Crystal Lies (24 page)

“I’d really like to believe that.” I looked down at my now empty cup. “But it’s so hard.”

“Glennis.” His voice softened. “I…uh…I don’t usually tell people my own story, but I think I’d like to tell you.”

“You have a story?” Suddenly I wondered if he had been an addict himself. I remembered my first impression of him, with his long ponytail and tie-dyed shirts, and how I’d assumed he was an old hippie. Maybe I’d been right.

“Everyone has a story,” he continued. “Mine is about Hope’s Wings and how I became a rehab counselor.” He looked intently into my eyes. “I’ll tell you if you’re interested.”

“Of course I’m interested.” I leaned forward to listen.

“Well, in some ways my story’s not unlike yours. I was married too, I thought happily, although I realize now that I wasn’t being a very good or attentive husband back then. I worked long hours and put all my best energy into my growing psychiatric practice. My wife and I had only one child, a daughter. She would’ve been twenty-nine now.”

I swallowed hard when he said “would’ve.”

“You’re probably guessing right. Yes, she got involved in drugs. And just as the shoemaker’s children go without shoes, I, the trained psychiatrist, was oblivious to my child’s cries for help. Looking back, I can see that all the signs were there. But at the time I was either in denial, or I simply failed to notice. Or maybe both. I’ve heard you talk about your husband’s attitude toward Jacob’s problem, and in some ways I have to admit that I wasn’t much different. I think I actually believed that Hope was simply going through a rebellious stage and she’d soon outgrow it and move on. I knew she was a very bright girl, and I guess I really believed she’d figure out that drugs weren’t the answer and get on with her life.” He set his spoon in the empty cup.

“But she didn’t?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t even know that she was hooked on crystal meth. To be honest, I really didn’t know much about that specific drug or its addictive properties, which aren’t much different than cocaine’s. I’d been out of med school for nearly fifteen years by then, and I rarely treated patients with chemical dependencies. Plus, this was about twelve years ago, and I was convinced that the drug generation was over and done with. Karen, my wife, felt differently, and she kept nagging me to do something about Hope. As if she thought I could fix things.”

“I used to do the same thing with Geoffrey.”

He nodded. “Finally, when it became clear that Hope had a very serious problem, I jumped in. She was only seventeen and still in high school,
and I thought the answer was for me to play police dad. I started enforcing tight curfews and demanded to know where she was and whom she was with. I even followed her sometimes. In many ways I turned into the classic codependent. Not unlike you. And my daughter, not unlike Jacob, could play me like a fiddle. But what I didn’t fully realize was that the drug had gotten a real hold on her, and, naturally, she became very adept at hiding this from me. I even thought that she’d kicked the habit and gotten clean at the end of her junior year. And maybe she had. I guess we’ll never know for sure…but late in August, just before her senior year, she died of an overdose.”

“I’m so sorry.” I could see his eyes glistening, and I knew that I was close to tears myself.

He cleared his throat and scratched his head as if he was trying to remember something. “I know I was going somewhere with this whole thing…”

I searched my memory, retracing our conversation. “Oh yes,” I finally said. “You’d been telling me how God uses hard things to give us dreams.”

“Right.” He sighed. “I guess this is why I don’t usually share this story at the rehab center. It sort of messes with my mind.”

“I appreciate your sharing it with me.”

“Well, the point I was trying to make was that Hope’s death really rocked my world. I honestly didn’t think I would ever get over it. Not only did my practice fall completely apart, but Karen left me shortly after Hope’s death. She met a guy within the same year, and they got married and even had another child. He’s about ten now.”

“That must’ve been so painful.”

“I honestly didn’t think I’d survive it. But it did break something in me. I suppose it was my pride.” He ran his finger around the handle of his coffee cup. “And at my lowest point, right when I was about to give up, I somehow had the sense to cry out to God.”

I nodded.

“And slowly, very slowly, I began to recover. But during that time I realized that more than anything I wanted to start a rehab clinic. There had been nothing available—not locally anyway—when Hope really needed help. Not that she would’ve gone in necessarily. But even so, I felt driven to create a place where people with addiction problems could go for help. That’s when I started Hope’s Wings.”

“Hope’s Wings…” I used my napkin to stop a stray tear. “For your daughter.”

“It seemed right.”

“I had no idea you were the founder.”

“That was my dream that sort of came out of the ashes.”

