Peace Out (The Futures Trilogy Book 1) (12 page)

BOOK: Peace Out (The Futures Trilogy Book 1)
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ANNA AND SCOTT

 

 

I don’t see why we need Peace Out. If someone really wants to die, there is a 25 cent solution. Messy but effective.

Anonymous Comment Posted 8/2/2030, PO Discussion Board, Image of bullet attached.

 

 

“Drake bought a fresh salmon, flown in directly from the boat or something like that. He’s also making a berry salad. My job is to pick up the gelato on the way home,” Patrick said. “This guy does amazing small batches in crazy flavors, all of them delicious. I’ll have to call Drake to see which one he wants. The menu changes daily.”

“Scott and I are looking forward to it!” Anna said. “I was
going to bring a bottle of Pinot.”

“Perfect,” Patrick said. “Addi is really excited to see you again. She had so much fun playing with you last week.”

“She is such a sweet little girl,” Anna said. “She told me all about her preschool and her best friend Chrissy and her tap dancing class and the picture she drew of you killing an evil tree. I’m glad you put it up. It is a good one.” Patrick had a large corkboard on one wall with an ever-changing display of art by Addi, age 3, and Alex, age 6.

“Addi does love to talk,” Patrick said. “Thanks for listening to her.”

“She is so earnest,” Anna said. “It was adorable. She also told me all about Alex and how he protects her.”

“That was because of a trip to the lake earlier this summer. We were feeding the geese and a big one got aggressive. Alex jumped in front of her and chased it away.”“How chivalrous,” Anna said. “Addi and Alex look so much like you, but they have Drake
’s eyes.”

“Our peas in a pod. Drake swears the splicer took more of my DNA than his, joking of course.”

“Where did you surrogate?”

“We used a farm near Palm Springs. The same surrogate for both. Such a nice woman. She grew up on BL and needed a way out. She used the money from the farm to enroll in school. Three pregnancies later she earned a degree in nursing. She works at an Enclave near Ojai, I think.” There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Patrick called.

“Dr. Cleager, this is Clara Thibodaux and her son Jackson.”

“Thank you Megan,” he said.

A youngish looking man with prematurely graying hair opened the door. He was escorting an older woman in a red wool pea coat and khaki slacks, her white hair a fluffy cloud around her head. He helped her into a chair in front of Patrick’s desk and sat in the one next to her.

“So nice to meet you Jackson, Clara,” Patrick said. “I
’m Dr. Cleager, but you can call me Patrick. This is one of our interns, Anna Goddard. She is here to learn and observe, but if you like, she will leave the room.”

“She can stay,” Jackson said with a slight drawl. “Sorry to be speaking for my momma, but she has just been feeling so poorly lately.” He took his mother
’s hand, which was trembling a little. “She just doesn’t talk much anymore.”

Patrick pulled Clara
’s full Index up on his tablet. Anna pulled it up as well. Clara was 67 as of a month ago. She wasn’t terminal or under guardianship. It was mental illness. Clinical depression.

“Clara, I need to ask you some things before we can proceed. Can you shake your head yes or no for me?”

Clara nodded.

“Is it your desire to Peace Out?”

Clara nodded, Jackson rubbing her hand reassuringly.

“Clara, let me tell you what is going to happen over the next week,” Patrick said. “We will meet every day, right here in this room. In fact, we are going to meet this afternoon. We can talk about whatever you want to talk about or just sit quietly, though I will always have a few questions for you. At the end of the week, I will take you to a doctor who will help you Peace Out. It will be painless. You will go to sleep and you will not wake up again. Do you understand?”

Clara nodded.

“Why do you wish to Peace Out?”

Clara looked down and Jackson spoke. “My father passed away unexpectedly three years ago,” he said. “Momma loved him dearly and she wants to go be with him. Her psychiatrist has diagnosed her with clinical depression.”

Peace Out
’s policy was to refer any depressed individuals to counseling, regardless of age. Most of them got through their depression, either through medicine or therapy. Only those given an ultimate diagnosis of clinical depression were permitted to Peace Out.

“Thanks, Jackson,” Patrick said, tapping on his tablet. “Megan should be waiting for you outside the door and she will help Clara get settled.”

“I’ll be staying with Momma for the week,” Jackson said. “I’ve taken off work so I can be with her throughout this process.” He put his arm around his mother.

“Certainly,” Patrick said, “Just let Megan know and she will find you adjoining rooms.”

There was a soft knock on the door and Megan poked her head inside. “Mr. and Mrs. Thibodaux?” she asked. “Please come with me.” She shut the door behind them.

“What did you think about that intake?” Patrick asked.

“I thought Jackson was particularly solicitous of his mother,” Anna said. “Why?”

“What else?” Patrick said.

“He seemed like a very nice young man, very concerned about his mother’s welfare. I thought it was sweet that he didn’t want to leave her alone.”

“Think, Anna.”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at. Was something wrong?”

“Facilitation Tip #165. When someone wants to stay with an applicant for the full week, look for monkey business.”

“Really?” Anna asked. “Why? I would think most applicants would be happy to have someone with them.”

“Someone who speaks for them? Someone who maintains physical contact throughout the entire meeting?”

Anna paused. “As if to ensure that the right answers are given?”

Patrick raised his eyebrows.

She thought some more. “Clara kept her eyes downcast,” Anna said. “She didn’t look at us once.”

