Detour from Normal (23 page)

Eventually we ended up leaning against a wall by the entrance to the unit. While we stood there talking, a pretty girl with brunette hair and a shapely figure and another female employee unlocked the doors and walked in. Not knowing what they were setting themselves up for, they stopped right in front of us and began a dialogue. The pretty girl stood right in front of Rude Guy. I could see the writing on the wall, and sure enough, in no time, Rude Guy began to crank up.

"Man, I'd sure like to get a piece of that fine ass," he said to me, loud enough that anyone within fifty feet could hear him.

I was embarrassed by the situation.
I wish he'd shut up. She's only six feet from us,
I thought to myself but then I realized it was a perfect opportunity to test the shield again. I encouraged him, and before long he was saying such nasty things that I can't bear to repeat them. The pretty girl and her friend calmly continued chatting as if we didn't exist. They could hear each other just fine but couldn't hear a word he was saying. It was wickedly hilarious.

Further experiments proved to me that though people's shields could be easily broken down when they were alone, it was nearly impossible to break them down when they were in groups. It seemed that the power of the shield was magnified by similar shields in proximity.

Within hours of waking up in that unit, I wanted to go home. I didn't want to break out; I just wanted to get out. So around ten o'clock I decided to use what I'd learned. I politely approached the nurses and PAs one at a time to determine what I needed to do to get out of there. I had quickly learned that I'd be ignored if I spoke to a group of staffer that they'd be more apt to follow the rules to a T. I spoke in a clear, calm voice, informing them that I had been in the hospital the day before and didn't know why I had ended up in the psych unit. I quickly adjusted my wording, tone, and choice of words on the fly if their shields flickered in distrust. Before long I knew everything I needed to do to get out and had all the paperwork necessary. I knew who I needed to talk to, where to go, and who needed to sign each form. So I made it my mission not only to take care of everything but also to push things along—in a nice way. In short order I came to the last person I needed to talk to: the staff psychiatrist. I waited by his office door until he finished with another patient and then lightly rapped on the doorframe.

"Excuse me, Dr. Bailey, but I was told you could help me with these papers?" Though it was early, Dr. Bailey was already in a sour mood from dealing continuously with the same kinds of patients, that and his office was right across from where Rude Guy had been berating the nurse just a short time before. Perhaps he'd heard more of what Rude Guy had to say than others did. I promptly put him at ease by communicating in ways that I noticed gained his trust and improved his mood. When I left his office, he had a smile on his face, and I had my final stamp of approval.

By noon on my first day, I was done and ready to be released. Though I was at the highest level of mania I'd ever reached, I'd convinced everyone that I was normal and that I had been placed there by accident. About that time Beth called to find out when she could visit me. To her surprise, she was told that I was being discharged and that she could come pick me up.

With nothing better to do, I figured I might as well be somewhere other than in a psych ward. I nicely asked a nurse at the front desk near the entrance if I could wait in the lobby for my wife to pick me up. I could see that I was pushing the limits with her—she was visibly nervous about letting me walk. Normally patients had to wait in the unit to be officially released when their responsible party arrived. But I was so calm and courteous that she caved in. Shockingly, she did the unimaginable—she broke a rule, the most sacred of directives, and released me. She did it on the sly so no one would see her. We walked together to the entrance of the facility, she placed the key in the lock, turned it with a smile, and shooed me through the doorway

Once I was out, I realized that I had no idea where I was, let alone where the lobby was. No problem. I just politely asked the first hospital employee I encountered, and he was happy to escort me there personally.
Nothing like the red-carpet treatment,
I thought. Once in the lobby, I plopped down in a chair, laced my hands behind my head, and watched CNN on a flat screen TV.

Unbeknownst to me, Beth was on the phone with the charge nurse moments after I was released, trying to find out how it had happened. The charge nurse knew nothing about my release and, worse yet, couldn't find me in the unit. It took her a while to discover that a nurse had let me out. Within minutes of getting comfortable in the lobby, I noticed two PAs headed my way.

"Sir, you need to come with us," one said.

"OK, no problem. I'm just waiting for my wife."

Rats,
I thought but remained calm and courteous. They took me back to the unit, locked the doors, and then stood guard over them so I wouldn't slip out again. After a while Beth arrived and reluctantly took me home.

That afternoon, despite everything that had happened—and all that was happening—we made love. It was the first time we'd done so since before April 10 when I'd unknowingly injured myself swinging that pick into the hard caliche of my backyard. Nearly a month and a half had passed since then. It turned out to be the most momentous lovemaking of my life. With my heightened senses, I could detect things I'd never been able to before; where previously there had been mysterious and finicky erogenous zones, there now were precise erogenous buttons. Just as I could read everyone's emotions in the Phoenix Mercy psych unit with my heightened senses, I could read everything about my wife. I pushed every button I could push until Beth could take no more. My own body was like that of a teenager. With no fear or worries and an endless supply of adrenaline, it was perhaps even better than when I was young. With my mind so clear and with an open freeway in my brain to allow all the physical sensations full priority, I felt things I had never imagined possible. It was an experience beyond human experience, and I wished it would never end, but Beth was soon exhausted so I pulled her close and whispered, "We should rest."

"But what about you?" she asked breathlessly.

"I'm OK. Maybe we can do something again later."

After that we lay quietly for a time, Beth nearly asleep while I remained wide awake marveling at what I'd just experienced. The kids
were away, and it was just us at home with nothing but time. It felt like everything was finally going to be all right. Unbeknownst to me, things were not going to be all right and that was the last time I would even share a bed with my wife for a long time.

