The Unbalancing Act (10 page)

He looks confused, but pulls a key off of his bungee cord key chain. It must be a spare. He gets up from the chair and heads for the door, slowly, like he’s trying to remember everything on his to-do list.

“Oh and Jeremiah...one more thing to get at the store...”

“What is it?”

“Something chocolate...and with caramel...and King Size.”

“Okay, I can do that. You sure she likes chocolate?”

“Oh no Jeremiah, that’s for me. You can leave it on my dresser.”

Oh, what a day this has been!  Things were not supposed to get this complicated
. I have a group session and maybe dinner if I get my appetite back. I’m just ready for my meds and then I can go to sleep. Tomorrow I will go to yoga and then see about leaving this place hopefully within the next day or so. I’m starting to
really
miss my boys, all four of them.

For now, I am going to rest for forty-five minutes. After I am all power-napped and yawned out, I decide to call Sabrina. She says she’s been worried about me being in trouble for our little “party” the other day. I tell her everything is fine and she tells me to let her know if I need anything, anything at all. She tells me that my boys are crazy and that Ben was in trouble when she went over there to check on them. Apparently, he decided that it would be a really exciting to try and clean the bathroom with hand soap. Sink, toilet, floors, walls and all. I guess the bathroom was so covered in Warm Vanilla Sugar bubbles that Eric shut the door and waited until my mother got there because he didn’t know what to do. I guess I am needed after all. Hell, that wouldn’t even bother me because it is soap. If it was syrup, or hair, or some other fluidy substance, it might put me in the fetal position and I’d be trying to pull out one of my canine teeth. However, soap is not a problem for me. I say, “Way to go Ben!” You clean that bathroom. If I were home, he wouldn’t have been in trouble. I would have simply showed him my Swiffer and Clorox wipes and we’d have had a good time. So I guess if that’s the worst thing that’s happened, they are in pretty good shape.

I check my face and curl my eyelashes to look alive. I throw on a gray sweatshirt and yoga pants to blend in, and then head to the Solarium. This group session tonight is not just for the pukers. It’s a delicious concoction of the depressed and manics, the obsessives, the compulsives, and the addicts. It’s for the anti-socials, the narcissists, the hair-pullers, the hair-eaters, (hopefully not sitting next to each other) and the phobics. It’s like a circus full of freaks and the group session is, in theory, to let us know that we are all in this together. It’s my first one of this kind and I am actually quite excited to see what goes on, although I plan to keep my mouth shut and just listen. This is not a required event, but why not go?  When in Rome...

This is a decent turn out I would assume, although I have nothing to base it on. At least it looks like it. I’m guessing maybe forty of us sitting in the beautiful Solarium. All I can think now is that I should have brought a hand mirror. I would gaze in it and say, “Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the craziest of us all?” Actually scratch that. I’m too afraid I would see my own reflection. And scientifically speaking, I would.

There are small trays of food placed around on the tables. I see mini-sandwiches and fruits and veggies with dip. I also see some bowls of assorted nuts, which is just fucking mean, given the situation we are in. Maybe I take things too personally. I find a cozy spot next to a beautiful and overweight woman who seriously has the prettiest face I have ever seen. Her black hair is wavy and shoulder-length. It is so shiny you can almost see your reflection bounce off of it. She has olive skin, bright green eyes with thick, long eyelashes, pretty full red lips, and I am completely awestruck by her beauty. She gives me a sweet smile and sits quietly. She must be a newbie too because she seems a bit out of place. I look around for anyone I might recognize. I see Jessalyn walk in, but she doesn’t see me and sits on a purple chaise lounge over in the corner. I do recognize a couple ladies I have seen at dinner, including the ones who ate my brownies. I wonder if it would be awkward if I talked to them now. Why would I, though? I’m not here to make friends.

The quiet noise of small talk comes to a halt when a tall and pretty black woman stands up. She is probably in her late forties and dressed in a purple suit.

