Rogue (5 page)

Maxine knocked on Zelda's door and saw that she was asleep. She wanted to let her know that she was going out to see a patient, and to listen for the girls, just in case. But she hated to wake her, so she closed the door softly without making a sound. It was her day off, after all. And then Maxine walked into Daphne's room as she pulled a heavy sweater over her head. She was already wearing jeans.

“I have to go out to see a patient,” she explained. Daphne knew, as they all did, that her mother went out to see special patients, even on the weekends, and she looked up and nodded. They were still watching DVDs and had gotten quieter as the night wore on. “Zelda's here, so if you need something, you can get her, but don't make too much noise in the kitchen, please, she's asleep.” Daphne nodded again, her eyes riveted to the screen. Two of her friends had fallen asleep on her bed, and one was doing her nails. The others were avidly watching the film. “I'll be back in a while.” Daphne knew it was probably an attempted suicide. Her mother never said much about it, but that was the reason she usually went out late at night. Her other patients could wait till the next day.

Maxine put on boots with rubber soles and a ski parka, picked up her purse, and hurried out the door. She was on the street minutes later, walking against a bitter-cold wind, moving south at a good clip down Park Avenue, toward Lenox Hill Hospital. Her face was stinging and raw and her eyes watering by the time she got there, and walked into the emergency room. She checked in at the desk, and they told her what cubicle Jason was in. They had decided he didn't need to go to the ICU. He was groggy but out of danger, and they were waiting for her to admit him for the night, and decide the rest. Helen Wexler pounced on her the minute she walked into the room, clung to her, and began to sob.

“He almost died …,” she said, hysterical in Maxine's arms, as Maxine led her gently from the room, with a glance at the nurse. Jason was dozing in the bed and hadn't stirred. He was still heavily sedated from the residue of what he'd taken, but he no longer had enough on board to risk his life. Just enough to help him sleep for a long time. His mother kept repeating that he had almost died. Maxine led her a fair distance down the hall, just in case her son woke up.

“But he didn't, Helen. He's going to be all right,” Maxine said calmly. “You were lucky you found him, and he's going to be fine.” Until the next time. That was Maxine's job to deal with, so that there wouldn't be a third time. Although once suicide was attempted, by any patient, the statistical risk of their trying again was infinitely higher, and the chance of success likelier each time. Maxine wasn't happy that he had tried it a second time.

Maxine got Jason's mother to sit in a chair, and take some deep breaths. And finally, she managed to speak calmly about it. Maxine said she thought Jason should be hospitalized for longer this time. She suggested a month, after which they could see how he was doing, and she recommended a facility she worked with frequently on Long Island. She assured Helen Wexler that they were very good with adolescents. Helen looked horrified.

“A
month
? That means he won't be home for Thanksgiving. You can't do that,” she said, crying again. “I can't put him away over the holidays. His father just died, this will be our first Thanksgiving without him,” she insisted, as though that made a difference now, with her son at risk for a third suicide attempt. It was amazing what denial did to the mind, and what one clung to, in order not to face the realities of the situation. If Jason succeeded at a third attempt, he would never have another Thanksgiving. It was well worth sacrificing this one. But his mother didn't want to hear that, and Maxine was trying to be firm but compassionate and gentle, she always was.

“I think that right now he needs the protection and the support. I don't want to bring him home too soon, and the holidays are going to be hard for him without his dad too. I seriously think he'll do better at Silver Pines. You can have Thanksgiving with him there.” Helen just cried harder.

Maxine was anxious to see her patient. She told Helen they would talk about it later, but they both agreed that he should spend the night at Lenox Hill. There was no other choice, he was in no shape to go home. Helen was in full agreement with that, just not the rest. She hated the idea of Silver Pines. She said it sounded like a cemetery to her.

Maxine checked Jason quietly while he was sleeping, read the chart, and was alarmed to see how much of the drug he'd taken. He had taken far more than a lethal dose, unlike last time when he had barely taken enough to kill himself. This time had been a far more serious attempt, and she wondered what had brought it on. She was going to spend time with Jason the next morning when he woke up. There was no hope of talking to him now.

