Hey, Kid.
I look up. A man stands across from me. He’s about fifty, medium height, medium build. He has thick brown hair that is thinning on top and a weathered face that looks as if it has taken a few punches. He’s wearing a bright blue-and-yellow silk Hawaiian shirt, small round silver glasses and a huge gold Rolex. He stares at me. He sets his tray down. He looks pissed.
Remember me?
No.
You been walking around the last two days calling me Gene Hackman. Now I know they got you doped up on that detox shit, but I’m not Gene Hackman, I’ve never been Gene Hackman, I’ll never be Gene Hackman, and if you call me Gene fucking Hackman again, we’re gonna have a big fucking problem.
I laugh.
Something funny?
I laugh again. He looks like Gene Hackman.
You think this is funny, you Little Fuck?
I stare at him and I smile. I have no teeth and the thought makes me smile more.
You think this is fucking funny?
I stare at him. He has hard, angry, violent eyes. I understand his eyes and I know how to deal with them. This is familiar territory.
I stand and my smile disappears. I stare at the man and the Room becomes quiet. I speak.
I don’t know you. I don’t remember ever seeing you, I don’t remember ever speaking to you and I certainly don’t remember ever calling you Gene Hackman, but if I did, yeah, I think it’s funny.
I can feel that most of the People in the Dining Room are watching us and my heartbeat increases and the man stares at me and his eyes are hard, angry and violent. I know I’m in no shape for this, but I don’t care. I feel myself getting ready. I tense up, clench my jaw, stare straight ahead, eyes fixed, focused and unblinking.
If you’re gonna force me to beat your ass, Old Man, we might as well get on with it.
He’s shocked. Not scared or unwilling, just shocked. I stare straight ahead.
What’d you just say?
Eyes fixed, focused and unblinking.
I said if you’re gonna force me to beat your ass, we might as well get on with it.
What’s your name, Kid?
James.
James, I’m Leonard.
He smiles.
I don’t know if you’re the stupidest fuck I ever met or the bravest, but if you answer one question for me, I’ll consider letting that last remark slide.
What’s the question, Leonard?
Are you fucked up, James?
Yeah, Leonard, I’m fucked up. I’m fucked up real bad.
Good, cause I’m fucked up too. I like fucked-up people and I try to associate with them as much as I can. Why don’t we sit and have lunch together, see if we can forget about our differences and become friends. I could use a friend in here.
All right.
We sit and we eat our lunches and Leonard talks and I listen to him talk. Leonard is from Las Vegas and he has been here for a week. He’s addicted to cocaine and has been planning his stay here for over a year. For the last twelve months he’s done nothing but eat rich food, drink expensive wine, play golf and snort enormous amounts of blow. He has done enough, he says, that if he does it again he will die. I don’t know what he does for a living, but I know it’s not legal and I know he does it well. I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his words, recognize it in the easy way he speaks of things most people would consider horrific. I am comfortable with Leonard. More comfortable with him than anyone else whom I have met in here. He speaks easily of horror. He is a Criminal of some sort. I am comfortable with him.
We finish eating and we put our trays away and we leave the Dining Room and we go to the Lecture Hall. Female Patients sit on one side of the Hall, males on the other, and the total number of Patients is around two hundred and fifty. Everyone sits with their Unit and as Leonard and I sit down among the twenty men of Sawyer, a Doctor on a Stage starts speaking to us about the concept of Alcoholism and Addiction as a disease.
I start to feel sick. Waves of nausea pulse through me. I get cold. I close my eyes and I open them and I close them again. I do it quickly, I do it slowly. I start to shiver and I stare at the seat in front of me and it’s moving. It starts to talk to me so I look away and I see blue and silver lights dancing everywhere. I close my eyes and the lights dance through my brain. I can feel my blood crawling slowly through my heart and I think I’m going to pass out so I grab my face with one of my hands and I squeeze my face. It hurts, but I want the pain because it makes this nightmare a reality and it keeps me from going insane. The pain is immense, but I need it because it keeps me from going insane.
The Doctor finishes speaking and the Patients start clapping and I let go of my face and I take a deep breath and I stare straight ahead. Leonard taps me on the shoulder.
You all right?
No.
You need some help?
No.
You look like you do.
I need something, but it’s not help.
As the Doctor onstage answers questions I stand and I walk out of the Lecture Hall. I head back to the Unit hoping to make it to my bed and hoping that my bed will make me feel better. As I walk by Ken’s Office he calls for me and I ignore him and I keep walking. He comes into the Hall and he calls for me again.
James.
I stop.
What?
I lean against the wall.
You all right?
He walks toward me.
I feel like shit, I need to lie down.
He stops in front of me.
You can lie down later. It’s time for your test.
What test?
The MMPI. I told you about it this morning.
I don’t want to take it.
Why?
Because I feel like shit and I need to lie down.
You’re gonna feel like shit for a while.
Maybe, but I still don’t want to take your test.
It’s not optional.
I can’t take it later?
No, we need you to take it now. It helps us know how to help you, and we want to start helping you right away.
Fine.
We walk past the Lecture Hall and through a maze of carpeted Corridors and we enter a small bare white Room with two chairs and a table. Ken sits down and I sit down. On the table in front of us is a large stapled booklet and a form answer sheet and a pencil. Ken speaks.