“Wow. That’s an amazing story, Marcus. Why you don’t share it more often?”

“I don’t really like telling it for several reasons.” He folded his paper napkin into a neat triangle. “For one thing I can never be sure that I won’t completely lose it during the telling. Also I don’t really like people knowing that
I’m
the founder of Hope’s Wings.” He sort of laughed. “Who knows, they might complain about how shoddy the place is, and I don’t know if I could take that.” Then he grew more serious. “But mostly I don’t like talking about Hope because I know it might make parents fear the worst—that their own child might die of an overdose too.” He studied me closely. I could tell he was worried that this might be the case with me, too.

“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “I already fear the worst.”

“I know.”

“But you told me anyway. Why?”

His brow furrowed. “I guess I hoped it would encourage you to dream again, to remind you that good can rise out of something hopeless.” He paused, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Or maybe there was more to it than that…”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I wanted to make a deeper connection with you.” I considered this. And while I couldn’t help but feel flattered, I also felt a bit uneasy.

“I value your friendship, Glennis.”

“Thanks, Marcus. I value yours, too.”

He looked at his watch. “Well, I have an early meeting in the morning. I guess I should call it a night.”

After Marcus walked me back to my car and said good night, I felt as though something had occurred that night. Something unexpected and somewhat confusing, but a gift nonetheless. I got into my car and turned on the ignition, then wondered what was going on. More than that, I wondered if I was ready for anything to be happening at all.

Shortly after Sherry returned from the mountains, I invited her to have lunch at my apartment. “But this time I don’t want you to bring anything,” I’d told her the night before.

It was the Monday before Thanksgiving, and I hadn’t seen Jacob in days. I’d been trying to function in a normal fashion, bearing in mind what Marcus had said as well as Sherry’s encouragement before Matthew’s death. I wanted to at least
look
like I had my act together. I suppose in some ways I was as much a liar as my son.

“Your place looks great,” Sherry said, forcing a sad little smile to her face. “Much better than last time.”

I hugged her. “And you look better than the last time I saw you too,” I said. “How are you feeling?”

“Feeling?” She set her expensive designer purse on the counter and sighed. “I’m not sure if I have any feelings left, Glennis. Most days I feel like I’ve been completely drained, wrung out, and hung up to dry.”

“I think I know what you mean.” I handed her a hot cup of cinnamon spice tea. “Well, I may not know
exactly
what you mean, but I understand.”

She looked into my eyes and nodded. “Yes, I think you do.”

“And we don’t need to talk about it,” I assured her as I put the finishing touches on the salad, a Cobb, Sherry’s favorite.

She sat down on a stool across from me and watched as I chopped the
turkey into small pieces. “It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it so much. It’s probably good therapy”

“I’m sure Dr. Abrams would agree. She’s always encouraging me to process my pain. She says that I repress too much.”

“That sounds about right.”

“But I’m not as bad as I used to be. When I think of how much I repressed when I was with Geoffrey, it’s a wonder I didn’t blow up or have a complete breakdown.” I smiled. “Although I suppose I have experienced some
partial
breakdowns over the years.”

“How do you measure a breakdown?”

“I’m not sure. Too bad there’s not some sort of seismic meter for it. Like a nervous-breakdown Richter scale. That way people would know when to watch out or back off.”

She smiled, a little bigger this time. “So, tell me, just how does Dr. Abrams suggest you process your pain?”

“Mostly by not burying it. She keeps encouraging me to start writing about it in a journal.”

“And are you?”

“Not so much. For some reason I can’t make myself write this kind of stuff down. It feels too painful to see it in bold black and white. As if that makes it more real somehow. Isn’t that weird?”

“No. I totally understand. I don’t think I could write anything about Matthew just yet. I mean it’s hard enough even to speak about it.” She turned and looked away, and I wondered if that was a hint to change the conversation.

“How are Rod and Mark?”

“They’re both doing better, I think. Although they seem to be stuck in this crazy vengeance mode right now. Mark got the names of some of the kids who were involved that night, and Rod is set on suing those boys.”

“Well, what they did was sort of like murder, Sherry. Something should be done. Don’t you think?”

“Of course, but I just wish Rod would leave it for the D.A. to work out. It’s so stressful when he talks about it all the time, as if he’s obsessed by it. And it won’t bring Matthew back.”

“I know, but it might spare someone else’s son.”

