Chapter 12
Bette wasn't surprised in the least when she was led to the staff bathroom to find all the supplies kept there were in complete disarray. Mop heads hardly resembling anything other than frayed threads of muddy yarn were scattered all over. Jugs of cleaners in different colors jumbled together. One roll of paper towels and a single pack of toilet paper. Not nearly what a building topping around 20 people on average needed. The vacuum looked as if it had never been cleaned out. There were two brooms that looked surprisingly in a near-brand-new shape. It felt odd standing with Kerrie in a room full of cleaning supplies on one side and a toilet behind them. A small vanity holding a sink and a bar of soap was by it. Bar soap? I'm bringing some from home. I wonder if Kerrie would mind something pretty-smelling.
Kerrie handed the little keys to the tall brown cabinet to Bette, "We keep the chemicals locked up."
"And the supplies are from Elaine?" Bette asked, moving closer to Kerrie to get a view of everything in the cramped bathroom. The scent of something fresh but musky met her nose as she brushed against Kerrie's arm. She ignored the surge of warmth that spread over her from the tiny bit of contact.
"Yes, she does all the ordering and keeps all food and supplies locked up in those sheds in the back of the parking lot. You can tell her what you need."
"And what is it that I need? "
"I'll show you the list of chores. There's not actually a chemical list, so you just have to think about how something is cleaned and make sure you have that. Like glass cleaner because we need the windows cleaned. That sort of thing."
Bette was led to a bulletin board in the main hall with snippets of paper and posters on it. It was fully covered; in some spots it was layered in stacks. Push pins were everywhere. Cluttered to the max. In the center was a handwritten list that had been photocopied so many times it was almost illegible. Kerrie pointed to it. "Here's the list. We take care of The Church, Sparrow, and the administration building. I know it sounds like a lot, but at times, we have up to 24 people. We also have the option of sending someone to the kitchen if we have a guy who's a good fit. Those people don't do chores anywhere else because they help with all three meals."
Frowning, Bette pulled the chore list down. "Why do they do chores? It feels like free labor."
"Yeah, I know. It seems odd to the outside world, probably, but the system is set up to allow the clients to get back into the routine of everyday life. A lot of them have been locked in cells; others have been on the streets or coked out in a basement. Others held jobs but don't remember what life was like before coming home to addiction. They're feeling new things. The chemicals in their brains are going haywire. When your system is accustomed to being high or depressively low, then it needs to relearn what normal feels like. It's like a boat bobbing in the water. It bobs up and down, but once settled, it's even. The line we want them to get to is the settled, even line where normal dopamine levels hang out. Right now, their systems are jerking up and down erratically. Giving them a schedule and tasks to focus on helps them settle back into the normal line. Not to mention, it gives them something to do that isn't sitting and dwelling on things they can't change while in here."
Bette nodded slowly. The amount of information she had yet to learn seemed never-ending. "That makes sense. How do you choose who does what?"
"Well, here at The Church, it's just going down the list. Most of our guys don't have any major physical health issues. At the house, it's divided into upper and lower chores. Keep a copy of our caseloads so you know who is staying where. We don't want people that are not living in the area to be messing around in others’ spaces. The admin building needs to be guys that have their heads on straighter than the others. If someone is new and still having DTs— "
"DTs?"
"Withdrawal symptoms. They won't be as organized and put together as a guy on his last week."
"How do I know things like that?"
"You'll get the hang of it. Talk to the upper and lower advisers. Don't be afraid to get to know the guys. I know walking into a room full of men can be uncomfortable, but I promise you'll meet some awesome guys if you give them a chance. There's always going to be someone who can be an ass, but it's not the norm. If anyone gives you a problem, let me or Wilson know. Don't be surprised if they hold each other accountable if someone is rude or nasty to you. They form a tight bond here. They'll share stories and emotions with each other that no one else in the world will ever hear. Rehab is a unique place if you let yourself be present and open."
Bette nodded slowly as she glanced back at the paper and then over the bulletin board again. Underneath was a small bookshelf. There was an electric pencil sharpener with an inch of dust on top and a large coffee can filled with colored pencils and markers. She pointed to the can. "Is this for the clients?"
"Yeah, I print out—shit, I forgot to print out more coloring pages. I try to keep that tray filled with them. I print free ones off the internet. A lot of guys like to stay busy or color pictures for their loved ones. I know it may seem childish, but it's actually therapeutic."
