Zero Degrees of Separation

 

It was 2009. November, to be exact. I was sitting at book club, sipping wine, sharing stories, laughing, discussing possibilities for our next month’s book choice.  I brought up something I’d been thinking about. I suggested we adopt a family for Christmas, rather than exchanging gifts among ourselves. We agreed our gesture of gifting each other was unnecessary. After all, there were so many people with so little. It was unananomious. We would adopt a family.

I reached out to a friend, a social worker, in the Leon Country school system. I hoped she could match us with a family in need. And she did. A widowed, single-mother. Her name was Liese. She had a son, Alex, 14-years-old at the time.

Liese was disabled. Also, morbidly obese. Consequently, she was homebound. I was told she was shot during a robbery while working inside a convenience store. I was also told her husband had been killed in the line of duty when Alex was a toddler. Later, I would learn he died in prison. Liese was white. Alex was bi-racial. They lived in a small apartment building in Frenchtown run by the Lutheran Social Services of North Florida. They had been homeless a few years earlier so were grateful to live where they were living.

Our book-club pooled funds and lavished them with clothes, food, books and gift cards to various grocery stores. We bought Alex a new bike. It was stolen before Christmas.  So, we bought  another, and this time included a chain and lock. But, that didn’t help. The second bike was stolen only a few months later. By the third bike he learned to bring it indoors and never leave it outside.

Liese and Alex lived in the heart of poverty. Crime, gangs and drugs were lurking outside the apartment door– hoping, waiting– to capture Alex.  But, he faired well and was a good boy. He loved music, school and his friends. Alex played in the Leon High School Symphony and worked part-time in a local music shop. He aspired to be a musician one day. This was music to my ears. After all, my late father-in-law, Karl Kuersteiner, was Dean of the School of Music at Florida State for many years. He was also a concert violinist.

I would share stories with Alex about the kind, talented, violinist. He was hungry to learn about a successful musician. On one of our visits, he took my husband and me to the guitar shop where he worked. His love, passion for music, was palpable. We wandered around the small shop as he pointed out all his favorite instruments. Mostly, it was guitars.

Years would pass. There would be more Thanksgivings and Christmases. Liese was a prolific reader. I would buy her books in the genre she loved -romance. Later, it would be a Kindle with an Amazon gift card so she could download more books. It was hard for me, keeping up with her reading pace.  She wrote emails, keeping me abreast of Alex, his high-school years, graduation, his plans. She hoped I wouldn’t forsake them after he graduated.  I assured her I wouldn’t. And I never did.

I would lobby different friends to help me over the years. They were sick of me–some told me so. “They’re takers, Prissy.” But, still, I kept begging. One special friend paid their utilities- anonymously- for more than a year. I lobbied for Alex’s admission to the Florida State Music Camp the summer after his high school graduation. Enough funds were collected and he was enrolled.

You’d have thought he had a ticket around the world: Music Camp and a Concert at Ruby Diamond Auditorium. Nothing so grand ever happened to Alex. Liese wrote and asked if I would attend his performance. After all, she never left the house. Alex was her caregiver from the time I knew them. He did everything for her.

When Alex scanned the dimmed audience and discovered my husband and me, sitting there, for him, a Cheshire grin crowded his entire face. It was a beautiful moment for a boy who never had anyone attend any school function, much less a concert at the university.

When Alex graduated from high school, I suggested Starbucks would be a great place for him to get a job.  I’d heard they would pay college tuition for employees unable to afford college. Not to mention- Starbucks was only a few blocks away. He could walk there in five minutes. He didn’t like my idea. And so my husband offered him a job. Alex declined. He just wanted to pursue his music dream and teach guitar lessons. Liese supported his decision. There was nothing we could say to discourage his plan.

“A year, he gets a year to chase his dream.” Liese said. I was baffled. My husband even more so. We thought he needed college or a job. Music lessons would never get them out of poverty. But Alex began his chase: music, guitar lessons and growing up in the only world he knew…caring for his mother.

It was Thanksgiving, four months ago.  I asked Gina, my sister, to ride with me to deliver a Thanksgiving meal to them. I’d ordered it from Fresh Market:  turkey, dressing, greens, and two pies. They no longer were living in the apartment I knew. The church relocated them.  I wasn’t sure where the heck I was going with the big box of food. I figured Gina could help me find the place, and also help carry the big box of food inside.  It was the first time she would meet them. Somehow, in all the years, I’d missed Gina in my quest for Alex and Liese donations.

Alex answered the door after only my one knock. I could tell how happy he was to see me. We hugged and he announced he would be turning 22-years-old in a week. I thought…How quickly he went from 14 to 22. He was rail thin, taller than I remembered, towering above me at 6’2″.  I was wearing flats and not my usual platform Fly London shoes.  Maybe that’s why I felt so small beside him.

