Getting Him Home

Count All This — Chapter 26: came out blue and hated to

Just when Jo Kasten’s son encounters schizophrenia, she discovers she has breast cancer. Meanwhile, her marriage faces a test. Count All This is a story about love and loyalty, addiction and madness. This is the twenty-sixth chapter. Find the first chapter here.

I awoke in the cold cabin to thin morning light and the now-familiar sound of Jean putting on her shoes for the trek up to the toilet. I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep as she walked by my bed and out the door, which swung shut with a bang. I knew it wouldn’t be long before she came back.

“Are you awake, Jane?” I whispered, looking up at the ceiling, not turning around to see her bed at the back of the cabin.

“Yes.”

Hearing her non-judgemental voice was all I wanted, really. I wasn’t looking for conversation. But it seemed since I started I should say something more, so I asked the only question. “What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

I was comforted by her lack of certainty, and by the warmth of my sleeping bag surrounding me like a strait jacket. Like me, Jane didn’t know what to do about this disaster, preferring to lie still, cocooned in the cabin, waiting for some kind of sign.

But Jean was back a minute later and she did. “You have to take him to the hospital,” she seemed to admonish after bursting through the door and sitting down solidly on the empty bed opposite mine.

“But how do I do that? What if he doesn’t want to go? And what about Larry, and Rose, and Michael? They’re coming today. Do I wait for them to show up? Do I leave without them?”

“You’ll talk Eddy into it. I’ll help you. And then you’ll call Larry and tell him what’s going on.”

“Okay…But I think you should be the one to talk Eddy into it. I don’t think he’ll listen to me.”

“All right. I’ll talk to him. But you have to get up and help me find him first.”

Jane and I put on our clothes and the three of us walked together down to the lodge where, luckily, we found Eddy sitting at a picnic table out front. “There he is!” I pointed him out to Jean. “You go ahead,” I nudged her a little on the back. “I’ll wait inside.”

Jean didn’t criticize me for cowardice, or laugh, or resist her assignment, but walked purposefully toward my son, a force of nature in her yellow shirt, turquoise shorts, white sneakers, and ankle-length white socks.

Hiding inside the lodge with Jane, I scooped out a bowl of granola and sat at a table near the window, where I could spy. Before long, I felt ridiculous. “I’m going to go outside and find out what’s going on,” I told her before leaving.

“Eddy. It’s the best thing for you. You need help,” I heard Jean saying in a calm, loving voice.

“No. Not yet. I’m fine…I think. Hi, Mom.” He turned toward me as I walked toward their picnic table.

“Hi, Eddy. How’s it going? How are you feeling this morning?”

“Okay, I guess. I think I want to read my poem at the Talent Show tonight.”

“You do?” Eddy had read it to us a few days before, on the day my sisters and I had hiked out to the swimming hole. An hour or so after we arrived, a group of teens from camp showed up.

“Where’s Eddy?” I asked the girl whose thick, black hair made a beautiful contrast to her pale white skin.

“I don’t know. He was with us. But he wanted to stop along the way.”

“Stop where?”

“I don’t know. He just stopped. He said he didn’t want to keep walking.”

Eddy never showed up at the swimming hole, and after a nervous hour beside the river, I wanted to go back. Then as we were hiking out to the car, he suddenly appeared in the middle of the path. Surrounded by vegetation, he stood without speaking in a beam of light that filtered through the trees. He had his shirt off, was barefoot, and held a piece of crumpled paper in his hand. The background that framed him was 100 shades of green.

“Hi, Mom. Can I talk to you?” he asked, as if there was nothing unusual about suddenly appearing in the middle of a forest.

“Of course!”

Eddy and I dropped back while Jane and Jean walked ahead. He had written a poem, he said, and he wanted to read it to me. His voice was strong, his mind clear, and his poem pretty good. He kept pace with me for maybe 15 minutes before peeling off and dropping back into the trees.

That was a day when I’d felt good about coming. He was recovering, I told my sisters. He was coherent. He had written a poem!

But now, a few days later, I began to agree with Jean that he needed to go to the hospital. I stood worrying as all around me swirled people practicing for the talent show. A group of four adults was sitting on chairs before music stands, playing a Baroque piece on recorders of various sizes. Five little girls were working on an acrobatic skit. Drummers were making music under the trees.

“I’m going to go work on my poem,” Eddy told us, rising from the table. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait a minute, Eddy. Are you sure you don’t want to leave for home right now? After last night, I thought we would be leaving this morning.”

“No. I’m not sure. I don’t want to leave this second.”

