A MILLION LITTLE PIECES

I am outside. I am sitting on a wooden bench in back of the Main Building of the Clinic. There are empty benches on either side of me, a small Lake in front. I am cold and I am shaking and there is sweat running down my forehead and my chest and my arms and my legs and my heart is speeding up and slowing down and my teeth are chattering and my mouth is dry and there are bugs in my coat and in my pants and in my shirt and in my shoes and in my socks. Even though I can see them and hear them and feel them, I know they’re not really there. I’m cold. I can see the bugs and I hear the bugs and I feel the bugs, but I know they’re not really there. I’m cold.

I have not slept, will not be sleeping anytime soon. I tried to sleep and Warren was snoring and the Bald Man was snoring and John was moaning and turning and twitching and crying out in his dreams and I was thinking about my decision to stay here for twenty-four more hours. My mind was fine with my decision and my heart was fine with my decision and my mind and my heart were ready to keep my word, but my body wasn’t fine or anywhere near fine and it wasn’t ready to keep anything. My body wanted drugs and alcohol, my body wanted large amounts of them. I stood and I paced to the symphony of snores and moans and cries in an attempt to wear my body down and make it fine, but it didn’t work. My body wants what it wants and it could give a fuck about twenty-four hours. I have eighteen hours left. I am not wearing a watch and I can’t see a clock, but I know. I have eighteen hours left.

I left my Room and I left the Unit and I went outside and I walked around the Buildings and the Units a couple of times. The Buildings and the Units were dark and quiet except for the Medical Unit. It was light and there were screams coming from within it. I stood and listened to the screams and I screamed back at them. I screamed as loud as I could scream. Nobody heard me and nobody responded. I screamed as loud as I could, but nobody heard me.

I found the bench and I sat on it and I have been sitting on it and the wet wood has been soaking into the backs of my legs. I am staring at the Lake. The surface is dark and smooth and there are long, thin, fragile sheets of ice floating among dead leaves and broken sticks. It is the deepest part of night, just before the dawn, and the storm has broken and the wind and the rain and the sleet are gone. I am staring into the Lake and I’m sweating and my teeth are chattering and my heart is speeding up and slowing down and it hurts and there are fucking bugs everywhere. There is nothing I can do that will make them go away.

I am thinking about her. I am thinking about her even though I don’t want to think about her. I am thinking about her because I can’t forget her, because I continue to look back at her. She is the only one. I can’t let go of what once was and what will never be again. I can’t face the fact that she is gone gone gone, I can’t face that it was me who drove her away. I was with her. I loved her. I drove her away. I am thinking about her even though I don’t want to think about her.

Two days after my first trip to her room, I went back. Before I arrived, I drank a bottle of wine and I smoked a pack of cigarettes and I rehearsed what I would say when she opened the door. When I got to the door I stood and I stared at it. My heart was pounding and my hands were shaking and I felt dizzy.

I knocked and a voice that wasn’t her voice said just a minute and I stood and I waited nervous scared nervous scared and the door opened and a tall Girl with thick red lips and a big smile and brown hair and brown eyes stood before me. It was not her.

I was hoping you’d come back.

Who are you?

Lucinda. Ed’s friend. You want to come in?

Yeah.

I stepped into a typical Dorm Room with two desks and two windows and two used couches and stacks of papers and books and a couple of pizza boxes and some empty beer cans and tapestries on the walls and a stereo in the corner with a pile of CDs and a loft with two beds looming over everything. As I looked around the Room I saw that she was reading a book in one of the beds. Light streamed through one of the windows and across her face and I had never seen anything or anyone so beautiful in my life. If my heart had stopped at that moment I would have fallen happy and fallen full and I would have seen in life all that I had wanted to see and all that I needed to see. Fall. Let me fall.

Lucinda opened a small fridge and she pulled out a couple of beers.

Want one?

No.

Mind if I have one?

I don’t care.

Lucinda cracked one of the beers and she of the eyes set her book down and they both watched me as I reached into my pocket and pulled out a quarter bag of dope. It was good dope, the best I could get, and better than anything that was floating around the School. Green, hairy and pungent, the odor was strong enough that it drifted through the clear plastic of the baggie. I tossed it to Lucinda.

Where’d you get this?

She opened the bag.

A friend.

Took a deep breath.

How much?

Closed the bag.

Don’t worry about it.

No way.

Yeah.

Why?

I’m in a giving mood.

Thank you.

I’ll give you a number. If you want more, call it and tell them you’re my friend. They’ll hook you up.

Thank you.

Don’t give the number out. I normally don’t do this and they don’t like people they don’t know calling them.

Okay.

Lucinda sat down on of the couches and reached under it and pulled out some rolling papers and set them on her lap and started picking buds out of the bag.

You want to smoke with us?

I could feel her watching me from her loft. I was scared.

I don’t smoke dope.

Really?

I stood.

Really.

I opened the door.

Bye.

Thank you.

I nodded and as I closed the door I looked up at her and she was looking at me and our eyes met and she smiled and I knew I wasn’t the only one who was nervous and scared and whose hands had been shaking. I wanted to fall. I wanted to fall hard. I knew.

Darkness retreats and the Sun rises. Red, yellow and orange creep into clear blue, the sweet airborne calls of waking birds echo across the black mirror of the Lake, a crisp draft carries the bitter of cold into the reserve of night. I stand and I walk back to the Unit and the dew on the dead grass soaks through my shoes and I watch my feet break the crystalline perfection of the morning’s drops and the drops are just another thing I’ve destroyed, another thing I can’t fix or bring back, another beautiful thing ruined by my carelessness. I don’t stop. I don’t stop destroying and I don’t change my course and I don’t look back. Looking back hurts too much, so I just keep going.

I open the door and I head inside and it is quiet and no one is awake yet. I walk to my Room and I go the Bathroom and I take off my clothes and I step into the shower and I turn on the hot water. Same old bullshit. The water burns and it turns my skin red and it hurts and it hurts and it hurts and I stand there and I take it because I deserve it and because I don’t know anything else. It hurts and I deserve it. Same old bullshit.

