Chapter 30: Fun In The Sun

I was back in the room with the old lady. She smiled at me. "How do you feel?"

I felt brutalized, violated, beat up, dizzy, weak… High from whatever concoctions that were feeding me, but sober from the uppers I wanted.

"Slow… I feel slow… Like… I'm lost in time. Lost in translation? I don't know… Another dimension. I know it sounds crazy. But you asked. I have no concept of time."

The lady listened intently as she scribbled notes. I heard the demon in my ear telling me to shut the fuck up, be quiet, don't divulge anything to them. Don't be weak. Don't be pathetic. I took a deep breath and although my lungs felt coated with shrapnel, it was my first intake of sober air in such a long time. The scent of a coconut candle wafted my nose. Clarity, even through the brain fog…

I told the woman where I came from. I told her how I got involved in smoking dope. I did not think of it as snitching at the time. I was already locked in this capsule, what harm could I do to the outside world?

"Good, good…" the woman praised me. She set her pen down. "That concludes today's session." The phone rang. She answered and nodded her head. "Your mother is on line three. Would you like to speak to her?"

My eyes grew wide.

"It's ok if you're not ready, we can tell her that—"

"I'll talk to her!"

The lady smiled and gestured to the security guard to take me back to my living quarters. The singular phone on the wall had a red dot, signifying someone on hold. I fell to my knees the moment I heard my mothers voice. I wailed like an infant as the other patients went about their day.

21 days later

My body had completely purged the demons. My circadian rhythm naturally adjusted to my situation as I awoke one hour before breakfast chow. Most of the other patients were still asleep, waiting for the coffee call in 30 minutes. I took this time of peace and quiet to shower, meditate, pray and write in my journal. I would read over what I wrote the previous day, then write out what my goals were for the day.

Coffee time. There was a long line of people itching for their fix. There was a patient on his routine walk up and down the halls. He looked like he had down-syndrome. He was surrounded by 4 nurses. Every time a patient made eye contact with him, he'd raise his arms out like a comical zombie, trying to choke their throat. The nurses gently pulled his hands down and kept him focused on his steps.

We were all led to the chow hall, no exceptions. Chow wasn't all that great, but I had made a few friends. Tyler was a 20-something year old guy that looked like he was a star quarterback for the high school football team. He always had invisible drumsticks in his hands and would tap his feet on the floor. He was obsessed with the breakdown in 'One' by Metallica and would stamp his feet in perfect unison to the imaginary soundtrack. We were not allowed to have music. I would use my brain to imagine a song playing in my head. That was the best we could do.

Another friend I made was Gordon. He was tall, skinny and had a rose tattooed on his neck. It was his only tattoo. Apparently he had a problem with women, but I never knew exactly why he ended up in the mental institution with us.

Shiloh was a young guy too. He would smoke meth and play video games all day and tried to kill his parents. A woman told us how she injected meth while she was pregnant and felt her baby kicking her womb as it died. Black tar fiends told us their stories of selling their bodies to their dealers. There was no shortage of heartbreak in our discussions.

We all talked about our past lives at chow, but it always seemed like people were tip-toeing around the darkest truths. No matter how much we expressed, there was always something more we were holding back. I did the same. I never told anyone about the girl with red eyes. I mainly talked about how I got caught and what I liked to do when I was high. Sniff girl's feet, I would say half-jokingly.

My favorite time of day was FUN IN THE SUN; an optional 45 minutes to go outside and play in a giant cage. We were also allowed to play in the indoor basketball court. Some of us would whisper tactics on how we could escape, but I was never interested.

I'd rather walk in circles, play hopscotch, scribble dinosaurs and clouds with chalk on the ground, do reps on the pull-up bars, burpees and pushups…There was a game room but it wasn't always open. They had a PS2 inside! It depended on which nurse was accompanying us that day. Some nurses were chill while others were wicked in their cruelty.

I still heard the demon in my head from time to time. "They're indoctrinating you. Do not obey." The longer I ignored it and focused on physical activities, the less it spoke.

Rachel and I started talking during FUN IN THE SUN. She had the most exquisite hummingbird tattooed on her face. She never told me why she was inside, but the other females explained what they had heard, about her sleepwalking escapades.

Vanessa was an older woman that looked at me like a doggone snack. I will not deny that she stirred up erotic fantasies in my head. She somehow always had pouches of chewing tobacco that she would slip into my hand. I would suck on these while I took a shower then flush the remains down the toilet.

One day she gave me a piece of paper with her number. "I'm getting out soon. When you get out, call me and we can have some fun together. I'm the neighborhood dealer so I know where to get all the good stuff." She winked at me. I flushed her number down the toilet.

After lunch we were free to do as we wished. There were optional classes and activities. I volunteered for everything they offered. It was actually fun to live on a schedule like this, looking at the calendar every day to see what activities were planned for me.

