Crystal Lies

by Melody Carlson

  The heater in my old Taurus has finally come to life, and the car is getting warmer now. I turn my attention back to my driving, but I can’t help but wonder if life will ever change for Jacob. Will it ever get better? Or is my son one of the lonely ones—one of those unfortunate people destined for a life of addiction, failure, and finally and unavoidably an untimely death?

  These thoughts pierce me like well-aimed arrows, but at least I am trying to be realistic now. I am trying to face facts and come to grips with this horrifying life my son has chosen. Oh, I still pray for him. How could I not? But my prayers have slowly changed from begging and pleading tantrums to calmer petitions where I remind myself (and God, too?) that he is Jacob’s Creator, Jacob’s heavenly Father, and I believe that his love for Jacob is greater than mine. As difficult as it is, I know its the only way I will survive this thing. I am entrusting my son to God.

  Jacob moves slightly, and I glance over and wonder where he’s been these past two weeks. What has he been doing? How long did the goods stolen from his father finance his habit? Was he sleeping in Dumpsters once his money was gone and he was too high to notice? Selling his plasma? Or perhaps he peddles his poor emaciated body to strangers? I know such things happen in Seattle. Even so, I can’t bear to think about it.

  I want to ask him about the break-in at his father’s house, but I know he’s in no condition to answer me right now Perhaps that will come later. If there is a later. It’s just as likely that he will sleep this off, eat some food, then disappear before I have a chance to question him. Besides, I know the answer. I know that he’s responsible for the theft and vandalism at Geoffrey’s. In the whole scheme of things, in the shadows of life and death, it seems a small thing now anyway.

  Hot silent tears streak down my cheeks as I exit the freeway and head toward town. But as I wait at the light, before I turn down the street to the apartment complex, I hesitate. What am I doing right now? Haven’t I been trying to remain firm on my boundaries? Haven’t I made it clear that Jacob is not allowed to stay at my apartment unless he is willing to get help? Meaning residential rehab therapy like Marcus has recommended. But here I am, driving him home again—whatever is wrong with me?

  Even as I drive toward the apartment, I don’t know what to do. Despite my recent steps of faith—of giving Jacob to God—he is still my son. And I still desperately want him to get the help he needs. I pray silently as I approach the apartment, begging God to give me some direction, some help, some answers, something. And then I simply continue driving past.

  Jacob called me, I remind myself, and he’s the one who said he needed help. And it’s true; he does need help. Well, maybe that’s just what I will give him today—help. I continue driving with a resolve I’ve never felt before. It’s as if some kind of force is pulling me down the road. I am going to Hope’s Wings, and I hope I get there before he wakes up.

  I don’t know what else I can do. Of course, I realize that Jacob will probably get angry and defensive, and he may just storm away and perhaps never call me again. But, really, what else can I do? For all I know his life might be in danger from an overdose right now. I convince myself that I’m doing the right thing, and I pray for God to help me this time. Help us. Help this to work and help Jacob to see that he needs this.

  Jacob abruptly sits up as the car comes to a stop and I turn off the engine. Looking around as if he’s not sure where he is, he turns and stares at me. “What’s going on?” he asks.

  “You called me for help today, Jacob,” I remind him.

  He nods. “Yeah?”

  “And I can’t help you.” I take a breath. “But this place can.”

  He looks across the parking lot to the drab buildings on the other side, frowning as full realization sets in. “Oh, Mom,” he moans.

  “You need treatment.” I use the firmest voice I can muster. “If you continue using crystal meth, you are going to die, Jacob.” I reach over and touch the shoulder of his filthy coat. “Can you hear me, Jacob? You are going to die. Do you want to die?”

  He shakes his head. “No…”

  “Then just try this,” I tell him. “If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.” Even as I say these words, I have absolutely no idea whether they can even take him right now. It’s only a couple of weeks before Christmas, and I don’t even know if there’s a bed available. But I don’t know what else to do, where else to go. I continue to pray silently now. Hoping for a miracle, I guess.

