Crystal Lies (15 page)

“So it
is
my fault.” As I eyed the sack on the counter, I felt a mother lode of guilt burying me.

“If you allow him to keep living with you, Glennis, when you know he needs help…then, yes, you are a part of the problem.”

“But it’s cold outside. Where will he go? What will he eat?”

“If he gets cold enough or hungry enough, he might decide he’d like things to change.” Her voice softened now “Or he may want to consider rehab when he sees that you are firmly drawing the line.”

“Do you think?”

“Draw your boundaries, Glennis. See what happens.” I sighed. “Okay, I think maybe you could be right.”

“Good. Let me know how it goes.”

“Thanks, Dr. Abrams.”

“No problem. And next time you’re in, we’ll discuss what’s a real emergency and what’s not.”

“Right.” I hung up and wondered if Dr. Abrams really understood what constituted an emergency for me. Oh sure, my problems might
seem small compared to someone who’s standing on the ledge of a high-rise building with emergency crews down below But that wasn’t so unlike how I felt at this moment, like I was teetering on the edge of a cliff with
no
emergency crews anywhere in sight and nothing but a dark abyss below, and it seemed the only way out was down.

I had done such an excellent job of keeping my problems to myself the past couple of years. Other than Sherry and my immediate family, everyone else was kept safely at arm’s length. I had developed a series of pat answers that seemed to work.

“How are you doing?” someone would ask.

“Just great,” I would say with a plastic smile.

“How are the kids?”

“Sarah loves college, and Jacob has become quite the musician.” More smile. Then I would deflect the attention from my family by asking how they were doing. It worked so well. Admittedly, some of this facade was designed to protect Geoffrey’s image. He’d made it clear to me early on that, as city attorney, he didn’t want his family’s dirty laundry aired publicly. But I must confess these answers became comfortable for me as well. I had enough trouble with guilt and grief without adding anyone’s judgments or pity to my pile. Even my mother had remained somewhat in the dark about what was going on in our family since I only gave her bits and pieces, always with a very optimistic spin. I was a bit worried that Sarah might’ve told her grandmother the whole story during one of her visits, but then I realized that Sarah, as much as Geoffrey, liked keeping up appearances. She never wanted to acknowledge that anything was wrong within our family. Sometimes she even acted as if her brother had ceased to exist.

But on the day I discovered the syringes and called Dr. Abrams, I felt
something inside of me snap. As I paced back and forth in my little apartment, waiting for Jacob to come home and trying to decide if and how I should confront him, I knew I could no longer keep this to myself. I realized I wanted to talk to my mother, and before I could stop myself, I had dialed her number. Shocked when I suddenly heard her happy voice answering the phone, I must’ve stuttered out a questionable greeting.

“Glennis?” she said with alarm. “Is something wrong, dear?”

Now, my mother already knew that Geoffrey and I were separated. “Just for a bit,” I had assured her early on. “Just until we can work some things out.” And my mother, the perennial optimist, had told me she felt certain we’d figure things out and be back together by Christmas.

“It’s about Jacob,” I began.

“Oh dear! Has he been hurt? Is it serious?”

“Yes, it’s serious, Mom. But it’s not like an accident. I’m not quite sure how to tell you this—” My voice broke into a sob.

“Oh dear,” she said. “But if it has to do with his sexual orientation, well, dear, you’ll just have to take it in stride. These things happen nowadays, and—”

“No, Mother,” I said in a sharp voice. “It’s not about his sexual orientation. It’s that he’s involved in drugs.”

“Oh, that.” She sighed. “Well, now, Glennis, that isn’t so unusual. I just saw a show on
Dr. Phil
where these parents and teens were talking about marijuana and—”

“This isn’t
Dr. Phil
Mom,” I pleaded. “This is
my
life. And I’ve just discovered that Jacob is using some very serious drugs.”

“What kind of drugs, dear?”

“I, uh…I don’t really know.”

“Well, now…” The tone of her voice reminded me of when I was little, when I would tell her something I felt was important, but she would simply dismiss it as if it were nothing.

“I found hypodermic needles under his bed, Mom,” I said emphatically, wanting my sense of shock to be contagious. “At least a dozen of them. All used.”

“Well, that’s not good.”

“No, it’s not good at all.” I felt a tinge of relief then, as if maybe she was getting the severity of this after all.

“You know the problem with youth today is that they have too much time on their hands,” she began. “Back when I was a kid, we were so busy we didn’t have time to think about silly things like drugs. Is Jacob still involved in the church youth group?”