I step out and I dry off and I walk to the mirror and I wipe the steam away and I look at myself. The black beneath my eyes is fading. The swelling around my nose is gone, though the bump is there and will stay there. The swelling in my lips is down and my lips are starting to look almost normal. The reduced swelling in them makes the stitches around my gash more prominent. The stitches are old and black and crusty and they look like barbed wire, the gash has sealed itself and a scar is starting to form. I pull down my lower lip to look at the rest of the cuts and the rest of the stitches. The stitches are black and they weave in and out of one another like a vicious fence. The cuts are closed bright white against pale red. They’re no longer bleeding, no longer oozing, and scars are starting to form.

I start to look up. I want to see my eyes. I want to look beneath the surface of the pale green and see what’s inside of me. As I get near I turn away. I try to force myself back, but I can’t do it. I have not consciously looked into my eyes for years. Although I have wanted to look into them, I have not had the strength to do so. I try to force myself, but I can’t. I do not have the strength now and I do not know if I will ever have the strength. I might never look into the pale green of my eyes again. There are places from which you cannot return. There is damage that can be irreparable.

I wrap a towel around my waist and I walk into the Room to see if anyone is awake. Warren is sitting up and the Bald Man is sitting up and they’re talking to each other. John is still sleeping and is curled into the fetal position and he is clutching himself and sucking his thumb. I walk over to Warren.

Good morning.

Hi, James. How are you?

I’m okay.

You look tired.

Didn’t sleep much.

He nods.

It happens here.

I was wondering if I could borrow something from you?

What do you need?

A Swiss Army knife or some nail clippers or something sharp.

Why do you need something sharp?

I just do.

Are you going to hurt yourself?

I smile.

If I was gonna hurt myself, I’d use something that does a whole lot more damage than a Swiss Army knife or a pair of nail clippers.

He looks at me, smiles.

Yes, I guess you would.

He leans over and he opens his dresser and he withdraws a pair of small, shiny nail clippers. He hands them to me.

Thanks, Warren.

I walk back to the Bathroom. The steam has dissipated and the mirror is clean. I walk over to it and I look at the stitches around my gash. They are black and crusty and they look like barbed wire. I want them gone. I am tired of looking like Frankenstein. If I pull them out the scar will be worse, but I don’t mind scars and another scar isn’t going to hurt me.

I set the clippers on the white porcelain of the sink and I turn on the hot water and I grab some toilet paper and I wet it and I start wiping the dried blood off the stitches. They need to be clean to come out, need to be free of the crust so that they will slide through their entry points without tearing new and larger holes. I have made the mistake of not cleaning stitches properly before and the results were less than pleasant, so I take my time with these. I wet the paper, dab, repeat. Wet, dab, repeat. Wet, dab, repeat. When the scabs receive the water they become blood and the blood smears across my chin and my cheek. I leave it on my cheek because there is more work to be done.

After about ten dabs, the stitches are clean. I pick up the clippers and I open them and I start cutting. There are twelve on the outer gash and they come apart easily and without a problem. When they are cut, I pull them out. The entry points are clean and there is little blood. The scar will be visible, but it won’t be bad. A small half circle on the side of my face. Another reminder of the life I live. There is more work to be done.

I pull down my lower lip. The cuts are worse and they have not healed as well. The constant exposure to spit and food and movement of my mouth and the activity at the Dentist’s office has prevented the stitches from doing their job properly. At this point, they are useless.

I look for the stitch that is closest to the flesh. It is in the lower corner of my mouth, near the base of my gum. As I hold my lip with one hand, I use my other hand to bring the clipper down and in and I insert the blade between the flesh and the stitch and I squeeze the clipper and the stitch snaps and I wince and a small trickle of blood starts to flow from the entry points of the thread. I move methodically through the rest of twenty-nine stitches within my mouth. When I am done cutting, I pull the stitches out and the flow of blood from the entry points fills my mouth and I turn on the cold water and I take a sip of it and I flush it through my mouth and I spit it out. The sink is bright pink, there is red smeared across my face, the remnants of the stitches lie on the side of the porcelain and the clippers are in my hand. I am in pain, but not much.

The Bathroom door opens and I turn around and the Bald Man walks in and he sees me and he falls to his knees and starts screaming he’s killing himself, he’s killing himself and I can hear commotion and the door flies open and Warren rushes into the Bathroom.

What are you doing?

I’m taking out my stitches.

Warren walks toward me. The Bald Man crawls toward the toilet.

You said you weren’t going to hurt yourself.

I didn’t.

It looks like you did.

I didn’t.

You should have let a Doctor do that.

I’ve done it before, it’s not a big deal.

The Bald Man starts vomiting. Warren walks over to him and he kneels next to him. I reach for some paper and I wet it and I wipe my face. I finish and I toss the bloody tissue into the garbage and I walk over to the toilet and I watch the Bald Man vomit. Although part of me wants to laugh, I don’t want to make the Bald Man feel any worse than I’ve already made him feel. When he stops retching, I speak.

I’m sorry.

He looks up at me, wipes his face.

I didn’t mean to upset you.

You’re sick.

I don’t respond.

You’re a sick, sick person.

I don’t respond because he’s right. I’m a sick, sick person.

I want you to get away from me.

I didn’t mean to upset you.

Get away.

I turn and I walk out of the Bathroom and I go to my part of the Room. John is awake and staring at me.

What happened?

I start getting dressed.

I was cutting my stitches out and the Bald Man walked in and saw the blood and thought I was trying to commit suicide and panicked.

John smiles.

I tried to commit suicide once.

That’s too bad.

It wasn’t bad, it was funny.

Suicide isn’t funny, John.

I was hanging myself while I masturbated and after I came I decided to just let myself hang. My Mom walked in and screamed.

That’s awful.

It wasn’t awful, it was funny.

It’s not funny, John.

I finish dressing and I leave John with his memories and the Bald Man with the toilet and Warren with the Bald Man and I go to the Supply Closet and I get a mop and a bucket and a bottle of cleaner and some paper towels and I make my way toward the Group Toilets. Although I don’t want to clean them, I am still here and while I’m here, I will live up to my responsibilities. I will show up at meals. I will eat. I will go to the Lectures. I will do my Job. I will attend whatever I am supposed to attend. I will not drink and I will not do drugs. I have fifteen hours left.

I open the door to the Group Toilets and I set the supplies down. There are a few stains on the bowls and some tissue on the floor, but beyond that, there is nothing. This will be quick and easy.

