The Drunk Logs (25 page)

With heads in hands and blank stares, it seemed the group had come to the realization that this was going to be a long session.

“Well, you need to let either me or admissions know that you did in fact get ahold of him. And he will be picking you up.”

“Okay.” He nodded his head again, and looked around the room.

As she continued to write, the tension built, with eyes fixated to her pen, as we waited for it to stop. With a thrust of her pen, she stroked the paper again, and searched for the next name.

“Okay. The second and final individual will be Jack. You will be released on Friday.”

Shocked and dumbfounded, he slowly turned his head as the emotions hissed from the group like a faulty gas pipe, and waited for the right moment to explode.

“Do you have transportation or do we need to provide it, Jack?”

Still in shock, Jack Jack seemed to fumble through his Rolodex of answers, but could only decide on one that kept coming to mind.

“Huh?”

I was astounded and taken aback. Huh…Huh?
Of all the ludicrous stories and smartass responses that he had continuously conjured up, the only word he could come up with is “Huh?”
I thought. Don’t sit there like a deer caught in headlights waiting to be hit, let your emotions be known to the group, to the hospital, to the world outside and scream “yes, I am sane enough to be part of your society again!”

But he just sat there, oblivious to the gift that had been bestowed upon him, and watched Maureen, who was not amused by his response, become agitated.

“Jack, I know that you heard me, so I will not dignify your response by repeating the same question.”

“Answer the woman!” I yelled.

Everyone, even Maureen, appeared shocked by my outburst, but Jack Jack sat unfazed. The decision had been made, whether or not an answer was to be given.

“Yes.” His voice faded.

This celebration of his departure had passed as he leaned back into his chair and clasped his hands on his lap, crossed his legs, and took a deep breath.

Maureen signaled the start of the session and flipped her papers back to her notes that she so diligently took every group session. As she looked around the room, she noticed Robby and remembered that he was still on the docket from last week. So, without hesitation, she clicked her pen and started to begin, to the chagrin of the room.

“All right, Robby, since we didn’t get to you last time, we will start with you.”

“We forgot to introduce ourselves,” Bobby said, as he rested his head on his fist.

“What? Oh, yes. I’m sorry, but I completely forgot. Everybody, let’s begin, starting from my left,” as she looked at Jack Jack. “Go ahead.”

Our voices were monotone as we stated our names and afflictions; the only one who broke the pattern was Maureen, with her happy-go-lucky attitude. When the process was done, we waited for Robby, and hoped that maybe this time he would take the initiative.

“You may begin, Robby.” Maureen said.

To his credit, he began with the only thing that seemed to have been present on his mind since the day he was brought in. “About my homework?”

The veins began to thump harder on Maureen’s neck as she tightened her grip on her arm rest, and caught herself before she spoke.

“No dear, tell us how you’re feeling and about your weekend?”

He grinned and shifted in his chair, and pondered what would be the easiest answer to give. He leaned forward as he crossed his legs and spoke.

“Pretty good.”

To the sighs of the entire group, the tick and the tock became slower.

He drifted back into his own world, and leaned in his chair, satisfied with the answer. Discouraged but determined, Maureen asked him to elaborate more, as she instructed him that a short, quick response would not be sufficient.

The next few minutes were a mixture of mumbles, slurs, and groans that emanated from his dry lips. The curiosity of the group was spiked when all we could decipher from him were words like “beer,” “kids,” “hubcap” and “blimp.”

When he became silent, the group watched Maureen assume that he was done as she began to write on her clipboard, and pretend she understood the entire story.

“Very good, Robby, I’m glad you came to understand certain things and you also realize that you have to work on some,” she said. With a smile she wrote on her clipboard, but we knew she was lost just like the rest of us.

I thought it ridiculous, as it seemed, to offer such understanding and gratitude to a person such as Robby. It would not fare with the ones so similar in his condition. But in the grand scheme of things, maybe this is the type of treatment he so justly deserved, a little bit of praise to help him along.

“Now, would anyone like to start today?” Maureen said.