Chapter 20

A DANGER TO MYSELF
AND OTHERS

I wasn't home very long before people started trickling in. Among those people were Dana and Tim. I was happy to be around both of them but there was an ominous aura surrounding the other people. Around 5:00 p.m., the doorbell rang and Beth went to answer it. She welcomed two people and began talking with them in the entryway Shortly thereafter she escorted a slim blonde woman and another individual, who seemed to be shadowing her, into the family room. She introduced the blonde woman to me: Shirley Steinfeld from Family Crisis. I had no idea what that was, but it sounded like another place to confine me. I walked over and politely shook her hand, introducing myself in return. As our hands connected, I immediately sensed animosity toward me, as if she had formed a dislike before even meeting me, something I had experienced a lot recently.

As Shirley and her companion made themselves comfortable in the family room, Beth began recounting the entire story of what had happened from the beginning at Desert Hope. I'd heard the story many times, and I didn't want to be around Shirley, so I made my way toward the backyard sliding door, anxious to get away from whatever was happening. Dana and Tim followed close behind me.

Soon I was having an animated discussion with them in the backyard regarding the bubbles in the pool. I turned on the pump and tried to show them the undulating and pancake bubbles. To my surprise, they didn't dispute my claims. All of a sudden, I thought,
Maybe they are like me.
I played with Washington and explained my theory about choice to Tim. He seemed to understand.
Finally,
I said to myself. I was no longer alone in the world, the only person who could see the bubbles, the only person without negative emotions. I'd been around them both; could it actually have rubbed off? Soon we were laughing at ideas for the new world. We even came up with a term for ourselves: "new thinkers." The rest of the people in the world were "old thinkers."

Whenever I went into the house to get a drink or to get something from the garage to show Tim and Dana, I felt uncomfortable around the group of people somberly talking in the family room. Whatever was going on, it was a very serious matter, but I was enjoying myself too much with my brother and friend to get involved. The crisis team eventually left, and Dana, Tim, and I decided to get some dinner. I suggested the Chinese restaurant run by my daughter's boyfriend's parents, so that's where we ended up.

In my mind I had a notion of what people without negative emotions would be like. They would of course be like me: bubbly, caring, full of energy and ideas. It never occurred to me that it could be otherwise. Well, dinner with Tim and Dana was a real revelation.

Everything seemed fine as the waiter took our order. I was disappointed that it wasn't Kaitlin's boyfriend. He frequently helped his parents out. Then it was quiet except for the occasional tapping of Dana's fingers on his BlackBerry Initially the quiet was very unsettling, so I started making small talk. No one responded. It appeared that when
people were new thinkers, they weren't worried about offending anyone, so if they weren't interested or didn't have anything to say, they just sat quietly. Things like common courtesy went out the window. My impression of those particular new thinkers was that they were emotionally flat and uncaring. Something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

During my discussion I brought up one of my ideas for funding Utopia that would only be possible if we were contagious. First we could infect our immediate places of employment so that everyone would get along superbly. Though we might lose a few people who chose to pursue other passions, the remaining workforce would be such a passionate, cohesive team that they would produce a quantity and quality of work previously unheard of. We could then immediately buy enormous amounts of stock in the companies. Secondly, why stop there? Every company was going to experience the same thing as the change spread. The entire stock market would take a big jump. Eventually, it would equalize at a new standard, but in the meantime, we could make a killing. My brother got the bright idea to take advantage of that to crush the federal government. He tapped on his BlackBerry for a bit and then announced, "Done." He had created a one-man company called
Freedom.com
or some such thing that would grow so fast it would crush the government financially in no time. I laughed uproariously over that. It sounded far-fetched, but it was right up my brother's alley, and I believed he could really pull it off. Later I felt guilty about the impact that would have on the common man, and I convinced him to shut the company down and instead start another just to make money for himself. Tap, tap, tap...

"Done," he exclaimed.

During dinner my brother was on his BlackBerry frequently. He even got up a few times and went outside to talk to someone. It seemed
that work was running his life. What I didn't realize was that all the text messages and phone conversations were about me. A meeting was taking place right before my eyes to determine what was going to be done with me, and, by the end of dinner, the decision had been made. My brother put his BlackBerry in his pocket and didn't use it again until we headed home.

We all decided to go to Baskin-Robbins after dinner, which was just across the street. As we walked in, Tim and Dana walked ahead of me. I was surprised when neither of them held the door and it literally swung closed in front of me. After I had ordered my ice cream and was waiting to sit until Tim and Dana had gotten theirs, Dana turned to me and asked, "Why aren't you already sitting down?" I felt like an idiot. I was stuck in my old ways of being courteous. Why should I worry if I hurt someone's feelings? For one, I didn't worry; for another, they didn't care. I hustled to a table. We sat quietly and ate until our cones were finished. I watched Dana and Tim in amazement. It was so strange for no one to be talking. I hoped the future of changed people wasn't going to be like that. I didn't like it at all. It wasn't the way I'd imagined people without negative emotions, but it did make me wonder if it was true. So many of the things we do are to prevent hurting others' feelings or make them feel better. All those needs might disappear. What a strange world it could be.

After we finished, we got up, and I made a point to hold the door for Tim and Dana. I couldn't help myself. As we walked to the car, Dana fished his BlackBerry out. If I'd been able to see it, I would have seen him text, "on our way."