We Are Family...

I remember eating alone. Every meal, I would take my tray filled with hospital slop and sit at the empty table by the door, my face, daring anyone to join me. Somewhat stabilized, I was no longer aloud to eat in my room, a privilege reserved for the truly mental. Now I was forced to walk among the living, listening to their conversations and worse yet, encouraged to join in. A silly, stupid game I didn't want to play. I'd heard it a million times before, "Social interaction on the ward provides great lessons for the real world. A dress rehearsal for life, if you will." I understood the concept but it filled my with anxiety. Knowing other's secrets but hearing lies in group, admitting my own secrets and having them used against me in group, and telling my story so many times in so many hospitals to so many people only to find myself, every time, searching the ward for that new best friend who just got released or slit his wrist or was sent to another floor or interested in someone else's story, and again and again, I am alone. But I knew, if I ever wanted to be released, I had to play the game. I had to pick up the ball again and start kicking it down the court or hitting it in the goal or whatever you are supposed to do with balls. I'm really not into sports. I do remember what Dr. Goode used to ask me at my table for one, "If you could imagine yourself happy, what would it look like?" An idea unimaginable...until tonight.

The lights in Casa de Phindior were dimmed, candles lit and the dulcet voice of Amy Mann floated gently about the room. The kitchen, now clean, showed no signs of the hysterical cooking done only hours before. Mr. Jingle Maryweather promised to keep his mouth shut, and the dinner table lodged half in Heather Mary's room, half in the hallway eagerly awaited its four guests to be seated in its four empty chairs. I could tell Heather Mary was nervous, it was easy. From the time she woke up this morning, "I'm so fricking nervous," was all she could say. I wanted to go to her, to put my hand on her shoulder, to tell her everything was going to be OK, but I just couldn't...there was a huge dinner table blocking my way. In her room, I could see Heather Mary looked lovely, lovely Heather Mary and I looked as good as I possibly could considering I don't look that good. And when the door bell rang, we both smiled.

Edgar DuHaven was the first to arrive. His contribution to the pot-luck; four Subway Foot-Long subs, one vegetarian...Delightful. Edgar turned to Heather Mary's room as she poked her head out the door, she saw the subs and started to laugh, "You remembered," she said. "I remember everything," Edgar replied. I guess Subway was there "place" years ago, so I'll say it again...Delightful. Edgar joins Heather Mary at her door when the bell rings again.

Kristina looked excited to see me, at least I think it was excitement, I'm not real familiar with that look. She brought spaghetti and meatballs which will go great with my lasagna and hey, Edgar Duhaven's subs were on garlic bread so, Abbondanza!

We sat, we talked, Edgar fittingly said grace and we ate. Kristina pulled out her camera and all night, snapped off pictures of the evenings festivities. She also brought a bottle of wine, though since she was the only one in the room not on some anti-psychotic or anti-depressant medication, she was the only one who drank.

By the end of the night, half the wine was gone as was half the lasagna, most of the meatballs and every bit of watergate salad I had made for dessert. Kristina's pictures showed what I had already known - the night was a great success.

Before I walked Kristina home, we moved the dinner table out of Heather Mary's room. Inside, Edgar DuHaven smiled and shut her bedroom door. I heard them both laugh...Delightful.

Kristina and I walked hand and hand to her home and to that door on Bowery. "Everything was great," she said. "Goodnight," she said. A little surprised and even more relived, I understood her Bowery door was to remain closed to me for a while longer. I said goodnight and turned and felt a hand on my shoulder. She leaned in and kissed me quickly and all I could say when she walked through her door was, "Thank you."

Through the years, I have met many people - in schools, jobs and hospitals, but I have truly gotten close to very few. Tonight, with Kristina, Edgar and Heather Mary, I feel that has all changed. Three friends, more than I have ever had...a family, and I think about Dr. Goode's good words, "If you could imagine yourself happy, what would it look like?" Like this, I said to myself, standing outside that door on Bowery, exactly like this.