I wrung my hands and looked at my sisters. “Well, how about this? Why don’t you get your things into the car? Let’s get the car all packed and ready to go so we can leave at a moment’s notice, okay?”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe, Eddy. Remember our agreement? I’m the one feeling anxious now. And you promised me you’d leave whenever I asked if I needed you to. Well, I need you to. I want you to go get your things and put them in the car. I’m not saying you can’t read your poem at the talent show. But I still want all our things in the car, ready to go, so we can leave right after.”

“Okay,” he said uneasily. Then he left.

“What do you think?” I asked Jean as he walked away from us.

“I think you should be leaving now. But it’s a good thing you got him to pack up, anyway. We can talk to him some more, later.”

Next I went behind the lodge to the pay phone to call Larry.

“Where are you?” I asked, when he answered his cell. “We’re half way there, I think, in Cloverdale.”

“Okay, well, I hate to ruin your very first year at camp, but we’re probably going to have to turn around and leave as soon as you get here.”

“What!?”

“It’s Eddy. Things are worse. He needs to be in the hospital.”

“You’re kidding! What makes you say that? What is he doing?”

“He’s saying he’s schizophrenic. He thinks the radio is talking to him. He’s not making a lot of sense. He needs help.”

There was silence on the end of the line for a moment. “Okay. Just don’t do anything until I get there. We’ll be there soon.” Just hearing those words made my stomach unclench.

Once I knew Larry was on his way, and our things were packed and ready in the car, I relaxed a little. Jane and Jean and I were sitting on lawn chairs in front of the lodge when one of the teens approached. “I think Eddy’s in trouble,” she told me.

“What happened!?” I jumped up out of my chair.

“Nothing’s happened. He’s just been talking to me, and it sounds like he’s having a pretty hard time.”

“Oh, thank God nothing’s happened. Will you take me to him?” I walked with her back towards the farthest cluster of cabins. “What’s he saying?” I asked.

“He says that he’s having trouble thinking. His mind is racing out of control. He hears and sees things that he isn’t sure are really there. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him, and he’s scared.”

Her words scared me, but when we found Eddy sitting on a random cabin’s front step, I felt inexplicably angry.

“Eddy, how’re you doing?”

“Not so well.”

“That’s what I hear,” I tried to modulate my voice. “Come on, why don’t you get up and walk with us? I doubt the person who is staying in that cabin wants you sitting on her step, blocking the doorway.”

Eddy scowled. “Nobody’s here!” he said. “There’s no problem. Why do you care about that person? You don’t even know who she is.”

“Are you sure nobody’s there? Did you look inside?”

Eddy shook his head in irritation.

“Listen Eddy, I want to go home now.” I was horrified to hear my voice take on a pleading tone. “I know you’re having a hard time, and I am too. You don’t have to go to the hospital, if you don’t want to. But let’s get out of the forest. Let’s go home. The car’s all packed now. It would be easy to just get in and drive away. Let’s go now, Eddy. Please…”

Eddy stood up and started walking towards the lodge. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Someone’s trying to tell me what to do. Someone’s trying to talk to me, but I can’t understand what he’s saying.”

“Eddy! Nobody is trying to talk to you but me. There’s nobody here but me and you and Beth. Can you understand what I’m saying?”

“This isn’t working. This isn’t working. I don’t want to get in the car with you. I’m not supposed to.”

His resistance reminded me of all the times, as a child, when he’d refused to do as he was told — to leave amusement parks, or picnics, or family holidays, running away from me and hiding when I said it was time to go. Frustration welled up and exploded in me.

“Edward, why are you doing this now?! Why did you wait until we got to camp before you went crazy? I can’t deal with this by myself! Just get in the goddamn fucking car so we can go home and get help!”

“No, Mom. No. I’m not going yet,” his calm voice made my own sound all the more hysterical. “I’ve got to read my poem at the talent show. I’m sure of that.”

We were back at the lodge area now. A few people turned to look as we approached from the woods, and I felt embarrassed as Jean moved in for tag team persuasion. When I watched her envelop Eddy in her big mama’s arms, pulling him close to her chest in an open and candid way, I wondered why I couldn’t do that. What was wrong with me? Why was I so angry? Was there something about my mothering that had made Eddy sick? Why couldn’t I do it right?

Then the rest of my family pulled up, spilling out of their little car happily. Rose went instantly up to Eddy and hugged him easily. Michael slouched over to stand and watch nearby. Larry came straight to me.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said as I grabbed his hand.

“Me, too. That was a long drive.”

“I’m sorry to make you turn right around and drive back.”

“Let’s wait a little before we decide about that. I want to talk to Eddy and see how he’s doing. Even if we do go back today, it won’t be for at least an hour. I need to walk around a bit and stretch my legs.”

“Okay. Do you want a tour of camp?”

“What I want is a beer. Is there any in the kitchen?”

“I think I can find one.”