Oh, what a loaded question she had just laid before us,
I thought. I could only see the emotions that bubbled from the men like water on a hot stove. But which one would be first; whose seams would pop like a tiny coat worn by a fat man? I bet my money on Jack Jack and Ben, where the odds were favorable from past actions, but my bet was dashed at the finish line when Pat situated himself to speak.

He planted his feet and held his chair with a firm grip; his lips quivered with a river of emotion, as the dam could no longer withstand the pressure.

“Yeah, I have a question?” Pat said in a stern voice. “Why is it that Robby gets to leave and the rest of us are still here? Isn’t it awfully quick?”

Maureen, experienced in this common question, answered in a calm voice. “There are a few things that are…”

“I can understand Jack Jack. Hell, he’s been here since they built this place.” Jack Jack turned and looked stern. “Is it the insurance, are you guys getting a kickback…what?”

Maureen, slightly agitated, held her emotions at bay, and began again. “If you would allow me to finish, there are a few things that we consider that allow us to release any individual at any time.”

“And again, what are those circumstances? So, I know what I need to do to get the fuck out of here,” he fired back, his face beet red, with eyes possessed.

“I am not at liberty to say what those criteria are. They are different for every individual and are put in every patient’s medical file. But, if you follow the program we are teaching and show an honest understanding and willingness to perform it, that would make your chances greater. Furthermore, if you do not refrain from using that language, I will ask you to leave, because you are being disruptive to the group and are not showing any respect. Understand?”

Her tiny body stood ground as the others watched the duel unfold. She knew she had the upper hand and waited for Pat to make his move; he reconsidered and admitted defeat, as he slumped in his chair.

As she continued, I became enamored with Maureen, and laughed at the idea that she had the balls. I was impressed.

“Craig?” she said, as he awoke from his slumber. “How are you feeling today?”

“I feel fine today, nothing is going on. Just going on and going with the program,” he said as he yawned.

“Is that all…nothing more?”

“No, don’t really feel like talking today.”

She accepted his response and knew that, in time, he would reveal more.

She looked back down on her clipboard and remembered that she had not taken attendance, and rolled to her desk. She grabbed another clipboard, attached the paper, and handed it to Jack Jack, who sluggishly took it from her hands.

As she rolled back with her feet, she flipped through her pages, crossed her legs, and contemplated whether certain individuals would speak. She reluctantly said the name “Ben,” who perked up in his chair and joyfully began to give an elaborate speech, which was accented by his flowing, limp hands.

“Well, where do I begin? First, I feel absolutely wonderful and blessed. I am growing more in tune with my body and with my higher spirit.”

“Casper the friendly ghost?” Bobby whispered.

Ben stopped and tried to look tough, but the image he portrayed failed to impress—angry, legs crossed, hands on hips, lips puckered, head down, and eyes protruded upward. As the group chuckled, he resumed, for he had not gotten the effect he was after.

As he mentioned key words that would surely have gotten a smartass response, to everyone’s surprise, Jack Jack sat motionless and quiet like a desert rock that waited for rain. Even Maureen prepared herself, when Ben mentioned a part time job at the YMCA. But the precaution was unheeded.

Why was he drawn to even care about Jack Jack?
I thought. He was just like every other poor sap that found their miserable way to this hospital. Why was he any better than them? He had the same problems, ambitions, and feelings, so why should he even care? Yet there was something about Jack Jack that drew people in and took notice, not only for his life, but for theirs. For his wild spirit could not be tamed and waited for an escape.

Except for the one who spoke, the group listened to the congestion of the room and stared at the air in front of them. The tick and the tock became louder, like copper bells on top of a cathedral as our eyes steered upward to the heavens, and waited for that last bong to sound. Freedom became evident from the opened door and another sea of green carpet that led us to our appointed resting spot. In the hall, I bumped into Sam and told him the good news Jack Jack had received. He joined our group as we followed Jack Jack inside his room, waiting eagerly to hear what he thought about his newfound freedom.

