Rehab Blues

by Adrian Laing

  “Oh my word, that is absolutely fantastic. Thanks so much, really. Yeah, a new – space age – guitar, that’s right on, it really is. Jeez doesn’t even have any strings. Wow, what a thing. Look, I’m not a great one for speeches; I tend to do my talking so to speak with my guitar. I can only say I’ve had a weird, wonderful, exciting, enlightening time here. I’m ready to head out a new man and take care you all because I’m looking for a partner, someone to share things with, lot of things, not you know just one… er thing. I could stay here forever I guess, it would have been nice to see more – a lot more – of Wetti Mati, I mean Metti Wati.” Toni knew he was almost done but had one final announcement to make.

  “Before I leave I want my mate, my best mate, Mark to step up. We’re going to give you a preview of our latest song – it’s not quite the finished, polished deal yet, in fact it’s a bit rough, but we’re nearly there. Come on Mark, let’s give them a send off to remember, let’s hit them with ‘Rehab Blues’.”

  Mark had no hesitation heading up to stand next to Toni. For a moment, Mark held Toni’s stare with a playful on-stage look and shouted: “OK, one, two three…” and with a random press of a few buttons on Toni’s new toy, something resembling a heavy beat filled the air and they were off on a rough ride through an early version of ‘Rehab Blues.’

  “Ain’t got no smoke / ain’t got no lady / ain’t got no booze / ain’t got no hang-over / ain’t got no bruis-es…”

  Toni found some inspirational solo guitar riffs and he was off, on a wild one, until he let Mark back in with some lyrics that bore some resemblance to what they had been practising all night and day as a rough duet:

  All I got is… all I got is… all I got is…

  All I got is hope / I got my… dig-nitty… / I got love / I got… feelings

  I’ve got friends / I got… my pride / I got my soul… /

  I got a book / to read… / I got a movie / to watch / I got a mountain / to climb /

  I got a connection / to make / I got an apology / to offer / I got tears / to shed /

  I got time / to live / I got a brother / to hug… /

  I got nothing / nothing / but the Rehab Blues brother.

  20

  “It’s time we talked more about The Place, don’t you think?” asked David casually of his son, JC and his partner Helen Pope. “I mean it all seems to be a bit random sometimes. I’m not sure what we’re doing half the time, you know what I mean? Maybe we should – you know – pause and have a think about what this is all about? Maybe get a bit more structured, all round.”

  JC looked at his dad as if he had taken the wrong drugs or something.

  “But, it’s perfect,” said Helen, “what do you want to change?” Helen was very sincere, but she was being deliberately mischievous.

  “Perfect?” asked JC. “We’re perfectly stuffed aren’t we?”

  “Now JC I’ve told you, I’ve got all that Sunday News stuff all under control. No worries. Let that one be, son. I want to know if you’ve got anything to say – constructively mind you – about how we run The Place, and what we do, you know – all of that sort of stuff. You know, like you’ve been saying all along.”

  JC’s demeanour suddenly changed and he seemed quite pleased that everything seemed both under control and up for grabs. “I’ll tell you what I think, I think I’m being made to do too much of the behind the scenes stuff. No wonder I’m so fit, heaving all the gear out of the hidden spaces and back again, I do all the food stuff which really pisses me off and costs us a fortune by the way especially during the ‘I want a WagYu phase’ and the demands – I mean did I ever tell you how long it took me to deal with Toni’s socks freak out – we should have a socks session you know – we really do need to talk about the laundry bill at some point I mean why are socks my problem and…”

  “Listen kid…” David interrupted his son with a rare, impatient edge.

  “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t call me kid. I call you dad which is OK, OK? I don’t call you ‘old man’…”

  “Yeah, yeah, sorry JC. OK? How many weetabix did you have for breakfast? The Place works as far as I’m concerned, but only up to a point. We live in this nice little annex, the guests’ demands are met, the agents and lawyers and pr guys are dealt with. What I’m saying is that we perhaps need some focus on what services we’re giving, be a bit more market orientated.”

