Juicy (19 page)

CHAPTER 14

He called Juicy three separate times but only got her recorded messages on both the home and cell phones.

“Troy?” Dad was calling from downstairs. “You about ready to go?”

“Yeah.” He hung up the phone after leaving his parents phone number. He’d left her a message saying that he wanted to talk to her about something urgent. He loved her; he said that part three times, then he had left the phone number.

He rubbed his head and jogged down the stairs. His Dad was taking him down to meet with someone from the Mental Health Alliance to discuss things and to maybe get some pamphlets on treatment plans. Things had changed in the way of medication since he’d last been evaluated. He was intrigued and fearful. But every time he thought about holding a new born baby in his hands and then blacking out, he would swallow back his second thoughts.

As he got into the car he just hoped that no one would judge him based on the fact that he was wearing stone washed jeans and a Lord of the Rings t-shirt. He hadn’t brought a change of clothes and had been forced to dig through his closet for the clothes of his youth.

“When do you want to do this, Troy?” Alonzo Hoya was asking. He was in his thirties, and was a pleasant Hispanic man that had the hairiest knuckles that Troy had ever seen. He tried not to focus on them the way you try not to look at the huge wart on a person’s face.

“We-we-well, I shou-ld t-t-…”

“It’s okay. Take your time.” Alonzo gave him an understanding look.

Troy closed his eyes momentarily. “…talk to my g-girl girlfriend first.”

“Okay.” He said in that calm tone that people needed to hear when they were discussing committing themselves.

He’d tried calling her three more times. And Mom said that no one but Bob had called the house. He should go home first. He would go home and talk to Juicy face to face because the longer it took for her to actually answer her phone and decide to speak to him, the harder it would be to talk about these things, especially since he’d been less than candid about his history with medication. He was just about to say this when Alonzo spoke first.

“Troy, it actually would be better if we can do this tomorrow. That way I can get all of the paperwork prepared and you won’t have to do that step once you are admitted. Now, if you don’t feel one hundred percent comfortable with this, then you DON’T have to go this route. This is just going to cut some sixty days from it, but…this is an extreme measure.”

Troy looked over at his Dad. His father would not say one way or the other, but Troy could tell that he agreed that this was the best way.

“Tomorrow will be fine.” His lip twisted in pleasure that he said those words without stuttering.

The next day Troy got up early. He felt sick to his stomach. He hadn’t seen Juicy in two, days which compounded his already nervous state.

His Dad looked at him over his cup of coffee. “Juicy still hasn’t called?”

He shook his head. “I can deal with her being mad at me. But I can’t deal with her not answering the phone. That is driving me n-” He stopped. “I just want to make sure everything is okay with her.”

“Woman can do the silent treatment well.” Mom said while going through the morning paper. Her eyes never even looked at his. “What women can’t do is NOT listen to a phone message left for them by a man they love.” Only then did her eyes move to his. “She loves you, right?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even waiver.

“And you have told her everything in messages so she knows.”

He nodded, feeling slightly better. “I’ll call her again when I get to the hospital.”

By noon, Troy had been admitted to the hospital. His father had cried when it was time for him to leave, but he hugged Troy and told him how very proud he was. Even though Alonzo had done much to make way for him, he still had to go through a lengthy evaluation. He wasn’t sure if he should think of them as doctors or nurses since they just gave their first name; but Jackie asked him questions that seemed to have little to do with his mental state.

She asked about his source of income, where he lived, how he lived, what he did. Troy was trying to connect the dots to the possible meaning behind the question, but eventually he had to just answer and hope that he could get to a telephone soon in order to call Juicy. This process was long and he hadn’t phoned her today.

For once, he wished he had a cell phone. He had never wanted things like cell phones or a computer because they always led to something more; carry a phone around in your pocket…that was just plain stupid. He had other more pressing things to put in his pockets. And in reference to computers; he didn’t even want to get into the trap that having internet could cause.

Troy pressed his lips together as his mind explored these ideas. Those ideas are the ones that were rooted in mental illness…and that is something he’d have to put a stop to!

Jackie finally closed her little manila folder that had his name written in thick black magic marker. He had a number beneath it; probably his computer code name…He tried to stop his mind from thinking about that; about being a number in some computer system that could likely end up anywhere in the world.

“Okay, that’s it for now.” She stood. “Follow me and I’ll show you to your room. Unfortunately we don’t have single rooms so you will have a roommate. If you feel uncomfortable for any reason just let one of the staff members know. But your roommate has already been here for more than a day so you may have the room to yourself before long.”

By the time Jackie had stopped talking they were on an elevator. Troy placed his hand to the wall because he felt like he was about to fall—the sideways feeling had returned. When he could see again, he was sitting awkwardly on the floor of the elevator. It was beeping loudly and three other men were there hovering over him.

Troy slapped his hands over his ears. “Oh god…please stop that sound!” It was cutting through his head and he was already nauseous.

A burly black man gently placed his hands on Troy’s arms and helped him to stand. “If we can get you out of this elevator, then we can let these doors shut and that will put an end to that loud noise.”

That made sense. So Troy accepted his help and was led out of the elevator. His entourage followed. Damnit, some of them were furiously writing on clipboards. Had he screwed up already? This was not his fault!

He felt a pulse in his temple and knew that he was going to be in the throes of a violent headache. He really hadn’t wanted to have a migraine while here. He wanted to be able to talk about his issues and get treatment for the seizures. He’d be a long time coming up from a headache…

Instead of leading him to his room, he was led to an examining room. He squinted at the black guy; Kelly? No it wasn’t Kelly but he felt the same way about him as he had about the kindly officer so many years ago.

