Finding Forever (22 page)

“Monkeys really are quite fascinating creatures,” Peter said with a Michael Jackson–like babyishness. He clapped twice. Rafferty hopped from the top of the couch into Peter's arms. Peter stuck his forefinger into a jar of Nutella on the table in front of him and brought it to Rafferty's chattering teeth.

Rafferty leaned forward, wiping his tongue around Peter's finger and consuming every iota of the gooey treat within seconds.

Peter calmly shook his head, wagging his finger at the monkey. “Bad boy, you.” Rafferty licked his tiny lips.

“I've found out where his least favorite place is. And when he doesn't listen to me or, say, eats his treat without me telling him to, he gets put there.”

Peter stepped to the far corner of the room, baby-cradling Rafferty.

“His
cage
.”

Rafferty shook his brown head and placed his tiny hands over his eyes. His toylike hind legs trembled.

“The C-word,” Peter said. “He absolutely despises the C-word.”

Taylor wanted to tell Peter she believed humans were far more than hairless monkeys. She wanted to tell Peter he was a class-A creeper and needed to find a new hobby or just plain get a life. Or better yet, a wife. Or a husband. Anything would do! She so wanted to bust a heel into his groin. She visualized it. How satisfying it would be to knock the little man down, run for the door, scale the high compound walls, and escape to freedom.

But even Tae Kwon Do couldn't save her. Instead she would have to do the thing that had made her famous in the first place: act her way out of this mess.

“I couldn't agree with you more,” Taylor said. She crossed her legs with interest.

“Oh, really?” Peter asked. “And exactly what part do you agree with?”

“That everyone needs a leader, a protector, a keeper. We as humans need smarter, more experienced leaders to help us through life.”

Peter nodded. “Ahhh, you do?”

“I also agree wholeheartedly that punishment can help us learn from our mistakes.”

Peter cracked a smile across his otherwise immobilized face.

“So, Taylor, tell me, do you have a mentor?” He leaned his chin on his folded hands.

“Several.”

“That's just wonderful. Tell me who your mentors are.”

“My mom and dad, they're mentors. They showed me the power of hard work and persistence. My sister, she has a disability—cerebral palsy. But her spirit to live is so strong. I definitely would consider her a mentor. And then there's my best friend, Simone. She's also my assistant, actually. She's a few years older than me, and I rely a lot on her because she has been through a lot of things.”

“So you really consider
these people
mentors?” He laughed. “That's very cute.”

“I'm sorry. I don't understand what—”

“You don't understand a lot, Ms. Prince. It would stand to reason that if you really had true mentors, people who were looking out for your best interests, you wouldn't be sitting here right now.”

“No offense, Dr. Kensington, but—”

“Peter. Please, my dear, call me Peter.”

“Okay,
Peter
, but how can I agree with you when no one has even explained to me why I'm here in the first place?”

“Ah yes, the reasons for your participation.” He looked off the porch into the red rock garden.

More like confinement!
Taylor bit down on her lip as a belt-long brown snake slithered in the gravel below.

“That is why I wanted to talk with you and get you out of that room,” Peter said.

“You mean, my
cage
?”

“Ms. Prince, I don't know how many times I have to explain to you that I am here to help you. I am on your side. My goal—our goal—is to help you get well, to move on with your life in a healthy, pure, and infinitely non-toxic manner.”

“Good. Then you can start helping me by explaining why I am caged up here like a monkey.”

“Ms. Prince—”

“Call me
Taylor
.”

Peter gritted his teeth. “Well,
Taylor
, you've been sent to Kensington because you're suffering from a host of mental health issues.”

“Fascinating. Please continue.”

“In addition to drug addiction, you have been diagnosed with delusional schizophrenia, not to mention instances of psychotic episodes featuring fits of violence against yourself
and others. According to our evaluation, you are convinced that you are sober, but we have unearthed undeniable facts to the contrary. And the facts, I may add, are quite disturbing, particularly when you line them up with your complete and utter disconnection from the actual reality of your behavior. Kensington specializes in a new form of integrative therapy that will help you see true reality and detach from your projection of it.”

Peter pulled out his cell phone, dialed a number, and put it to his ear. “Can you bring over Ms. Prince's report, please? Cheers, my friend.”

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he added, “Helper George is bringing over your report.”

“By the way, I'm sorry about hitting George,” Taylor said. “So if this is about my outburst, that is not at all normal behavior on my part. I apologize.”

“George? He will be okay. Just a little swelling is all. As for you, we do need to work on your impulse control. I suppose we will add that to our to-do list. And my dear, it is quite a long list. And you have fourteen days of this 5250 hold to show some progress.”

“5250?”

“The 5250 hold is what George was trying to explain when you opted to blame the messenger, so to speak, and viciously attack the man who was merely there to protect you from yourself.”

