, John, and Susan Froemke, eds. HBO's
Addiction: Why Can't They Just Stop?
New York: Rodale Press, 2007.

Johnson, Vernon.
Intervention: How to Help Someone Who Doesn't Want to Be Helped.
Center City, MN: Hazelden Publishing, 1986.

Kellermann, Joseph L.
A Guide for the Family of the Alcoholic.
Center City, MN: Hazelden Publishing and Educational Services, 1996.

Ketcham, Katherine, and William F. Asbury, with Mel Schulstad and Arthur P. Ciaramicoli.
Beyond the Influence: Understanding and Defeating Alcoholism.
New York: Bantam Books, 2000.

Lamott, Anne.
Bird by Bird: Some Thoughts on Writing and Life.
New York: Anchor, 1995.

——
.
Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith.
New York: Riverhead Trade, 2006.

——
.
Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith.
New York: Anchor, 2000.

Lynch, Thomas. "The Way We Are," from
Bodies in Motion and at Rest: On Metaphor and Mortality.
New York: W. W. Norton and Co., 2001.

"The Meth Epidemic."
Frontline.
DVD. PBS, 2005.

Milan, James Robert, and Katherine Ketcham.
Under the Influence: A
Guide to the Myths and Realities of Alcoholism.
New York: Bantam Books, 1983.

Mnookin, Seth. "Harvard and Heroin."
Salon.com
, Aug. 27, 1999.

——. "The End of My World As I Knew It."
Slate.com
, Dec. 31, 2004. Mnookin, Wendy. "My Son the Heroin Addict."
Salon.com
, Aug. 27, 1999.