I start scrubbing the stains. They come off easily. I flush the dirty paper towels down the bowl. Towel meet pipe, towel meet sewer. They are friends of mine. They will destroy you, towel.

I clean the sinks and the sinks sparkle. I mop the floor and the floor shines with a thin layer of water and soap. I take out the garbage and I dump it into a larger can of garbage. There is a ton of fucking garbage here. There is more every day.

I walk back to the Toilets. I stare at them. They look clean to me, they are done. I am done. I grab the bucket and the towels and I put the supplies back in their places and I walk to the Dining Hall. I get in line and I get breakfast and I find an empty table and I sit down and I start eating. I have now been eating regularly for two weeks. Three meals a day, every day. I can feel my body reacting to the food in a positive way. I feel stronger. I have slightly more energy. I am gaining weight. I get hungry after a few hours. I haven’t been hungry for food in a long time. I have been hungry for other things, and I have fed that hunger mightily, but food was always an afterthought. Humans are said to seek only food, shelter and sex. Humans are said to have only these as their primary urges. I have lived in a state where I went without all, sought none. I do not know what that makes me.

I see Leonard walking toward me and I set down my fork and he’s smiling and he looks as if he didn’t expect to see me here and he waves at me. I give him the finger and as he sits down, he laughs at me.

Good to see you’re still here.

Got fourteen more hours.

You’re keeping track?

Part of me is.

Which part?

The part that’ll kick your ass if you try to stop me again.

It’ll take more than an ass-kicking for me not to stop you.

Why is that?

Because I can take an ass-kicking.

I mean why do you give a shit?

I just do.

Why.

That’s none of your concern right now.

You try to control me, try to tell me what I can and can’t do, I consider that my concern.

You’re looking at it the wrong way, Kid. I’m just trying to help you.

Why?

Leonard leans back in his chair.

Are we friends?

No.

He chuckles.

You want to hear a story that I might tell someone who was a friend?

If it’ll explain why you won’t leave me alone.

He chuckles again, stares at me for a moment, speaks.

I grew up in the Bronx, just off Arthur Avenue, which is a working-class Italian neighborhood. My Pop mowed lawns and polished shoes at a fancy Country Club in Westchester to pay our bills, and my Mom stayed home and took care of me. We didn’t have any dough, but we loved each other and we had a good life together. When I was eleven, my Pop got hit by a Cement Truck as he was walking across the street and he died. My Mom was heartbroken, and two months later, she got hit by a Subway Train. The Authorities called it an accident, said she slipped or something, but I knew better. My Mom just couldn’t survive without my Dad, and she went to find him.

I had to live in an Orphanage, which was awful. Nobody there gave two shits about me. I started skipping School and following this guy around my neighborhood whose name was Michelangelo, but who was better known as Mikey the Nose. I thought Mikey was a God. He drove a Caddy, always had a blonde riding shotgun, and he carried a huge wad of cash in his pocket. He did good things for people in the neighborhood who needed them done. He paid their rent, gave them coats and hats and gloves in the winter, delivered food to people who were hungry. I knew he did bad shit too, but I was too young to understand what might be involved in that.

One day, at one of his stops, Michelangelo got out of his car and came up to me and asked me why the fuck I followed him around all the time. I was so scared I couldn’t talk. He asked again, and this time he added that he wasn’t going to hurt me, he just wanted to know. I told him it was because I wanted to figure out what he did and do it myself so I wouldn’t have to live in the Orphanage anymore. He laughed and he asked me my name and I told him and he said following me around all the time is stupid, if you want to see what I’m doing, come ride with me tomorrow. So the next day, instead of a blonde riding shotgun, there was me, and that’s all I did from that point on, ride around with Michelangelo and learn what he did for a living.

A couple months after that, I left the Orphanage and moved in with him. I don’t think anyone noticed that I was gone. A year later, Michelangelo got married to a woman named Geena, who was the greatest woman that I have ever known. I lived with them just like I was their Son, though I figured once they had Kids I’d be gone. Turned out Geena couldn’t have Kids, so they asked me if I might want to stay with them permanently. I said yes, Michelangelo pulled some strings and he and Geena adopted me, and for the rest of my childhood, they treated like I was their real Son. They gave me a life, they gave me a home, they gave me a future, and they gave me love. They gave me lots and lots of love.

Leonard stops speaking, looks down at the table. I wait for him to start again, but he doesn’t. I speak.

That’s a very touching story, Leonard, very sweet and tender.

He looks up at me.

But I’m not a Kid and I’m not an orphan and I don’t want to be your fucking project. You understand me?

He smiles.

You need help, Kid.

Find someone else, Leonard.

You like football?

Find someone else.

I heard you, I understood you, I’m changing the subject. You like football?

Yeah.

Who’s your team?

The Cleveland Browns.

Really?

Yeah.

Why the Browns?

I was born in Cleveland

He nods.

They’re playing Pittsburgh today, should be a good game. You wanna watch with me?

Not if it’s part of your project.

It’s not.

Then maybe.

You got plans?

No.

Then watch with me.

We’ll see.

I notice Lincoln walking across the Dining Hall. He’s staring at me and he’s not carrying a tray. I stare back at him. Leonard sees me staring and he follows my eyes.

Looks like another fight.

There was never a first one.

Lincoln arrives. He looks at Leonard.

You mind giving me and James a minute alone?

Leonard looks at me.

That okay with you, Kid?

Yeah.

He stands, picks up his tray.

I’ll be right over there if you need me.

He motions to the next table.

I’m not gonna need you, Leonard.

Leonard laughs and he walks to the next table and he sits and he watches my table. Most of the men in the Dining Hall are watching my table. Lincoln pulls out a chair and he sits down.

You and Leonard friends?

Sort of.

You know anything about him?

Not really.

It might not be such a good idea for you to be around him.

Is that why you’re here? To tell me who I should and shouldn’t be around?

No.

Then what do you want?

Eric came and talked to me yesterday.

Who’s Eric?

Eric was Roy’s friend. He left yesterday right after Roy.

What’d he have to say?

He told me Roy was obsessed with getting you thrown out of here, that he thought Roy started the fight the two of you had, and that he saw Roy trash the Group Toilets after you had cleaned them.