She nodded. “Yes, you’re probably right. Speaking of sons, how’s Jacob doing?”

I paused from slicing the aromatic loaf of rosemary bread that I had splurged on at Delicato’s Bakery—just for Sherry. “I haven’t seen him since last week,” I confessed. “And he wasn’t doing too well then.”

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I hoped that things had changed for him. He seemed better at Matthew’s funeral.”

“It comes and goes,” I told her as I put several slices of bread in the napkin-lined basket. “Crystal meth is like that. Kind of up and down. Sometimes he seems like he’s doing really great.” I paused to rinse the bread knife. “And ironically enough, he probably seems like he’s doing better when he’s high. It’s when he’s coming down that he gets really agitated and difficult. At least that’s what Marcus says.”

“Marcus?”

“He’s the rehab counselor who teaches the codependent classes at Hope’s Wings.”

“Any chance of getting Jacob to go in?”

“I keep hoping. And he’s been evaluated, and they’re willing to take him—but only if he’s willing to go.”

“And he’s not?”

“No. According to him, he can fix this thing himself.”

As we ate our lunch, I filled her in on all the other sordid details of the past few weeks of my life—about the divorce papers and losing the
Range Rover, as well as Sarah’s continued standoff against me. I suppose I thought that all the dismal gloom in my life might somehow make hers look a bit better.

“Any plans for Thanksgiving?” she asked.

“No. I feel like I need to stick around for Jacobs sake, in case he shows up.”

“I haven’t even decided what we’ll do this year. All I know is that I don’t want to be home. I don’t want us all sitting around the table, looking at the chair where Matthew used to sit, and feeling bad.”

“I can understand that.”

“I suppose we’ll visit my parents.”

“My mother tried to get me to join her and Sarah in Phoenix.” I sighed. “To be honest, the sunshine sounds tempting. And I wouldn’t mind getting a chance to talk to Sarah—”

“Oh, you should go out there, Glennis.”

“I would, but I’d feel so guilty about Jacob. What if he wanted to come home or needed help, and I wasn’t here for him?”

She frowned. “I can see your point. But then you can’t keep doing that forever, you know. I mean putting your life on hold for Jacob. Isn’t that what being a codependent is about?”

I nodded. “Unfortunately, it’s a hard habit to break. Sometimes I don’t think the classes or even the books I read do me a speck of good. It’s so hard to step completely out of his life, Sherry. I mean he doesn’t really have anyone else to fall back on right now.”

“What’s going on with Geoffrey these days? Can’t he help out?”

“Oh, he’s perfectly willing to pay the big bucks to get Jacob into some fancy rehab place in Colorado. And, believe me,
that
would be wonderfid. I’d be the first one to jump up and down with joy. The only problem is that Jacob totally refuses to have anything to do with his father, including
his
generous
offer. Jacob is certain that Geoffrey simply wants to get rid of him—an embarrassment, you know. And I suppose he may be right.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll all work out…in time.” Sherry looked tired now, and I suspected this conversation had drained her even more.

“I’ve really missed you,” I told her as I began clearing the table. “And I’ve been reading the Bible verses you gave me, and I think its helping some.”

“Good for you.” She refilled her teacup. “Maybe I should start reading them myself. Practice what I preach, you know” I smiled. “I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt.”

“I heard that you’ve been going to my church.”

“See,” I told her,“I’ve been following your orders.”

“Good girl.”

“And you were right. It does help.”

She sighed. “God seems so far away from me now, Glennis. It’s as if there’s this wall between us.”

I placed a small plate of Delicato’s famous white-chocolate-and-macadamia-nut cookies on the table, then sat back down. “That’s how I felt too,” I confessed. “Back when everything in my life was falling apart.”

“But you’re over it now?”

“Over it? Yeah, I wish. Let’s just say that it’s slowly getting better. But, believe me, I have good days and bad days. I’m beginning to think it’s a matter of faith. Of choosing, you know.”

“Choosing what?” Her brow was creased with interest.

“Like to believe that God is really good despite everything.”

“And you’re able to do that?”

“I’m trying. That’s why I say it’s a matter of faith.”

She nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”

“I still have a hard time getting to sleep at night,” I admitted. “Or if
I actually go to sleep, then I wake up in the wee hours of the morning feeling certain that Jacob is dead or dying.”

