Tuesday Night Miracles (40 page)

“Jane, you must answer the question and the sooner the better. The police are here. They won’t wait much longer before they come up.”

Jane nods as if she already knew that. She has already guessed that she will be going to either a padded cell or an unpadded cell.

“I can’t do it myself,” she admits. “I need help. Right this moment I can’t think of a single thing I’ve done that hasn’t hurt someone. And I’m so tired, Dr. Bayer. I am so tired.”

Dr. Bayer gets up slowly and holds out her hands to help Jane to her feet. She’s amazed that her knees aren’t screaming at her, but relieved when Jane takes her hands. She tugs Jane to her feet.

Then she explains what is about to happen, even though she’s not certain Jane is following her or even listening. They will walk downstairs. Jane will surrender to the police. Dr. Bayer will order that she be taken to the locked hospital psychiatric unit and placed on a suicide watch. Dr. Bayer will then write up a report for the attending physician and Jane will be sedated, sleep for a very long time, and begin inpatient treatment for as long as it takes.

Jane doesn’t say a word as they turn and start to walk out of the closet and through the bedroom. She finally pauses before they leave the bedroom.

“Will I have to go to jail?”

“Only if Derrick presses charges.”

“What about what happened before?”

“You are being voluntarily committed to the hospital, and that means you are asking for help,” she explains, gently placing her hand on Jane’s arm. “If things go well for you, the judge will most likely overlook this and he will listen to what I have to say. But, Jane—”

Dr. Bayer stops before she finishes. Jane must realize how absolutely crucial what she is going to say next is. She squeezes Jane’s arm, and Jane looks startled.

“But what?” Jane finally asks.

“Jane, you have to try. What you did here tonight will forever change your life. That doesn’t mean things won’t get better. The
but
is the trying, and trying sincerely. You won’t fool anyone now.”

Jane says “Okay” so softly that Dr. Bayer makes her repeat it. Then, as she gets up, Jane picks up a crinkled piece of paper that has been sitting near her left hand.

“Can I bring this?” she asks.

“What is it, dear?”

Jane slowly unfolds the paper and turns it around so that Dr. Bayer can look at it. It takes Olivia only a second to realize that she’s looking at Jane’s fourth assignment. It’s a beautifully drawn watercolor of a man and woman holding hands and walking toward a lake filled with swans.

“Jane, it’s lovely! You did this?”

Jane nods.

“Is this what you want?”

Jane nods again.

“Then think about this, think about what you want and know that anything is possible. Never give up, Jane. This picture will become real, and I’ll make certain they let you keep it.”

Jane smiles, throws her arms quickly around Olivia’s shoulders, and whispers “Thank you” and then she turns and heads down the steps. At the bottom of the stairs, Jane pulls away and walks up to Derrick, who flinches but quickly recovers.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, without meeting his eyes, and then she hurries toward the two police officers.

One of the officers takes Jane to the waiting car while the other talks quietly with Dr. Bayer for a few moments. She signs the commitment papers and, after the last officer leaves, explains everything to Derrick, who is heartsick.

“Jane will need you, Derrick, but you must also take care of yourself,” she explains, as they stand in the dark, two lonely soldiers surveying a tragic scene. “She has a lot of work to do. It’s not just the anger that has wrapped itself around her. You need to keep talking to someone, too. Be kind to your own heart.”

As she walks to her car, Olivia knows it is going to take more than a few minutes to process what has happened this evening. Eventually she will examine every movement, every word she said, every possible outcome. But first she needs to take care of herself. That is always the best advice.

Driving home, Olivia wishes she could call ahead and have Phyllis mix her an extra-large Jameson. She’d also love it if Phyllis could turn on the porch light, draw her a hot bath, and let herself out to go to the bathroom.

An hour later, showered, wearing her navy bathrobe, drink in hand, and with Phyllis properly taken care of—treats and all—Olivia dims the kitchen light and scoops up the fortune cookie she never got a chance to eat before she ran out the door.

She smiles and all but falls into her chair. Phyllis doesn’t even bother to look up until she hears the cookie crumble. Olivia breaks the cookie in half and slides out the tiny white piece of paper with her fortune written on it.

“This could be it, Phyllis,” she says with a laugh. “We may have to buy a lottery ticket tomorrow.”

Never miss a chance to love
.

Olivia places the fortune in her left hand, closes it, and then brings her hand to her heart, smiling as if she really has won the lottery.

Then, after a very long sip of whiskey, she picks up the phone to share her good fortune with someone in Florida who has been waiting all evening for her to call.

46

Tie a Yellow Ribbon

T
uesday starts out like an early winter gift. The sky is blazing blue, temperatures in Chicagoland rise to a blessed fifty degrees, and the spirits of the land seem to rise along with the temperatures. People are honking not because they are upset but because they think they have been magically transported to heaven.

Nirvana lasts a mere half day. By midafternoon, the skies have opened up and half the city is searching for Noah. By a quarter to seven, when Leah, Grace, and Kit are leaving for their date at the old jail, the temperature drops so suddenly it’s a given that the rain will soon turn into snow.