The buzzer sounded and the front gate opened. Taylor watched George walk up the path to the main house. He had a square bandage stuck just above his right eye. He didn't look at Taylor as he cautiously walked up the stairs and handed Peter a folder. Taylor smiled—on the inside.

“Thank you, George,” Peter said. “Before we go over the Program with Taylor, could you please explain to her the 5250 hold?”

“Of course, sir. It is, technically, Section 5250 of the California
Welfare and Institutions Code. This allows medical personnel or other qualified officers, such as ourselves, to involuntarily confine a person for up to fourteen days after they are held for seventy-two hours on the 5150 hold.”

“And George, please tell her the criteria for a patient to be placed on such a hold.”

“These holds, sir. They are reserved for patients who are deemed to have mental disorders that make them a danger to themselves and/or others.”

“Tell me what happens after the fourteen days,” Taylor said.

“You'll be free to go,” Peter answered. “As long as you successfully complete the Program.”

“And let's say for the sake of argument that I don't. Then what?”

“I wouldn't worry about that right now,” Peter said. “From what I hear, you're a quick learner. A big part of living a life of wellness is learning to live in the moment.”

Peter took a sip of lemonade and set it on the table. He took off his mirrored sunglasses. “You see, Taylor, statistics show that the leading causes of death are cancer and heart disease, but in truth, the number one cause of death is aging. Live long enough, and chances are you will develop a cancer. Or you will develop heart or respiratory problems. You know, Taylor, old people typically don't die from just being old. There is no such thing as chronological death. There is no ticking clock: there is no deadline to life. People usually die from something as simple as pneumonia because their lungs are so compromised, so weak from aging cells being broken down and degraded.”

Taylor watched Peter's motionless cheeks, weirded out by how his mouth gaped open and shut like a ventriloquist dummy.

“The root cause of many addictions is the inability of people—especially teens—to cope with this. It's particularly hard for girls when they turn fifteen years old. They sense
they are getting older, that their body is changing. Let's take you, for example. You may have already developed the first sign of wrinkles, or some thigh or belly fat. Perhaps you are getting a neurotic sense that you are marching toward death and life is no longer something in your control. Simply put, you aren't ready to grow up. This, I've concluded, causes an overall state of anxiety, an unease that pushes many people to escape through various drugs or alcohol. It truly is an epidemic—a sad, sad trend. And it needs to be treated because teens are tomorrow's adults, and they will shape the future of our species. Especially influential teens like you, Taylor. You have a great opportunity to not only help yourself, but to show others the proper path. The infinite path.”

Taylor felt her heart race as Peter wagged his forefinger like a preacher.

“So I ask you this: If religion and twelve-step programs offer real cures for such deadly maladies, then why are the rates of addiction on the rise?” Peter's voice rose to the point just below shouting. “Because those programs, those supposed paths to healing, do not address the aging issues I have laid out to you. That, my young friend, is the truth. But, Taylor, that's why we call
my
program ‘
the
Program.' It only works if you are fully committed to it. Only then will the infinite purity of youth heal you. Forever.”

Taylor didn't move from her chair.

Just act.

“Sounds good,” Taylor finally said. “Once I complete the Program I can spread the word.”

“Are you prepared to make the necessary changes in your life so that you can heal yourself and inspire the world? Are you prepared to commit fully—and I mean
fully—
to the Program?”

“Yes,” she said solemnly. “I am.”

“Very good then.”

Peter stood and grabbed Rafferty by the hand. “You're a very smart girl, Taylor. I had a feeling you would get it, and I trust that you aren't just saying this to appease me.” Rafferty jumped into his arms. “It will take a lot of work. Everyone wants the quick fix in life these days. But it takes commitment and integrity, Taylor. And it requires a leader to step up and show you the way.”

Kee-kee-kee-kee. Kee-kee-kee-kee.

“Rafferty, calm down!” The hyperactive monkey leaped from Peter's arms and squatted on the porch, scratching his stomach.

“My friend here is getting hungry,” Peter said. “So I will leave you with George. Before we can start on our path, the next step is signing your commitment papers. George will handle the paperwork. And once you sign, I'll be your leader. I will have control of your legal, professional, and personal affairs. Then, and only then, can we promptly get you back on track. You merely have to trust me and the process. The results, I promise you, will be transformative.”

“But I can't sign something like that. That's like signing my life away.”

Peter shrugged. “The way I see it, there's not much of a life waiting for you out there.”

Taylor could feel the same bubbling rage that had landed her in the padded room.

“Helper George,” Peter said, “please explain to Taylor the depth of her problems. Rafferty here needs a little snacky-snack.”

Peter turned and carried the monkey into the house.

“Ms. Prince,” George said wearily. “The news is not good.”