I was making the most of this purgatory and avoided the negative people that sulked about wherever they went. I felt like their negative energy was contagious, so I stayed away from them like a bad disease. I wanted to maintain my momentum and stay clean once I got out of this place. If I'm ever allowed to leave. We had a few that had been admitted for many years. I hoped that wasn't going to be me, but I accepted the possibility.

I attended a few AA meetings, but I always felt like they were far too 'woe is me' and 'pity party' to be conducive to growth. Regardless, I learned a few good things from my sessions. The primary one was taking personal inventory of my mistakes and regrets. I wrote down an exhaustive list of everything in my memory banks that I wished to change. Beating up that kid in the swimming pool in middle school, stealing quarters from my mom's purse, that one time I watched my friend kick a cat and I didn't say anything to prevent it, smoking jib when I knew it was bad… Some regrets are too dark to ever tell another person.

Sometimes I'd go to the family room to get some books. It didn't take long to clear out the catalog. Every now and then I'd play Jenga with the other patients. It was the only board game that we had. A lot of the pieces were missing. When we were done playing, we'd look out the window together, talking about the good old days and what we had waiting for us in the outside world.

I thought about Jocelyn and Kiera a lot, sometimes Gordo and Ariel. I decided that I would try my best to live a life separate from them, focusing on my mom, sister and Stormy. I had to make up for all the mistakes I made. The sticking point would be Kiera. I dreamt of her constantly.

The longer time passed without a phone call, the more I felt abandoned. My mother, sister and father would call me. But Stormy, Kiera, Jocelyn, Ariel, Gordo? They all seemed to forget I existed. I gave them grace, but with each passing week, my heart broke apart.

At 7pm we all lined up for our nighttime meds. Occasionally a patient would stir up some trouble, complaining that they didn't want to take any more medicine, that this place was a prison, that she's got rights… We all kept quiet, staring at the floor while they escorted her away into the padded room. This place wasn't all that bad if you just shut up and complied. Once you rocked the boat, that's when it became difficult. Keep the peace. If not for yourself, then for the rest of us. We are all suffering together. This is our life now. Let's make the most of it. Wanna play Jenga?

Day 40

Many patients came and went. I was always jealous when they walked past that DO NOT CROSS line to reunite with their brethren. My roommate who jerked off in the bed next to me was still here and still never spoke. The other roomie left a few days ago. I expected a quick replacement but it was only two of us for now. I made friends with Frank, a 53 year old guy who had been in this mental institution for 6 years. Apparently he never wanted to leave because he couldn't 'cope' with the outside world. He was very strict about how he kept his room and bathroom. Sounded like a pain in the ass to be his roommate.

The weekly interviews with the old lady still occurred. "The nurses are reporting substantial progress with you."

"Thanks. I'm feeling like myself again. Reading books, writing, working out…" I shuffled my feet, wanting to ask how long I had left in this place, but always repressed it. I felt like I knew the answer and would rather not get my hopes up.

"Mr. Katz, I want to tell you a story. It's about a patient we had a couple years ago. He's been transferred to a different facility. This man was into methamphetamine, same as you. He started off small, using it to pick up extra shifts at work or to party on the weekend. He told me he once stayed awake for 28 days."

The woman gauged my reaction. I was in disbelief. "I thought the exact same thing. I didn't believe him, that is, until I looked through his record…

"One day, he started to hear voices. First as whispers, but then he heard them as clear as my voice is to you. This man had two daughters. The voices told him that they were the spawn of the devil and needed to be sent to hell where they belonged. He saw his daughters turn into demons. He grabbed them by the horns and drowned them in the bathtub at the same time.

"I've never told anyone this story. Patient confidentiality and all that. I tell you this in hopes you remember it when you leave this place… To never go back to the devil. If you ever find yourself near the drugs, please remember what we talked about here."

I nodded my head, "Thank you. I will remember."

The woman smiled and scribbled in her notes. "I'll put in a recommendation for you to leave, but I have no say on how long that will be. A few days, a few months… A year. It's not up to me. But in my opinion, you are more than capable of dealing with the outside world. What do you think?"

I agreed with her, trying to appear as humble as possible and conceal my excitement to get out. I promised her that she would not be disappointed. I left her office. The story she told me gave me nightmares. I could never forget such a horrifying thing.

Day 66

I said my goodbyes to everyone in the hall. My mom and sister were waiting for me. I thanked the nurses for being so kind, especially the pretty ones. They gave me a plastic baggie full of my things that I arrived at the hospital with. They felt like relics of another life. Parliament cigarettes, my phone, my belt, my shoe laces…

The moment I saw my mom and sister, every stoic thread in my body disappeared. I wept as we hugged and I apologized for abandoning them.

