who I am supposed to be right now. I surely don’t know who Alison is. There is no reason on earth why she should remain mentally stuck back at that camp. Maybe the screaming inside of her is too loud to get over. Maybe that’s why I can’t reach her because she can’t hear me over all the fucking screaming?”
Doctor Cartwell is silenced by the naked despair finally flowing from Hank. He waits. A long silence rolls out between them because there are no words, because there is no answer. Hank walks to the window and looks out to the parking lot. He calms himself by looking at the parking spaces, all of those symmetrical white lines on the blacktop. There is a comforting orderliness to them, all perfectly angled, in their place, exactly the same distance apart, lines being lines, simply, plainly, not trying to be anything else, neatly placed next to each other. He begins to count them.
After a minute Doctor Cartwell says, “Hank, I am duty-bound to tell you that there are genuine risks to not getting Alison some professional help.”
“She won’t go.”
“I’m not sure she should be making that decision for herself right now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means when people need real help they are not always the ones who see that clearly. Sometimes they need to rely on the people around them, those who love them, to step in and assist.”
“You are not suggesting I commit her?”
“A residential facility may be the perfect place for her to feel safe, get rest, and get the help she needs.”
“Is that what they call it now? A residential facility? Is that the euphemism?”
“They aren’t the horror places that folklore suggests.”
“I don’t believe in taking away her rights to herself.”
“If she hurts someone that won’t be your decision any longer.”
“She won’t.”
“I know you aren’t sure of that.”
“She would be helpless and alone in the hands of who knows who. Forget it.”
“Just think it over. If she is dangerous, or suicidal, it’s a temporary treatment to save her life.”
“There has got to be a way to prove to her that she is safe now, that it’s time to move on.”
“If she’s having breaks with reality, if she’s seeing things that aren’t there, she requires professional help and medication. There may be some tough choices ahead for you. I just want you to prepare yourself for that.”
Hank sits down in the chair and buries his face in his hands. He sits there immobile for the rest of the hour. He thinks about all of the blameless people in history who in one inconsequential moment made a simple choice: who stepped off the curb one second too soon, who sprinted to catch that doomed train, who took one wrong turn in the wilderness, who ran out for that bottle of milk they needed for the morning they never saw, and a guy who said simply to his son “wanna go fishing for your birthday.”
That night they are both up, Alison at her sentry position staring out of the bedroom window to the street, and Hank watching the clock waiting for morning. As soon as Jimmy gets picked up for school, he tells Alison to get dressed. She knows he is furious and hurt and so she doesn’t ask any questions she simply throws on her jeans and follows him.
Hank drives. Alison is antsy in the passenger seat, shifting her weight around, putting one leg under her and then the other trying to find the right configuration but always looking out and around: looking for him. She realizes after a few turns that Hank is driving her back to the police station. Maybe he’s going to have me arrested she thinks. Would he? Would he do that? That’s crazy. Well, not crazy. I don’t mean that is actually crazy. I just…and her mind shuts off so she can concentrate on the car behind them. The stress between them is like a pinball banging back and forth. She feels it physically and expects to have black and blue marks later. They don’t chance talking to each other. Hank plays his iPod through the car radio and he pretends to listen, he taps his hand to the beat on the steering wheel, but a careful observer would notice he’s just a beat off. Alison stares out the passenger window and scans the cars that pass them studying each driver.
Once they are inside Crane’s office the tension persists and the words unspoken between Hank and Alison