  “I don’t need this, Mom,” he says, and I sense that his strength and resistance are returning to him.

  “You do need this, Jacob. Without this you are going to die.”

  He closes his eyes tightly, as if trying to shut out my words.

  “I don’t want to lose you, Jacob,” I tell him, choking back a sob. “I’ve seen Sherry after losing Matthew… I don’t want that to happen to—”

  “I’m not going to die, Mom.” He sounds seriously agitated now. I know that I am pressing too hard.

  I take a deep breath. I want to be strong, to play this out the best I can. “Okay, maybe you won’t die, Jacob. At least not physically. But your soul is dying every single day that you continue using meth. Your spirit is dying.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do know that, Jacob. When I look in your eyes, I see emptiness, hopelessness. Death. How can you stand it? Don’t you want to be alive again?

  “I want to get out of here,” he says in a tight voice. “Lets go, Mom. Now!”

  I know this is my last chance, and I feel desperate. Very desperate. I consider the one thing I’ve been holding back, my final possibility to persuade Jacob to rethink this thing. I know that it could either work or blow up in my face. And if history repeats itself, I should be prepared for an explosion.

  “Okay,” I finally say. “You say you’re not going to die, Jacob. And maybe that’s true. I certainly hope it’s true. But how do you feel about going to prison?”

  “Prison?” he looks at me and shakes his head. “Yeah, sure.”

  “It could happen, Jacob. In fact, it’s quite likely.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You made it very obvious that you broke into your dads house, Jacob.”

  He looks surprised now, confused even. As if he barely remembers the incident, as if he never expected to be found out. “What?”

  “You broke the law, Jacob. You vandalized and stole expensive items, I assume to be pawned for more drug money”

  “Huh?”

  “Maybe you don’t remember it clearly, Jacob. I’m guessing you were high at the time. But, believe me, you left plenty of evidence behind. Notes, fingerprints, you name it. Not very smart unless you wanted to get caught. Did you want to get caught?”

  He shrugs and looks away. I can tell he is getting very uncomfortable.

  “Your father could press charges against you, Jacob. Maybe he already has. I don’t know for sure, but he was very angry Has it occurred to you that you could be picked up by the police at any time? That you could end up in jail and eventually prison? Is that what you want?”

  “Do you think Dad would really do that to me?” He turns and looks at me with slightly frightened eyes, as if this is somehow penetrating the tough exterior that he has created to protect his addiction.

  “What do you think, Jacob?”

  He looks down at his lap now.

  I reach over and put my hand on his hand. “But what if you were in treatment?” I ask in a gentle voice. “What if you were really seeking help, Jacob?”

  He looks at me again. “You mean you’re going to use this to pressure me into rehab?”

  I shake my head. “Obviously, it’s your choice, Jacob. You know as well as I do that they won’t even admit you if you don’t go in willingly. To be honest, I don’t know if they even have room right now.”

  He frowns and sighs. “I don’t know what to do, Mom.”

  “Jacob,” I say. “Look at me.” He looks at me ag
ain.

  “I am your mom, Jacob. I’m sure that I love you more than anyone on earth loves you. Do you honestly believe I would try to get you to do something that would hurt you? Have I ever tried to hurt you?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Have I ever lied to you?”

  He shrugs now.

  “When?” I demand. “When have I ever lied to you?”

  His chapped lips curve into what is almost a smile. “The Easter bunny, tooth fairy, Santa Claus…”

  I laugh and squeeze his hand. “Seriously, Jake. I would never deceive you. I would never do anything to hurt you. You can trust me.”

  “Was Dad really mad about the break-in?”

  I nod. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Jacob. He was furious.”

  “Do you think he called the police?”

  “I honestly don’t know, Jacob. He did say he was going to. But it’s hard to tell with your dad. It could be pretty embarrassing, you know, that his own son burglarized his house. On the other hand, he was really angry. I don’t know what he did.”