That’s interesting.

I thought so too, and I owe you an apology. Roy was a model Patient here and I don’t know why he would have done what he did and I was wrong for assuming he was telling the truth and you were lying. I’m sorry for doing that, and I’d like to try and start over with you and see if we can’t try to understand each other a bit better.

That’s fine with me.

He stands.

Start over?

I stand.

Sure.

We shake and we let go and he walks away and I sit back down with my breakfast and as I take my first bite, Leonard sits back down and he wants to know what happened and I tell him it was nothing and he doesn’t believe me and he bugs me about it and I ignore him and I finish eating. When I’m done, I stand and I take my tray and I drop it on the conveyor and I walk back to the Unit. On the Lower Level, men are gathering around the television watching a pre-game football show. Some of them are smoking, some of them are drinking coffee, some of them seem excited, some of them seem bored out of their fucking skulls. No matter what they are doing, no matter what their attitude may be, they are staring at the images on the screen. Addictions need fuel. Sometimes anything, even base images on a dull screen, will do. Fuel. I have thirteen and a half hours left.

I get a cup of coffee and I find a place on a couch and I light a cigarette and I watch the football show. I don’t really know what the men on the show are saying and I doubt they do either, but they seem to think it’s important, so I try to pay attention. Within a couple of minutes, I am almost catatonic. I stare at the screen. I drink my coffee. I smoke my cigarettes. I don’t even try to figure out what the fuck the guys on the screen are talking about.

Leonard walks in with the Bald Man and hollers I am open for business and men start placing bets with him and the Bald Man writes down the bets on a small pad and he takes the money for the bets and he places it in a small bag with a large zipper. At one point, Lincoln walks through the Room and all the activity stops. When he’s gone, it starts again. Men without money bet cigarettes or their Job duties, one man bets a pair of slippers, another bets his sunglasses. Addictions need fuel. The television isn’t enough.

When the games start the men argue over which game we’re going to watch and the argument ends when Leonard says we’re watching the Pittsburgh/Cleveland game. Nobody wants to watch the Pittsburgh/Cleveland game and there is a volley of complaints, but Leonard says the decision is final and everyone shuts up and turns their attention to the screen.

When I was a Child, my Father always had season tickets to the Browns. Although he could have used them for business, he never did. Each Sunday in the fall, he and my Brother and I would put on Browns jerseys and Browns hats and take the Train downtown from our House in the Suburbs and walk from the train to the Stadium. My Dad held our hands the whole way, and because he had only two seats, he’d carry me into the game and I’d watch it from his lap. We’d yell and scream and cheer and sing songs when the Browns won, we’d cry when they lost. When I got too old to be carried into the Stadium, my Brother and I would alternate games. One week him, one week me. If my Dad was out of Town, my Mom would take us. I loved the motherfucking Browns as a kid, and although I haven’t watched football in a long time, part of me still does. I loved my Family as a Kid, and although I haven’t in a long time, the same part of me that still loves the Browns and the same part of me that remains human and the same part of me that remembers what love is, still loves them as well.

I sit and I silently watch the game and I relive the memories of the games I attended with my Mother and my Father and my Brother. Around me, men cheer and yell according to their bets. One man complains about having to watch Cleveland/Pittsburgh and he calls Cleveland the Mistake on the Lake and he says that it is the shittiest City he’s ever seen and that it’s full of the shittiest People he’s ever had the displeasure of encountering and he yaps endlessly about how pissed he is that he has to watch a crap Team from a crap City and on and on and on. After about half an hour, the memories and the love disappear and I lean over and I stare at him until he turns to me and I tell him that if he doesn’t pipe down, the only mistake spoken of today will be the fact that he couldn’t shut his fat fucking mouth. Part of me still loves. More of me doesn’t.

Lunch rolls around and most of the men go to the Dining Hall and they get sandwiches and they bring them back and they continue to watch football on the television. As I get ready to do the same, Ted walks up to me and tells me that someone from Administration is looking for me and that I’m wanted at the Front Desk. I ask him if he knows why and he tells me he has no idea why.

I get up and I go to the Front Desk and I tell the Receptionist my name. She smiles and she tells me that I have Visitors and she leads me through a short Hall toward a door.

They’re in there.

Who are they?

They asked me not to tell you.

Thank you.

She walks away and I stare at the door and I take a deep breath. I do not look forward to seeing People from my past. They rarely have kind things to say to me and I have always done something to deserve their disdain. I take a deep breath and I open the door and I hear laughing and the laughing stops and I step into the Room and my Brother is sitting at a table with a couple of formerly close friends of mine who live together in Minneapolis. My Brother stands.

What’s up, Buddy?

I smile.

Nothing.

He hugs me and I hug him back. It feels good.

What are you doing here?

We separate.

It’s Visiting Day. I wouldn’t miss Visiting Day.

I turn to my friends. Their names are Julie and Kirk.

What are you Guys doing here?

Julie smiles.

We wouldn’t miss Visiting Day either.

I smile.

Thanks.

Kirk stands and he hugs me and Julie follows him and we separate. There are a number of wrapped packages on the table. My Brother motions toward them.

It’s time for you to open your presents.

I sit.

You bring me these?

I brought a couple and they brought a couple.

I look to Julie and Kirk.

I didn’t think you’d ever speak to me again after last time.

Kirk laughs.

People do stupid things when they’re fucked up. We don’t ever need to talk about it again.

Thank you.

He pushes forward a box.

Now open.

The box is beautifully wrapped. The paper is bright and colorful and it says Get Well Soon and has a ribbon around it. I open it slowly and carefully and I almost wish I didn’t have to open it at all. It would be nice just to carry it around.

Beneath the paper there is a plain cardboard box. I open the box and inside of it there are three small wrapped packages. I pull them out and I look at Kirk and Julie.

You really didn’t have to do this.

Julie smiles.

We wanted to.

I smile and I look at the packages and I start to open them and I have to stop myself from crying. I do not deserve this kindness. I do not deserve it.

Inside the packages there is pair of wool slippers, two cartons of cigarettes, a box of chocolates. I look at Julie and Kirk and I thank them and my voice cracks and they smile and my Brother pushes his boxes forward and they’re not as perfectly wrapped, but they’re beautiful as well.