  Helen looked at David. They were sitting comfortably round a small dinner table in a functional kitchen area of the self-contained two bedroom annex to The Place, the part of the small complex which the guests knew little about.

  Helen looked at David with renewed intensity. “David, please enlighten your son and me, what are you going on about?”

  “It’s this. What are we offering these people? What’s the deal?” David paused as if he had made his case out but Helen and JC were still unsure as to what the case was.

  “Here’s the deal,” said JC viewing a real opportunity. “First of all, if we want to sell – forgive me – sell equilibrium, then we should be, you know, in a state of equilibrium. I mean isn’t that right? It’s not just about treating our guests like kids who need spanking.”

  David couldn’t resist the open goal. “That that might be arranged – ‘spanking therapy’. Sorry JC you were saying?”

  JC continued, “OK, Helen, how many therapies have we got?”

  “OK, JC, I’ll tell you. At the last count, forty.” Helen knew every one of them as most were her own creation, in one form or another.

  “You see, that’s what I mean, we’re therapy orientated, not person orientated,” said JC as if standing his ground for the first time. “I think we should start to think from the person out, not us imposing stuff from outside.”

  “OK, JC, be specific.”

  “OK, take Betty. I like Betty. But I don’t like fat people. I just think they’re lazy, end of story. They annoy me. But I like Betty and she’s fat, so I guess I’m developing. I think we should get Metti to take a martial arts session, perhaps starting in the Encounter Area and then move into the garden. And the purpose of the session is really to make Betty feel great. That’s what I’m saying, it’s nothing to do with the therapies; it’s simply about finding a way to make our guests leave here feeling great, that’s all I’m saying.”

  Helen and David looked at each other, quite impressed with JC’s outburst.

  “OK,” said Helen. “I get you JC, it’s a fair point, let’s go with it. It’s about Betty. Martial arts session. Betty comes out feeling great – ‘the winner’, perhaps. Metti’s taking the session. Got it. Now, why don’t you, JC, take part in this session, you know as one of them, the guests.”

  JC paused for a minute as if a deal-closer had just been placed on the table. “Sounds good to me, Helen. I was going to suggest Metti, thanks.”

  David rubbed his hands as if a deal had just been struck. “Well, I’m glad that’s sorted. I’ve got a new one. You know, number forty-one on your list, Helen.”

  “And what might that be, David?” asked Helen.

  “‘CDT’,” said David cryptically.

  “And what is ‘CDT’?” asked JC.

  David leaned forward as if he was explaining something quite complex. “‘CDT’ is controlled drinking therapy. I’m sorry, but I’m tired of pretending I don’t like to drink. I don’t want to get drunk or out of control, but I think we should relax the drinking side of things and have a session which is about drinking with the message that ‘hey you’re allowed to have a drink, provided you know when to stop’. It’s an old-fashioned ‘moderation’ message. I know we allow small amounts of alcohol on special occasions but I’d like to perhaps formalise it a bit.”

  Helen and JC tried not to look at each other with some concern. “Er, sounds interesting, dad. Maybe Helen and you can have a chat about that one.” JC changed the subject
, quickly. “But Helen you’re right, I‘ll join in the Metti session, in the background so to speak.”

  “Great,” said David, “that’s progress, thanks, now, do you mind if I have a beer before you get another bright idea? I mean at this rate you’ll be talking about spiritualism next.”

  JC looked at his dad in what he had now come to think of as the ‘Doris Day’ look and said, “Sometimes dad, I wonder, I really do.”

  “OK,” said Helen, “I’m fine with the Metti session. David let’s talk later about this CDT idea. In the meantime I’ll check up on Katie Windsor. Hold on, is that your phone going off David?”

  David took his phone out of his pocket and realised immediately that the caller was Simon Hall. In fact it wasn’t a call; it was a buzz alerting David to a text message which David quickly accessed and it read: ‘Hi, God, gonna roll with this nxt w/e, any probs call legal dept. luv SH.’

