Last Night I Sang to the Monster (29 page)

• Did God write
change
on my heart?

• Did Adam write
change
on my heart?

• Did Rafael write
change
on my heart?

• Was it me who wrote
change
on my own heart?

• What am I going to do about this thing called
touch
?

• Is Sharkey alive?

• Will Amit stay? Or will he find a reason to leave like Sharkey?

• Is Rafael happy? Is he sober?

• Why are so many of us so fucked up?

“So, Zach, you’ve still never asked about how you got here.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” I said.

“So tell me about what you’re thinking.”

“Well, I have this idea that maybe my aunt is involved.” I was trying to see if I could read anything in Adam’s eyes.

“Tell me about your aunt.”

“Well, I don’t know that much about her. She’s my mom’s sister. Her name is Emma Johnson. She lives in a big house. It’s really a nice house. She’s rich, I think. She’s the opposite of my mother, in some ways. She runs some kind of business and she has an office in her house and she has a secretary. But she never leaves the house. She’s an agoraphobic—just like my mother. I guess there were some bad genes on my mom’s side. I think their mother killed herself.”

I glanced at the floor—then looked up. “Let’s see, what else do I know about my aunt? She doesn’t really like people—but she really loved my mother.”

“How do you know that—that she loved your mother?”

“She called every week. Like clockwork. Every Wednesday evening
at 7 o’clock sharp. Weird, huh? And I just knew that she wasn’t the kind that called people. I got the feeling that, aside from her business, she just didn’t call anyone.”

“Did she love you?”

“No. I was her sister’s son. You know, that’s how she saw me. I mean, I don’t think she hated me. She was, you know, indifferent. She hated my brother, I’ll tell you that.”

“How do you know?”

“When my mother couldn’t talk, she’d ask me things. Talk to me a little bit. She said my dad should throw him out of the house. I told her maybe he could go live with her. I remember she just laughed and said, ‘Where did you get that sense of humor, young man?’ Really, that’s all I know about my aunt.” I looked at Adam. “Did she send me here?”

“Yes.”

“She paid for it?”

“Well, in a way. Apparently, she took care of some financial matters for your mother. And she was your parents’ executor. Your mom and dad had some money.”

“A lot?”

“No, not a lot. But some.”

“Enough to pay for this place, I guess.”

“Apparently. Your aunt handled all the arrangements.”

“So she got me here?”

“Yeah, Zach. She got you here.”

“How did she know about this place?”

“She’s been here.”

“As a client?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Years ago.”

“Were you here then?”

“No, I don’t know your aunt.”

“I need to thank her. She saved my life.”

“Well, she helped.”

“So, Adam, what happens now?”

“The million-dollar question.”

“I know my aunt Emma isn’t going to take me in.”

“She’s indicated as much.”

I sort of smiled. “She has her limitations. Around here we call them boundaries.”

Adam was trying not to smile. “Yes, I see that.”

“I come from a long line of unstable people.”

“That’s true, Zach. But—let me ask you: Do you think you’re unstable?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll wind up like my brother or my mom or my aunt.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think you’re mentally ill, Zach.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I
do
think you’ll wind up like your father if you decide to drink again.”

“Yeah, well, that sounds about right.”

“Do you want to end up like your father?”

“No.”

“Good.” He smiled as he handed me a file. “Homework.”

I took the file. “What is it?”

“It’s a relapse prevention plan.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to come up with a plan to stay sober.”

“Okay.”

He pointed at the file. “The paperwork is pretty self-explanatory. You just go through it and answer all the questions honestly. And I mean
honestly.
And then come up with a plan.”

“Okay. But—,” I just looked at him.

“You have a question, Zach?”

“I know I’m eighteen. I know I’m supposed to be an adult. It’s just that I don’t feel like one. I mean, where will I live?”

“That’s a very good question.”

“You look like maybe you have a suggestion.”

Adam smiled. “I do. There’s a place in California.”

“What place?”

“A halfway house. You know what those are?”

“Yeah. Aren’t there any in El Paso?”

“You want to go home again?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“What if you go back to hanging out with your friends?”

“I get you,” I said.

“Listen, Zach, I think you should try this place. I think it’s really got your name on it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Look, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll help you find a place closer to home. Will you think about it?”

“Yeah. Okay, I’ll think about it.” I was trying to keep my eyes off the floor. It was such a hard addiction to break. I opened my journal to the page where I’d written my lists. I handed it to Adam.

He took his time reading it. He got a really big smile on his face and then he just looked at me. “Zach, do you believe in miracles?”

“I don’t know, Adam.”

“I do.”

“Really?”

“Zach, I’m staring at one right this very second.”

Last night I walked around the grounds.

The moon was full and the night was cool, but the cold had gone away. I found my way to the tree named Zach. I wrote my name on the ground. And then I wrote Rafael’s name, and Amit’s name and Sharkey’s name and Lizzie’s name. I wrote everybody’s name. Everybody’s name I had said goodbye to. Everybody’s name that had ever been in Group. Everybody’s name I could remember ever having met here.