“I do that too.” She shook her head. “Only I realize it’s true. Matthew
is
dead.”

“But what about heaven, Sherry? Don’t you believe that Matthew is in heaven?”

“I try to believe it. But there are times—probably when my old fundamentalist upbringing raises its ugly head—when I worry about the way that he died, you know, out in a bar and drinking. And then I’m not so sure.

“But you know as well as anyone that Matthew had recommitted his heart—”

“Then why was he there that night, Glennis? Why was he getting so drunk that he wasn’t even thinking straight?”

“We all make mistakes,” I told her. “Surely you don’t think a loving God was up there shaking his finger at Matthew that night, saying, ‘Sorry, son, you blew it tonight. Can’t let you in?”

She sort of smiled now. “No, I can’t imagine a loving God saying that. Still, I can wish it had never happened.”

“Me, too.”

We talked some more, and then Sherry announced that it was time to go. “I promised to attend an annual sales meeting this afternoon. I’m really trying to get back into the swing of things,” she told me as she gathered up her coat and purse.

“That’s probably good.”

“This was really nice.” She smiled. “And I did notice that you fixed all of my favorite things.” She reached out and hugged me. “And I really appreciate all your encouragement today.”

“Well, I learned from the best,” I told her.

“And it seems like you’re really coming along,” she said as she walked
to the door. “I think you’re going to make it after all, Glennis.” Then she said good-bye and left.

I wished I felt as certain as she did about my making it. Mostly I felt as though I’d put on a pretty good show for my best friend. Oh, not that the things I said weren’t true. I mean I really was trying to have faith and to trust God. But it wasn’t coming nearly as easily as I had made it sound today. Still, if it helped Sherry to believe that I was “coming along,” well, maybe it was worth it.

Jacob made a quick appearance the following day. To my surprise he looked like he was doing okay. He told me that he’d just gotten a job at a video store and was staying with friends until he could afford a place of his own. “Sorry I didn’t call or anything,” he said.

“Is there a number where I can reach you?” I asked.

“No, there’s not a phone.”

“How about your work number?”

“Look, Mom, you don’t have to keep checking up on me. I can take care of myself.”

“But what if—”

“Really, I just stopped by to let you know I was okay. And I’m doing fine. So don’t worry, okay?”

I nodded but still felt unsure. I also remembered what Marcus had said as I realized that Jacob’s upbeat appearance might have more to do with being high than being healthy. “Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?” I asked.

“Is it Thanksgiving this week?”

“Yes. If you like, I could fix us a small turkey or something.”

He smiled. “Sure, Mom, that’d be nice. Maybe I could bring the guys from the band. I don’t think they have anything planned.”

“Yes,” I said eagerly. “I’d love to meet them. How many should I plan for?”

“There are six of us, counting me. But then Barry probably won’t come. I think he’s going to his girlfriend’s.”

“Great,” I told him. “What time do you think would be good?”

“Maybe in the afternoon,” he suggested. “Like around two or so.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Then he reached out and hugged me. “Thanks, Mom. That’ll be really cool.”

Already calculating where I could seat everyone in the tiny apartment, I knew it would be a squeeze. But I knew I could make it work. “This will be fun, Jacob,” I said.

“Well, I gotta go, Mom. I just wanted to let you know I was okay.”

“I appreciate it, Jacob. I really wish you’d stay in touch more.”

“I’ll try to do better, Mom,” he promised. “Life is looking good for me right now.”

I nodded.

“By the way, do you think I could borrow a couple of bucks?” he asked casually. “I’m kind of broke at the moment, and I promised Justin that I’d pay him back, but I don’t get paid until Friday.”

“I’m a little low,” I told him, which was only partially true. I actually had a fair amount of cash since I’d just been to the bank. But I was worried about giving him very much. Marcus had told us how anything more than ten dollars was enough for an addict to go out and get a hit of crystal meth. If the addict knew the right people, that is, and I had a feeling Jacob did. Marcus had explained how it was better to give food or clothes than actual cash. And also to avoid giving anything that could be sold or returned to a store for cash. I went into the bedroom and dug out a five and a couple of ones, plus some loose change. “Sorry,” I lied to my only son. “This is all I can spare right now.”

He looked disappointed but didn’t say as much. I felt certain he’d
been expecting at least a twenty. Still, I reminded myself, I might not be able to get him to go to rehab, but I didn’t need to support his habit.