“Kelly, can I call my girlfriend?”

Kelly gave him a patient look. “You want to call her now? Are you feeling some pain, because you seem--”

“I’m getting the headache. It will be bad soon and if I don’t talk to her now I won’t be able to until I wake up.” He could sleep for many hours if uninterrupted.

Kelly nodded and pointed to the phone that sat on a neat desk. The other people in the entourage had drifted away now that he was safely in the examining room. “There’s the phone. This is not normally the one you’d use, so just dial 9 for an outside line. I’m going to get you some medication for the pain and to help with the anxiety. Do you think there was a trigger for what just happened, Troy?”

Troy nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay. Be right back.” Had he passed some test? Kelly had seemed happy with his response.

He dialed 9 and then Juicy’s phone number before remembering it was long distance. He would probably get into a shitload of trouble for doing this but he checked the little plexi glass covered directions on the phone for instructions on how to make a long distance call. And then he prayed that he wouldn’t get a message stating that he couldn’t dial outside of the state.

The phone miraculously rang and even though there was a feeling as if sharp nails were being driven into his skull, he felt overjoyed. Now if she would just pick up. He needed to hear her voice more then he needed air to breathe.

“Hello?” Her voice was like music to his ears, even though that one simple word sounded exasperated and angry.

“Juicy?”

“Well who else would be answering my cell phone, Troy? Yeah it’s me.” He thought about that for a moment. Everyone that worked at the shop had their own cell phones although there was one phone in the shop that people used to call in food orders or customer’s used to make quick calls, such as to check up on their kids. Lord forbid if Juicy caught someone on the shop phone gossiping.

“I’m at my parent’s house. Did you get the message I left for you yesterday?”

“I sure did,” was her curt response.

Okay, so it was just as his mother had said. She was giving him the cold shoulder but at least she knew how to reach him if she needed to and at least she knew about the medication. Now he had to explain to her about being in the hospital. He was going to admit to his girlfriend something that he didn’t ever want her to fully realize; that he was sick and needed help…and the words just would not come easily.

He closed his eyes, fighting back the nausea that his headache brought, and begging for just a few more minutes of coherency in order to talk to her. “I wanted to explain about coming here and how things have been for me since I got here.” He wouldn’t have time to tell her about his self discovery, about his need to be a good father, about his desires for anything at all to make him safe to be around their child. The headache would just not allow that, but he could tell her about his love for her.

“Sorry!” She suddenly said into the phone.

“What?” Troy asked. It was as if she was about to tell him that his time was up and to please deposit another dollar.

“Troy, I’m at the grocery store, I just ran over an old lady, so I can’t talk and push this big-ass cart at the same time. When are you coming home?”

“Well…that’s the thing Juice. I’m not going to come home immediately. I need to take care of something once and for all. I need help. I’m in seventy two hour hold right now so that I can get emergency treatment. It was the only way that I could get an evaluation so that I can start a course of treatment for the seizures.” There. He had said it. He had admitted that he needed help, and he had admitted it to a person that he had never wanted to see him as helpless.

“Juicy?! Are you there? Hello?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was low, barely above a whisper. Was she distracted? What was she doing? Troy took a deep breath and lowered his head into his hand.

“Did you hear that I’m not going to be home because I’m in treatment for my seizures and tics?”

“Yeah.”

“Baby, they might even be able to help me with my headaches. This time it won’t be-” he stopped, remembering that he had never gone into detail to explain what it had been like for him.

Suddenly he had lots of regrets. Why hadn’t he told her? She must be having so many doubts about him now—second thoughts about his sanity. Of course she would. How many men called their women to say that they had checked themselves into a mental hospital? God his head hurt. Where was Kelly with the medicine?

“I gotta go, I wish I can talk longer but…I’ll call you tomorrow. Juicy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I love you.”

He placed the phone back on the cradle and buried his head into his hands. The door opened then and distantly Troy realized that Kelly had been standing outside listening. He tried to replay what he had said but that was impossible. That conversation had not gone good at all. He should have waited.

Soon after, Troy found himself lying on an examining table that had been covered in a strip of white paper. It was hard to lie down flat when he wanted to curl up into a protective ball. It was something he had learned on the streets and hard to stop even though he lived like normal people now, and didn’t have to worry about being accosted while unconscious.

He felt a needle go into his arm and that sharp pain was a brief but welcome distraction from the main event. He drew his legs up, but Kelly placed a slight, restraining hand on him and he tried to remember to lie still. The pain suddenly spiked in Troy’s skull before it slowly became muffled. It was almost as if someone had stuffed cotton into his head, deadening the pain. His body felt heavy and pleasant and he found that he wanted to sleep. His muscles began to relax and he released a relieved sigh.

“Kelly…” He murmured to the big black guy that somehow was a mental health technician and not a cop. He wasn’t sure how that worked but the man leaned over to hear what he had to say.

“Thank you for everyth…” And then he was sound asleep.

***

When Troy opened his eyes again, it was because someone was watching him. He knew it even before becoming fully awake and he moved his hands up into a defensive position before scrambling up in bed.

He had scared the young man…or, he thought he was a man; either an effeminate male or a very ugly girl. He had long black hair that ran down past his shoulders and green eyes set in a pale face. His hair had to be a dye job. No one that white could possibly have hair that black. He seemed young, certainly no older then seventeen or eighteen.