Crystal Lies (22 page)

Just the same, I stayed home all afternoon and evening, hoping against hope that I was completely wrong about Jacob. I even prayed to be wrong, and I begged God to tap Jacob on the shoulder, wherever he was, whatever he was doing, and to tell him that it was time to come home now.

But when I went to bed that night—quite late—I knew Jacob wasn’t coming home. I knew I had, once again, been deceived. When would I ever learn?
Never trust an addict
.

Early the next morning I awoke to someone knocking loudly on my door. I grabbed my robe, and, imagining a state trooper standing with his hat in his hands ready to give me the bad news, I hurried to see who was there. To my complete surprise, it was my own prodigal.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“It got pretty late last night,” he said as he came in and dropped his backpack on the floor. “I decided to spend the night at a friends so I wouldn’t wake you up.”

I didn’t mention that his absence had caused me to stay awake most of the night anyway. I was just thankful he’d come back. “Do you think you can make it to Hope’s Wings?” I said.

“I guess.”

“That’s great, Jacob.” My life returned to me as I went into the kitchen and started to make coffee. “How about I make us both a nice breakfast.”

Jacob sat down on a stool at the counter, but I could tell by his fidgeting and the way his eyes kept darting around the room, almost as if he expected someone to jump out from behind a corner, that it was going to be touch and go with him. It was possible that he could still bolt before it was time to leave for the appointment. As a result I felt I needed to tread carefully, to keep the conversation upbeat and positive, and to focus his attention on everything but the obvious.

“Eggs?” I asked as I surveyed the contents of the refrigerator.

“I guess.”

“Did you get to talk to your sister much yesterday?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes. “Barely. I think she was trying to avoid me.”

“Join the club,” I told him. “I think she was avoiding me, too.”

“Why?” he said. “Why should she avoid you?”

I shook my head as I cracked another egg. “Because of what’s going on between me and your dad.”

“What is going on?” He put his elbows on the counter and leaned forward with interest. “I mean, I know you think he’s having an affair. But have you guys talked or anything?”

Relieved that we’d come up with a topic to distract Jacob from the rehab appointment, I decided to be completely honest with him. I told him about my last conversation with Geoffrey and how he was already moving toward a divorce.

“Wow.” Jacob sighed as I handed him a plate of eggs and toast. “That’s pretty harsh.”

I shrugged. “I guess it was inevitable.”

“Do you have a lawyer yet?”

I sat down and shook my head. “Things got kind of crazy after that. What with Matthew’s death and the service and everything.”

“But you’re going to get a lawyer, right?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?” Jacob pointed his fork at me. “Mom, you have to get a lawyer. Sheesh, dad is a lawyer, and he’ll probably hire some sleazebag divorce lawyer and try to get away with everything.”

“Everything?”

“I mean all the money.”

I attempted a smile. “I don’t really care about the money, Jacob. Besides, it was mostly your dad’s money. It came from his grandparents.”

“But what about us?” demanded Jacob. “Well, me, I guess. I’m sure
Daddy Dearest will give perfect Sarah anything she wants. But what about me? I’m part of the family too. What if Dad just totally writes me off?”

“Oh, Jacob, your father would never—”

“You don’t know, Mom. You don’t really know how he feels about me. I’m pretty sure he hates me. He probably wishes that was my funeral yester—”

“Jacob!” I firmly shook my head. “Your dad might be upset about some…well, some things. But he really does love you.”

“Don’t be so sure, Mom.”

I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t like how this conversation had deteriorated so quickly. “You may be right about getting a lawyer though, Jacob,” I said. “But don’t worry about finances. Really, we’ll be just fine.”

“Just fine?” He frowned. “You told me yourself that you’re barely scraping by, Mom. And I don’t make enough money to support both of us.”

I smiled. “You don’t even have a job right now, Jacob.”

“Yeah, but I can get something,” he assured me. “There are always ways to make money.”

“Well, don’t worry about me, Jacob,” I said again. “I’ve got some money put aside, and I can always go back to teaching or substituting.”

