Quiet Room - Lori Schiller [83]
Lori had been a terrific big sister to me. She was always there when I was having problems. She helped me with my school-work, and listened to my woes. When I felt out of it in high school, and Mom and Dad were reassuring me with platitudes, it was Lori who consoled me. I couldn't face this new, odd, ill person.
When my turn came I mumbled the right thing, about how glad I was to have my sister home, and that she was feeling better. It wasn't what I wanted to say. It was what I was expected to say. What I wanted to say was: I can't take this. Get me out of here.
20
Lori Futura House, White Plains, New York, December 1986–April 1987
Things began to fall apart. My lungs were screaming for air. The Voices were screaming to be released. My control was becoming harder and harder to maintain.
Soon I began hearing the call of cocaine again. One of the first things I did was try to find Raymond. I found him, but something had changed while I was in the hospital. Raymond had never wanted to have anything to do with my illness. While I was in the hospital he never visited me, never even tried to contact me. Now that I was out and living in a halfway house, he couldn't deal with that either. I spoke with him sporadically, but he definitely did not want to make himself the man he was to me before I was rehospitalized.
I could still get cocaine. I had a lot of other sources around town. All you had to do is step into a bar, preferably one with a druggie reputation, and get friendly with the bartender. In that kind of bar they liked people like me scouting for coke. It meant good tips. Cash-and-carry was the name of the game.
And if I didn't have Raymond, at least I had Robin. She had her sources and I had mine. Together, we could always manage to stay high. When we weren't doing lines, we smoked marijuana in the stairwell at the halfway house, spraying deodorant around after us to mask the smell. It was good to have a buddy like Robin.
Still, I wanted Raymond. I was especially lonesome around the holidays. My mom and dad were traveling and I wound up alone in Futura House with two other residents and a counselor. I whipped us up a fancy lobster dinner for Christmas—years ago my daddy had taught me how to prepare it—so we had some festivity. But as New Year's rolled around, I began to pine for the comfort of a man.
Against all evidence, I had it in my head that Raymond and I would spend New Year's Eve together. So as the clock ticked in the new year, I sat in the pay phone in the halfway house, waiting for the good news that Raymond had some blow, and that we were going to see each other again.
The hours dragged on. No calls. So I began to call him. Once he answered, made some vague, uncomfortable excuses and hung up. The rest of my calls went unanswered. Over and over I dropped my quarter into the resident pay phone trying to reach him. The phone rang and rang and rang. Midnight came and went. I saw in the new year alone, sitting in a phone booth. By 2:30 A.M. I finally realized. I was alone.
Very shortly afterward came another disaster. Robin and I got caught. We had usually been careful about using drugs at Futura House. It was strictly prohibited, so we knew that if we did it there, we had to be careful, indulging only late at night when no one was around. But after so long without getting caught, we grew careless. We laid some lines right out on the dining room table. Of course someone saw us, and ratted.
Deanna called me into her office. There was no warmth in her voice.
“Have you been doing cocaine? ”
I was cocky. “What if I say yes?” I asked her.
No answer.
“Well, what if I say no? ”
Back and forth we went. Finally I confessed. Deanna was angry. As I left the office the first thing I did was make a beeline to Robin. I had to warn her what was in store. But Deanna was quicker than I. By the time I reached Robin,