  Jacob looks toward the buildings now. “I guess it wouldn’t be as bad as jail here. Do you think?”

  “I wouldn’t think so.”

  “But what if they can’t take me today, Mom?”

  I think he sounds honestly worried now, as if he’s finally made up his mind to get treatment and will be devastated if he can’t get in.

  “All we can do is ask.” I feel myself choking up again. “Do you want to go see?”

  He nods and reaches for the door handle. Together we get out of the car and walk through the fog toward the main office building. I pray with each step. I pray for a miracle.

  “Is Marcus here?” I ask the receptionist. This is a new girl I haven’t met before, and I decide not to waste time trying to explain anything.

  “Do you have an appointment?” she asks.

  “No. Is he busy?” I glance up at the clock and see that it’s twelve thirty, so it’s entirely possible that he has left for lunch. I know he likes to go to a deli not far from here. Maybe I can find him there. Still, the idea of getting Jacob back into the car and away from Hope’s Wings worries me. What if he suddenly changes his mind?

  “Glennis!” calls a familiar voice, and I turn to see Marcus walking toward us.

  “Hi,” I say, trying to sound calm although I feel certain my eyes are giving me away. “Do you have a few minutes?”

  He smiles. “Of course. Come on back to my office.” He extends his hand to Jacob, waiting to shake. “How’s it going, Jacob?”

  “Okay.” Jacob tentatively shakes Marcus’s hand, then glances over his shoulder as if he’s considering a fast break.

  But Marcus puts his other hand on Jacob’s shoulder and guides him back down the hallway. “How’s your music coming along?”

  “All right,” mumbles Jacob as we go into the office.

  Once we’re seated I quickly tell Marcus that Jacob is interested in treatment now. Marcus, being the professional that he is, turns his attention to Jacob, ascertaining that this is really true.

  “You really want to be here?” he asks, studying Jacob’s face closely.

  Jacob swallows, then nods.

  “This is a decision you’re making of your own free will?” Jacob nods again.

  “You really want help? You want to change?”

  Then Jacob begins to tear up, and I grow worried that the emotion will make him change his mind. I know how he hates crying in front of anyone.

  “All right then,” says Marcus quickly. “You’re in luck, Jacob. We just got a vacancy this morning.”

  Jacob looks back up at Marcus, and his face actually looks relieved. I wonder if I might faint. “What do we do?” I ask, afraid this is all just a dream that will blow up in my face again.

  “You don’t need to do anything, Glennis,” he tells me.

  I feel confused now. What does this mean?

  “You’re free to go.” He nods to the door.

  “Just like that?” I ask, standing.

  He smiles at me, probably to reassure me that everything is fine. “You’ve already done the paperwork, Glennis. Of course, Jacob will have to sign some things himself. Then we’ll take him over to detox and get him a room and maybe some lunch if he’s hungry.” He looks at Jacob now. “I think it’s meat loaf today, but don’t let that discourage you. It’s really pretty good. I thought I’d have some myself.”

  “So I just leave then?” I repeat.

  Marcus nods.

  “Okay.” Then I pause by Jacob, and leaning down, I tell him I love him and that I’m proud of him. “Everything’s going to be okay,” I assure him as I move toward the door. “I know you’re in good hands now.”

  He sort of nods but doesn’t look completely convinced. I can tell he’s starting to get the jitters now. I suspect it’s not so much out of anxiety as a side effect of the meth. And then I walk out of Marcus’s office, down the hall, out of the building, and across the parking lot to my car.

  I feel like a war veteran as I slowly drive home from Hope’s Wings. I remember this old guy who used to live next door to my parents when I was a kid. He’d survived World War II but had lost a leg. I remember how he used to say he could still feel the pain of that missing leg sometimes. I think he called it “phantom pain.” And that’s how I feel right now. Like Jacob is still in the car with me. Still hunched over and hurting and hopeless. And I am still hurting for him. Phantom pain. I wonder if it will ever go away.