“
Good evening, ladies. I’d like to thank you all for coming to this session tonight. My name is Amelia Peters. As you may know, I am the administrator here at New Outlook. This particular group therapy activity is a relatively new idea. We believe that by exploring new methods of therapy and communication, we are giving our patients a better chance of recovery. By hearing the stories of others, even if they are different than yours, you will gain an understanding of what your peers are going through. My hope is that it may help you gain a better understanding of your own illnesses and experiences.”

The pretty lady and I are both on our second sandwich at this point. They are just little ones, for crying out loud. I have figured out these are turkey and Swiss, and it looks like the table down from us has some sort of BLT situation going on. I’m going to need to investigate this further as no one informed me there was bacon in the building. I get up half way and my back is in an arch. I look like I am trying to dodge gunfire, but at least I’m making my way to the next table. Trying hard not to make eye contact, I grab up two BLT’s and shimmy my way back to my seat. I hand one to my new girlfriend sitting next to me who smiles gratefully and we enjoy. These were worth the trip.

I actually realize there are people standing up and talking. I must have zoned them out. I try my damndest to pay attention. An elderly woman goes on about her days as a prostitute and how she used to lot lizard the truck stops in Toledo. She has maybe two teeth that I can see, and she probably made a good living like that. Lots of fellas like the toothless gals at the truck stops from what I’ve heard on day-time talk shows. Apparently Ol’ Granny Gum-Some-Cum is having a hard time dealing with her loss of self-respect, so she’s taken to the meth. Well, that is not going to help her dental situation, but I guess you’ve got to give her some credit for standing up here talking about it. Apparently, this is her last stop on the intervention train. Her family has agreed to pay for her stay here as long as she’ll turn her life around. I just hope that if she makes it through recovery, they’ll throw in a set of dentures.

Next up I have the pleasure of hearing about a post-partum mom who is also anxiety-ridden and has “germ” issues. Well, welcome to the club lady. I hear a few more. One burns herself with a lighter because she is lonely, and the poor girl has scars all over her body. Another rises and tells her story about being bullied her whole life and now she is afraid to leave her house. The real dandy is the girl who thinks she can speak in tongues. I shit you not she starts off saying she’s been in here for two months and her new medications are hard to get used to. Then BAM!  All of a sudden she breaks out into what sounds like she’s speaking Arabic but in Pig-Latin. Awkward. I pass on my turn. I’m too busy eating.

Oh, this is fun. What a real treat. I get to come here and listen to all of this and eat sandwiches. Now this is what I’m talking about. Then, in walks the woman I saw today in the yard. This is the birthday girl who had the psychosis. She has her arm in a loop with Gerri the plastic faced nurse and she sits in a chair and just listens. Now I feel like crap. Surely, she won’t talk. Why are they bringing her in here after what happened earlier? Much to my surprise, she raises her hand. She stands.

“My name is Lauren Sanders. Today is my birthday.” She looks a mess. Her eyes look empty and it’s almost like she’s a mannequin, but one that is talking.

Why is she doing this?

“I was born in a shack in Kentucky and I barely survived my birth. My mother delivered me herself without a doctor. Doctors are shitheads. She reached right inside her gigantic vagina after fifteen hours of labor and pulled me out with her bare hands. My mother had to chew the chord off with her teeth. She wrapped me in newspaper because we had no blankets. They were hanging on the line to dry. There was no food in the house and so she had to eat the placenta for nourishment and then fed me from her large and lactating bosoms.”

Some of the women are laughing and Nurse Gerri immediately raises her hand to shush them. I realize my mouth is hanging open. I have to force myself to shut it. Oh my goodness, she’s not done with the story.

“I know I am a miracle. I am the product of a natural childbirth. We lived in the woods, you know. We lived off the land.” She looks down at the floor and sways back and forth. “I ate a squirrel once. I ate beaver too.”

I can’t take it. I try to hold back, but I blow a huge gust of laughter from my mouth that sounds like a chicken sneeze. I try my best to play it off like it allergies. I itch my nose and say, “Excuse me, must be the ragweed in the air.”

