Prologue:
An ISO can be a brother, a sister, a parent, a spouse, a child. There they are, spilling your darkest moments to complete strangers because "they love you." But you won't realize this love until you first hated them and wish they'd never been a part of your life. And you won't realize they care about you until you've come to accept that you're a drug addict, an alcoholic, or a compulsive gambler. At Grassy Knolls Treatment Center of Manhattan, we're here to help you along your journey to recovery.
Chapter One:
Grassy Knolls. What kind of name is that for a treatment center? Why do they have to beat around the bush when they name these things? Call it what it is: The Manhattan Treatment Center for Drugs Addicts, Alcoholics, and Compulsive Gamblers. Maybe that name was too long, but did they have to shorten it to Grassy Knolls? That makes it sound like a summer camp for ten year olds. But, hell, I'd rather go to one of those than here for 3 weeks.
"Did you remember to pack everything?" my mother's voice floated to the back seat of our beat up '91 Mazda.
I rolled my eye, "Yes, mommy dearest, I even remembered my toothpaste."
My father chimed in in his gravelly voice that used to have me shaking in my boots, "No need for the sarcasm, Brad. We're only doing this because we care about you and—"
"I know, I know. About me and my future," I finished for him. It wasn't like I'd never heard that lecture before.
We drove up the wooded, curving road in silence. The center isn't technically in Manhattan. It's not even in New York City; it's out of town a good 50 miles. But they use the name for recognition purposes. My mom made sure every family member knew Grassy Knolls history back to front once they decided this was the best option for me, the drug addict of the family.
Even though I know I'm not an addict. I lived away from my hometown of Syracuse, New York for eight years in Manhattan (the real Manhattan) with my roommates and fiancée. I only did drugs for social purposes. It's not like I always needed a quick fix or something. I didn't do drugs in the morning before work like I'm sure these freaks did. I could stop anytime I wanted.
The woods cleared away into a huge opening with a two story cabinesque building in the center. There were paths coming in and out of the woods, and some small buildings on the outer edges of the clearing.
Hanging over the large double front doors was a sign reading "Grassy Knolls: The Journey Starts Here". I almost laughed out loud; I haven't been here thirty seconds and already the motivational business has been thrust upon me. Good God.
My parents quickly got out of the car, leaving me to carry all my own bags. Bloody pricks, I thought, watching my mom fixing her lipstick and smoothing her dress. It's not like a bunch of druggies and alkies are going to care what a 50 year old woman looks like.
My father rang the doorbell and an older woman answered. "Hello, hello! Come on in and welcome to Grassy Knolls Treatment Center of Manhattan!" she gushed. I was waiting for her to start reading off the specials for the night; she sounded like a damn waitress, not a nurse.
"Hello," my father replied gravely. "We're here to check in Brad Hoehn. We had an appointment with Dr. Eckhart."
The nurse nodded with equal gravity, "Of course, of course. We've been expecting you. Mr. and Mrs. Hoehn, if you could please wait out here, Dr. Eckhart would like to see your son alone. It makes the session a bit more comfortable for our patients."
She pointed me through a door to the right and motioned for my parents to have a seat. I lifted a hand to knock, but heard a muffled voice inside say, "Come on in, the door's open."
"What the hell?" I muttered under my breath. I was sure this dude was going to be creepy. But, with one quick glance back at my parents, I took a deep breath and opened the door.
"Welcome to Grassy Knolls, Mr. Hoehn," a surprisingly feminine voice said. As I looked around the room, I saw a middle-aged woman sitting behind a huge mahogany desk. With her chestnut shoulder length hair and square plastic rimmed glasses, she looked like the teacher back in middle school all the guys fell in lust with.
"Or would you prefer Kid Blink?" she asked as an afterthought.
"Uh, Kid Blink," I managed after a few seconds. How'd this woman know my nickname? My parents didn't even know it.
"Welcome to Grassy Knolls," she continued, "but I'm sure you've heard that many times already from Alice, our head nurse. I've got a list of things I have to do before you're officially accepted into G.K."
Accepted? So I went from summer camp to restaurant to prestigious college?
"First, we're going to check your luggage, so if they're anything hidden in there, we'll find it. then we're going to get a urine sample to see what drugs you've taken within the last few days and then show you your room and introduce you to the other patients," Dr. Eckhart told me.
Inwardly, I smiled. Thank god I'd hidden my Valium in the front pocket of my jeans. "Okay, do you want me to take the urine sample now?" I asked. I hadn't taken any cocaine for a few days now. I didn't think prescription drugs showed up on those kinds of tests.
"In a moment, but first I'm going to need you to empty your pockets. Most patients tend to hide their pill bottles there," she said, smiling innocently. How had she known I had hidden them there?
Awkwardly, I took the plastic bottle out of my pocket and put in on the desk. She nodded encouragingly at me, "It's usually a fight to get those bottles off patients."
"I have one final question for you, Kid Blink," she said, standing up and looking me straight in the eye. "This center only works if you work with it. So, do you want to be here? Do you want to be helped?"
Without thinking, I whispered the first thing that came to my mind.
"Yes."