  “Oh shit,” said David.

  “I don’t like ‘oh shit’ at any time dad, and not from you. Show me, come on.”

  David handed JC his mobile which JC read in about one second. “Oh shit,” said JC.

  ***

  As a martial arts squad the group didn’t look too impressive, but as an eclectic gathering of celebrities it was quite spectacular.

  Betty Grisse, Davy Crockett, Mandy Haddock, Mark Bolland, Katie Windsor and David Cooper were gathered in the Encounter Area all dressed in loose-fitting judo robes and barefoot waiting for Metti Wati to make an entrance and began some kind of martial arts session.

  Mark, like an excited schoolboy, was throwing around some Karate moves.

  “I’m there already with this one. Look. Wax on, wax off, wax on, wax off. Come on Metti.”

  Metti suddenly appeared looking like a samurai, dressed in a black half robe.

  “I’m wearing, in case you’re wondering, a Harkama, normally used for Aikido.” Metti then performed a ritual series of movements which were as smooth and as complicated as any Bollywood dance.

  “Right,” said Metti, “this isn’t going to be like the last time. No pile ups. No nonsense. I need you to give me everything you’ve got. Concentration. Focus. OK, copy me.”

  Metti jogged around the room swinging her arms around her head forwards and then backwards, occasionally touching the floor with one hand and then the next. The group looked rather the worse for wear after only a couple of minutes. Metti suddenly stopped and suggested they catch their breath.

  Metti asked the group to form a line in front of her, facing the large mirrors behind her. Without any command Metti adopted a squat position and punched out with each arm in turn, shouting out what sounded like a battle cry each time her arms extended. The group needed no instruction to copy Metti’s exercise, each one trying their best to emit some form of noise which sounded if not scary then at least a little bit loud.

  Once the group seemed to get the hang of it Metti changed her shout to a number, starting with ‘one hundred’ and then counting down. At first the group looked quite relaxed; simply punching out their arms didn’t seem too demanding.

  Metti watched each of the group carefully. Without exception they all appeared obsessed with how the other members of the group were getting on, as if expecting someone to stop and give up.

  It soon became apparent that this was a competition and a very, very tiring one at that. Mark was already sweating profusely by the time Metti had shouted ‘eighty’ and it looked as if the famous rock star would be the first to throw in the towel, but something seemed to keep him going, perhaps the fact that the ladies, Betty, Mandy and Katie seemed to have found a rhythm.

  Unexpectedly to the group, but not to Metti, it was JC who stopped by the time Metti had shouted down to ‘fifty’. Then Davy, followed by Mark, until only Betty was still going by the time Metti had shouted down to ‘one’ and then ‘stop’.

  JC tried hard not to give Metti some form of signal that would have given the game away. Betty was not to know that Metti and JC had agreed with each of the group to let Betty complete on her own. They were all happy to do so, even more so when they saw the immediate transformation that seemed to overtake Betty once she had recovered. There was such a broad genuine smile, a sense of achievement and an obvious pride which was a joy to witness.

  The group spontaneously rounded on Betty and gave her long lasting and heartfelt hugs.

  “OK, well done Betty,” said Metti, “that was a real achievement. Now, let’s practice some real moves. Give me everything you’ve got; I need to leave after this.”

  Metti continued with her session, nothing too involved was needed to finish the session off; the main aim had been achieved, which was for Betty to feel like a winner.

  Metti and JC exchanged glances as if to say ‘well done’ to each other. Within the briefest of moments the intended glance turned into an intense and hunger-filled stare, causing both of them to blush and turn away.

  ***

  Helen, David and JC sat in silence in David’s office pondering the ‘Betty issue’.

  “Did Betty have any idea that she was being – you know – set up yesterday?” David was keen to know whether the plan had worked; Betty’s time was coming to an end and real progress needed to be made.

