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#Post#: 129--------------------------------------------------
DesPlaines Confidential
DIR By: StoryGod
Date: January 13, 2020, 2:17 pm
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Marion made sure the bedroom door was closed and locked before
she tore open the first envelope. In it was a sketch of a devil
in red crayon. The devil had bug eyes as if he had imbibed
something unspeakable. He danced in the flames. He was not an
unhappy devil. Marion decided that was a good thing.
[QUOTE]
Dear Marion,
If I was going to construct Hell and be the head devil there,
the place would probably be such a perfect copy of New
Beginnings for Sobriety that the directors of this present,
infernal pit would sue me for plagiairism. I'm not a lawyer, so
I don't know if you can sue for plagiarism, but I'm sure there's
a way to do it.
All who enter the portals of New Beginnings are assumed to be
sinners. We are also in danger for our lives. We must choose
life. We must admit our guilt. For those with active addictions,
the road to salvation is cold turkey. My nights are punctuated
with the wails of the condemned. Fortunately, neither your
father nor I are addicts. Your father wants to sail and I just
like having a good time.
Of course we can't convince the caring staff, especially the
conselors that this is the truth. Arguing with them is like
arguing with a wall. Worse still, many of the "counselors" are
graduates of the program. Carl and I sometimes just let them
blather on. The problem is we have group confession nearly
daily. There it becomes a choice of telling our torturers what
they wish to hear so that we can "earn privileges," arguing, or
saying nothing.
Belive it or not, the last two courses of action are the best
choices. First, lying gets old fast, though neither Carl nor I
feel we owe our jailers anything close to the truth. Keeping a
false story straight is not as easy as it looks. Second, the
so-called privileges here aren't worth earning. One of them is
doing household chores. I'm not kidding. I'm not going to make
up a habit and find Jesus or whatever else I'm supposed to find
in order to earn the privilege of menial labor. Of course menial
labor does break up the boredom. Television is also a privilege
that Carl and I don't have. You can see how low we have dropped
here, but there is something to be said for lolling on the couch
like a pasha or is it pashette. Anyway, it is better to loll and
watch the poor sheeple sweep, mop, and wipe.
It is especially pleasant because for Carl and me, New
Beginnings comes with a ready-made ending. The trial is November
10. It should be over by the first of the year, and then Carl
and I are out of here. It's that simple. We may die. The
counselors are right, but if we die it will be of boredom, and
we'd die anyway because confessing to crimes we did not commit
gets old.
Meanwhile, Mr. Stanley, our lawyer is helping us get ready for
our case. Actually, Ms. Laine, Mr. Stanley's assistant is my
lawyer, since we could decide to testify against each other, not
that it matters because I was off the Maria when everything
happened and so was your father, except of course he was stoned.
I was only half stoned. Bad things always happen when you're
stoned, but unless your father had been on the deck of the Maria
with a shot gun, that kid would have come aboard with Jorge and
Stuart.
Hopefully, the judge and jury will see reason. Hopefully, our
time spent in three sober homes and not breaking any rules, and
being for all intents and purposes clean will be evidence of
good character. Hopefully, we can move to New York State soon,
though the winter will freeze my poor old bones.
I hope school is going well. It is good that you like school.
Ninth grade is not a fun time. Please write again soon.
Love,
Mom
[/QUOTE]
#Post#: 130--------------------------------------------------
Re: DesPlaines Confidential
DIR By: StoryGod
Date: January 13, 2020, 2:54 pm
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Marion opened the second letter.
[QUOTE]
Hello Marion!!!!
You are the only one of the four kids who writes. You are the
only one who remembers your parents. Sometimes I think everyone
has forgotten me here in this god forsaken sober home in the
ugliest part of Florida. The counselors here want me to play
along and act like an old stoner who has hit bottom, instead of
a freedom loving man who got in trouble, when it REALLY wasn't
his fault.
But here we are.... every day the same. I thought I would die
for a while after I came here. Now I wake up and wonder how I'll
make it through the day. The answer is not well, Marion. Even my
lawyer, and Bruna's lawyer forgets we exist. He's missed at
least one appointment. That is the hardest time because
something good is actually going to happen, or at last you hope
so. Then after the lawyer goes home... you wish you could have a
double strength scotch and soda or a few pills or some good
quality Columbia Gold. There's none of that around. What we'd be
able to hustle is shit anyway, and we'd have to like like a pair
of Persian rugs to get out and get the product. Those who bring
anything in here, charge top dollar for shit. I can assure you
of that.
I'm clean against me will, and I fantasize about getting so
stoned I can't get straight again. I want to be so high I'll
never come down, and fuck the Ship. They took the goddamned Ship
anyway. It's gone. It's probably got a hole. They'll probably
sell that beauty for scrap. That hurts.
That hurts almost as bad as the lawyers forgetting we exist. And
no I'm not sure January is going to happen. I'm not even sure
I'm going to trial. Bruna's been the sane one through all this.
"Hang in there," she says.
By the way thanks for letting us know about Felix, Liza, and
Nestor. They never write us. I think they have forgotten we
exist." Good luck with school.
Dad
[/QUOTE]
"My parents haven't changed but at least they haven't done
anything stupid," Marion told herself.
"Are your parents OK?" asked Zia who was sitting at the desk
studying, her back stiff and straight. Soon, she would give up
studying to iron singing along with the iron's kush-kush sound.
"About what I expected," Marion found the words.
"Is that good or bad?"
"Boy are you nosy!" Marion thought.
"It's decent enough," Marion found the words again.
"What are you going to do?"Marion looked up from her work.
"Keep writing to my parents. They need to know I'm out there and
that I love them." There, that was all it was. When, Marion said
it the words made something messy and weird, simple and small.
Marion wondered about what her mother and father said about
their lawyers. "Oh well," she thought. "Everybody misses
appointments, and Niles and Judith would never hire a lawyer and
not get their money's worth. Maybe my parents got mixed up."
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