Clean Page 11

  He’s at the part in the story where he’s really strung out and hasn’t showered for weeks and doesn’t know the last time he ate. Everyone’s leaning in to listen, and it’s almost like we’re not in the middle of a bowling alley with loud country music playing and balls and pins crashing all over the place. He’s almost whispering when he says, “I probably weighed about eighty pounds, I was so sick. I remember just sitting there under the freeway on an old flea-infested mattress, listening to the cars driving over me, and I decided that as soon as I got up enough strength I was going to climb up there and jump in front of those cars, because there was no point in living anymore if I was going to keep living like that.” I can see tears welling up in Eva’s eyes, and it sounds like everyone else has stopped breathing.

  “But just then my phone starts ringing, so I answer it,” the New Guy says. I look around, and no one else seems surprised by a homeless kid having a cell phone. “It’s this army recruiter that came to my high school months ago, before I dropped out. I don’t remember giving anyone my number, but here was this guy calling me. I never felt so lonely in my life as I did right then, and all of a sudden here’s this total stranger on the phone asking how I’m doing, and for some reason I decide to tell him everything. I tell him about the drugs and the stealing and the living on the streets. I tell him about the bruises all over my veins, and how I miss my mom and my little sister. He just listens and doesn’t say anything, and after I’ve told him everything and I’m just sitting there crying into the phone, he tells me if I can live through that, then I can do anything. Then he says that the army can teach me how to respect myself again, and he talked to me for a half an hour about my future. No one’s ever done anything like that for me, not even my own mother. And here’s this guy I barely remember meeting, telling me he believes in me.

  “And that’s when I knew what I had to do. So I caught the bus to my mom’s house and told her I was done and I wanted help. Now I’m here and I’m going to get sober and get my GED. Then I’m going to join the army and they’re going to pay for me to go to college someday. And I know this is what I’m meant to do, that there’s a reason the recruiter called me and offered me a new life just as I was about to kill myself. I owe it to him. I’ve never believed in God before, but something happened that day. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but whatever it was, it saved my life.”

  All the girls look like they either want to cradle him or rip his clothes off, and all of this goodness, all of his faith and trust and hope for the future, something about it is making me extra aware of the edge I’ve been feeling the last couple of days. I’ve been feeling a little off, like maybe there’s something lurking beneath the surface, like maybe there’s someone here besides the sweet innocent Christopher everybody knows, and maybe it’s about time for him to come out. I don’t know what it is, but the longer I’m in rehab, the more it grows. This thing that’s always been inside and hidden deep is getting bigger and stronger and threatening to show itself, and I want to stop it but I also don’t, and I don’t know if I’m ready, but I think maybe I want what’s inside turned outside, maybe I want everything out in the open, all my secrets laid out for everyone to see. I wonder what that would look like. I wonder what kind of mess it would make. I wonder if you can ever really be ready for the part of you that you’ve been hiding your whole life to finally come out.

  There’s some commotion, and the crowd of New Guy worshippers disappears. Everyone’s rushing to turn their bowling shoes in because Lilana is screaming that it’s time to go back. The rest of the bowling alley is watching us with one of three looks on their faces: disgusted, mesmerized, or horrified, and everyone’s keeping their distance. Kelly runs up and says someone got caught drinking a beer they stole from a Normie bowler when he wasn’t looking, so now we all have to get punished and go home early. You can tell everybody’s pretty depressed about it because no one’s laughing or making fun of anybody, and just like that, our one big chance to feel normal is gone.

  KELLY

  Everybody’s been acting

  weird lately, like we’re all about to simultaneously start our periods. Even Christopher’s been cranky, which is totally out of character, because you’re supposed to be able to always count on him to give you some hope in the future of humanity. Jason’s gotten quiet and reclusive, Olivia’s talking, Eva’s happy, and I don’t know what I am, but I know that I’m different. It’s like there’s been this big shift, like something’s clicked, and we all found this different version of ourselves we didn’t know existed. And I guess that’s a good thing. I just wish it didn’t feel so fucking weird.

