Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [119]
“Does everyone in the program smoke?” I ask Marcus.
“They usually do by the time they leave.” He laughs. “But, hey, it’s better than some things. And some of them are just social smokers.”
This reminds me of the time I smoked in the church parking lot with Sherry. I suppose smoking’s not so bad, although I wonder how hard it will be for them to break this habit once they’re on the outside. However, I also know from my classes here that it will be even harder for them to stay clean and sober. That’s the real challenge. The counselors here make no secret of the fact that most of the patients will blow it within the first month of being back on the outside.
“You almost have to expect it,” Marcus told me after I questioned him about this statistic last week.
“But what do you do?”
“You don’t do anything, Glennis. It will be Jacob’s problem to solve.”
“But how will he know—”
“Don’t worry. This is what he’s learning right now. He’ll know exactly what to do, what steps to take to get back on track. The question will be whether or not he is willing to do it.”
I sighed in frustration. “Then we’re right back—”
“No,” he assured me. “Just remember its a process. A day-by-day process.”
I consider this as I watch these people bunched together with a white cloud of smoke forming over their heads. I wonder how many of them will make it all the way through this process. How many of them will make it clear to the other side? And how many will be clean and sober one year or two from now?
“Hey, it’s snowing!” yells Jacob, pointing up to the flakes that are illuminated in the overhead light. And soon they are all out in the parking lot dancing like children among the falling flakes. They are laughing and whooping and getting totally silly about the change in weather. And it occurs to me that they are having a really good time… without drugs. And suddenly I feel surprisingly hopeful and happy too.
After the cigarette break we go back inside, and with Jacob’s accompaniment on guitar, we sing Christmas carols for a while. Then we visit and eat the treats that were prepared by the patients, and finally its nearly eleven, and the party begins breaking up. But first Marcus invites the visiting friends and family members to attend the midnight candlelight service at his church.
“We’re all going over there in the bus,” he explains. “But you’re welcome to follow in your cars if you like.”
So my old Taurus joins the peculiar pilgrimage as we parade across town toward Marcus’s church. I vaguely wonder what Geoffrey would think if he could see Jacob and me tonight. Jacob, as one of the motley crew of inmates riding on the decrepit bus with “Hope’s Wings” painted in bold purple letters across both sides. Or me in my Taurus, trailing a bunch of other equally old and beat-up cars. I’m sure he’d want to pretend he didn’t know either of us, like we’d never been a part of his immaculate little family. But maybe that doesn’t matter so much anymore. Maybe it’s time that we all learn to stand on our own feet.
The candlelight service turns out to be the best I’ve ever attended. And when it’s over, I have tears in my eyes as Jacob turns and thanks me for pushing him to get treatment.
“Things are really going to be different,” he promises. “I don’t ever want to go back to my old life, Mom.”
Well, that’s the best Christmas present anyone could’ve given me this year. And despite all the changes in my life, the heartbreaks, the disappointments, the challenges, I feel like maybe it’s worth it to have my son back again.
I wish I could say that we all lived happily ever after, that my worries were over, and that Jacob never stumbled again once he “graduated” from his inpatient rehab treatment, but it wouldn’t be honest, or even fair.
Naturally, I was pleased and proud to attend Jacob’s graduation ceremony at Hope’s Wings in mid-January. All of the patients made a little speech, but I felt Jacob’s was totally