“Yes,” Patrick said. “I believe we
may have a case of coercion. I could be wrong, but we’ll find out this afternoon.” He pulled up Clara’s Index. “Clara’s husband was an executive at Coke for over a decade. He died on the job. Heart attack. Left her in a very good position. She could buy into the Manhattan Beach Enclave if she wanted. After her husband passed, Clara moved here to live with Jackson. He’s her only son.”

Patrick pulled up Jackson
’s Index. “Our friend Jackson seems to have had trouble getting his life together. Three colleges and eight years for a degree in business. Blew through his trust fund. Total slasher. Freelance everything. Waiter, graphic designer, stand up comedian, screenwriter. He gives guitar lessons. Dreams of being a movie producer.”

“Sounds like someone who could use Momma
’s bank account.”

“Considering that Clara
’s move to LA took Jackson from a shared bedroom in an apartment near McArthur Park to a three bedroom condo in Santa Monica, I would say so.”

“So how will we know if this is coercion or not for sure?”

“You’ll see,” Patrick said.

Megan knocked and opened the door. “Dr. Cleager, your next appointment is here. This is Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”

“Come on in,” he said warmly. “You can call me Patrick.”

 

 

“For our first Facilitation session, I will need to see Mrs. Thibodaux alone,” Patrick said.

“Oh, we’d rather not do that,” Jackson said. “Momma gets upset when I’m not around, right Momma?”

Clara nodded.

“I’m sorry, Jackson,” Patrick said, “but it is standard procedure. Mrs. Thibodaux won’t be allowed to Peace Out without a few private Facilitation sessions even if all we do is sit in silence.”

Jackson blinked. “Well, I guess if it is required,” he said. “Though it
’s gonna be rather boring for y’all. Momma, I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.” He squeezed her shoulder and left.

“Mrs. Thibodaux, may I call you Clara?” Patrick asked.

She nodded.

“That is such a beautiful name,” he said. “I haven
’t met anyone with it for a long time. How did your parents choose it?”

Clara looked at the door. Then she looked back at Patrick. “I was named after Clara Barton,” she said softly.

Anna had no idea who that was and surreptitiously typed the name into her tablet.

“Founder of the Red Cross,” Patrick said, nodding. “I volunteered with them in high school.”

“So did I,” Clara said.

“How wonderful,” Patrick said. He paused and gave her a knowing look. “Now that drawl you have is a little more South Carolina than Georgia to my ears.”

Clara smiled.

“Did you spend some time in South Carolina?”

“That’s where I grew up.”

“When did you move to Atlanta?”

“High school,” she said.

“Do you still have family in the South?”

“No,” Clara said, looking down. “Jackson’s all I have left.”

“I
’m so sorry,” Patrick said. He paused. “Now Clara, I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly. Is it your desire to Peace Out?”

Clara glanced at the door. She nodded.

“Clara,” Patrick said. “I want you to know that you are safe here. I’m going to ask you again. Do you wish to Peace Out?”

Clara stared down at her lap. She nodded again.

“Listen to me, Clara. Peacing Out is not something that should be done lightly. It is not something you should do to please anyone else. So I am going to ask you one more time. Do you, Clara? Do you want to Peace Out?”

Clara started to cry.

Anna shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“If you are concerned about what Jackson might say or do if you change your mind,” Patrick said, “let me reassure you. If you wish, you never have to see him again. I can help you find an Enclave. Maybe near Atlanta if you like. Ones with gates and front desks. Approved visitor lists.”

Clara took a handkerchief out of her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “He won’t get into trouble, will he?” she asked.

“That is entirely up to you,” he said.

“He never hurt me,” she said.

“Well then, it doesn’t sound like Jackson will get into any trouble,” Patrick said.

“He just gets so angry. The whole world against him.”

“He needed money, didn’t he?” Patrick asked, his face sympathetic.

“For his movie,” Clara said. “I gave it all to him. All that I could.”

“But he needed more,” Patrick said.

Clara nodded.

“Your husband put the rest of your money in a trust,” Patrick said.

Clara nodded again.

“So you couldn’t give him what he wanted.”

She shook her head.

Anna watched as something broke inside Clara. The words poured out.

“Jackson says I want him to fail, that I enjoy watching him struggle. That I’m stifling him. He says I don’t love him, but I do. I love him so much. My only son.” She started crying again.

“He says Jackson Senior is waiting for me in heaven. That we can be together again. I do want that,” Clara said. “I do. It must be better than this.”

Anna tried to keep her face impassive. She could not believe the gentle young man outside the door was the same one bullying his mother into Peacing Out.

“Clara,
can you tell me about your diagnosis of clinical depression?”

“Jackson took me to a psychiatrist. A friend of his from
college. I talked with him three times a week for a month. Then I got the diagnosis. So here I am.”

“Clara, I do not believe you are clinically depressed,” Patrick said. “As your Facilitator, I will not confirm that diagnosis.

“But Jackson,” Clara said hesitantly
.

“I
’ve run your Index against the Enclaves near Atlanta. Marietta Enclave is your best match. Do any of these names sound familiar to you? Fiona Atkins? Jane Enright? Mirabelle Finch?”

Clara brightened. “I went to college with Fiona and Jane. We were sorority sisters
. They were dear friends once. Mirabelle sounds familiar.”

“She went to junior high with you in Charleston,” Patrick said.
“They all live in Marietta Enclave. Would you like to visit?”

Clara looked at the door once more. “What about Jackson?” she asked.

“If you want, I can have security remove him from our Center.”

Clara bit her lip. “
Will they hurt him?”

“Not if he goes peacefully,” Patrick said.

“I don’t want them to hurt him.”

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