She made some notes on Jason's chart of what she wanted. They were going to move him to a private room later that night, and her orders included a nurse with him, on suicide watch. There had to be someone there to observe him even before he woke up. She told the nurse she'd be back the next morning at nine o'clock, and if they needed her sooner, they should call. She left them her home and cell phone numbers, and then sat down again with Jason's mother outside. Helen seemed even more devastated than before, as reality began to hit her. She could easily have lost her son that night, and been alone in the world. The very thought of it nearly drove her over the edge. Maxine offered to call her physician, in case she wanted sleeping pills, or some mild sedation, which Maxine didn't want to prescribe herself. Helen wasn't her patient and Maxine didn't know her history or what other medications she might be on.

Helen said she had already called her doctor. He was supposed to call her back, but he was out. She said Jason had used all her sleeping pills, so she had no more at home. She started crying harder again as she said it, and she clearly didn't want to go home alone.

“I can ask them to put a cot in Jason's room for you if you like,” Maxine said gently, “unless that would be too upsetting for you.” If so, she'd have to go home.

“I'd like that,” Helen said softly, her eyes wide as she looked at Maxine. “Is he going to die?” she whispered then, terrified of knowing but trying to brace herself for the worst.

“This time? No,” Maxine said, shaking her head solemnly, “but we have to be as sure as we can be that there won't be a next time. This is serious business. He took a lot of pills. That's why I want him to stay at Silver Pines for a while.”

Maxine didn't want to tell the boy's mother now that she wanted him there for a lot longer than a month. She was thinking more like two or three months, and maybe an interim support facility after that, if she thought he needed it. Fortunately, they could afford it, but that wasn't the issue. She could see in Helen's eyes that she wanted Jason to come home, and she was going to fight Maxine on a longer hospital stay. It was a very foolish position for her to take, but Maxine had dealt with that before. If Jason was sent to a psychiatric hospital, they'd have to face that this wasn't just a “little mishap,” he was truly sick. Maxine had no doubt in her mind that he was suicidal and severely clinically depressed. He had been ever since his father's death. It was more than his mother wanted to face, but at this point she had no choice. If she took him home with her the next day, it would be against doctor's orders, and she would have to sign a release. Maxine hoped it wouldn't come to that. Hopefully, she'd calm down by the next day, and do the safest possible thing for her son. Maxine didn't like admitting him either, but she had no doubt about how important it was for him. His life was at stake.

Maxine asked the nurses to set up a cot for Helen in her son's room, once they moved him out of the ER. She left her with a warm touch on her shoulder, and checked Jason again before she left. He was doing fine. For now. There was a nurse with him, who would go to his room with him. He would not be left alone again. There was no locked ward at Lenox Hill, but Maxine thought he would be fine with a nurse close at hand, and his mother there too. And it would be many hours before he woke up.

She walked back to the apartment in the icy cold. It was after one
A.M.
when she got home. She glanced into Daphne's room, and everything seemed peaceful there. All the girls had fallen asleep, two in sleeping bags, the rest on Daphne's bed. The movie was droning on, and they were still dressed, and then as she looked at them, she noticed an odd smell. It wasn't a smell she had ever noticed in Daphne's room before. She had no idea why, but she walked to her closet and opened the door, and was startled to see two empty six-packs of beer. She looked at the girls again, and realized they weren't just asleep, they were drunk. They seemed a little young to her to be sneaking beer, but in fact it wasn't unknown at that age. She wasn't sure whether to cry or to laugh. She didn't know when it had started, but they had taken full advantage of her going to the hospital. She hated to do it, but she would have to ground Daphne the next day. She lined up the empty bottles on her dresser, neatly, for them to see when they woke up. They had managed to consume two bottles of beer each, which was plenty for kids that age. So, she whispered to herself, adolescence has begun. She lay in bed afterward, thinking about it, and for a minute she missed Blake. It would have been nice to share the moment with someone. Instead, as usual, she would have to play the heavy the next day, wearing a kabuki mask of disappointment as she read the riot act to her daughter, and talked to her about the deeper meaning of trust. When in fact, Maxine well understood she was a teenager and that there would be many, many nights in their future when someone did something stupid, her own kids or others took advantage of a situation, or experimented with alcohol or drugs. And it surely wasn't the last time that one of her children would get drunk. Maxine knew she would be lucky if it didn't get much worse than this. And she also knew that she had to take a firm stand about it the next day. She was still thinking about it when she fell asleep. And when she got up in the morning, the girls were still sleeping.