“I thought you didn’t like substituting.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing.” I picked up our empty plates. “And maybe it would be good for me to get out more anyway.”

“But substituting?” He made a face. “Kids treat subs like dirt, Mom.”

I rinsed the plates. “I know.” And I did know The last time I had substituted, only to keep my certificate current, was a complete and total disaster. I had subbed for a middle-school English teacher, a friend of mine who had warned me it wouldn’t be easy. The one-week assignment had felt more like a year. And when it was done, I had sworn I’d never do it again.

But life had changed a lot since then. And maybe we don’t always get
to choose what we want. Maybe we just have to take what life dishes out sometimes. And maybe my punishment for failing at both my marriage and motherhood was to spend the rest of my life substituting for a bunch of beastly middle-school kids.

Jacob turned on the TV, and I made a dash for the shower, praying he would still be there when I finished. Thankfully, he was. And to my utter amazement, we made it into the Land Rover and all the way to Hope’s Wings before he began to balk.

“I don’t think I really need to do this,” he said as I turned into the driveway.

“It’s just an interview and evaluation,” I reminded him. “This place is a dump,” he observed.

I wanted to say that it wasn’t as bad as Daniel’s duplex but managed to bite my tongue as I turned off the ignition. “Looks aren’t everything,” I said.

“But really, Mom. This isn’t going to do any good.”

“How do you know, Jacob?”

“Because this place is totally stupid.”

“How do you know it’s stupid?”

“I just know” He exhaled loudly. “It’s what everyone says.”

“Do you know people who’ve been here?”

He laughed. “Yeah. And they’re back on the streets right now, doing the same thing they did before they checked in.”

“Well, it doesn’t work for everyone, but maybe—”

“It doesn’t work for
anyone
, Mom. It’s all a crock.”

“You have to at least give it a chance, Jacob.” I opened the door now “Just do the evaluation.”

“I don’t need this,” he seethed as he climbed out of the Range Rover.

“Fine,” I told him. “If you don’t need this, they’ll tell you as much after the interview.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said as we walked across the parking lot. “They don’t turn anyone away, Mom. They’re here to make money, you know.”

“That’s not true, Jacob. They only accept people who really want to change.” I paused and looked at him as we stood before the door to the office. “You do want to change, don’t you?”

He just shrugged.

I reached for the door and prayed for a miracle.

I knew that I wouldn’t be included in the evaluation or interview. And that was fine. I felt sure there were things I did not need, or want, to know. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss. Although sometimes it can kill you too.

The whole thing took about two hours, and during that time I paced and flipped through tattered magazines and imagined what an expectant father must feel like while sitting in the waiting room when his wife is in labor. I tried to pray but am afraid my prayers were as befuddled and tattered as my thoughts. Would any of this work? Would they even take him? And if they did agree to take him, would Jacob agree to enroll? And what if he agreed to rehab just to pacify me but really had no intention of cooperating? And what if he cooperated, but it still didn’t work? Or what if this place really wasn’t any good? What if Geoffrey had been right about sending him someplace expensive and “good”? But what if this experience, here today, soured Jacob on going into any form of rehab? It was all too overwhelming. All I could do was to ask God to help. “Please, help us,” I silently prayed. “Help Jacob to get through and beyond this.” It was all I knew to pray I hoped it was enough.

Jacob finally emerged, and it almost looked as if he’d been crying. I wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or not. Marcus Palmer was with him.

“This is quite a guy,” said Marcus, patting Jacob on the back as if he was proud of him.

“I know. How did it go?”

“Would you like to join us in my office?” asked Marcus. “Of course.”

Soon we were all seated in his little office. Jacob looked uncomfortable and more fidgety than ever.

“Do you mind if I speak candidly in front of your mother, Jacob?” asked Marcus.

“Whatever,” Jacob mumbled.

“Well…” Marcus leaned back in his leather chair. “It’s my recommendation that Jacob enroll in the thirty-day residential treatment program.” I nodded. “Yes?”