I open them and there are two pair of khakis and two pairs of wool socks and two white T-shirts and two pairs of boxer shorts and a black wool sweater and a pair of pajamas and a black ball cap with the Cleveland Browns logo on the front. There is a toothbrush and some toothpaste and some shampoo and some soap and a can of shaving cream and a razor. There are some books.

I stare at all of my presents and I try to speak, but I can’t. I look up at my Brother. He’s smiling.

You like everything?

Yeah.

You need anything else?

No, this is great.

I stand and I walk to my Brother and I lean over and I give him a hug and I whisper thank you in his ear and I do the same with Julie and Kirk and I gather up my things and I walk toward the door.

You want me to show you around?

They stand. My Brother speaks.

That’d be great.

They follow me out and we walk through the maze of bright, light, clean, uncomfortable Halls and Julie tells me that she has been here before because one of her closest friends was here a couple of years ago. It was an awful time and her friend was in awful shape, but she got better and she is still better today. The memories are bittersweet.

We find our way to the Unit and I go to my Room to put my stuff away and my Brother and Julie and Kirk wait for me on the Upper Level. When I walk in, the Room is empty. I go to my corner and I set down my new things on my bed and I sit down on the bed and I stare at them. They are simple things. Necessities to most people. Clothes and toiletries. Food. Some books to occupy my mind. Simple things. I touch them and I hold them and I feel them. They are the nicest things I have had in a long time.

I know my Brother and Julie and Kirk are waiting for me, so I leave the Room. I walk to the Upper Level of the Unit and when I arrive, my Brother and Julie and Kirk aren’t there. Ed and Ted are sitting at a table playing cards and drinking coffee and smoking and I ask them if they know where they went and I hope hope hope they didn’t have second thoughts and leave and Ted tells me that they’re watching football and I look over the rail and I see them sitting on the couches with Leonard and with the other men of the Unit and they’re all watching the end of the Cleveland/Pittsburgh game. I walk down and I sit on the floor in front of the couches and I watch the game with them and Cleveland wins and the Winners collect their booty and the Losers bitch and moan and increase the size of their bets on the next game. The man who bet his slippers lost his bet. Now he wants to bet his sweater.

Julie doesn’t want to watch any more football and suggests we take a walk. Everyone agrees and I go and get Hank’s jacket and my new hat and I put them on and we go outside and it’s clear and the Sun is out and the air is crisp and the ground is soggy and it’s as nice a day as there is at this time of the year in Minnesota.

The Clinic sits on a thousand acres. Aside from the Buildings, which are all interconnected and spread across about five acres, the rest of the Land is for walking and meditating and spending time alone. There are Trails, there are Clearings along the Trails, there are benches in the Clearings. There are patches of dense Forest, two small Lakes, several wide, tall-grass Pastures, there is a Swamp with an Elevated Walk. Julie knows the Trails from her previous visits here so she leads the way. There is little or no talking except for the occasional comment on our surroundings. Leaves and sticks crack beneath our feet. The Sun is warm and bright and shining, the Sky blue blue blue. Animals and birds are calling and screaming and playing, foraging for food. A breeze brings a spell of cold and another breeze carries the cold away. The Earth is still asleep and will be sleeping for the rest of the Winter, but it is stirring and moving. We pass other Patients and we pass other Visitors and there is usually a nod and nothing more. The Land is showing life and everyone wants to soak it in and appreciate it and remember it. Life. Remember showing life.

Our walk takes a still, quiet hour and ends near the back of the Medical Unit. As we emerge from thick wood, we are met by screams, long loud piercing screams. My Brother and Julie and Kirk stare at the dark, barred windows and my Brother asks me what’s happening inside and why people are screaming. I tell him that it’s the cost of doing business here and I pick up the pace so that we won’t have to listen to them, but even after we pass, the screams are still inside all of our heads.

We come around the front of the main set of Buildings and Julie suggests we sit on the benches, the same benches I was on earlier. As we get close to them, Lilly stands up with a small, frail Elderly Woman. She takes the Elderly Woman’s hand and they start walking toward us. Lilly smiles at me.

Hi, James.

Hi, Lilly.

This is my Grandmother.

I smile at her Grandmother, who has long white hair and Lilly’s blue eyes.

Hi.

She smiles back. It is a kind smile.

Hello, James.

I motion to my Brother and Julie and Kirk.

This is my Brother Bob, these are my friends Julie and Kirk. This is Lilly and her Grandmother.

Lilly smiles.

Hi.

Bob and Julie and Kirk all smile, say hello. Lilly’s Grandmother speaks.

What happened to your face?

I got hurt.

Did you hurt yourself?

Sort of.

Why’d you do that?

I didn’t do it on purpose. It’s just the cost of doing business.

Her Grandmother smiles and she gently touches my face with her free hand.

I hope that’s a business you’re leaving, James.

I smile, enjoy the warmth of her hand.

We’ll see.

She nods. Her eyes and her hand understand my words, have seen and felt this type of damage before. There is no judgment and no condescension. Just hope.

It was nice meeting you.

You too.

She looks at Lilly and she smiles.

We should go, Sweetheart.

Lilly looks at me and she softly speaks.

Bye.

I return the look, the tone.

Bye.

She looks at Bob and Julie and Kirk.

Nice meeting all of you.

Bob and Julie and Kirk speak together.

Nice meeting you too.

Lilly and her Grandmother leave and I watch them and they hold hands and they walk toward the Buildings. No judgment, no condescension. Just hope.

When they’re out of earshot, Julie playfully pushes me.

Who was that?

That was Lilly.

I know that, but who is she?

A girl who’s here and was taking a walk with her Grandma.

Julie pushes me again.

Come on.

I laugh.

I met her when I first got here. I don’t really know her.

She likes you.

I walk to the middle bench, sit down.

Whatever.

Bob and Julie and Kirk follow me, sit down.

Kirk speaks.

Have you heard from—

I cut him off.

No, and I won’t.

Julie speaks.

It was that bad?

Yeah, it was that bad.

Bob pulls out a cigarette, offers me one.

Smoke?

I take it, light it. The nicotine feels good.

Buddy?

I stare out at the Lake.

I haven’t really asked yet, but are you doing okay?

I stare out at the Lake.

I don’t know.