"Why don't I do that for you? I'll print them. It'll be one less thing you have to do."
Kerrie opened her mouth and then closed it. She seemed to be conflicted. After a moment, she nodded slowly. "Yeah, yeah, that works. They like different kinds of stuff. Just print a variety of things. Sometimes, a guy may ask for something specific. It's up to you if you want to do that. I normally do if I have time."
"Great, I'll do that, along with the chore list, while you work. How about we meet up after lunch so you can look over the chores?"
"Okay, that sounds good."
It took a while for Bette to get her bearings in her new office and familiarize herself with the computer. Her computer was not as old as Kerrie's, but it still wasn't the highly efficient and up-to-date electronics she was used to using at the law firm. Shelly always insisted on having the newest and latest things. That was Shelly through and through. Never satisfied for long. The shiny image she put on display was more important than real life behind closed doors. Bette and Zoe were more like ornaments instead of her closest loved ones. Just a hair above the house and luxury clothing .
As she tried to decipher the handwritten mess on the old chore chart, she let out a frustrated sigh, closing her eyes while pinching the bridge of her nose. The beginning of a tension headache was forming in her head.
"Everything okay?"
Bette jumped, quickly turning to see the voice's owner. Luke was standing in her office's doorway, smiling softly. She shrugged. "This chore list is a mess, and half of it I can't even read."
Chuckling, he nodded. "That's Ms. K's handwriting. It's awful. What are you struggling with besides the handwriting?"
"Well, I'm told to do the Sparrow house chores, but those aren't listed anywhere on this."
"Those are hanging inside Sparrow. Have you been in it before?"
Bette shook her head, feeling a little weird about the idea of being in the clients’ residential home.
"Well, come on. I'll give you the tour. You'll need to do house checks occasionally to make sure things are actually getting done anyway."
Feeling a little conflicted, Bette bit the inside of her lip. Was she supposed to go in there? Maybe she should check with Kerrie. "Maybe I should ask Kerrie first."
"Ask Kerrie what?" Kerrie poked her head in the office. Bette hadn't even heard her approaching.
"I want to take her to Sparrow to get the tour and chore list."
Kerrie shrugged. "Sounds good to me. I'm going to The Main to update Tyler on the weekend incident. I've got my walkie-talkie on me. Do you have yours?"
Bette frowned and looked at the large, ancient yellow walkie-talkie sitting by the phone. "That thing? Can't I just text you?"
"You can, but you can't communicate with Luke or the house advisers without the walkie. Honestly, once you get in the habit of using it, it won't feel so weird."
"I can show her how to use it and the different channels," Luke offered, turning to Bette. "The Church and Sparrow are channel 6. That's our line, and the front desk knows to use it to get in touch with us."
"Sounds good. I won't be long." Kerrie left with that.
After a quick tutorial of the yellow walkie-monstrosity, she followed him to Sparrow. It was the clients’ lunch break. For two hours, they had their midday meal and some downtime before starting the next class .
They exited The Church through the back and walked across the short, covered walking bridge to the concrete path that snaked out, leading to the residential houses and The Main and admin buildings. The summer heat was sneaking its way in, and she wished she hadn't worn a long-sleeve blouse, even though it was made of light material. A mist of sweat was already forming on her lower back.
"Hey, new lady," one of three men sitting on the back porch called out. He didn't look much older than Zoe. His grin was infectious, and she found herself returning it with her own.
"I don't think I've been formally introduced to everyone. I'm Bette."
"Ms. Bette will be doing the admin side of The Church. She's getting the chore list together and hasn't seen Sparrow before."
"Well, let's give Ms. Bette a tour," said a shaggy redhead covered in freckles. His name tag read Toby and had Kerrie's initials on the corner, indicating he was on her caseload.
Toby jumped on the rickety porch with two feet, causing it to bow in the middle. He flung the door open with gusto and yelled, "Lady coming in!"
"This porch looks like it's about to fall in," commented Bette as she gingerly placed her high-heeled feet on the weathered boards.
"It's been like that for years. I'm Robin," an older man introduced himself. He held out his hand, which Bette shook. His grip was firm, and his calm demeanor put her at ease.
"It's nice to meet you, Robin."
She carefully navigated the few feet to the back door, walking into what appeared to be the living room. A living room with two mismatched couches and one loveseat crammed in it. It took Bette a moment to realize there was a gutted kitchen behind one of the couches, only evidenced by the white cabinets clinging to the pale yellow walls. There were no appliances, no items one would expect to see on the counter. Just some coloring pages and a chessboard.