It’s a very simple test. All of the questions are true or false, you can take as long as you want to answer them. When you’re finished come back to my Office and if I’m not there, leave your responses on my desk. A staff Psychologist will analyze everything and in two days we’ll go over the results together.
All right.
Any questions?
No.
Ken leaves and I grab the pencil and the answer sheet and I open the booklet and I start reading it. The pages are filled with questions and I begin answering them.
I am a stable person.
False.
I think the World is aligned against me.
False.
I think my problems are caused by others.
False.
I don’t trust anybody.
False.
I hate myself.
True.
I often think of death.
True
Suicide is a reasonable option.
True.
My sins are unpardonable.
I stare at the question.
My sins are unpardonable.
I stare at the question.
My sins are unpardonable.
I leave it blank.
I finish five hundred and sixty-six of the five hundred and sixty-seven true-or-false questions of the test and I close the booklet and I lay down my pencil and I take a deep breath. Hours have passed and I am exhausted and I want a drink. Vodka, gin, rum, tequila, bourbon, scotch. I don’t care. Just give me a drink. A nice strong alcoholic drink. I tell myself that I only want one but I know it’s not true. I want fucking fifty.
I grab my answer sheet and I stand and I leave the Room and I walk back to Ken’s Office and I leave my test and my answer sheet on his desk and I walk into the Unit. The day’s activities are done and the men are spread out in small groups across both of the Levels. They are playing cards, talking shit, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. The phone is free and I haven’t talked to my Parents, my Brother or any of my friends, so I walk down to the Lower Level and I grab a chair and I sit down by the phone and I pick up the receiver and I start making collect calls.
I call my friend Amy. I call my friend Lucinda. I call my friend Courtney. They were all originally her friends but when she left and everybody else left they stood with me. I love all three dearly and the conversations upset me. I call, they answer. I tell them that I got hurt, that I came here, that I’m going to try to get better. I tell them I don’t know if I can. They cry and they ask me if I need anything and I tell them no. They ask if they can help in any way. I tell them they’ve given me enough. We hang up.
I call my Brother. He asks me how I am and I tell him that I’m holding up. He tells me that he’s worried about me and that he wants to come and see me. I tell him I don’t know what today is but that Visiting Day is on Sunday and I’d like it if he came. He tells me to be brave and I tell him that I’m trying. He tells me that he’s proud of me and I say thanks. I tell him I need to go and he says to call if I need anything and I thank him. We hang up.
I call my Parents at a Hotel in Chicago and my Mother answers the phone.
Hello.
Hi, Mom.
Hold on, James.
I hear her call my Father. My Father picks up the phone.
Hi, James.
Hi, Dad.
How are you?
All right.
How is it there?
It’s fine.
What’s happened so far?
I’m being detoxed and that sucks, and yesterday I moved down to a Unit and that’s been fine.
Are you feeling like it’s helping?
I don’t know.
I hear my Mom take a deep breath.
Anything we can do?
I hear my Mom break down.
No.
I listen to her cry.
I gotta go, Dad.
I listen to her cry.
You’re gonna be okay, James. Just keep it up.
I listen to her cry.
I gotta go.
If you need anything, call us.
Good-bye.
We love you.
I hang up the phone and I stare at the floor and I think about my Mother and my Father in a Hotel Room in Chicago and I wonder why they still love me and why I can’t love them back and how two normal stable people could have a created something like me, lived with something like me and tolerated something like me. I stare at the floor and I wonder. How did they tolerate me.
I look up and I see most of the men leaving the Unit to go to dinner so I stand and I walk through the Halls to the Dining Hall and I get in line and I get some soup and a glass of water and I sit down at an empty table and I eat. The food tastes good, and when I finish my bowl I want more. My body is craving and wanting and requiring and though it can’t have what it normally has, it needs something. I get a second bowl and then a third and then a fourth. I eat them all and I want more. It’s always been the same, I want more and more and more and more.
I finish eating and I leave the Dining Hall and I go to the Lecture Hall and I sit with Leonard and I listen to a woman tell her life story. The woman has been to seventeen Treatment Centers in the last decade. She lost her Husband, her Kids, all of her money and spent two years in Jail. She’s been clean for eighteen months and says she’s happy for the first time in her entire life. She says she’s devoted her life to God and to the Twelve Steps and that each new day is better than the last. Good luck, Lady. Good fucking luck.
She finishes her story and People clap and I stand and I go back to the Unit and I go to my Room. I want to go to bed but I can’t so I play cards with John and Larry and Warren. Larry, who has a Wife and newborn twin Girls waiting at home for him in Texas, is grief-stricken. He found out this afternoon that he has the HIV virus, which he probably contracted during ten years of mainlining crystal meth and fucking whores. He wants to tell his Wife but he’s scared to call her so he sits with us and he plays cards and he talks about how much he loves his Children. I want to try to comfort him but I don’t know what to say so I say nothing and I laugh when he makes jokes and I tell him his Girls are beautiful when he shows me their picture.
It gets late and we put away the cards and we get into our beds. My body still wants what I cannot give it and I’m unable to sleep so I lie on my back and I stare at the ceiling. I think about where I am and how I got here and what the fuck am I going to do and I listen to Larry cry and pound on his pillow and curse God and beg for forgiveness. At a certain point my eyes close and at a certain point I fall asleep.