There is an uncomfortable silence. I’m not looking at them, but I know that Bob and Julie and Kirk are looking at one another. Julie speaks.

Do you feel okay?

I don’t know.

Kirk speaks.

Do you feel better?

I don’t know.

My Brother playfully punches my shoulder.

What the fuck, Buddy. You gotta talk to us.

I turn to him.

I don’t know what to say.

What are you gonna do?

I don’t know.

Julie speaks.

You’ve got to get better.

I don’t know if I can.

Bob speaks.

Why?

Because I’m fucked up and I’m fucked up really bad. I don’t know what happened or how I ever ended up like this, but I did, and I’ve got some huge fucking problems and I don’t know if they’re fixable. I don’t know if I’m fixable.

Julie speaks.

Everything’s fixable.

That’s easy to say, much harder to do.

My friend did it.

I’m not your friend.

Bob speaks.

You gotta try, Buddy.

We’ll see.

No, not we’ll see. You gotta fucking try.

I stare out at the Lake, take a deep breath.

I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

There is an uncomfortable silence. I’m not looking at them, but I know that Bob and Julie and Kirk are looking at one another, I know they’re trying to figure out how to proceed. Bob speaks.

Have you talked to Mom and Dad?

I laugh.

I don’t want to talk about that either.

Do me a favor and call them.

Where are they?

At the House in Michigan. They go back to Tokyo tomorrow.

All right.

Julie speaks.

Have you talked to anyone else?

Anna, Lucinda and Amy.

How are they?

Fine, I guess. They’re all happy I’m here.

A lot of people are happy you’re here.

I doubt that.

Kirk speaks.

We’ve gotten a bunch of calls from People asking about you.

Who?

We kept a list.

Kirk looks at Julie. Julie pulls a list from her handbag and she hands it to me. I put it in my pocket. Julie speaks.

You’re not gonna look at it?

I’ll look later. I don’t want to waste what time we have left looking at a fucking list.

She laughs, looks at her watch.

It’s getting late.

What time is it?

Three-fifteen.

When are Visiting Hours over?

Bob speaks.

Four.

I chuckle.

What?

I have five and a half hours left.

Kirk speaks.

Until what?

Nothing.

I stand.

Let’s go inside.

They stand and we start walking back to my Unit and my Brother puts his arm around my shoulders and he tells me that he’s proud of me and I laugh and he tells me again and I thank him and we go inside and I show them my Room and introduce them to Warren, who is reading a detective novel in bed. Julie needs to use the rest room so I tell her where the Group Toilets are and she goes to use them. Bob and Kirk and I walk down to the television, where we’ve agreed to meet Julie. We find an empty couch and we sit down and we watch football. I smoke a cigarette. I have five hours and fifteen minutes left.

Julie comes back and she’s carrying a card. She sits down and she hands the card to me and she asks me if I know the guy. I look at it. It reads John Everett, Sexual Ninja, San Francisco and the World.

I hand the card back to her and I ask if he made her uncomfortable or did anything offensive and she laughs.

He was really nervous and he stared at my ass the whole time. It was kind of weird and funny.

Kirk takes the card and he reads it and he laughs and he hands it to Bob who reads it and laughs. Kirk asks if I know the Ninja and I tell him he’s one of my Roommates and Kirk howls and he takes the card back from Bob and he looks at it again and he howls louder. He asks if he can meet the Ninja and I tell him maybe some other time and Julie looks at her watch and says that it’s time to go so we walk through the bright uncomfortable maze of Halls and we find our way to the

Front Entrance and I step outside with them to say good-bye.

Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me.

Julie speaks.

We were worried about you.

I don’t want you to worry about me.

Kirk speaks.

We will anyway.

You shouldn’t.

Bob speaks.

We want you to get better, Buddy.

I know you do.

This place is your only option.

There are others.

What?

I think you know what they are.

Bob puts his hand on my shoulder, stares at me.

Get better. Please get better.

He starts to break and seeing him start to break makes me start to break and I don’t want that. He steps forward and he puts his arms around me and he hugs me and I hug him and it feels good and strong and pure and real. This is my Brother, my Blood, the only thing in this World created from that which I was created from, the Person in this World who knows me best, the Person who would miss me most if I was gone. That he cared enough to come here and that he cares enough to nearly break in front of me means something, but in the end, I know that it means only so much.

We separate and he pushes me in the way that Brothers push each other.

I don’t want you to die, you dumb Little Fucker.

I push him back.

I hear you. Let’s leave it at that.

He nods and he knows me well enough to know that’s all that he’s going to get. I hug Julie and Kirk and I thank them for the gifts and the visit and they tell me they’ll be back next week and they tell me that if I need anything I should call them and I thank them again. They walk toward their car. I go back inside. I walk through bright, uncomfortable Halls. I go back to the Unit.

I arrive and all of the men have gathered on the Lower Level. Leonard is standing on the top of a couch and the Bald Man is standing on the floor next to him waving his arms and they’re trying to quiet the men down. Leonard sees me and he smiles and he looks at his watch and he points at me.

I thought you were gone. You have four hours left.

I laugh.

Come down here, Kid. Join the party.

I walk down and I find a spot against the wall and away from most of the men and Leonard and the Bald Man quiet them. The Bald Man stops waving his arms and Leonard takes a deep breath and he stares down at the men.

Men, I have had a good day.

There are a couple chuckles.

I watched some great fucking football, won the bulk of my bets and the bulk of your money, and I triumphed personally in a situation where I expected defeat.

A couple more chuckles, a bunch of boos. Leonard laughs.

I understand the boos, but I’m about to turn your anguish and poverty into joy. I like to share my wealth and celebrate my victories, so after clearing it with the proper Authorities, I called Cajun Sam’s in Minneapolis and ordered a feast for delivery. Tonight we eat in.

The men cheer.

The food will be here around six. If you don’t like turducken, jambalaya and po’boys, then have fun in the goddamn Cafeteria.

The men cheer again.

I’m going to take a nap before the slaughter. See you at six.

Leonard steps down and men start thanking him and asking him questions and he walks toward his room and they follow him. I walk to the Phone Booth and I sit down on a cold steel chair and I close the door and I pull the list Julie and Kirk gave me from my pocket and I look at it. I am surprised that the list exists, that people called them to find out about me. I am surprised by the names on the list.

