by Paloma Meir
I took Anthony upstairs to my room. “I’ll send her up in a few minutes. You know how to work the remote?”
“Yes. Did you make her take a shower? She looks pretty again.”
“That’s about all I could make her do...”
“Thanks Danny.” He turned on the TV.
Chapter Thirty
My parents walked in with Anthony. Unbelievable.
“Good morning. Anthony needs to go back home right now. I’m not kidding. Take him home right now.” I stood up, angry at their stupidity.
“I’m sorry, He missed you, and he wanted to come." My mother said.
Danny stood up next to me.
“Come on Anthony I’ll take you to my room. You can watch some TV while we talk downstairs. I’ll send your sister up in a couple of minutes.” He put his hand on his shoulder and led him up the stairs.
“Mrs. Moreau.” Danny’s Mother greeted my mother. She didn’t look happy to be meeting her.
“Please call me Natalie.” My Mother responded.
“Natalie, It is good to finally meet you...” Her voice trailed off as my father hugged and apologized to me. I wished everybody would stop apologizing to me. I hugged my father back.
“Your mother made a very bad decision. Why didn’t you tell me? Everything would have been handled differently. We’re going to take care of you now Zelda.”
“I’m not going to rehab. Am I in the Twilight Zone? Take my blood. I drink one little drink a day. That’s it. I’m not running around drunk. I don’t take drugs. My grades are... they could be better. I’ll raise my GPA. I’m not going to rehab.”
Danny came down the stairs and stood behind me, rubbing shoulders. I was so confused. He knew of this plan? Why didn’t he tell me? I remembered, he had tried to tell me. I hadn’t wanted to listen.
We sat down on the sofa that must have been an affront to my father’s eyes. I sat down between my father and Danny. My mother sat across the way on the loveseat with Mrs. Goldberg. Mr. Goldberg stood in the corner by the door to the kitchen looking sleepy. He was not a morning person.
Nobody spoke. Finally Mrs. Goldberg cleared her throat to lead this meeting or intervention.
Chapter Thirty-One
Zelda was in an intense conversation with her father. I came up from behind and rubbed her shoulders. I could still comfort her. My mom called whatever we were doing to order. We sat on the sofa, Zelda next to me, but not glued to me as she always was before. She was mad at me. Whatever.
“Zelda, you had a very bad thing happen to you. The repercussions of such an act should have been dealt with immediately.” She glanced at her mother, “Unfortunately they weren’t and you my dear have suffered from that. We’re here today to correct that. You’ll be going away for thirty days. I know that sounds like forever. It’s not. You have spent four months lost. That’s over now. We are here for you.”
Zelda looked at me as if I had betrayed her.
She stood up, walked to my mom and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Everyone started talking. I looked over at her mother. I would have to make that right. I hated her but if I were going to be in Zelda’s life at all I knew that I would have to talk to the woman who kept me away from her. I had thirty days to figure it out.
“Oh Christ Joyce she’s drinking straight from the bottle.” My dad screamed out from the kitchen. Up off the sofa, I ran to the kitchen to watch what had once been my girl guzzling straight from the bottle. I walked back upstairs and packed her bag.
…
We left Anthony in my room. Valencia, our housekeeper was there to keep an eye on him. I wanted to write Zelda a note. I didn’t know what to say. I drew a heart on a loose piece of paper and put it and my old lacrosse sweatshirt in her bag.
We piled into two cars. Zelda drove with my family to the rehab in Playa del Rey. Her parents trailed behind. Zelda sat in the backseat with my dad. She wouldn’t let go of him. He told his jokes and sang her old Yiddish songs. She laughed and laughed.
I was annoyed by both of them by the time we reached the intake desk. She hung on him, touching his face, pinching him. My dad loved it. He tweaked her chin. Enough already. My mom was looking less than charmed by her at this point too. Solidarity. She did a great job. Left up to her parents, nothing would have happened.