I stepped outside the doors of the hospital and was high once again, but this time, it was purely on life. Nothing existed outside of this moment. It was like I was seeing Earth through a fresh pair of eyes, where everything was exciting, beautiful, sunny-side up and glass half-full. I threw away my cigarettes. I vowed to always cherish the moment. To never get caught up in the drag of day-to-day life. To always remember the gutter and how much it took away from me. Most importantly, to maintain the perspective on how far I've come and where I want to go.

For the first few months I had to give myself a pep-talk in the mirror. "Today I will stay sober, no matter what. One day at a time. Always move forward… Make one definite step daily toward your goals!"

After a while, it became ingrained in my bones that I was not a drug-addict any longer. I did not visit Gordo, Ariel or Jocelyn. I was afraid if I saw them they would lure me back into hell. I heard from Red that Ariel was fired, which I thought was strange. Didn't she own the store? I didn't understand business politics. A new owner was established. None of the old employees stuck around.

Red said that me getting caught up had destroyed their lives because I 'snitched' on them. I remembered all the things I told the old lady during our weekly interviews. To this day I wonder if I might get killed over this unintentional snitching. I was drugged up and really didn't think of the consequences of telling my life story. I laid it all out on the table.

Ariel and Gordo moved back to California. I wondered what happened to their house? In weakness I tried to contact Kiera but she did not have the same phone number. Did they ever get sober? Or are they still doing the same shit in a different part of the world?

I thought of Jocelyn almost every day, wondering where she was and if she was okay. It might sound pathetic, but I still loved her. It was a matured love, one that transcended our bed-business. I wanted to see her succeed. I wanted to see her happy and full of life.

I went to a few AA meetings, but in the outside world they were even more of a cult than in the mental institution. A bunch of old geezers that wallowed in their sorrows, claiming that drug addiction was a part of them, forever a 'disease' that they could not defeat on their own. What a pitiful frame of mind. I still do not agree with this horse shit. I was free from the demons and living proof that you don't need to join a cult to stay clean. All it takes is a valiant goal and giving every ounce of your life force in dedication to achieve it. Accomplishing the goal is not the point. It is in the effort where we find peace. The old saying: shoot for the moon and you'll reach the stars…

I got a job at a sandwich place. The celebrity spokesperson turned out to be a pedophile which seemed to give us even more business since we were on the news. I met a girl one day. She was a customer and she gave me her number. That night we went to Westgate and acted like cringy teenagers in puppy love, sitting outside of her brother's house and kissing each other in the dark.

One day, I got a text from Jocelyn. We decided to meet up at a gas station. She was holding onto the back of some dude on a motorcycle. She was wearing practically nothing, despite it being winter time.

"Oh my FUUUCK, Kashi! Is that you?!! Damn, you got hotter!" Jocelyn skipped up to me. I took a step back… This was not the woman that I loved. Her hair was ragged and her face was covered in a multitude of scabs. Her lips had chunks of flesh missing. My eyes began to water, but Jocelyn didn't seem to notice.

"Meet my friend, Chris." The guy stayed sitting on the motorcycle, picking at his face in the tiny mirror.

"Yo yo yo, so… There's this party down the road. You wanna, you know, get giggity-gacked with us?"

My heart immediately pulsed rapidly. I felt a rush of speed enter my brain, just from my memories, and not just the drug binges. I remembered how she took my virginity. How fun she was to be around, ranting and raving in the coffee shop. Her hair waving in the wind as she rolled around on her skates. That precious smile that always seemed to have malicious intent…

I remembered the yayo. I remembered the molly. I remembered how she cried into my shoulder. I remembered all the love I felt for her and still do. I remembered Zack's bloody face beneath me. I remembered the taste of Kiera's feet on my lips after we did that hot rail.

The memories seemed to be from a separate life from my own. My lips quivered as I felt the deepest sorrow in my life. Was this how Stormy felt when she saw I was gacked out? Thinking to herself, what happened to the friend I loved so dearly?

"No. I can't."

Jocelyn pouted her lips. "Aww, come on, pleeeease? He's not my boyfriend, I promise. It can be just me and you…"

My heart was splitting apart. I couldn't take it. "No, Jocelyn. I have to go… Goodbye."

I walked back home. I heard Jocelyn wailing behind me, crying for me to come back. I wanted to turn around so bad to comfort her, to save her. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I expected her to curse me out, to establish dominance over me like she used to. That girl was dead and gone.

That night, I reminisced on all the memories I had with her and Kiera. I awoke in the night, having nightmares about beating up Zack in her bedroom. It was still satisfying, despite the brutality, but for some reason I had a deep regret over the situation.

I sat up in bed and grabbed my journal. I cried and my tears soaked the paper. I wrote the first actual pages of my production idea that night, but it turned into a novel during the writing process.

A story of two lovers in deep space, astronauts trying to make their way to each other in a dying space station. I named the female protagonist Jocelyn.