Alex was chatty, friendly, helpful and kind. Two of his friends sat on the sofa playing video games inside the dark, smoky, and very tiny livingroom. Liese lay stretched on a recliner, her feet  swollen, enormous in size. She looked unwell, unkept, with bottles of prescription medications stacked in heaps next to her.

“I’m in kidney failure and have this really bad staph infection.” she said. “I think the home health nurse is sending me back to the hospital.” Her pallor confirmed it.

I was unsure what to say, how to reply to her bad news. Alex stood next to me in the kitchen but said nothing.  I did what I do when I don’t know what to do. I started running my mouth, blabbering about nothing -to Alex, Liese, and the strange boys sitting on the couch. Prissy nonsense…attempting to lighten a dark room.

In all my years visiting them the environment never looked so bad.  The windows were covered with unpacked moving boxes. There was no light spilling in from outdoors. Only the florescent light from the ceiling in the small kitchen. I placed my food inside the empty refrigerator. All I saw were half-empty bottles of ketchup and mayonaise. I explained to Alex how to warm the Thanksgiving meal.

“Oh gosh, I forgot I’m supposed to pick up the kids.” Gina said. It came out of the blue and loud enough for everyone to hear. “Oh, please don’t go, sit for a minute.” Liese said. I scanned the room and saw no chairs, not even any floor space. They had moved the previous June but never unpacked. I surmised they had no place to put anything; the space afforded them was half the size of their previous home. Alex and I hugged goodbye and I blew Liese a kiss from where I stood. “I’ll be praying for you, Liese.”

When Gina and I climbed back inside my car I was embarrassed to be driving it. Poverty and privledge- juxtoposed. It always affected me, even as a child.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Gina asked before my car door was slammed.

“What?” I looked at her. “They were stoned– all of them. Who knows with what. And the pot-you had to smell it, Prissy!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” (I see what I want to see…it’s my character flaw)

Gina called my husband the minute she was out of my car, and sight. Before I could even drive home.

“Prissy has no business going there, especially, alone.” When she finished tales of mischief, my Dale had joined her team.

“You can help – just don’t go back over there. He repeated everything Gina said to him. “Please, just send money, or a nice gift to them this Christmas.”

The next day I received an email from Liese.

Dear Prissy,

I wanted to write and let you know how much I appreciated you bringing Alexander and I Thanksgiving dinner.  I have felt so horrible lately dealing with my health and my finances being stretched to the limit since having to move I really didn’t feel too thankful for anything.  Alex did a great job cooking the turkey and getting everything ready.  I wasn’t able too eat much because  I am nauseous from all the medications I am taking but I was able to eat a little turkey, mashed potatoes and the rolls you gave us.  Everything was delicious!  Alex went to town on the turkey and dressing and loved the mashed potatoes.  He just about polished off the pumpkin pie on his own.  A couple of his friends came over later that evening to play video games and they all dined happily on the leftovers.

I hope you and your family had a nice Thanksgiving.  Speaking of family I enjoyed meeting your sister.  I was embarrassed by the horrible mess our apartment was in.  Truth to tell I have felt so bad and seem to have spent more time in the hospital lately than I have been at home unpacking boxes was one of the last things to do on my list.

It truly was wonderful of you to think of us and to do such a lovely thing.  I know how busy you are during the holidays with all your family and grandkids plus it sounds as if you have been dealing with a lot yourself.  I was very sorry to hear about your mother.  (Also your friend.)  Somehow you think your mother will always be there for you.  There has been many times during the last 4 months when I have been alone in a hospital bed thinking how much I wanted to see my mother.  She has been dead for 15 years but it still hurts at times.  That is what really worries me about Alexander if something happens to me.  For practically his whole life it has just been the two of us  I know he is “grown” now but he truly doesn’t have any other family to speak of since his grandparents died.

I also know how worried you have been about Dale.  He seemed so healthy and vital when we saw him.  You two were always on the go.  Alex was worried when I told him about Dale having spinal fusion.  It sounds extremely painful.  And now you said he has some kind of blood infection.  I hope he is doing better now and the doctor in Jacksonville was able to figure out what was going on with his blood.  I think Dale is a great guy and he was always so kind to Alex.  You certainly found a keeper when you met Dale.  But then I also think Dale was pretty darn lucky to meet you!

I wanted to let you know I am back in the hospital.  Saturday I started to feel very weak and could hardly move.  My home health nurse told me they weren’t able to reach the wound care doctor and I should go to the ER.  The ER doctor said it was a good thing I came in because the bacterial infection was back in my blood and I was on the verge of going septic again.  So, here I am back in my favorite place.  (Not!)

  They started me on a couple of new antibiotics hoping to finally eradicate the little devil and so far it seems to be working.  Right now I am waiting for wound care to send me to surgery to have debridement on the wounds on my back.  They are not healing and they think getting more of the necrotic tissue will help.  My main concern is if they will ever find an antibiotic that will get rid of the infection.  So far they have tried at least 12 different ones.  Sometimes I worry they will run out of different antibiotics to try.