I groaned inwardly. Jacob had quit going to youth group back in middle school. “No, not really,” I told her.

“Well, you see, if he was involved in the youth group, he wouldn’t have time for that kind of foolishness and such.” She paused. “Do you remember when you were his age, Glennis? Why, you went to youth group all the time. Didn’t you even work with the youth group after college?”

“Yes.” I sighed.

“And wasn’t that how you and Geoffrey first met?”

“Yes.” I desperately wanted to hang up now. I couldn’t see how any of this would help Jacob.

“So how are things going with Geoffrey, dear? Have you been in for your marriage counseling yet? My friend Francis said that her son and daughter-in-law just went to a marriage-enrichment weekend, and it has literally changed their lives. I could probably get the name of the ministry for you. I think it was interdenominational, and they—”

“No, thanks, Mom. I don’t think Geoffrey and I are ready for that yet.”

“But you are getting counseling?”

“I am.”

“What about Geoffrey?”

“I don’t think he’s interested.”

“You don’t think…but, honey, have you even asked him?”

“Well, there are other complications, Mom.”

“You mean this thing with Jacob? Well, Glennis, you can’t let Jacob’s problems destroy a perfectly good marriage. That’s it, isn’t it? Jacob has come between you and Geoffrey. You know Sarah has alluded to this very thing. It must’ve gone right over my head at the time. But now that I think about it, I know that must be the source of your marital distress. You’ve allowed Jacob’s drug problem to ruin your marriage, haven’t you? Am I right?”

“No, Mom, you’re not right. I’ll admit that Jacob’s problem hasn’t helped matters. But, trust me, our marriage was already in trouble. In fact it was in a lot more trouble than I realized.”

“Oh dear. Does this mean you’re not trying to work things out?”

I took a deep breath. “Mom, I think that Geoffrey is having an affair.”

Long pause.

“Did you hear me, Mom?”

“Yes, dear, I heard you. I was just thinking about what you said. You know, honey, it’s not the end of the world when your husband strays—”

“Mom? What do you mean?”

“I mean this sort of thing happens to a lot of people.”

“You mean like you and Daddy?”

“Yes, and many others, too.”

“But you guys ended up getting divorced.”

“It wasn’t my choice, Glennis. I told your father that I could forgive him, but he had to have things his way.” She made a
tsk-tsk
sound. “And look where that got him.”

“Are you saying that’s what killed him?”

“God only knows, Glennis. God only knows.”

“Right.” I shook my head. “So you’re saying the fact that Geoffrey may be having an affair is no big deal. Not grounds for leaving him?”

“I’m saying it’s been happening since the beginning of time. Goodness, don’t you remember the story of King David and Bathsheba?”

“Mom.” I could hear the impatience in my voice growing. I suddenly felt like I was fourteen again.

“Hear me out, Glennis. It’s true, men do stray sometimes. But its the godly woman’s role to forgive and forget.”

“Oh, please.” That was
not
what I needed to hear.

“Well, it’s the truth, dear. These things happen in the best of marriages. And God expects us to forgive one another and move on.”

“Right.” I stared out the window and wished I’d never called.

“I know it’s hard to hear the truth sometimes, Glennis. But I’m your mother, and I love you, and I can only tell you what I think the good Lord would tell you.”

“That I should go back to Geoffrey?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I was almost ready to go back to him,” I told her. “I even drove over there, ready to apologize, to tell him I was wrong and wanted to come home…and you know what?”

“No, dear, what?”

“He was having a candlelight dinner with his new love interest.”

“Oh my. That must’ve been hard.”

“I’ll say. But that’s when I knew it was really over between us.”

“No, no…it’s not over, honey. Don’t say that. Where there is life, there is hope. Now, I’ll be praying for you and Geoffrey and our poor Jacob. But I have no doubts whatsoever that God is taking you through the fire so you can all be purified and strengthened for his glory.”

“Right.”

“Will I be seeing you for Christmas?”

“Christmas?” I felt the meekness in my voice. How could this woman talk about Christmas when my life was completely falling apart?

“I thought maybe you’d all like to come out here for the holidays, dear. Get a little sunshine, play some golf. Our church is putting on a wonderful musical this year.”

“Right.” I bit my lip. “I’ll get back to you on that, Mom.”

“Okay But Sarah already said she’d like to come down here.”

“Yes, that’s not surprising.”

“Do you mind if I invite my Bible study ladies to pray for you, dear?”

“Not at all, Mom. Why should I mind?” I took in a sharp breath. Remain in control, I was telling myself. “But I need to go now, Mom. Good talking to you.”