  I called my mom and asked her to send me the school assignments I’ve missed while I’ve been in here, so now I have this pile of three weeks’ worth of homework to do. As soon as I opened the package, I immediately regretted it and wanted to send it all back. I remembered why it was so much easier not to care. I was sitting on my bed with all the books and work sheets spread around me, and Lilana was yelling at me to put it away until study hour, and I felt like tearing it all up or throwing it out the window, and I wanted a drink so bad I thought the feeling was going to kill me, this feeling of being stuck and a failure and hating myself and afraid all at once. I was trying to breathe like Shirley taught us to do, trying to tell myself the feeling would pass, but I didn’t believe it, I just couldn’t believe it. The only thing I believed was that a drink would fix it. A drink and a line would make the feeling go away. At that moment that was the only thing that was true.

  I must have been crying, because Olivia came over and sat next to me and put her arm around me, and I didn’t even stop to think how weird it was that she was doing that. I just felt grateful, and her arm felt strong around me even though it was so skinny and brittle. That was this morning, and now it’s study hour, and I don’t know if I’m going to ever finish everything I’m supposed to, but I’m going to try, and that has to be enough. Olivia said she’d help me, and when I asked her why, she said, “Isn’t that what friends do?” and I said, “I have no idea,” and we laughed a long time about that. She has a nice laugh. You wouldn’t know by looking at her, but when she laughs, it sounds like something she was meant to do.

  I don’t feel great, but I don’t feel terrible, either, and I guess that’s how normal people feel most of the time. They live in the space between black and white, and their ups and downs are various shades of gray, not the extreme highs and lows I’ve always thought of as normal. I think that’s one of the major differences between us and them, between addicts and Normies. Somewhere along the line we got stuck on this roller coaster that only knows how to go to the highest up and the lowest low. We get high so we can feel invincible and perfect, but the feeling never lasts. Gravity always wins, and we fall fast, to a place lower and darker than many people will probably ever know. And the crazy thing is that this is just normal for us. We cycle through these extremes all the time, and it’s become as natural as breathing. Exhausting, but natural.

  We’ve forgotten what it looks like in the middle, but I’m guessing it looks something like this—sitting in a quiet room trying to do homework and wondering what’s for dinner. Simple. Nothing too exciting. Part of me feels relieved, but part of me also feels bored, like I have no idea what to do with myself, and I’m having a hard time sitting still in this chair. Part of me wants to get up and scream and tear my hair out, and part of me wants to lie down and curl up into a ball and fall asleep. And it’s making me anxious. Shirley says it passes, and I want to believe her. I want to believe that someday I’ll be able to sit in a chair without wanting to pull my hair out. Someday I’ll be able to concentrate on what I’m doing without having to look around the room every thirty seconds. Someday sitting still and being in my skin won’t feel like torture.

  I think we’re all feeling a little bit crazy. This is probably the longest any of us has been sober since we started using. Jason won’t stop tapping his pencil on his desk, Olivia keeps bouncing
her leg up and down, and Eva’s been twirling this one piece of hair on her finger for the last fifteen minutes. The room feels like it could blow any second, and Ponytail is just sitting up there in the front, reading his book and acting like he has no idea we’re all on the verge of losing our minds. It’s my third attempt at this geometry problem, and the numbers are all blurring into one another. I put my pencil to the paper. Then all of a sudden there’s shouting in the back of the room and I can feel the energy shift, just like that, from silence and tension to full battle mode.

  “What the fuck are you looking at, faggot?” It’s the Compulsive Liar. He’s out of his chair and throwing his insults in the general direction of Christopher, who’s just sitting there looking stunned. Everyone else has turned around to watch, and no one looks surprised.

  “Did you hear me, faggot?” Compulsive Liar says, all puffed up like a rooster, and Christopher shrinks in his seat. “I’m sorry?” he says, like he simply misheard. Who else but Christopher could be polite at a time like this?