In this place.

In this beautiful place.

I took out my goodbye medal from my pocket. I stared at the angel. I decided that I would give the angel a name. Santiago. My brother. The man who had let me live. I decided that he had let me live because he loved me. Maybe it was a lie. But it was a very beautiful lie.

I stared at all the names I’d written on the ground.

The earth had room for all our names.

I wondered if the earth was another name for God.

Amit walked me to the front building where I was supposed to wait for the van.

I was flying to Los Angeles. Someone would be waiting for me. Someone who would take me to the halfway house. I remembered Adam’s words:
Keep it simple.

I knew what he meant.

One day at a time.

One sober day at a time.

I had the phone number of a man named Brian. He was going to be my sponsor. I was going to meet with him when I got settled in.

Amit hugged me goodbye. I hugged him back. I was trying to get more comfortable with this
touch
thing. “I’ll miss you,” he said.

“I’ll miss you too, Amit.” I shot him a snarky smile. “Do the work.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do the work.”

He waved—and left me there.

I watched him walk away.

Amit had a hard time with goodbyes. He was like me. We were all like each other. We were all the same.

“I’ll miss you!” I yelled. I wanted him to know that it was true, that I was being honest.

He turned around and smiled. People were so beautiful when they smiled.

I had my last session with Adam yesterday. He told me to call him once I was in Los Angeles. He gave me his cell phone number. We went over my relapse plan—even though I had no intentions of relapsing.

“Everyone swears they’ll never use again, never drink again, Zach. Do you want to go over the statistics again?” That guy Adam and his numbers.

I took out a piece of paper from my notebook and wrote the word
change.
“Someone wrote this on my heart,” I said.

“Have you figured out who?”

“Everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah, everyone. You and Rafael and Sharkey and everyone in Group. Everyone.”

“What about your higher power?”

“God? He wrote
change
too. I guess he helped.”

“Still having a hard time with God?”

“Well, he made you and Rafael, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Then he’s okay in my book.”

“Just okay?”

“It’s a start.”

It
was
a start. Yes it was.

I said goodbye to Adam. There were still words left inside us. But you could never say everything you wanted to say. I knew that. Before I left his office for the last time, I looked at him and said, “I think I’ll take a hug. Is that all right?”

I felt his arms around me. And for a moment, there was only me and Adam in the world. Only me and Adam.

This is the thing that I hated about hugging Adam: I had to let him go.

I took a deep breath when I got into the van. I felt my pocket to make sure I had my goodbye medal with me.

Goodbye, labyrinth
.

Goodbye, tree named Zach
.

Goodbye, group named Summer.

Goodbye, Adam.

Adam who sees me.

Adam whose eyes are blue as the sky.

At the airport, I had an imaginary phone call with Adam. I was calling him on my cell.

I heard his voice.

“
It’s Zach,” I said.

“
Something wrong, Zach?”

“
No. I just forgot something.
”

“
What?
”

“
I never told you. I kept a secret.
”

“
What, Zach?”

“
I love you. I thought you should know
.”

“
I think I already knew that, Zach
.”

“
Oh, okay. I just wanted to hear myself say it. Is that okay?
”

“
Are you embarrassed, Zach?
”

“
Yes
.”

“
Well, you’ll have to work on that, won’t you?
”

“
Yeah, I guess so.
”

Imaginary conversations. They tore me up.

I mostly slept on the way to LA.

It was strange not to be at that place anymore. I felt free of it. And yet I didn’t want to be free of it—not ever.

I wanted that place to stay alive in my head.

I thought of the monster and how it might always be there. But that
was all right, because the monster didn’t scare me anymore.

Adam said that there would always be monster days. I would have to stay alert. Rafael, he had stayed alert. I would have to become like him. I wondered about him—and wondered if he was still living in LA. I’d gotten a postcard from him. He’d sent it from Italy. I guess he’d decided to travel.

I knew I’d see him.
I’ll see you again because I want to see you again.

I knew he’d come to visit once he found out I was staying in LA.

But what if he didn’t?

What if Rafael had only been my friend at that place? What if he wanted to forget and move on? That’s what people did—they moved on. I started to get a little anxious thinking about that. Okay, working myself up was not good for my sobriety. Not good.
Breathe, Zach, breathe
.

I knew exactly what to do when my plane landed in LA. There would be someone at baggage claim with my name on a sign. Adam had told me it was a man who would be picking me up and that I should trust him.

Okay.

Everything was all planned.

Okay.

I had all my paperwork. The name of the place. The address. The brochure. The phone number. The name of the director.

Okay.

When I stepped off the plane, all the panic was back. I couldn’t breathe. I hated the racing thoughts, hated them. It entered into my head that I had done the wrong thing. It hadn’t been the right time for me to leave that place. I’d been wrong to think that I was ready to live in the world with a lot of normies and earth people. What was I going to do?