“And you, too, dear. And don’t worry, honey. It’s always the darkest before the dawn.”

“Right.” And then I hung up the phone and went into the living room where I pushed a chenille pillow into my face and suppressed a primal scream that was coming up from a deep, dark place within me. Why on earth had I called my mother?

I never finished turning Jacob’s mattress that day, or even cleaning his room for that matter. In fact, I pretty much let everything go after the conversation with my mother. Why bother, I wondered. What difference did it make anyway? And so I did nothing more than fret and worry all day long, waiting for Jacob to come home so I could confront him. I was almost as angry at him for lying to me about the first needle I’d found as I was about finding his entire collection.

When midnight rolled around and he still hadn’t shown, I realized he was probably pulling an all-nighter again. Why should that surprise me? And so I took two Tylenol PMs and went to bed. Sleeping aids were new to me, and I had convinced myself that these little blue pills helped me to rest at night, but I think it was really just another one of my delusions. It seemed I had been wrong about most everything.

However, they must’ve worked that night because I woke up out of a
dead sleep with my heart racing as the overhead light flashed on in my room. I could see someone standing in the doorway, but my eyes, unadjusted to the light, couldn’t focus.

“What did you do to my room, Mom?” he demanded in a hard, cold voice that didn’t sound like my son.

I sat up in bed, blinking and rubbing my eyes. “Jacob?”

“Why were you snooping in my room?” he snapped.

“Cleaning. I wasn’t snooping,” I said as I reached for my robe and made my way out of the bed.

“Yeah, sure.” He punched his fist into the wall in the hallway, so hard that I saw a hole when I went out to talk to him.

“Jacob,” I said. “Look what you did.”

“Stay out of my stuff, Mom!”

Now I looked into his eyes and realized that this was a stranger. Oh sure, he was Jacob’s height and build, same hair color and facial features, but his eyes were different. His eyes were cold and hard, and I hate to admit it, but they were dark. Clouded and, well, evil looking. I clutched my bathrobe more tightly around me. “Jacob,” I said in what I hoped was a calming voice,“I was only trying to flip your mattress so your bed would be more—”

“Don’t lie to me, Mom!” He punched the wall again, resulting in another fist-sized hole. “I
know
’ you were snooping. You and Dad used to do it all the time. You guys have never trusted me. No wonder I’m so screwed up.”

“Maybe you should just go to bed,” I told him, sensing that it was quite possible my son was under the influence of drugs even at this moment.

“Yeah, that’s what I was going to do, Mom. But then I come home and find my bedroom all ripped up into some big freaking mess. Like the KGB’s been here. What is wrong with you anyway? Why can’t you just stay out of my life and leave my stuff alone?” His fist was raised again.

I blinked and stepped back, afraid that he was aiming at me this time, but
wham
. It went through the hallway wall again. And now I was mad. “Stop putting holes in the wall, Jacob!” I yelled. “Don’t you know I’ll have to pay to have those fixed?”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” He laughed.
“Money?
Why not go back to Mr. Moneybags and ask him for a little handout. In fact, why don’t you pick up some for me while you’re there?” He smiled, but it was a twisted smile. “I’ll take mine in tens and twenties, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s late,” I told him. “We need to go to bed. We can talk about this in the morning.”

“No,” said Jacob. “I want to talk about it now.”

I shrugged, knowing I wouldn’t be sleeping much tonight anyway. “Fine, Jacob. Let’s talk about it now. Are you hungry? I didn’t have dinner, and it’s been a pretty cruddy day. Maybe if we both ate something and talked this over…”

He seemed to soften. “For you, too?”

“Yeah.” I looked at him more carefully. “Was your day bad?”

He nodded. “And now that you mention it, I’m hungry too.”

So that’s how I found myself in the kitchen fixing French toast for the two of us. And it was weird as I put together our three-o’clock-in-the-morning meal. It was like something in Jacob was unhinged. He began to talk and talk. Some of the things coming out of his mouth were really amazing and slightly profound, but a lot of his words and ideas were confusing and mixed up. Despite my growing suspicion that he was high, I tried to listen, thinking that perhaps it would provide a clue for why he was like this. But by the time he quit talking long enough to eat about a half-dozen slices of French toast smothered in maple syrup and butter, along with about a half gallon of milk, I really had no idea what his conversation had been about. Maybe it was due to my being exhausted or under the effects of Tylenol PM, or perhaps my stressed-out life was getting
to me. But when Jacob started talking again, I felt like everything in my world was just spinning around me. Like I couldn’t hold on to anything—not my marriage, not my children, not even my own life.