  “What’s going on back there?” Ponytail says, but he sounds like he doesn’t really want to know. I bet he’d rather just run out of the room and out of this place and drive home to his regular life, where he can read his book in peace. Compulsive Liar acts like he didn’t even hear him, just keeps standing there staring at Christopher like he wants to kill him. I can’t tell for sure, but I think Christopher is shaking. I can see his fists balled up. He’s looking straight ahead, and I can only imagine what’s going on in his head.

  “Hey, faggot,” Compulsive Liar says. “I asked you what you were looking at.”

  “I wasn’t looking at anything,” Christopher says, and the words barely make it through his clenched jaws. There’s something on his face I haven’t seen before, like a storm cloud building.

  “You were looking at something, you piece of shit.”

  “Hey,” Ponytail says, but he’s not moving from his perch in the corner.

  “I wasn’t looking at anything,” Christopher says again, and now Jason’s getting out of his chair.

  “What’s the problem, Ryan?” Jason says, walking over from the other side of the room. He looks like somebody else all of a sudden, not like the pompous jerk who cares only about himself.

  “This little faggot was looking at me,” Compulsive Liar says, all chummy like he expects Jason to be on his side.

  “Don’t call me that,” Christopher says, barely a whisper.

  “What?” Jason and Compulsive Liar say in unison.

  “I said don’t call me that.” Christopher’s standing up now. “I’m sick of you calling me that.” Jason steps back, surprised, like he doesn’t recognize this kid standing in front of him who used to be Christopher. I don’t recognize him either. I don’t recognize anyone anymore.

  “Faggot,” Compulsive Liar says, and pushes Christopher in the chest. Ponytail’s still at the front of the room, hiding behind his chair, calling for help on his walkie-talkie. Christopher falls back a little but catches himself and grabs the back of his chair, and then I blink, and just like that the chair’s up in the air, and a sound like all the pain in the world is coming from somewhere inside Christopher’s chest, and there’s a look on his face like he’s possessed, like this sweet homeschooled boy has been replaced by a young man full of rage, and the muscles in his neck tense, and the chair starts its slow-motion descent down onto Compulsive Liar’s head, and I close my eyes, and Olivia screams, and I hear chairs being knocked over and the scrambling of feet away from the action.

  When I open my eyes, the room is caught in freeze-frame, Jason in the middle with one hand on Compulsive Liar’s chest and the other holding the chair in the air. Christopher lets go and hides behind him like he suddenly remembers who we all expect him to be.

  “Get out of my way, Jason,” Compulsive Liar growls.

  “You are not going to fucking touch him,” Jason says.

  “You’re defending this little faggot?”

  “Didn’t you hear him tell you not to call him that? I think he made himself very clear.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Compulsive Liar says, looking around for someone to agree with him. But Satan Worshipper went home yesterday, so now he’s the last Scary Guy left, and he can’t find anyone to meet his eye.

  Jason sets Christopher’s chair down as a counselor rushes in with two security guards. Ponytail’s standing on a chair in the corner and pointing at Compulsive Liar, shouting, “That one started it,” like a tattling child. Christopher’s trying to pull away, but Jason’s holding him by the shoulders now, looking him in the eyes and saying, “Calm down, man,” and it feels like all of a sudden, just like that, we’re not children anymore. Jason’s a man and Christopher’s a man, and they are standing there negotiating a man-size anger. This whole time, behind all his sweetness, Christopher has been holding a man-size pain, and behind all his childishness, Jason’s been hiding a good man.

  One of the security guards pulls Compulsive Liar’s hands behind his back as he shouts curses at no one in particular. Ponytail climbs off the safety of his chair. Eva starts crying and throws her arms around Christopher, and we all relax and take a deep breath, and the air in our lungs is lighter than before. A feeling of relief spreads through the room, like somehow we needed this to happen.

  GROUP

  SHIRLEY: I heard we had some excitement during study hall yesterday.

  CHRISTOPHER: It was awesome!

  EVA: Oh my God, calm down. You’re driving me crazy.

  SHIRLEY: I have to say, Christopher, that’s a pretty unusual reaction for you.