I have no idea when I will be able to go home.  I am going to miss Alex’s birthday and I worry I will be stuck here for Christmas.  It may seem silly but since Alex was born we have always been together.  Even when things were at their bleakest…homeless and completely broke and it was just us two… we were always together.

There have been a lot of not so nice things that have happened to us over the years and I worry Alex won’t have too many good memories of growing up.  That is one of the many reasons I will always be grateful for all of the wonderful things you have done.  You really are the kindest, compassionate, most caring person I have ever met. 

Well, it is almost time for the doctor to come in and let me know what is on tap for today.  Unfortunately I know they won’t be telling me I can go home.

I just wanted to let you know what is going on.  It may be presumptuous but I feel you and Dale are perhaps the only people here in Tallahassee we can call friends.  I know Alex has lots of friends but being kids barely out of their teens they don’t have much on their minds other than girls and video games.  If you get the chance I would love to here from you.  You can fill me in on how Dale is doing and all of your wonderful plans for Christmas.  plus I want to hear more about the new book you are writing.

Again Prissy, let me say Thank You/  You really are a special person and I am so grateful to have met you.  Tell Dale I said hello!  iIam in room 429 at Capital Regional so the phone number for my room is 850/325-5429.

Take care,  Liese 

I ordered their Christmas that same day.

Dear Prissy,

The Omaha Steak boxes arrived safely.  I am still in the hospital, but Alex called me this morning very excited.  So many delicious goodies!! I told Alex he can cook the chicken and eat some of the potatoes and apple tarts but to save the pork chops and steaks for when (if) I get out of the hospital. Thank you guys so much.  It was very thoughtful, and I know if I ever get to eat them they will be delicious.  I told Alex these will be the fanciest steaks and pork chops we have ever eaten.  How are things going with Dale?  I hope his health is improving and you two will have a wonderful holiday season and a Merry Christmas.  If I ever get out of this dang hospital I will be sending you a Christmas card.  Our Christmas was looking a little bleak and I just felt all alone.  Sitting in a hospital bed there is not much else to do but think…I do try to not get too depressed…but it is a little hard when I feel so alone.  Just hearing from you makes me feel so much better and that I am not alone.  There are people who care us about us. You really are such a remarkable woman and I appreciate everything you and Dale have done for us.  Please tell Dale we said Hello!  If I don’t hear from you before Christmas and I wish you a peaceful and joyous one.

Love, Liese and Alexander.

And then -ten days ago -the unthinkable. What we writers call the inciting incident. When everything changes. And nothing is ever the same again.

Alex killed his mother.

He brought a knife from home, snuck into the hospital after visiting hours. He stabbed her multiple times in the heart, wearing gloves and mask he stole from the supply closet. I can’t begin to make sense of the senseless. For me, a person who sees her glass half-full, three-quarters full. I now see a leak. Drip. Drip. Drip.

I’m writing this blog for two reasons. One-to purge a heart full of grief. Second- for answers.

How? Why? Did I miss the signs? Were there any signs? Are killers in our plain sight? Are these killers– the ones slipping inside schools, clubs, auditoriums– just like Alex. Unrecognizable to an ordinary person? Alex was no killer. He wasn’t. And yet, he was. I can’t accept this. No matter how much my friends and family try to convience me. They see the animal in him. They beg me to stay away from him and this situation. They have genuine fear. I understand. And for them…I will. But, I keep asking myself-what would Liese want me to do? Would she want me to reach out to her son-even though he murdered her. After all, he was the center of her entire universe. The ying. The yang. My turmoil.

This quiet, smart, creative boy grew up to kill his own mother, the only family he had in the entire world. It is unfathomable. Who is responsible for this travesty? Someone must be. I won’t accept it was Liese. She can’t defend herself. Then, or now. At some point the system must take responsibility for the mentally unstable beings in our society.

A boy has fallen through the cracks. He was the only caregiver for his mother for all of his childhood. Yet, he kills her when she is already dying.

Alex didn’t use a gun and go inside a school. Instead, he used a knife and went inside a hospital.  Was it rage or was it love? Was he tired of her suffering, or tired of his? Is he the poster child for mental illness? Or something more cynical? He had no history of violence, no record, no trouble with the law. Nothing. Zip.

Six degrees of separation between us is no longer true. There is no separation. We are one phone call away from the unthinkable. There are unstable beings mingling among all of us.

I’m an ordinary woman living an ordinary life. Yet, I had two friends murdered. I have broken bread with two who have killed. I’m an author and couldn’t imagine these headlines. It should make any sane person fear, wonder, question what has happened to this beautiful world.

Evil is only a breath, a blink, perhaps, a smile away from each of us. 

David Thoreau wrote-Things do not change; we change 

Alex may speak this truth. Things did not change. He did.

 

 

 

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