“He meets all the criteria. He was honest with our counselors, and his lab tests were positive for amphetamines. He seems to be in good general health.” He paused, looking at Jacob. “There’s only one problem.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

He nodded toward Jacob. “He doesn’t think treatment will help him.”

“But that’s not so unusual, is it?” I said. “I mean don’t a lot of, uh, addicts feel like that. Like there’s no way to help them?”

“That’s true enough,” said Marcus. “But we don’t enroll patients who aren’t at least willing to give this their best effort. Otherwise it’s just a waste of everyone’s time and money.” He was looking at Jacob now. “And we do have a waiting list…”

Jacob looked slightly relieved now. “So I’d have to be on a waiting list?”

“Your mother already put you on the list,” explained Marcus. “You could check in today…if you were willing.”

Jacob frowned. “I’m just not ready for this.”

“Why not?” I pleaded. “Why can’t you just try it?”

Marcus cleared his throat. “It’s not exactly something you try, Glennis. You have to come here with a willing attitude. You have to want to be healthy.”

“But Jacob told me he was tired of living like that. Remember, Jacob?” I reached over and touched his arm, but he pulled away.

“Just because people
say
they want help doesn’t mean they do, Glennis.”

I nodded. “Yes, I remember that from the codependent class. Addicts will say whatever they think you want to hear,’” I quoted.

“Sounds like you were paying attention.” Marcus smiled.

“Just because I can say it doesn’t mean I believe it.”

He chuckled. “Good point.”

“So maybe we should quit wasting everyone’s time,” said Jacob, standing. “You don’t want me if I don’t want to be here, right?”

“It won’t do any good,” said Marcus.

Suddenly I felt like screaming. I mean, here I had gone to all this work getting Jacob to come—setting up the appointment, handling him with kid gloves, waiting and worrying. Why couldn’t they just go ahead and enroll him now, and sort out the rest of it later? I felt disappointed in Marcus, too. I had expected him to be more helpful. Honestly, it almost seemed as if he didn’t want Jacob at all.

“But he’s here,” I said. “He’s here right now. And he’s been through the evaluation…and I just don’t see…I mean, can’t he just…” I was starting to sputter and knew I was very close to tears.

Marcus leaned forward now. “I know you really love your son, Glennis. It’s obvious, but you need to accept that you can’t change him. He has to want to change himself.” He turned to look at Jacob, who was standing by the door, ready to leave. “Right, Jacob?”

“That’s right,” snapped Jacob, his hand on the doorknob.

“And, clearly, you don’t
want to
change,” added Marcus.

“Not at the moment,” said Jacob glibly. “And not here. I know I can change if I want to. But I don’t need this.”

“But you’ve said that before,” I insisted. “And it hasn’t worked, has it?”

“Sometimes it works,” he told me. “Sometimes I go for a week or two without using.”

“But you go back to it,” I reminded him. “You always go back.”

“Like I told Jacob,” said Marcus. “Crystal meth is one of the most addictive substances known to man. It’s nearly impossible to quit without some form of help. He needs therapy and counseling and—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted. “It’s like you’re beating it into my brain. I just want to get out of here, Mom. Can we go now?”

I felt torn. I glanced over at Marcus, begging him with my eyes to do something.

“I wish I could help,” said Marcus. “I think Jacob has a lot to offer this world, but only in a life of sobriety. Without that, he’ll have nothing.”

“That’s not true,” said Jacob. “I have my music.”

“How’s that going?” asked Marcus with a knowing look. “Is your band getting lots of gigs? Any recording contracts?”

Jacob swore at Marcus, then went out, slamming the door behind him.

“I’m really sorry,” I said.

“It’s not your fault, Glennis.”

I shook my head. “You can say that, but it sure doesn’t feel that way” He stood up now. “You need to keep coming to the codependent classes, you know. Even if Jacob refuses treatment, you still need to take care of yourself. Perhaps even more so if Jacob continues doing meth.” I nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

He put his hand on my shoulder. “Believe it or not, I know how you feel right now.”