"Hey," nodded a man about Bette's age, sitting on the fluffier of the two couches, maroon and aged, but comfortable and inviting. A television sitting on an old glass coffee table was across from it. "Welcome to Sparrow."
"Thank you," she smiled, feeling a little self-conscious as more heads poked out from door frames, greeting her. Some were in their beds, blankets pulled over their heads, or were reading, legs crossed and laid out lounging comfortably.
Each room had two twin-sized beds, two white wooden wardrobes with no doors, and a garbage can. Every room except the living room area was converted into rooms.
"This is the bathroom," instructed Luke, motioning for her to duck into a small room. A vintage blue vanity stuck out in the cramped bathroom. The white frosted shower curtain was in dire need of replacing, and the toilet could use a good scrubbing. Beside the shower, partially hidden by the door when open, was a relatively new washer and dryer set. Another thing that hadn't occurred to her: the men would need to wash their clothing during their stay.
"This isn't very clean at all," observed Bette as she tentatively pinched the edge of the shower curtain to peek in. It was in the same shape as the toilet. "I thought they had chores to keep it clean."
He shrugged, grimacing slightly. "Ms. K hasn't really had time to come over and check as much lately because she's gotten behind."
Frowning, Bette cast another look around the dirty bathroom. It would have been a nice but simple space had the men taken better care of it. "That seems to be a running theme. Was she actually supposed to do all of this on her own?"
"Honestly, I think she realizes that she doesn't have to do everything. From what I've heard, there used to be a woman in your position who retired about a year ago. This place is never in a hurry to pay for anything, so they dragged their feet about replacing her. Cue Ms. K and her codependent need to do everything herself. Now she doesn't want to give up the control."
"Well, I'm here now. We can get things back on track. Starting with this filthy house. People feel better when they're living in a clean home."
Lower Sparrow was in much the same shape as Upper, but instead of individual rooms, it was one long dorm room. Beds with attached cubby holes that acted as dividers ran two rows of the wide space, and in the center was a living area of sorts with a couple of couches and a washing machine and dryer. A TV hung high on a wall in view of the sitting area. The bathroom was the only room, and it was a little sectioned-off room up two small steps. The men in both sections were kind to her. Some ignored her, but for the most part, by the time she had left, she was feeling much more relaxed about interacting with them. Being in a large group of men had initially sounded intimidating, but it wasn't bad at all.
Slowly, Bette was beginning to understand the need for an extra set of hands more and more. After going back over the contents of the cleaning section, she realized they didn't have any floor cleaner, the window cleaner appeared to be mostly water, they were almost completely out of toilet paper, and the mop looked like it was about one more use away from growing legs and walking out.
With her list in hand, she took a trip down to The Main, walking instead of driving so she could stretch her legs. After spending the last three months hiding in her bedroom, she noticed her body was not taking all this sudden movement well. It felt good to be achy when she got home, though, so she continued trying to move around. It made her feel like a functional human again.
As she was walking by the admin building, she caught a glimpse of Kerrie coming out of The Main building. It wasn't hard to pick Kerrie out of a crowd. Even if one didn't factor in her size, her jovial personality seemed to entrap one's attention. Bette had only been allowed small peeks at it so far. Whatever anxiety coursed through the large woman seemed to bring out panicked anger, whether she knew that or not.
Kerrie greeted her with a dashing smile that sent Bette's pulse racing. She swiped her hand over her forehead. "That damned building is always too warm."
The corners of Bette's lips turned up. "Is that why it's like the North Pole in The Church? I swear I can almost see my breath."
Kerrie chuckled. "What can I say? I'm a big lady. I get hot easily. That's why Wilson has a heater under his desk. He doesn't tell anyone about, so he doesn't look like a wimp."
The mention of her body made Bette's eyes automatically sweep over Kerrie, and the twinkle in Kerrie's eye when she made her way back up made it clear that she had been caught looking. She smiled, sheepishly clearing her throat. "I guess I'll be bringing a heater of my own then. I'm about to go talk to Elaine about supplies. We need some stuff."
Kerrie nodded. "I'm not surprised. If you need help carrying it back up, just use a walkie-talkie and ask if a couple of guys could come help. You'll find none of us mind helping a pretty lady." Kerrie winked at her and started towards The Church.
Bette was left blushing at the compliment, standing at the edge of the parking lot, feeling giddy.