Dr. Bayer is smart enough to take a taxi. The forecast calls for three to four inches of the white stuff, and she knows shoveling out a car in the morning will be about as appealing as a sharp stick in her right eye. Phyllis is happily settled at a friend’s house for the evening sleepover, and Olivia has dressed in her prison garb—a classy dark blue cotton (of course) jogging suit, her white Adidas walking shoes, and a white silk turtleneck that feels like soft wind against her skin.

The ten-minute ride to pick up Leah gives Olivia a chance to mentally prepare for what will happen next. Most of her work is done, and it’s now up to the remaining three class members to pull themselves up by the bra straps and get through the night with as much introspection as possible.

She’s carrying a small tote bag with water, some snacks that the other women are not allowed to have, a notebook in case she gets a brilliant idea during the night, and a novel she has only been able to look at and not yet read.

Dr. Bayer loves spending the night at the old jail. She has done so only twice before, when associates were having in-service meetings about recidivism. And she has always wanted to do what she is doing with a group, or with special clients. It’s obviously not by-the-book, but the old building is absolutely beautiful, even if the housing units are cells, and there’s something magical about being isolated.

She actually sleeps down the hall from where the women sleep, and she won’t be able to hear them if they talk to one another. It’s important that they know this. If one of them called to her she could hear that, but she doesn’t listen on purpose. A lot of what should happen during the night will hopefully be simple, open exchanges from one woman to another. It’s amazing what happens when people are alone and yet can still share. Olivia swears it’s one of the best places for thinking in the world.

The room where Dr. Bayer sleeps is very tiny, actually smaller than the cells where the women stay. Years ago, a closet was converted into an overnight room and Olivia has claimed it as her own. She has a single metal bed, a side table with a lamp, and a small window that allows her to look out into the street. She sleeps in a sleeping bag that she left the last time she spent the night. It’s rolled up on the edge of the bed, with her head pointed toward the back wall so that she can see the night sky.

What she loves most about the room is the simplicity and the quiet. There’s something seductive about losing all the trappings of everyday life and knowing that, for a short period of time, she must simply listen and be still.

She knows that some people have never been able to understand the life of cloistered nuns and their monastic brothers. But Olivia gets it. She has a dear friend, a former mathematics professor at the University of Chicago, who entered the convent when she was fifty. Most of her friends thought she had gone crazy, but the lure of silent offerings, the pace of solitary routines, the spiritual joy of a life of constant prayer was more than understandable to Olivia.

Hasn’t she been living nun-like herself? Olivia smiles at the thought of all of that changing as the taxi pulls up in front of the women’s shelter, and Leah walks quickly down the sidewalk, rain spattering everywhere, and gets into the cab.

Leah has never been inside a cab and sits at the edge of the seat as if she has just waltzed into the Magic Kingdom.

“Never?” Dr. Bayer knows she shouldn’t be surprised by this news, but she is.

“Never,” Leah reassures her. “Who would have thought I’d be having fun on the way to jail?”

Both women are laughing as they get out of the cab and run through a series of puddles toward the old jail. Kit and Grace are waiting for them under a huge red-white-and blue golf umbrella; Dr. Bayer swipes her entrance card at the metal door and they follow her into the building.

They shake like wet dogs, shrugging shoulders, pushing back hair, kicking legs, and then they stand in a circle and, without saying anything, wonder why Jane is missing.

The women are in a small entryway and are trying to look down the hall to see their accommodations.

“Before we get inside, I must tell you that Jane will not be with us tonight,” Dr. Bayer explains. “She had a setback and she’s no longer part of the class.”

The women’s eyes grow about an inch in diameter.

“Come on, Dr. Bayer!” Kit exclaims. “You can’t say she had a setback and not tell us what happened.”

Dr. Bayer hesitates. There is a certain level of confidentiality involved, but she knows if she doesn’t offer an explanation the women will fret all night. And, of course, this group is unlike any group she has every encountered. She knows they all care a great deal about one another.

And yet they must also know that life is always one challenge after another.

What she tells them is that Jane had a violent episode that was triggered by something very personal. She tells them Jane is in the hospital, and that she is safe and is being taken care of by professionals.

This news, of course, unleashes an avalanche of questions that Dr. Bayer answers as politely as possible.

No, Jane is not allowed to have visitors. Yes, this means she did not pass the class. No, because of the circumstances Jane may not necessarily be sentenced to spend time in jail. Yes, that decision will be made by the judge, but if she does well chances are the sentence will be suspended. Physically, with a heavy emphasis on the word
physically
, Jane is fine. Yes, she will tell Jane they are thinking of her and she will let them know when Jane is allowed to, or wants to, have visitors.

“Do not let this disrupt your experience tonight,” she advises. “Use this evening as a gift of time to think about what could be, what can be, what will make you happy. I can guarantee you that if you do that this night will be a gift that keeps appearing in your lives over and over again.”

“Is this the same jail where they take the high-school kids who are borderline and have gotten into trouble?” Grace asks.

“Yes. At-risk students are often made to spend the night here after they tour the real jail, or the state prison, and it’s amazing what happens when they’re released in the morning. Recidivism is knocked below twenty percent.”