I pick up the phone and I start making collect calls. Adrienne isn’t home, Eben isn’t home, Jody isn’t home, someone at Matt’s House declines my call. I talk to Kevin and I talk to Andy. Both tell me they were with me the night of my accident, both tell me I was a fucking mess. Kevin tells me he doesn’t remember much because he was blacked out, but he remembers being with me. He tells me that he wants to come visit me and I tell him it would be nice if he could and I thank him. Andy tells me he found me knocked out and bleeding and he carried me to a car and took me to the Hospital. He begged the Doctor not to call the Police and he begged the Doctor to put me on a plane. He called my Parents and he took me to the Airport and he got me on the Plane. I thank him and I tell him that if I happen to be saved that he will partially be responsible for saving me. He tells me it’s no big deal and he tells me that he would do it again if he needed to do it again, but he hopes that he doesn’t. I ask him if he knows what I was on or what I was doing in Ohio and he tells me that he found a crack pipe in my pocket and he saw a bloody tube of glue a few feet from where he found me, but beyond that, he doesn’t know anything. He had heard I had shown up at ten in the morning and that I was drunk and incoherent and I had disappeared for the day. The first time he saw me was when he found me on the ground. I thank him again. We say good-bye. We hang up.

I call my Parents. My Mother answers the phone and she accepts the call.

James.

She sounds frantic.

Hi, Mom.

Let me get your Father.

She holds the phone away, yells for my Father. He picks up.

How are you, James?

I’m fine, Dad.

You’re doing okay?

I’m fine.

My Mother speaks.

Are you getting better?

I don’t know.

Do you feel any better?

I don’t know.

Are you learning anything?

I don’t know.

She exhales, exhales frustration. My Father speaks.

James.

Yeah.

Your Mom and I have been talking to some of the Counselors up there and we want to come see you.

No.

Why?

Because I don’t want you here.

Why?

Because I don’t.

My Mother speaks.

They have something called the Family Program where we would spend three days learning about your sickness and learning about how to help you deal with it. We’d like to come do it.

My sickness?

Alcoholism and Drug Addiction is a disease, James.

Who told you that?

It’s in all the books.

Right. The books.

There is an uncomfortable pause. Father speaks.

We’d really like to do the Program, James. We think it could be really good for all of us.

I don’t want you here, and if you come, I’ll be fucking pissed.

My Mother speaks.

Could you please not swear.

I’ll try.

Another uncomfortable pause. I speak.

Go back to Tokyo. I’ll call you next week to tell you how I’m doing.

My Father speaks.

We’re very worried about you, James.

I hear my Mother start to cry.

I know you are.

We really want to come up there.

Cry.

Do what you want, but don’t expect me to participate if you do.

Do you need anything?

Cry.

I need to go.

We love you, James.

I know you do.

My Mother speaks.

I love you, James.

Her voice breaks.

I know you do, Mom.

My Father speaks.

Call us if we can help in any way.

I’ve got to go, Dad.

Please reconsider the Family Program.

Bye, Dad.

Bye, James.

My Mother sobs.

Bye, James.

Bye, Mom.

My Mother sobs.

We love you.

I’ve got to go.

I hang up the phone and I take a deep breath and I stare at the floor. My Mother and Father are at a House in Michigan that I’ve never seen and my Mother is crying and my Father is trying to comfort her and their hearts are broken and they want to come see me and they want to try to help me and I don’t want them here and I don’t want their help. My Mother is crying because her Son is an Alcoholic and a drug Addict and a Criminal. My Father is trying to comfort her. I have broken their hearts. I stare at the floor.

I walk back to my Room and I sit down on my bed. John is in his area and when he sees me he stands and walks toward my area.

I’m sorry for giving your friend my card.

I’m not mad at you.

It’s okay if you are.

We thought it was funny.

I figured out a way to make it better.

I’m not mad.

Let me make it better.

There’s nothing to make better.

Please.

He sits down at the edge of my bed, gives me an earnest look.

How old are you?

Twenty-three.

You’re so young.

I chuckle.

What’s your offer, John?

He takes a deep breath.

This is to make up for all my wrongs.

Okay.

And if it’s not sufficient, we can talk about something else.

What’s the offer, John?

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a picture, hands it to me. It is of a beautiful young Girl in a bikini.

What’s this?

My Daughter.

She’s beautiful, but I don’t want a picture of your Daughter.

That’s not it.

Then what is it?

I want to give her to you. You can do whatever you want to her.

Goddamn, John.

I hand him the picture.

You don’t like her?

You can’t give me your fucking Daughter.

My Family supports her and pays all of her and her Mother’s bills.

So what.

She’ll do what I say.

Go away, John.

She’ll do anything I say.

Then tell her to go to School, stay away from drugs and stay the fuck away from you.

That’s good advice.

Go away, John.

I’m sorry.

Don’t be sorry, John. Just go away.

He stands.

Okay.

He walks to his section of the room and he climbs into bed and he buries himself under the covers and I can hear him cursing himself. He’s a poor, sick, sad Motherfucker, but once he was an innocent young Boy. A Boy with a future, a Boy with his whole life in front of him. His Dad was rich and powerful, and one day, one horrible fucked-up day, his Dad decided to molest him. I can imagine young John, alone in his room with a set of army men or stack of Legos or a pile of baseball cards, and I can imagine his Dad coming in and shutting the door and telling John he wanted some private time with him. After it was over, I can imagine John crawling into his bed and burying himself under the covers and cursing himself.

I sit and I listen to John crying and I wish there was something I could do to help him. I sit and I listen to John and I wish there was some way I could make him better. There is no hope for John, no hope at all. He could go to five hundred Clinics and spend ten years working the Twelve Steps and it wouldn’t make a bit of fucking difference. He has been broken beyond repair, wounded beyond the point of healing, abused beyond the point of recovery. He will never know happiness or joy, security or normalcy. He will never know pleasure, satisfaction, serenity, clarity, peace of mind or any semblance of sanity. He will never know trust or love. You poor, sick, sad Motherfucker. You will never know. I’m sorry.

I hear voices and activity outside the door to the Room and I know that it is time for dinner. I walk over to John’s area and sit down on a chair next to his bed. He is still under the covers, still mumbling and cursing, still thrashing and still punching himself.