The hospital called her while she was getting dressed. Jason was awake and talking. The nurse said his mother was with him, and she was very upset. Helen Wexler had called her own physician, and according to the nurse, instead of reassuring her, he had unnerved her more. Maxine said she'd be in shortly, and hung up. She heard Zelda in the kitchen then, and went in to pour herself a cup of coffee. Zelda was sitting at the kitchen table, with a mug of steaming coffee, and the Sunday
Times.
She looked up when she saw Maxine walk in and smiled.

“Peaceful night?” Zelda asked, as Maxine sat down at the table with a sigh. Sometimes she felt as though Zelda was her only support system in bringing up the kids. Her parents never offered much advice, although they meant well. And Blake had been a no-show all their lives. Zelda was it.

“Not exactly,” Maxine said with a rueful grin. “I think we hit some kind of milestone last night.”

“Most pizza eaten in the history of the world by six teenage girls?”

“No,” Maxine said in measured tones, with laughter in her eyes. “First time one of my kids got drunk on beer.” She smiled, and Zelda looked at her with wide eyes.

“Are you kidding?”

“No. I found two empty six-packs in Daffy's closet when I checked. It wasn't pretty. Fully dressed bodies sprawled everywhere, when I walked in, and everyone sound asleep, or I guess ‘passed out' would be the correct term.”

“Where were you when they did it?” Zelda was surprised that Daphne had had the guts to drink while her mother was in the next room. And she was faintly amused too, although neither woman was pleased. It was the beginning of a whole new scene that they weren't looking forward to. Boys, drugs, sex, and booze. Welcome to the teenage years. The worst was yet to come.

“I had to go see a patient last night. I was out from eleven to one. One of them must have brought the beer in her backpack. I've never thought about that before.”

“I guess from now on we check,” Zelda said matter-of-factly, not in the least embarrassed to challenge Daphne and her friends. She was not about to let any of them get drunk on her watch, and she knew Maxine wouldn't either. And before you knew it, Jack would be in the midst of it too, and one day Sam. What a thought. Zelda wasn't looking forward to any of it, but she had every intention of sticking around. She loved the family, and her job.

The two women chatted for a few minutes, and then Maxine said she had to go back to Lenox Hill to see her patient. Zelda was off, but she wasn't going anywhere. She said she'd keep an ear out for the girls, and hoped they felt like shit when they woke up. Maxine laughed in response.

“I left the empty bottles on her dresser, just so they know I'm not as dumb as I look.”

“They're going to freak when they see that,” Zelda said, amused.

“They should. It was a pretty sneaky thing to do, and an abuse of my trust and hospitality …” She looked at Zelda with a grin. “I'm warming up for my speech to her. How do I sound?”

“Good. Grounding her and cutting off her allowance might be a nice touch too.” Maxine nodded. She and Zelda always shared pretty much the same point of view. Zelda was firm but reasonable, kind but sensible, and not too strict. She wasn't a tyrant, but she wasn't a pushover either. Maxine had full confidence in her, and her sound judgment, whenever she herself wasn't around. “What did you go out for last night? A suicide?” Zelda asked. Maxine nodded, serious again. “How old?” Zelda respected her enormously for what she did.

“Sixteen.” Maxine offered no other details. She never did. Zelda nodded. Worse than that, she could always see it in Maxine's eyes when one of them died. Zelda's heart went out to the parents as much as to the kid. Teenage suicide was a terrible thing. And judging how busy Maxine's practice was, there was a lot of it in New York, and everywhere else. Compared to that, two six-packs of beer shared among six thirteen-year-old girls didn't seem like such a tragedy. What Maxine dealt with every day was.