“Well,” Kit says, with a slight swagger, “I, for one, am hoping we end up at seventy-five percent. That’s my personal goal. How about you two?”

“Absolutely,” Leah agrees.

Grace nods. Her jaw is set tight and, like Kit and Leah, she is a bit unnerved by what happened to Jane.

Dr. Bayer walks them through the entrance and around a corner where there is a huge set of metal doors. No one is saying anything. The entire building looks like a creepy movie set. Metal scrapes against metal as the huge doors swing open and Dr. Bayer ushers them inside and then follows.

She props open the door and explains that she will be spending the night in a room down the hall. She tells them that she won’t be able to hear them speaking but if they call for her she will surely hear that.

During the past week, the three women have barely thought of anything but this moment. What will it feel like when the doors close, what will they do, what will they share, what will rise to the top and spill out as they spend all those hours locked inside a small space.

Now the wondering is about to end as Dr. Bayer steps in front of them.

“When we started this class in September, I told you that it was going to be important to focus on what is ahead of you and not what is behind you. I know you will never forget what brought you here, but you have paid the price and now you have this lovely evening to think about who you have become, where you want to go—all the possibilities that are open to you.”

This is not what Leah, Kit, and Grace expected and they feel so empowered by what Dr. Bayer is saying that they can’t wait to get into their cells.

“When I close the door, I want you to do whatever you want to do or are compelled to do after you put things in perspective,” Dr. Bayer continues. “Write in your journals. You may talk. You may sleep. You may cry or do whatever you need to do, but mostly I’m urging you to let your mind dance with possibilities. Any questions?”

No one says a word.

Leah steps into the first cell, Grace the second, and Kit the third. The cells are all on the same side. The women can’t see one another, and that’s exactly what Dr. Bayer wants.

When she closes Kit’s door and turns to leave, she asks them one more time if they are okay, or have any questions. “I’m right down the hall and I’ll check on you in a few hours,” she adds.

Then she’s gone and all three women are standing in front of their cells, holding on to the bars, and looking into the dark, empty cells across from them.

It will be two hours before Olivia hears the first murmur of voices coming down the hall. She smiles when she notices. She knew these three wouldn’t be able to keep quiet, and she’s glad for that because she also knows that there is strength in numbers.

So many clients think they can go it alone, and often it’s the sweet colliding of the wounded that speeds recovery. Everyone in the world feels alone, feels as if she is the only person ever to have ridden out perilous emotions that have chained her to a place of great sadness. Olivia is beside herself, wondering what the conversations will be like during the next ten hours.

Leah, surprisingly, is the one who speaks first. She has been lying on her bed writing furiously in her anger log for two solid hours. Her hand is starting to cramp up and she hasn’t heard a peep from the other two women.

“Does anyone want to talk for a while?” she shouts, not realizing that Kit and Grace will be able to hear her if she talks normally.

“I’ve been dying to go to the bathroom and I’m afraid you’ll all hear me,” Kit says. “Can you talk with Grace for a while so I can go potty?”

Grace starts laughing so hard that Olivia can hear the echo roll down the hall.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Kit says, glaring at the old metal stool in the corner. “One night of public peeing is going to be enough to reform me, I’m telling you that right now.”

Leah lets out a howl that follows Grace’s laugh down the hall.

Dr. Bayer can’t believe it. These women are laughing! Well, she should have guessed this would happen. She gets up and wanders down the hall and stops at the entrance to the cells.

“Is everyone okay in here?” she asks, without looking.

“Kit’s going potty,” Grace announces.

“Good Lord,” Dr. Bayer says. “And that’s funny?”

“We thought so,” Leah admits. “I think it’s just a way to get us talking. We’ve been quiet since we got in here.”

“Okay,” Dr. Bayer says, shaking her head and stifling a laugh herself as she walks back to her room.

“I’m done,” Kit announces, which sets off another wave of laughter.

There is a pause when, without knowing it, all three women are standing and looking at the tiny window close to the ceiling in the cells across from them. All three of them say “It’s snowing!” at once, and the mood shifts from the tension-breaking laughter to something more somber and reflective.

“I love soft snow falling like this,” Kit admits. “When we were kids we would go crazy and run outside. My mom had to literally drag us back into the house.”

“Do you miss your mom, Kit?” Leah asks this so quietly, and with such emotion in her voice, that Kit pauses before she answers.

She knows that Leah hasn’t seen or heard from her mother in a very long time, and as the pain of missing her mother settles around her own heart she can’t imagine what it would have been like all these years not to have her mother in her life.

Her mother. The jewelry box. The letter she still hasn’t read. Can she tell them? Can she finally say it our loud? Kit could never understand why her wonderful mother ended up with such a traditional, strong-willed, dominant man. Her mother was usually a gentle, sweet woman, who pretty much went along with whatever her husband wanted, even if what he wanted wasn’t always the right thing to do.

Before her mother died, she tried to get Kit to realize that from the day they married she had her husband wrapped around not just one but all of her fingers.

Standing in the jail like this, Kit can actually focus on what her mother told her, those long and absolutely heart-wrenching talks they had during all those hours when Kit was nursing her mother before she died.