John?

He stops, lies still.

John?

Still.

John?

What do you want?

It’s time for dinner.

I don’t want to eat dinner.

What are you gonna do?

Stay here.

That’s stupid.

Go away.

Get out from under there and come have dinner.

Go away.

I’m not leaving until you do.

Go away.

No.

He throws the covers off of himself and he stares at me with his hardest look. I laugh at him.

What’s so funny?

Your Tough Guy look isn’t very tough.

I’m tougher than you think.

Yeah, you probably are, but you sure don’t look it.

He changes his face into a strange grimace and snarls. I laugh at him again.

That’s not any better.

It’s not?

No.

He relaxes, looks normal.

I wanna be alone.

Being alone won’t do any good for you, John.

I wanna be alone.

It’s better to be around people. It makes it hurt less.

How do you know?

I know.

No you don’t.

Trust me, I do.

John looks at me, looks down at his blanket.

Come on, let’s go.

He looks up.

It hurts a lot, James.

I know it does.

I wish it would go away.

I know the feeling.

What do you do?

Deal with it, and hope someday that you don’t have to anymore.

He looks down.

Yeah.

He looks up and he swings his legs off the bed and he stands and I stand and we walk out of the Room. We walk into the Unit and we get in the back of a line. The food has been delivered and set up on a table on the Upper Level. The line runs from the table down the stairs that lead to the Lower Level. As the line moves forward, and as I get closer to the food, the smell ignites my hunger. I want to eat and I want to eat immediately and I want to eat until I explode. I want want want want. Fuel. Right fucking now.

As I begin to climb the stairs, my hunger and my need begin to overwhelm me. My hands start shaking, my heart rate increases, I’m nervous, anxious and angry. I stare at the food. I don’t see or hear or smell anything else. Each second is an hour long, each step a marathon. I want, want, want, want. Fuel. Right fucking now. I would kill if somebody tried to take the food away, I would kill if somebody tried to stop me from getting to it. Need need need need need.

I reach the end of the table, pick up a plate, stuff a plastic knife and a plastic fork and a paper napkin in my pocket. The food is on trays and in bowls and a man from the Restaurant is serving it and Leonard is standing next to him supervising. He asks me what I want and I say everything. He asks me what part of the turducken I like and I tell him I don’t know what a turducken is and I don’t care what it is, I just want a lot of it. Leonard laughs at me as I ask for more and more and more. I could give a shit about him right now. I want need fuel now.

I sit down on a couch next to John and I pull the fork out of my pocket and I try to use it but my hand is shaking too much to use it so I start shoveling food into my mouth with my fingers. I don’t look at it, I don’t taste it, I chew it enough so that I can swallow it. It is not important to experience it or enjoy it. It is important to fill. That is all I want out of this meal. Enough to fill.

I finish my plate and I get another one. I finish that plate and I get another one. I finish that plate and I get another one. I finish that plate. I am beyond full, beyond stuffed. I have moved beyond need and into abuse and I am comfortable. My heart and my hands are slowing down, my senses and the ability to think are returning, the nerves, anxiety and anger are fading away. Beyond need and into abuse. It is nice to be comfortable. It is nice to be Home.

I take a deep breath. I can feel my stomach stretching. I know it’s not going to stretch enough. It hasn’t come yet, but it will. It will come fast and hard.

I stand and John asks me where I’m going and I tell him that I’ll be right back and I start walking back to the Room. I walk up the stairs, through the Upper Level, down a short Hall. As I open the door, it starts to come. Hard and fast. I’m twenty feet from the toilet.

It comes and I keep my mouth closed and I breathe through my nose. I didn’t taste it on the way down, but I can taste it now. Rice and beans and pieces of fish and meat. Hot spices and hunks of bread.

I breathe through my nose and I rush toward the toilet. I try to swallow what’s in my mouth, but more is coming and forcing it forward. I start to choke. I push the Bathroom door open and I lean over and I flip the toilet seat up and I explode. Hard and fast. A steady stream. Over and over and over. It burns my face and my lips and the inside of my mouth. My heart sends messages through my ribs, left arm and jaw. My throat contracts, my stomach contracts. Over and over and over. Over and over and over.

The stream stops and I take a couple of deep breaths and I reach up and I flush the toilet and I stand and I walk over to the sink and I wash my face and I wash the remaining chunks out of my gums and my teeth and my throat and my nose and I take a long sip of cold water and I swallow it and it cools the burning.

My shirt is stained so I take it off and I go to my section of the Room and as I put on one of my nice new shirts, John opens the door and sticks his head inside.

James?

Yeah.

You have a phone call.

Who is it?

I don’t know, I didn’t answer it.

I’ll be right there.

I finish putting on the shirt and I walk back to the Phone Booth. I open the door and I sit down and I pick up the phone.

Hello?

A female voice.

Hi.

I know the voice, but can’t place it.

Who is this?

You don’t know?

No.

I’m hurt.

You shouldn’t be.

Did you have a nice day?

Who is this?

My Grandmother thought you were handsome.

I place the voice. I smile.

That was nice of her.

She said you had pretty eyes.

I wouldn’t know.

Why?

Long story.

How long?

Twenty-three years long.

That’s long.

Yeah.

A pause. I’m still smiling.

Well, I just called to tell you what my Grandmother said.

I’m glad you did.

I’ll see you tomorrow?

Probably.

Why probably?

Long story.

She laughs.

I hope I’ll see you tomorrow.

That would be nice.

Bye.

Thanks for calling.

Sure.

I hang up the phone and I stare at it and I’m still smiling. I stand and I open the door and I step out and I’m still smiling and I walk back toward my Room and John asks me if I want to play cards and I tell him I haven’t slept since yesterday and I’m tired but I’ll play another time and he says okay. I go back to my room and I’m still smiling and I climb into bed and I pick up the books my Brother gave me. War and Peace, Don Quixote, a book on Chinese Religion called Tao te Ching. I open War and Peace. I’m still smiling. I have read War and Peace before, but it is worth a second trip. I’m still smiling. I start reading. I can’t get through the first sentence. I’m still smiling. I haven’t slept in forty hours. I’m still smiling. I have fifteen minutes left. I’m still smiling.

My hand drops.

Still.

Eyes close.

Smiling.