The nurses came to take her away. Finally, she remembered me. She dropped my Dad’s hand and held on to me as if she had no intention of ever letting go. Fine with me.
She talked them into letting me go into the medical check with her. She spoke in circles again. She released me, whatever that meant. But she was talking, and that was good. She reminded me of Anthony on our first morning together. She kept saying she loved me and she kept setting me free. I didn’t want to be free of her.
...
I went straight to my room when I got home. I couldn’t help her. In my life I had never felt powerless before. I brought her home, washed her, fed her. What did I do wrong? Should I have had sex with her? Would that have healed up one of her wounds? I couldn’t take advantage of her in her fragile state. Why did she sneak downstairs to drink? The questions rattled my mind.
“Danny are you okay?” My mom knocked and asked through the closed door.
“Fine.” I hoped she would go away. She opened the door and sat on the bed next to me.
“What did I do wrong?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You saved that poor girl.”
“Then why isn’t she here?”
“Now she has to save herself. She’ll do it. Don’t worry. She’s spunky.” She laughed, “She made your Dad’s day with her flirting.”
“Was that what she was doing?” I laughed with her.
“Danny let her settle for a week before you visit her. She needs to come to terms with what is going on with her. You’ll distract her.”
“They said I could visit her in three days. She just came back to me Mom.”
“Be her friend. Don’t expect too much from her. Go out with your friends. Have fun. You did a good thing.” She kissed me on the forehead and left.
...
It was only 2:00, and so much had already happened. I walked down to Liza’s to pick up my car. Luck was not on my side today. She was standing outside with Joni.
“Hey Danny, Liza was telling me about your psycho ex-girlfriend.”
“Where did you go? I waited for you. I sent you a million texts.” Liza looked sad. What to say? A version of the truth, everyone would find out anyway.
“Joni remember the deal we made when we were kids? Leave Zelda alone.” I paused thinking of a way to put it without betraying Zelda. “She has a drinking problem. I took her to rehab this morning.”
“That was a surprise? That girl has always been a freak. Her and Carolina, the worst.” said Joni “I heard she’s the Queen of her school. It must be pretty bad up there if she’s it.”
“Princess not Queen. Zelda is the princess of her school.” I said. The day had been too much.
“Don’t be mean Joni. Until yesterday she’s always been sweet. I hope she gets better. That was a pretty sad sight.” Liza said
Vacant headed Liza sympathizing with Zelda? Was I even awake?
“You guys want to head up to Malibu? We could hit Gladstone’s.” They got in my car and we drove off towards the beach, way past our original destination. All the way up to County Line.
Zelda’s name didn’t come up for the rest of the day.
...
I called Liza later that night. I wasn’t going to be that guy with two girls. Serge would come after me and I wasn’t raised that way. Look what the lies had done to Zelda. Not going to be a part of that.
“Hey Liza. Listen I don’t know what’s going on with Zelda and me but I’m there for her.”
“I know that but you don’t know what’s going to happen. She dumped you before. I wouldn’t put myself into her if I were you. She treated you like garbage.”
“You don’t understand...” I wasn�
�t going to tell her so I didn’t finish the sentence.
“Visit her. Be her friend. I’ll be here when she screws you over again.” When did she get so tough?
“I can’t make any promises to you.”
“You visit her and we’ll stay together. You just like to help people. Face that and dump her. I’m going to sleep. Good night.”
“Good night.” She was dead wrong but a part of me felt better to have a back up.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The nurse opened the door to the office I had been sitting alone in for what felt like a very long time. I was still a little tipsy, so I made a very exaggerated drunk face, letting my jaw hang open and rolled my eyes up into my head. She laughed and led me down the hall, telling me that she was taking me to the detox wing.
“I’m Rita. I’ll be your counselor.” She looked like one of the PTA moms from my school. She had very dark hair, a round body and was much, much shorter than myself. I did not act on my urge to hug this warm woman.
