What Happened, 3.5

WHATHAPPENED | a fictional memoir
About ~ Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 3.5 ~
Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 5.5 ~ Chapter 6

Chapter 3.5 ~ First Meeting

SETTING: A sunlit meeting room, 7^th floor of a hospital named Bethesda North. A dozen people sit in cloth-upholstered chairs ranged in an oblong. The last of a pot of coffee gurgles into a glass pot on a side table. A man in a brown tweed jacket, the left corner of his mouth pursed downward, stands, pulls a Styrofoam cup from a stack beside the pot and pours a cup. He ignores the containers of cream and sugar. A heavy-set woman in a nurse’s jacket decorated with tiny blue-and-yellow flowers  and a white badge that reads “Jacky,” holds a clipboard with a plastic tab at the top that reads ‘Thioridazine.’

JACKY: OK, let’s get started. As agreed, we’ll not be using our real names, so that we all may speak freely.
MOTHER: (Sighs): Why are you doing this? Why are we even here? This is a family matter. You know we love you. This is something for the family. No one else.
SON: (Shifting, reaching down to scratch his foot): What year is this?
JACKY: What year do you want it to be?
SON: I want it to be over. I want to go back.
MOTHER: Back when?
SON: Before. When I didn’t need them. (He stares out the window at the trees. With his left foot, he toes a metal crutch on the floor, the kind with a brace for the forearm). Or after.
FATHER: After what?
SON: After I’m out of here. After all this is over. After I’m … somewhere else. Somewhere that’s not here.
JACKY: We can get you a weekend pass. Soon.
MOTHER: One day honey, maybe. You can write about it then. But not now. It’s time to rest. It’s time to heal.
FATHER: It was my birthday, you know.
SON: I know, Dad. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’m terribly sorry. I am so sorry.
MOTHER: You don’t have to be sorry. You just have to get better, honey.
THE JUDGE (snorting): This is really ridiculous. Hopeless, really. This is absu-fecking-lutely hopeless. There is no way you are ever gonna dig yourself out of this hole you’ve dug!
JACKY: Why do you say that, Judge?
THE JUDGE (chuckling): Look at him. Second time. Second damn time! How do you explain that? How? I mean, shite ….
JACKY: Don’t you have faith in him? In his ability to regroup, to rebuild. To write a new chapter, turn a new page?
THE JUDGE: Hell. There are one hell of a lot more interesting stories. Pathetic, really. Sad. OK, it happened! Not a big deal! To him? Sure. Her? (Gestures to the Mother). Of course! Him, that poor sad-sack sucker. (Nods to the Father). Who else? What’s the point? Why are we even here? I’ve got meetings.

PROF. WHITE: (speaking up in a small, polite voice with a New York Jewish accent): I’d like to read this story, were he to write something — and I think he can write it. (The professor gazes out the window as a strong wind bends the gingko trees that surround  the hospital. Nods his head that way).
PROF WHITE: Look, Ma. It’s the wind.
THE MOTHER (Her eyes moist, she purses her lips so her red lipstick crinkles and her teeth show): We love you, dear. You don’t have to write anything. I don’t care if you ever write anything. I would love you if you never wrote another word. If you were a waiter for the rest of your life, I would love you.
SON: Who is that man? (The Son nods his head to an elegant man in a black suit with a swoop of brown hair curling like a wave atop his forehead. The man says nothing, just stares at him with an appraising look.)
THE MOTHER: We met him there. Don’t you worry about it. You just get some rest, dear. You’ll be home soon. I know you will. Just get some rest. Please.
JACKY: I think that’s enough for today. You others, I hope you speak up more the next time. Thank you all for coming.

WHATHAPPENED | a fictional memoir
About ~ Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 3.5 ~
Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 5.5 ~ Chapter 6