terrified to come out of a bad trip of acid into the bad trip of a psychiatric
ward—then explored why he’d been doing drugs in the first place.
But the day’s chief event was Zack’s meeting with Rebecca Mays, his
“bipolar I with psychotic features,” and her mother. Mrs. Mays had requested
that Rebecca be released into her care. Zack wanted to talk her out of it. He
invited Rebecca to his office so the three could talk together.
E x i l e s i n A m e r i c a
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“Mommy!” Rebecca cried and threw her fat arms around the tiny, gray-
haired, elementary school teacher. She towered over her mother. “I miss you
so much! I cry myself to sleep every night just thinking about you.”
Rebecca “played” at being well and she overdid it, but she actually was
doing better. She was on a milder regimen now, so there was more Rebecca
and less chemistry. She’d taken great care in dressing herself today, wearing a
grown-up cardigan and a necklace, although she also wore her usual pink
sweatshirt and her hair was tied back in a scrunchy.
The mother sat very still, a good Southern lady like a pale ceramic doll.
She said almost nothing while her big, overanimated daughter talked and
talked. Zack assumed she was remembering how difficult life had been with
Rebecca at home.
“As you can see, Rebecca is improving,” he said.
Rebecca sat up in her chair, proudly, smugly, as if she’d pulled a fast one on
them both.
Zack went on. “Which is why I think she should stay another month. We
can continue the treatments, fine-tune the medication, and try more serious
counseling.”
He expected the mother to look relieved, but her face became sad and pa-
thetic. “She can’t come home?” she said plaintively.
“Let’s give her another month. That’s not very long. What do you think,
Rebecca? Another month won’t hurt.”
Rebecca’s eyes went dead. Her sunny, vinyl pink face grew red and thick.
She slowly turned to her mother.
“You idiot,” she said with a sneer. “He sees right through you. He knows
you don’t want me. You shoulda practiced more. You coulda faked him out.
But you want to leave me here. You want me to rot. You don’t want me home.
You lying sack of shit.”
And the mother burst out crying. She bent forward to hide her sobs, hold-
ing two open hands under her face as if to catch her tears.
Zack remained calm. “Why do you say that, Rebecca? Why do you attack
your mother? Your mother’s not to blame here.”
“No, you’re the one to blame,” she snarled. “You stupid shit. You ass-
eating pill monkey. Don’t act all kind and loving with me. I read you like a
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C h r i s t o p h e r B r a m
book. You and her are in this together. You both want to keep me locked up
forever!”
The habit of anger was still strong, despite the medication. The drugs re-
duced her manic states without killing her rage. Zack let her spew, wanting to
see how long this would last, where it might go. He also wanted her mother to
see that Rebecca was not ready to go home. Her violence was all verbal. She
gripped her chair with both hands while she shook her head at them, jiggling
her heavy lips and flinging spittle in all directions. She excoriated them for a
full minute, calling Zack a greedy quack and her mother a selfish pig.
And then, like a thunderstorm, it stopped. Rebecca was silent, scowling,
catching her breath. The color faded from her cheeks. Her face became less
swollen, less raw. She looked confused.
Her mother stopped crying. She kept her eyes down, her lips pinched; she
seemed petrified with embarrassment.
“Are you finished, Rebecca? You get everything off your chest?” Zack
kept his voice low. “Did you hear yourself? What was that all about? Do you
know? Can you talk about it? So what do you think? Another month here
might not be such a bad idea after all.”
Rebecca remained perfectly still. “Right,” she said with an uncertain
smirk. “Right. I heard myself. I don’t get me either. I don’t know where that
came from. Too late to erase now.”
Zack said, “It’s not you, Rebecca. It’s your illness. Your illness is not yet
under your control.” Especially when she was around her mother. These poi-
sonous tirades were part of their life together. It wasn’t just the drugs that had
helped her but the absence of her mother. Rebecca resented Mrs. Mays as
much as she loved her. She hated the mother whom she couldn’t live without.
It was sadly logical, yet mental illness can be an extreme logic. Zack wanted to
help Rebecca, but he also needed to protect her mother.