“Zelda. Your patient who likes to get her drink on.” I had no idea why I was behaving in such a silly way. I straightened my posture, cleared my throat and willed away my haze of intoxication.
“You’re very funny Zelda.”
“I’m not alcoholic. I started drinking six months ago. I’ve only been drunk once and the bad thing happened. I drink a little bit everyday, but I'm never drunk. Don’t you have to be drunk all the time to be an alcoholic?"
“There’s a lot of denial in the disease. I don’t know if you’re being truthful with me. We’ll have to get your blood work back. Sorry for the lack of trust. We work backwards here. You have to earn it. It’s not assumed.”
We stopped in front a sparsely decorated oatmeal-colored room with two twin beds. It wasn’t to my taste level but what was I going to do? Redecorate? A sleeping form under a pile of blankets on the bed, snored. It was a warm day I wondered why the person was so covered up. I didn’t wake them to ask.
“That’s your roommate Pascal, she’s coming out of a heroin detox. The worst is over. She’ll sleep a few more days. You’ll like her. She’s around your age.” She whispered so as not to wake up the slumbering Pascal.
“What do I do now? Do I have to stay in this room?” I looked around, not a TV or book in sight.
“For the first seventy two hours, yes. You can walk around the detox unit, but know that some of the patients are having physical withdrawals. It can be frightening to watch. The staff is searching your bag right now. They’ll bring it to you in twenty minutes. Did you pack any books? No phones or computers allowed.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t pack my bag.”
“Well I’ll go check around and see if I can find you something. What do you like?”
“Anything mid-century is fine thank you.” I sat down in the chair and watched the heroin addicted Pascal sleep. I couldn’t see her face, just a strand of bleached blonde hair sticking out from under the blanket. So far rehab was a bore.
I walked the hallways peeking into the rooms. Everybody was asleep. They all looked old, much older than me. They looked to be my parents age. Thirty days of this? I regretted how easily I let them take me here. If I had put up a fight, maybe they would have given me another chance. I would never know now, I thought to myself.
I thought of Danny, missing him.
I went back to room. My overnight bag lay on my bed. I unpacked it quietly, putting away my clothes and toiletries so as not to wake Pascal. At the bottom of the bag was Danny’s lacrosse sweatshirt, the real one that he wore during the games. I held it to my face. It was freshly washed, no scent of him. I slipped it on anyway. A note fell to the floor. I picked it up. He had drawn a heart on a blank piece of paper. I put it on my bedside table and traced the outline with my finger.
I would have to ask Rita when he was coming to visit me. Thirty days blah. Pascal turned over, I caught sight of her face, heart-shaped with cupid bow lips, pretty but she had a deathly pallor. I left the room in search of Rita. Our wing was locked. I knocked on the window. Rita appeared.
“Everybody is sleeping. I’m bored. How much longer do I have to stay here?"
“Three days. Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Most of our patients sleep for the first few days.”
“No, wide awake. When will Danny be able to visit me?” I had forgotten I might have pushed him away.
“Nothing happens for the first three days. Are you hungry? Dinner won’t be for another hour. I could get you a snack. Hold on I found some books for you.” She unlocked the door to the hallway of the bored and condemned and handed me a pile of books.
“Thank you. Could my Mom drop off my Kindle?" She had handed me quite a few books, but I sensed they wouldn't be enough for what was turning out to be a very dull thirty day stay, "Could you call and ask her? Am I allowed to use the phone?”
“No Kindles or any other electronic devices and no phone for the first three days. Hold on Zelda I’ll get you our book of rules. You can get familiar with them.” She closed the door, locking me in, but quickly came back with a pamphlet.
“Could I get some chocolate bars? I prefer milk but dark would be fine. Thank you.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Don’t worry. The days will pass quickly.”