  “I don’t think so,” said JC. “She was buzzing all day. Helen’s idea of getting her to eat as many chocolate hobnobs as she could before she threw up was a stroke of genius, I have to say. She vowed never to touch another one, ever again.”

  Helen smiled. “It’s a risky strategy but in this case worked very well. I think we just need one more heavy session and Betty will be ready to face the world in a more positive state of mind.”

  “One more ‘heavy session’ Helen, what have you got in mind?” David was genuinely curious.

  “Later this afternoon, our friend Paul Jones is dropping by. They’ve all got their schedules planned out in their own minds, and a surprise rebirthing session is just what Betty needs.”

  David lowered his head, his stomach always turned over when he heard the name ‘Paul Jones’ – the rebirthing sessions made him feel sick with worry.

  “Don’t worry David. There’s an added surprise. I took a call earlier from Huck. He wants to come back for the afternoon.” Helen looked over at JC to see his reaction.

  “I thought Huck had run out of cash, Helen,” JC went straight to the point.

  “Well, actually, JC, we’re not charging him for this one. He’s playing for us this time.” Helen looked rather coy.

  “How do you mean, Helen, ‘playing for us’?” said JC looking rather put out.

  “It’s like this JC. Huck feels likes there’s some unfinished business here. I mean as far the rebirthing is concerned. From what I heard, I think I agree. And he’s got a surprise announcement to make, should be interesting. After today’s over, Huck won’t be back for some time, if ever.”

  It was JC’s turn to lower his head, looking relieved but unconvinced. “OK dad, maybe there’s fun to be had.”

  “Fun? When was rebirthing ever fun?” David couldn’t hide his fears.

  ***

  Helen looked around at the faces in front of her and smiled broadly. “OK, here we are in the Encounter Area. I know you’re all expecting the ‘Confrontation Therapy’ but we’ll pick that up later. This afternoon, we’ve a surprise for you.”

  On cue, in walked Huck looking mean and relaxed and immediately went over to hug Betty who seemed overjoyed to see him again.

  “And,” Helen continued, “I’ve another surprise.” This time in walked Paul Jones who immediately approached Huck and gave him a manly bear hug.

  “That’s my part over; I leave you all to it. Have fun.” Helen slipped out the door leaving the group in some confusion.

  “OK,” said Paul, “my name is Paul Jones. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m a rebirthing specialist. Huc
k and Betty know the routine but I’ll take it from the top for the rest of you. Mandy, Davy, and Katie had a collective look of very deep apprehension not knowing what to expect, at all. Mark Bolland by contrast looked quite ecstatic, like a young lad clinging for dear life before the roller coaster heads off up the steep track, shit-scared and enjoying every moment.

  Huck quickly scanned the faces looking for Metti, but she was nowhere to be seen. Huck was not to know that JC had insisted that Huck and Metti should be kept as far apart as possible; Metti’s time had already come and gone, for now at least.

  Paul ran through his opening spiel, looking carefully at the reactions of the uninitiated, making his mind up as he talked as to where he would place each participant. There was no debate as to who was to be the centre of attention today; that had already been decided. It was Betty’s day.

  “OK I hope that all makes sense, so far.” Paul had decided that it was time to get to it. “I’ll just create a little ambiance, it does help.”

  Paul turned down the lights and pushed a button on the remote in his hand and the room was suddenly filled with the sounds of the beautiful, haunting, angelic voice of a female soloist.

  Mark felt like a little school boy who knew the answer to a difficult question, the only problem being that no one had asked a question.

  “Hayley Westernra, love her, love her to bits,” said Mark smugly.

  “Er thanks, Mark. Well spotted. Now Betty, if you will.”

  Betty seemed surprised, as if she was expecting Huck to adopt the foetal position. Betty had thought, wrongly, that the purpose of this exercise was to straighten out Huck; that’s why she thought he was in the room.

  With some hesitation Betty, as best she could, crouched on all fours and placed her head in her hands. Paul, tactfully, adjusted Betty’s position to something which he felt would work better and didn’t look so wrong.