  EVA: He’s been like this since yesterday.

  OLIVIA: He’s probably still high off the adrenaline.

  SHIRLEY: Can you try to explain how you’re feeling?

  KELLY: He’s been explaining how he’s feeling. He won’t shut up about it.

  CHRISTOPHER: I feel great, Shirley.

  SHIRLEY: I’m glad to hear it.

  CHRISTOPHER: Before yesterday I don’t think I’ve ever yelled before. Can you believe that? Don’t you think that’s weird? That I’ve never yelled in my whole life?

  SHIRLEY: This seems like huge progress for you. It sounds like you’ve never really given yourself permission to feel angry before.

  CHRISTOPHER: Or stand up for myself either. I totally stood up for myself against that asshole.

  EVA: You should have seen him.

  SHIRLEY: I guess you guys don’t even need me anymore.

  CHRISTOPHER: Yeah, someone should be paying us.

  SHIRLEY: I’m probably not supposed to openly support a patient losing his temper with another patient, but I’m proud of you, Christopher. I really am. But you’re lucky Jason was there to stop you from inflicting physical damage.

  CHRISTOPHER: I’m proud of me too.

  EVA: Me too.

  KELLY: Me three.

  OLIVIA: Me four.

  SHIRLEY: What about you, Jason?

  JASON: Yeah, I’m proud of him too.

  SHIRLEY: No, how do you feel about what happened yesterday? About your part in it?

  JASON: I don’t know. I didn’t really have much of a part in it.

  SHIRLEY: So modest. What I really mean to say is, how does it feel to not be such an asshole?

  EVA: Whoa.

  JASON: I’m still an asshole. Just because I did one semi-nice thing doesn’t mean I’m not an asshole anymore. It doesn’t make all the fucked-up shit I’ve done disappear. It doesn’t un-hurt everyone I’ve hurt or make time go backward.

  SHIRLEY: True. But even non-assholes do assholey stuff sometimes. It’s called being human. Usually they can forgive themselves.

  JASON: Yeah, well, most non-assholes aren’t responsible for their kid sisters falling down the stairs and getting brain damage.

  SHIRLEY: Dammit, Jason, listen to me. Look at my face. Are you listening?

  JASON: Yes.

  SHIRLEY: Listen carefully. Yes, you had a part in your sister
’s injury. There is no denying that. You were drunk, and your sister was an innocent victim of this deadly, fucked-up disease. And you have to live with that for the rest of your life. But listen to me carefully now. You did not choose to hurt her, Jason. Do you understand me?

  JASON: Yeah, I guess.

  SHIRLEY: You did choose to stand up for Christopher. You didn’t have to do that. It wasn’t an accident. It was you showing character. How do you feel about that? How does it feel to not be the piece of shit everyone’s said you are your entire life? How does it feel to be a better man than your father raised you to be?

  JASON: But I’m not.

  SHIRLEY: Bullshit, Jason. I think you are. What if you could just consider that possibility? What if you could just forgive yourself?

  CHRISTOPHER: I think you’re a good person, Jason.

  JASON: You think everybody’s a good person.

  CHRISTOPHER: But I know you are.

  JASON: How do you know?

  CHRISTOPHER: I just know.

  JASON: I wish I believed you. I really do.

  PERSONAL ESSAY

  KELLY

  Okay, so maybe I’m a little bitter. Maybe my childhood wasn’t perfect. Maybe I have “unresolved anger” (they love that phrase around here). But the difference between me and everyone else in here is that it’s not someone else’s fault that I am the way I am. I can’t be mad at my sick sisters or my parents who do everything they can to take care of them. What kind of person would I be then?

  CHRISTOPHER

  The thing about secrets is that God knows the truth even if you don’t tell anyone. You can try to hide all you want, but there’s no use. You can do all your schoolwork and act all normal at church, you can hide in your room and not bother anyone, but He’s watching you and reading all your thoughts. So the only thing to do is confess, to admit your sins to God and ask His forgiveness. Be honest and trust God. That’s what they’ve always told me. And I always believed them.