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Authors: Catherine McKenzie
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when I
decided to try getting into shape a few years ago. The gym membership was Rory’s
Christmas present to me, and I’d been really determined. That was, until I was
put through a rigorous series of crunches and lunges by a man who’d just gotten
out of the Corps.
“You only get out what you put in, Katie,” he said
as I was trying to do my first pull-up since the fifth grade. “Are you ready to
give it your all?”
“Yes,” I managed to squeak.
“What? I can’t hear you!”
“Yes,” I yelled as I hung inches off the ground,
unable to lift myself any further. My body hurt for three days, and I never went
back.
“Right, I understand,” I say to Carol.
She leaves, and I sit down on my new bed. Lying on
the pillow is a single sheet of paper containing a list of rules about mandatory
therapy sessions and meals, no fraternizing between patients, and lights out at
10 p.m.
It’s funny because, with a few small alterations,
this list is identical to the one that adorned the wall at my summer camp. Come
to think of it, we weren’t allowed to leave there for thirty days, either. Of
course, camp was, you know, fun. I’m guessing we
aren’t going to be singing songs around a campfire here.
I fold the list into my journal—more atmosphere for
my article—and unpack a few of my things. Then I take out the iTouch and log on.
There’s no email from Rory, but there is one from Bob.
Kate, please provide a status
report on the target. Bob.
What a sinister word, “target.” Like I’m an
assassin, or at the helm of an X-wing fighter. I’m not here to kill anyone,
buddy, just get them to spill their deepest, darkest secrets, or discover them
by trickery if that doesn’t work.
Bob, they’ve had me in
isolation until now. Expect to see TGND at group in a few minutes. Will send
status report when can. Kate .
Is the emoticon too much? Oh, who cares? He can
deal with it if it is. I send the email and slip the iTouch back into my bag,
hiding it in my dirty underwear.
It’s time for group.
G roup
therapy takes place in the common room, which is in keeping with the hotel-like
feel of the lobby. Its main feature is a picture window that frames an amazing
view of the lake. Watching the sun play on the water, I feel a momentary urge to
get a running start and dive through the window into the black lake. The leap
would likely kill me, of course, but if I managed to get away, would they save
me or let me take my chances with whatever monsters lurk below?
There are a dozen metal folding chairs arranged in
a circle and a pot of strong-smelling coffee brewing on an oak side table that
sits next to the window. The chairs hold an assortment of men and women who look
in surprisingly good shape for a bunch of drug addicts and alcoholics. Of
course, this is a class of addicts who can afford to
go to the same place as TGND, so maybe they’ve never looked as depraved as the
addicts in the this-is-what-you-look-like-if-you-do-crystal-meth ads. But does
crystal meth care whose body it’s being snorted or injected into? Or do you
smoke crystal meth? I can never remember.
And speaking of TGND, where the hell is she?
A dumpy woman in her mid-fifties with chin-length
salt-and-pepper hair comes to greet me. She’s a few inches shorter than me and
has a round face.
“You must be Katie. Welcome. I’m Dr. Bennett, but
please call me Saundra.” I shake her soft, small hand. “Please take a seat—we’ll
be starting in a minute.”
I sit down in one of the remaining empty chairs,
suddenly nervous about what’s to come. Am I expected to talk on the first day?
And what the hell am I going to say, anyway? Won’t this group of hardened users
be able to see right through me?
Saundra calls the meeting to order. “All right,
everyone. Settle down. We’re going to be talking about coping mechanisms for
stressful situations today. But first, we have a new arrival, Katie.”
My nerves increase as ten pairs of eyes travel
toward
decided to try getting into shape a few years ago. The gym membership was Rory’s
Christmas present to me, and I’d been really determined. That was, until I was
put through a rigorous series of crunches and lunges by a man who’d just gotten
out of the Corps.
“You only get out what you put in, Katie,” he said
as I was trying to do my first pull-up since the fifth grade. “Are you ready to
give it your all?”
“Yes,” I managed to squeak.
“What? I can’t hear you!”
“Yes,” I yelled as I hung inches off the ground,
unable to lift myself any further. My body hurt for three days, and I never went
back.
“Right, I understand,” I say to Carol.
She leaves, and I sit down on my new bed. Lying on
the pillow is a single sheet of paper containing a list of rules about mandatory
therapy sessions and meals, no fraternizing between patients, and lights out at
10 p.m.
It’s funny because, with a few small alterations,
this list is identical to the one that adorned the wall at my summer camp. Come
to think of it, we weren’t allowed to leave there for thirty days, either. Of
course, camp was, you know, fun. I’m guessing we
aren’t going to be singing songs around a campfire here.
I fold the list into my journal—more atmosphere for
my article—and unpack a few of my things. Then I take out the iTouch and log on.
There’s no email from Rory, but there is one from Bob.
Kate, please provide a status
report on the target. Bob.
What a sinister word, “target.” Like I’m an
assassin, or at the helm of an X-wing fighter. I’m not here to kill anyone,
buddy, just get them to spill their deepest, darkest secrets, or discover them
by trickery if that doesn’t work.
Bob, they’ve had me in
isolation until now. Expect to see TGND at group in a few minutes. Will send
status report when can. Kate .
Is the emoticon too much? Oh, who cares? He can
deal with it if it is. I send the email and slip the iTouch back into my bag,
hiding it in my dirty underwear.
It’s time for group.
G roup
therapy takes place in the common room, which is in keeping with the hotel-like
feel of the lobby. Its main feature is a picture window that frames an amazing
view of the lake. Watching the sun play on the water, I feel a momentary urge to
get a running start and dive through the window into the black lake. The leap
would likely kill me, of course, but if I managed to get away, would they save
me or let me take my chances with whatever monsters lurk below?
There are a dozen metal folding chairs arranged in
a circle and a pot of strong-smelling coffee brewing on an oak side table that
sits next to the window. The chairs hold an assortment of men and women who look
in surprisingly good shape for a bunch of drug addicts and alcoholics. Of
course, this is a class of addicts who can afford to
go to the same place as TGND, so maybe they’ve never looked as depraved as the
addicts in the this-is-what-you-look-like-if-you-do-crystal-meth ads. But does
crystal meth care whose body it’s being snorted or injected into? Or do you
smoke crystal meth? I can never remember.
And speaking of TGND, where the hell is she?
A dumpy woman in her mid-fifties with chin-length
salt-and-pepper hair comes to greet me. She’s a few inches shorter than me and
has a round face.
“You must be Katie. Welcome. I’m Dr. Bennett, but
please call me Saundra.” I shake her soft, small hand. “Please take a seat—we’ll
be starting in a minute.”
I sit down in one of the remaining empty chairs,
suddenly nervous about what’s to come. Am I expected to talk on the first day?
And what the hell am I going to say, anyway? Won’t this group of hardened users
be able to see right through me?
Saundra calls the meeting to order. “All right,
everyone. Settle down. We’re going to be talking about coping mechanisms for
stressful situations today. But first, we have a new arrival, Katie.”
My nerves increase as ten pairs of eyes travel
toward
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