We found Karen in the kitchen, who immediately asked Larry how he felt about chopping vegetables, since one of her teen prep cooks hadn’t shown up for his shift. Larry spent the rest of the afternoon hiding in the kitchen, avoiding introductions to myriad strangers, drinking beer and helping Karen and her camp boyfriend Steve, but I felt comforted that he was nearby. I knew where to find him if things got out of hand.

Just before dinner, I dragged Larry out of the kitchen and made him take a walk with me along the creek. The water babbled cheerfully, unaware of our troubles. The redwoods creaked in the breeze. Larry grinned with amazement when three frogs hopped by.

“You see? Camp’s not bad,” I coaxed him. “Did you talk to Eddy yet?”

Larry nodded.

“What do you think? Should we take him to the hospital? Are we leaving tonight?”

“Yes. Right after the talent show.”

“What about Rose and Michael?”

“Karen will keep and eye on Michael and give them both a ride home.” I looked at him a moment before pulling him to me. His limbs were loose and compliant as I drew him down onto the ground. He kissed me gently and carefully, unbuttoning my shirt to reveal my one good breast, and my good flat chest beside it.

“You’ve changed so much these past few months,” I said.

“Me?”

“You ride a bike. You cry. You come to camp. You lay down on the ground with your wife and get dirty.”

He gave a short laugh. “What’s this?” he asked, lifting up my tarot pendant to inspect the image of the Tower that Karen had made so long ago at my request.

“It’s something Karen gave me. But I don’t want it anymore. I lifted it over my head and tossed it into the creek. Larry gave me a look.

“And what’s this?” he asked, running a finger along my scar.

“I want to get a tattoo there. Something beautiful. Maybe some sweet peas, morning glory.”

He moved his face in for a kiss. And when he pulled back, a little green leaf in his hair made me laugh.

After dinner, the lodge was made ready for the talent show, with the big tables pushed to the back and the benches lined up in front of a clearing which would be the stage. Mike Goodman was the MC this year, and I was comforted by the sight of Eddy’s childhood friend all grown up, big and bear-like and friendly, with a full head of long brown hair, running the show.

Larry and I found places on the edge of a bench and waited for Eddy’s performance. The room was crowded with parents and children and teens. Jane sat behind us with Rose and Michael, and Jean stood in the staging area outside, with Eddy. First came several silly performances of small children doing somersaults and tricks with hula hoops. One group of young boys recreated a scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. A pair of small sisters did a magic trick. An adult sang a love song. A teen danced.

I saw Eddy poke his head through the back door where the upcoming acts were waiting, and then worm his way into a group of spectators sitting on the floor alongside the stage. I snuck out to talk to Jean when I saw he was inside.

“He’s ready to go to the hospital,” Jean told me. “He wants to leave as soon as he reads his poem.” I hurried back inside to see Eddy’s performance.

He was scheduled to read just before intermission. Mike announced him and he stood up alone before the audience.

He held up his paper, and I imagined him stunning the crowd with his brilliant locution. Several adults leaned forward in anticipation.

Death and dying; Anticipation I’m too ready to be ready. My flow is stunted, my thrusts blunted Try too hard and martyr my failures but now I hang up on success I’m down on progress past the present But my life isn’t in line, my life? My life? I mean right fuckin’ now ’cause I don’t have another I’m not immortal. My parents and me we had a moment once us three. I loved my mother and she me I came out of her breathlessly I did discover another universe I was reborn without consent and now I hurry then slow I’m spent maybe change is against my nature cause I didn’t want to leave that warm secure shelter Now, I’m stuck in a wombless room and I know that worlds flip upside down but I hold these two that make me frown. Die to the womb I died I die now, crazy but too lazy to make it all the way, rationality stays. Internalize those closed up eyes and refusal. No approval. Came out blue and hated to. I’ll die like all the rest.

The crowd clapped, and Eddy slipped out the stage door as Larry and I went out the front to meet him by the car while the rest of the audience stampeded into the kitchen for the intermission snack.

“That was good, Eddy,” I told him. He hung his head and shook it once.

“You ready to go?” his dad asked. Eddy nodded.

The people who happened to be outside hugged us goodbye, Jean and Jane among them. Jason stood a little apart and nodded to me. I nodded back. Then Eddy snapped the seat into place and sat down on the passenger’s side. I slid into the back seat, Larry into the driver’s, and we started off.

It was good to be on the road at last, leaving camp and the crowd of people behind us. We did little talking on the five-hour journey. But once, Eddy asked me, “Do you think I had anything to do with Dad coming to camp this year?”

I said I thought he did.

That was the twenty-sixth chapter of my novel, Count All This. To continue, follow the free chapter links below or buy a digital copy of the whole book on Amazon, where leaving a rating or review will help others find my story.

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