Later that day, Kimberly found me and said I did the right thing and that I’m a good friend to Susan. I wanted to tell her that I’m not Susan’s friend, but I didn’t, especially since my plan for today is to sit with Susan and pretend she’s a friend. I think she needs me more than I need her.
The sun is shining and it’s blazing hot. The pond looks tempting, but as I suspected, Susan is sitting on the bench, alone. Family day is going on in the main building and around the therapy area, and I’m staying far away from there. I haven’t called my parents since I arrived and I don’t plan to. I don’t have much to say to them right now.
I sit down next Susan, leaving enough space so as not to crowd her. A quick glance tells me that she’s been crying, and as much as I want to comfort her, I don’t. I sit and stare off into the same open space that she does, wondering what’s going through her mind. She’s been here longer than I have, and I can’t even imagine how she feels knowing that every two weeks her family has an opportunity to come visit her, yet they don’t. It has to be the shittiest feeling in the world.
Every now and again a name is called over the loudspeaker, and if that person is outside, Susan and I watch as they go running to greet their family. It’s like we’re living in some dystopian world and people are running off to be the chosen one.
Family day is an all-day event, concluding at dinnertime. That is how long Susan and I will sit out here, waiting for all the happiness to subside. If I were high, this wouldn’t be a big deal. I could be social and interrupt everyone’s time. Make a fool out of myself and draw some much-needed attention. But instead I’m sitting here with my not-friend because this is better than being social.
“Your family isn’t coming?” Susan is the first to speak. We’ve been sitting here for hours, doing nothing except sharing the same space.
“I don’t know. Probably not. My folks are busy, and the last thing they need to do is come visit their son in rehab.” Even as I say the words, they sting. I should be a priority to them. They should stop what they’re doing and come see me, come make sure I’m okay and not dying in here. Although with my dad knowing Bruce, I’m sure they’ve been in contact.
“I’ve seen your mother’s movies—your father’s as well. I used to love going to the movies. The popcorn was the best.” She stops talking, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to thank her for seeing their movies or comment on the popcorn. I happen to agree with her about the popcorn. Even in our home screening room, the popcorn isn’t the same as when you get it at the theater.
“My family doesn’t care. I mean, my parents do, but they’re elderly and living in Florida. They don’t have the money to take a trip out here. My husband…well, I’m fairly certain he’s seeing someone else and she’s living in my house. I can’t talk to my babies, so they don’t even know how sorry I am.” She covers her mouth as sobs escape. Against my will, I place my arm around her, pull her into my side, and let her cry. I know how to treat a woman better than the way her husband is treating her. Susan gathers herself and sits up, wiping angrily at her face.
“You need to divorce him,” I blurt out. It’s not my place, but if he’s moving on, she’s not left with much of a choice.
“I can’t afford a lawyer. He made the money while I stayed home with the kids. The only reason he’s paying for Serenity Springs is because the judge ordered him to. When I leave here, he won’t be out there waiting for me. I won’t have a home to go to.”
A sudden rush of anger washes over me as I listen to her. This guy is a real piece of work and needs his fucking ass beaten. “I’ll be waiting for you,” I tell her before I realize what I’ve just said. But the words are out now and I can’t take them back. “You can live at my parents’—there’s a two-bedroom apartment that we use as a guest house. You’ll have everything you need. And I’m not kidding when I say you need to divorce him. He needs to be held accountable for his actions, so I’ll pay for your lawyer and we’ll nail his ass to the wall.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?” I ask, leaning forward to look at my not-friend, who’s quickly becoming my unfake friend. “I can help. I’ve listened to you in therapy and can honestly say I hate your husband. I know you’ll need a job, and guess what—my dad owns a company, so that’s solved.”
“What will your parents say?”
I laugh because my father is, if anything, respectful to women, and once I tell my mother about Susan, she’ll take her under her wing.
“One thing you should know about my parents, they’re humanitarians and treat everyone equally. Our staff at home get luxury vacations and all these crazy things from my parents. There’s a reason you never see our names in the tabloids because of some tell-all. My parents treat everyone very well.” I leave out the part where they may not be the best parents. Regardless, they’re great people.
“It’s too much. I can’t take it,” she says.
“Take what?”
I turn at the sound of my father’s voice. The sight of him brings tears to my eyes, and I rush over to greet him, stopping short of giving him a hug. He gives me one instead, followed by my mother.
“I miss you so much,” she whispers into my ear, her tears wetting my cheek. I didn’t get to see her before my life spiraled out of control, and I can’t imagine how she took the news.
“I miss you too, Mom,” I say, holding her a bit longer. “Come here—I want you to meet someone.”
I take my mom’s hand and pull her over to the bench where Susan is sitting, wide-eyed. “Mom, this is Susan. She’s a fan.” As much as I want to sit with my mom, I think Susan needs her a bit more than I do right now.
Immediately my mom starts talking to her and tunes me out, just as I had hoped. I motion for my dad to follow me, and he does.
“How are you?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice.
“I’m okay,” I tell him. “The urge is still there, but they’re teaching me ways to cope with it.”
“That’s good. I’ve spoken to Bruce—he’s very impressed with you.”
I’m smiling on the inside, knowing that he’s called to check up on me. It warms me to know that he cares enough to do that. I fill him in on Susan, her situation, and, more important, her husband. Then I drop the bomb, telling him that I invited her to live in the apartment and said I’d get her a lawyer and a job working with my dad.
At first, by the way his face is scrunching up and how he’s running his hands through his hair, I think he’s going to tell me no. He places his hand on my shoulder. “You can’t save everyone here.”
I’m taken aback by his comment. I’ve never saved a soul in my life, so why would he think I’d want to save everyone? Hell, I can barely save myself from self-destruction.