I ambled back to my room and read the pamphlets. Standard rules, nothing too hard other than these three days. After detox I would get to go to the rehab wing. We would go to meetings, lectures and classes. Pretty much what I expected. I hoped it wasn’t only old people.
I tried to focus on the bright side, thinking that keeping me away from the alcohol would break the habit. I felt embarrassed by it now, by all of it. I couldn’t believe I ran around so dirty, so angry, so out of it.
A new wave of anger passed through me. Why hadn’t my mother or father stopped it? Poor Anthony, what did he think about me? Did he know where I was? I wouldn’t think about that. I missed my friends. I missed Danny.
I asked for some paper and pen when Rita came to check on me. I needed to write letters to my friends. Theodora and Veronica were easy enough to write, but I didn't know what to say to Serge. I felt like I had betrayed him with my drinking. I put the paper aside. I would write him later. I never wrote to him.
...
Day 3, finally they let me out. My roommate Pascal only ever woke up for meals and never spoke to me. It was the hardest three days of my life.
I bound out of the locked door ready to meet my fellow addicts. Old people, old people everywhere. Wasn’t there a teen ward? How many books had I read about screwed up kids finding themselves in the setting of mental health. Those books were about mental hospitals. This was a rehab. Blah.
The rehab side was much the same as the detox side but the people were awake. That was better, but I didn’t want to spend time with old people. I ran to the phone desperate to call Danny. Three days without talking to him was three too many. I picked up the phone and Rita put her hand over mine.
“Zelda you read the rule book, Phone calls from 5:00 to 6:00. That’s it.”
“Please can you make an exception? I miss Danny. Please.”
“I know it was hard for you in the other wing but no. You’re going to have to wait until 5:00. We don’t make exceptions here. It’s important to the process for everyone be treated equally.”
“Everyone is old here. I don’t know what to do. When’s the first meeting, anything? Is there a gym? I’ve been stuck in the hallway of the dead.”
“I’ll get you the schedule. I thought I had already. Why don’t we sit in the rec room and talk? I’m your counselor. We should get to know one another.”
“Fine, anything.” We walked to the near empty rec room. There were a few antiquated elliptical machines and a sit-up board. This was our exercise? I would use the broken down machines, but I would never be happy about it. We sat down at one of the small round tables.
“So tell me about yourself. I’ve read you file but I would like to hear about you
in your words.” I liked Rita but the thought of such an open-ended discussion caused me to roll my eyes.
“Why I am here? I drank myself into a blackout, a man attacked me, I... reacted badly and drank too much. I haven't been drunk since that day. I’m not sure I’m alcoholic. If saying that will make me stop the tiny amount of drinking I do, then fine. Is that the rule here?"
“Are you trying to game the system?”
“What does that mean?”
“Play the game? You know, do what it takes to get by?” I thought of my truancy and class schedules. Was that gaming the system?
“I just want to stop the drinking and go home. Have everything be normal again. I’ll do what it takes. Tell me what to say and how to act and I’ll do it.”
“You need to find your own path. I can’t tell you what to do or say. You need to figure that out for yourself.”
“No, no, no, I want to get better and go home. I think you misunderstood me. Tell me what to do, I’ll do it.”
“It doesn’t work that way. Let’s talk about the rape.”
“No.”
“Do you want to get better? You’re going to have to talk about it. I’m going to humor you for a moment. Let’s pretend that telling me about it is part of the system game.”
“Fine I went to the beach a very bad man gave me alcohol. I guess he pushed it on me, no you want me to take responsibility. That’s big here right? Taking responsibility. I drank the Tequila. The bad thing happened. It’s my fault. I was provocative. I got what I deserved. Is that good?”
“How were you provocative? You look like an average teenage girl. How is that provocative?” Nobody had ever called me average before. I didn’t know how I felt about that.
“The way I dressed I guess. You know the Patriarchy, all that.”
“The Patriarchy?”
“I don’t know. I was wearing black jeans, black sweater and a silver bomber jacket.”