  Feeling slightly stunned after I get back to the apartment, I walk around in a daze for nearly an hour and even begin to wonder if I simply imagined my entire morning. I pick up the phone, then set it down again, fighting the urge to call Hopes Wings and ask if Jacob Harmon is really there, really enrolled, and getting treatment. Then I realize its entirely possible that he may have gotten cold feet after I left. He might have refused to sign the papers and be admitted. He could be walking back toward town this very minute. Even so, I don’t allow myself to call. Not yet.

  Instead I gather up my things and go downstairs to do the laundry.

  “Glennis,” says Jack as he sees me turning toward the laundry room,“how’re you doing?”

  “I’m not sure, Jack.”

  He opens the door for me. “Something wrong?”

  “Not exactly.” I set down my laundry basket and remove my backpack. “I took Jacob to Hope’s Wings this morning.”

  He slaps me on the back. “That’s great news.”

  I nod. “I know it is. But I think I’m still in shock.” Then I tell him the whole story, still questioning whether it really happened or not.

  “You need to take a deep breath,” he tells me,“and just relax.”

  “I’m not sure if I even know how,” I admit.

  “It takes time,” he tells me as he opens the lid of the washer for me.

  I put my dirty laundry into the washer, pour in the soap, insert my quarters, and wait for the water to start coming in. Then I turn and look at Jack. “It’s so amazing,” I tell him, finally allowing myself to smile. “I think it’s a real miracle, Jack.”

  He nods. “But it’s only just beginning, Glennis. It’s up to Jacob to make the miracle work.”

  “Right.” I feel myself deflating again.

  “But it’s a great start, Glennis.” He smiles broadly. “And the Bible says not to despise small beginnings.”

  “Yes. I’m sure you’re right, Jack. But in some ways I’m almost afraid to believe the whole thing. It seems so unreal.”

  “Well, take it easy on yourself. Give it a few days to sink in.”

  I pick up my laundry backpack as Jack opens the door for me again. “Thanks,” I tell him,“for everything.”

  “I’m not done praying for your boy yet,” he says as we walk outside together. “He’s got a long road ahead of him, and old Jack here is going to be praying every day that Jacob gets there in one piece.”

  “I appreciate it.” Then I go
back upstairs and sit down on the sofa and wonder what to do. But I am so tired and drained that all I can do is lie down and fall asleep. But it is a good sleep. Perhaps the best sleep I have ever had.

  I’m surprised to wake at the sound of the phone’s loud ring, and just the same as before—as if nothing has changed at all—I rush for the phone, worried that it’s bad news.

  “Hello?” I say breathlessly.

  “Glennis,” Marcus says in a calm voice. “How are you doing?”

  “Oh…” My relief is overcome by fear. “Is he still there?” I ask quickly. “Did Jacob stay?”

  Marcus chuckles. “Yes. I thought you might be worried. He’s still here. He’s signed all of the appropriate forms and agreed to stay with us until he is well.”

  I sigh now, deeply. I feel like maybe I can breathe again. “Thank you so much for calling,” I tell him. “Can you tell me how he’s doing?”

  “Well, as you can imagine, it’s pretty rough at first. But the staff is used to this sort of thing. Don’t worry, Glennis. He’s getting the best treatment.”

  “Good.” Still, I’m not sure. I feel personally responsible if anything goes wrong.

  “I may even stick around here myself tonight,” he continues. “To keep an eye on things.”

  “Really? Does that mean it’s serious? Is Jacob in any danger?”

  “No, not really. But the first couple of days are always the hardest. And he’s got a lot of crud in his system. He must’ve really had some binge. Poor guy.”

  “I’m so glad he agreed to stay.” I sit down in the rocking chair and feel my shoulders relax a bit. “I can hardly believe this is finally happening.”

  “It usually takes a while for it to really sink in,” he says.

  “It’s like I don’t know what to do with myself.”