Like hyenas, we gathered around Jack Jack, as he warmed himself in the sun that pierced through the window, and waited for the moment of clarity to strike. As the room dimmed from the clouds, he lowered his head, at peace and vulnerable.

“What? What do you guys want from me?” he said in a low growl.

“We just want to know what’s going on. Because you’ve been acting strange for the past couple of days, and when you heard you were leaving you didn’t even blink an eye,” I said.

He shrugged me off and walked toward the door.

“He’s right, man. You and I know each other pretty well, and even
I
know something’s going on,” Sam said in a sincere voice.

Jack Jack turned around before he exited; his face looked as though he longed to tell his deepest fears. “I just hope I can make it this time,” he said and quickly left.

I realized his fear was mine, as I began to wonder about my own future.

Sam, almost caught in the moment, began to laugh, to the confusion of the rest of us.

“Did we miss something entirely?” Bobby asked.

“That son of a bitch isn’t thinking about what’s going to happen when he gets out of here. He’s thinking about going out with a bang.”

It would have made sense
, I thought.
But how?

“What do you think he’s going to do?” Pat asked, as he started to feel happy again.

“I don’t know. I just remember the last time he was here, his ride never showed up, so he drove the druggy buggy home. Well, on his way home he found the daily pick up schedule in the van. So, he decided to pick up the next available patient. The reason, he told me later, was so he could get the druggy buggy back here, and he wouldn’t be charged with grand theft. When he picked up the individual, he convinced him that it was the center’s policy for a newly released patient to pick up a newly admitted patient, have them drop the newly released patient off at home, and then take the van back to the center. Kind of like a trust thing, I think. I don’t really remember what excuse he gave him.” Sam started to laugh, along with the rest of us.

“Well did he?” Pat asked.

“Yeah, the guy thought that was how they did things here. So, he brought the van back.”

“Then what happened to Jack Jack?” I asked.

“Nothing, they got their van back. And Lyedecker wasn’t going to tell anyone, trying to explain how he can’t control his hospital,” Sam began to cough. “Oh, I almost died when Jack Jack told me that story."

Sam exited the room, and caught his breath as the rest of us followed. He pushed the elevator button, as we huddled around, and laughed as Father Tom and Mick walked from around the corner and joined us, confused.

Puzzled, I looked around to the group of faces.

“Wait a minute, where are we going?” I asked.

“I thought everyone was going to lunch?” Father Tom said, as he leaned on his cane for support.

“To the cafeteria it is then,” Sam laughed. “See what happens when you’re having fun?” The door opened as we shuffled in, and waited for Mick. The laughter began again.

Mick, who had color back in his face, walked quicker and was able to hold his head slightly higher, but it seemed that the weight of the dead child still pushed down any sense of worth he might have tried to obtain.

When the elevator door opened, the hospital was abuzz with new patients and old. We followed the aroma of garlic bread down the vanilla and green hall to the chaos of the cafeteria.

We found our chairman of the board as we entered, his arms strewn across the chairs on either side of him, as he smacked his lips as though he awaited the arrival of his succulent pigs he slaughtered in the early morning. We proceeded like dunces through the center of town, ashamed, and conceded defeat as we bowed our heads to the master that stood before us.

“I knew you were full of shit after I thought about if for a while,” Sam said, as he approached first to show his continued allegiance. Meanwhile, the rest of us laughed nervously and stayed quiet.

He raised his head in a superior manner, looked down from his pug nose at his loyal subjects, accepted our surrender, and took the helm at the front of the food service line.

We imitated by example, as we chose the same meal of chocolate milk, spaghetti with meatballs, two pieces of garlic bread, and a salad with cucumbers, tomatoes, sprinkled American cheese, and Italian dressing on the side. We allowed Jack Jack to sit first, and found our places, ranked by when we’d been admitted to the hospital. Now, Sam, who appeared strong enough, made a verbal gesture after we commenced eating.

“So, Jack Jack, what type of exit is the master going to unveil to us this time?”