Field Trip to the Local Jail

Time that Binta woke up: 5:36 AM
Time she woke up after I rubbed her back and coaxed her back to sleep: 7:11 AM
Number of times I played hooky this week: one
In the Attic: Are we all just one bad decision away from messing up our lives?

I'm not sure if it was playing hooky in the true sense, as my motivation was partly physical and partly mental. The cold from last week (my "partly physical" excuse) is holding on, but making me miserable only upon first waking. Then it's gone until the next morning. So in that sense, I really didn't need to miss school. The other half of my excuse, the "partly mental" break was needed without question.

Calling in sick is so easy. Actually, it's done online, so there is no need to fake a raspy-sounding explanation to someone at the other end of the phone. It's done very quickly - just plug in the day, hit "Submit Absence," and you're set! At any time of the day, I'm just a few clicks away from reporting an absence for the next working day. Yes, that's very dangerous.

I got up as usual, took Binta to daycare, and returned home to start working on the "search and rescue" mission in my living room. I found a total of seven drier sheets in the piles of clean laundry. (Hmmm... I did 3 loads last week, and three loads the week before. That means some of the clean laundry has been crumpled on my living room floor for at least 3 weeks.) I vacuumed, spot-treated the carpet, piled Binta's toys into her bedroom, and looked back with great satisfaction at the house of structure and order that I was once again proud to live in.

It turned out to have been a good day to stay home. Last Sunday, a friend of mine and I made plans to meet for lunch. After waiting a half an hour for her, I called her cell phone, only to hear an unknown man's voice say, "She's not available right now." I explained that we had plans to meet, and asked where I could reach her, and he repeated, definitely holding something back, "She's just not available right now."

I was so stunned to have such a weird conversation, that I didn't think to press him, or even ask who he was. I just hung up feeling a little confused and stood-up. In previous conversations, she had mentioned that things were "really messed up right now" so I waited anxiously to hear from her, as this missed date had to be a result of the really bad things that were going on with her.

During my "sick day", I discovered an email from her. It said she was sorry that she hadn't been able to get in touch with me, but she had been in jail.

What?

How does someone I know, another teacher with a Masters Degree, living in a beautiful suburban neighborhood with houses the color of slate and cream, with a daughter the same age as mine, wind up spending the weekend in the Pierce County jail?

We arranged to meet for lunch that day. (Aren't I glad that I'm not at work?) We sat down in a booth at Red Robin while cheerful waiters and servers wove in between tables and each other and a nearby table packed with jocund conversation bounced around the dining room intermixed with the clatter of dishes and laughter. I looked at my friend, hair and makeup beautifully done, and stylishly dressed, as if she was headed to a job interview, as she confessed to me that she had had an affair with a guy from work. (bad decision #1) She told her husband, who wasn't happy. (probably the right thing to do, but added to the mess) He proceeded to "share" this information with the family and every friend of theirs that he could get in touch with. In addition, he cut her off financially, so that she is now living in an Extended America with no money in sight until the end of the month. In anger, late Thursday night, (bad decision #2) she went to the home to pick up her daughter, only to be told by her husband that she could not take her. She attacked her husband (bad decision #3) and used a pie cutter (yes, a pie cutter, we laughed for a moment) to cut her wrists. (bad decision #4).

The police wound up getting involved, and even though her husband had no injuries that needed medical attention, she was taken into custody and placed on suicide watch.

The story is dramatic and exciting, and has all the ingredients for a good Lifetime movie. What was even more fascinating was watching my friend move from shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders, acknowledging her guilt, to sniggering about her ridiculous behavior and shameful loss of self control. Each time that she mentioned her daughter, with the thought of not being allowed to see her girl, however, her eyes darkened, her lips began to quiver, and her eyes brimmed with tears, sometimes spilling down her face creating a stripe of mascara on her cheek.

She tells me what it was like sitting in jail, believing that she had lost absolutely everything, wanting to die. She tells me of every suicidal strategy she explored while she was left alone in her cell, from trying to suffocate herself with the garment she was forced to wear, to using the restraining order that she was served to cut into her wrists again. My friend then describes the woman who checked on her, talked to her, and helped her find a tiny bit of strength. The woman offered her a book to read, which she ended up reading 5 times. My friend credits this woman and that book, together, for saving her life. Somewhere, in the mess of the Pierce County Jail cell that she was in, she began to feel a force, like a spirituality. A sense of clarity entered, allowing her to refocus. Her defeated energy was transformed into a positive push of energy she used to do crunches and running.

Our lunch date would only last one hour, for she had an appointment with her school district to see if she still had a job. After that, she would be pawning her wedding ring for additional cash to get her through the month. I drove back to my house, replaying the events through my mind, remembering the last time I had seen her, one month ago, when I had been admiring her life. It seemed that through a series of bad decisions, she had severly diverged from the direction she had been headed. And it terrified me to think about how easily one could dart off the road, dipping onto a path headed for disaster.