They're Calling You Home

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five as the spring turns warmer, edging into full summer, I spend my days at detox and my nights writing the newspaper feature. The story will be timely, says the editor at the Indianapolis Star. along with new Dna evidence exonerating people on death row, the courts and the public alike are interested in microanalysis , and Dr. Shelpenfry is among the top forensic researchers working in the field. In fact, the editor wants me to use the riley case to profile Dr. Shelpenfry, not the other way around, but either way, the case will get new attention, maybe even get picked up by the new york Times news Service, something my agent Michael calls “simultaneous tipping points.” he was understanding about my not wanting the reprint of the memoir, but told me I might end up regretting it. Still, he believes in me, he says, adding that as a writer I’ll have to finally find out what I’m willing to do. now, after two weeks of the same daily schedule, me showing up at the detox center, sometimes with Susana, other times alone, we have a preconference for our family therapy session. Mom has indeed brought along Dick, who nods and shakes hands and towers over us all. The male counselor from the group sessions makes us wait in a conference room. Susana is there, too, and just when I think it’s the counselor finally entering the room, the door opens and Kate walks in. She goes directly to Susana and hugs her, and they stay in the embrace for longer than Dick or Mom or I can ignore. It’s touching that after all these years, they’ve truly become sisters. Kate hugs Mom, shakes Dick’s hand, and gives me a tight hug and kiss. She, too, sits down at the conference table, and we make small talk that is so painful, I think my ears will bleed. Browder is at home, Susana tells me, watching a mob-movie marathon on cable, snapping photos of himself in a fedora she bought him at a flea market on the way home from one of their reservoir trips. They’re Calling You Home 187 I’m interrupted in the middle of a story about the time Browder insisted on talking in a high-pitched Joe Pesci voice for two weeks straight. The male counselor comes in and smiles. “hello, everyone. Ike will join us in a few minutes. I wanted to lay out what to expect tomorrow during your family therapy.” he seems to check something off on a clipboard. “how about we go around the room and say who we are and how we are involved in Ike’s life.” Momlooksatmeasifsomeonehadaskedhera Jeopardy!questionabout sixteenth-century poet John Donne. “he wants us to introduce ourselves,” I say to her. She’s not used to therapy speak, and Dick looks scared he’ll mess up right off the bat. I decide to introduce all three of us. “I’m gabe. We’ve met in group. I’m Ike’s brother, and this is our mom and her friend Dick.” “I assume they have voices themselves?” asks the therapist, without a trace of arrogance, sounding more factual and inquisitive than anything. Still, I really want to flip him off, but I nod. “right, I just thought I could expedite things.” The counselor makes a note. Kate introduces herself, and Susana smiles at the counselor and gives a tiny wave and then clutches her shoulders as if she’s cold. he tells her it’s okay, and I realize they’ve likely had long, drawn-out sessions about our family. “okay, folks. Tomorrow will be an hour-long session. The goal for these familytherapiesistostartIkeandallofyoudownapathofstructuredinsight. For two weeks now, Ike has been engaged in finding out what has driven him to drink and act on his character flaws. he’s found out a great deal about himself, I must say.” I force myself not to speak up and ask the therapist who’s speaking for whom now. he continues. “But let me ask him to come in. he’s prepared something, and as is customary, this is the patient’s opportunity to set the stage for what will be the most grueling part of the treatment. Please listen and don’t interrupt.” he stands up and goes to the door, opens it a crack, mumbles, waits, and looks back at us as if he’s about to perform the...