Lauren keeps going, “My doctors here are shitheads. Today is my birthday. Did anyone hear me?”  She’s getting louder. “I said today is MY BIRTHDAY! I was born in Kentucky! I’m a miracle!”

Oh shit, she’s yelling. Gerri takes her by the hand and leads her out of the room. I can hear her singing Happy Birthday to herself as she is calmly escorted out the door. Wow. That was awesome. And yet, I feel really sorry for her, she is so sad. I wonder if that story is true, but mostly I wonder why she uses the word, bosom. 

After group, I decide to eat dinner in my room
. They bring me a tray of lasagna and garlic bread and a banana. I hate red sauce and I am allergic to bananas. They make my lips swell up like a vagina with an infection. I’m not hungry anyway since I ate all those sandwiches. But I do need dessert and I see that Jeremiah, aka, Romeo the Janitor has fulfilled my request with a King Size Caramello. It is truly the only thing that helps me during that time of the month. I sit in my quiet room and have an intimate encounter with my candy bar. Almost naughty...if you consider naughty to be biting softly on the tip and then sucking it until it explodes in my mouth. That totally hits the spot...every time.

I hear a knock on my door and in walks Katelyn. She has my little white cup. There is a new pill in there, but I don’t even bother asking what it’s for. Dr. Lipton probably thinks I need it and that’s good enough for me.

“Katelyn, where have you been all day?” I ask like it’s any of my business.

“I’ve been having ex-issues and I just don’t know what to do anymore. He wants me back.”

“Hahaha! Well I hope you told him where to stick it...and I hope it wasn’t in you! You aren’t taking him back, are you? Tell me you are not taking him back.”

“No...I umm…I am not taking him back. I just don’t know what to do. I’m so screwed, so broke...and so depressed. What am I going to do, Vada?”

Here it comes again. I am now the caregiver and this poor girl needs to be cared for. Once again, I invite yet another of my “patients” to sit in my floral patterned chairs.

“Listen to my face, Katelyn! I think I have an answer for you. So the guy took your money? He has ruined your credit and your life?”

She looks at me, nodding, and there is a smudge on the right eye and a tiny one on the left. Her hair is still perfect, in a braided bun at the top of her head. Not one fly-away.

“He took me for everything. Everything I worked so hard for is gone. He’s living in my damn apartment! I put myself through nursing school for pity sake. I thought I was actually making something of myself. I promised myself I would never be in the abusive relationships that my mother was in all of those years I was growing up.”

I feel my inner counselor coming out. I ask, “What happened to your mom, Katelyn?”

“Well, I don’t know who my father is, for one thing. The first guy she dated was a total jerk. He was always drunk with his shirt off. He’d come home from work and start drinking and after about six or seven beers he’d start his rages. He used to throw her around and bruise her up pretty bad. She finally got rid of him, only because he left her. I think he had his fill and went on to the next woman he could bully. The next guy was a real winner too.”

“Well, what happened to him?”

“He’s my step-dad I guess. They are still married. He still hurts her, but she allows it. I’ve tried to get her to leave like a hundred times, but she thinks he needs her. How messed up is that? But you know what? I never wanted to be like that and now I’m in the same situation. Except Michael, my ex, has only hit me a couple of times”

“Katelyn, he hits you too? What are you thinking?”

“I know. I know, okay? Why do you think my make-up is so thick? I don’t need a lecture from you. No offense, Vada, but you are the one in a mental institution.”

“Good point. But Katelyn...I know how to get back at him. Just write down your apartment address and leave the rest to me.”

“Oh no. Vada, this is not okay. I am your nurse. Don’t get involved in my messes.”

“Would you shut up and just trust me?  I know what I’m doing, for crying out loud, Katelyn. Let someone help you. You take care of people every day.”

“Technically, Vada, so do you. You have three little boys.”

“I know this, so trust me. Now write it down and go take care of the rest of your patients.”

She reluctantly jots down her address and tells me goodnight. Out the big creaky door she goes.

I immediately get on the phone with my brother Heath. I tell Heath I need a huge favor and it involves that hot nurse, Katelyn from my looney bin. He is more than happy to oblige.