Free write for second essay: Due October 10

The phone rings. It’s Ben.  I have not spoken to Ben in eighteen months. “Listen Lewis, Lindsay tried to kill herself last night. She is in the hospital of the University of Virginia. I need you to take care of this. I can’t deal with her anymore. She is still in the emergency room. Do you have a pen and paper? Call this number and ask for Phil—he is Lindsay’s nurse.”

“Is she…is she okay?

“Physically she is fine. She is still completely out of it.”

I fucking hate Ben.

I call Gail. “Come home. Now.”

Gail knows me—her voice is shock. “What, what what what?”

“I just got a call from Ben—Lindsay is in the hospital in Virginia. I’m getting in the car and going down.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure. Ben says she tried to kill herself.”

“Shit shit shit shit.”

Gail hates hospitals—she will not want to go despite maternal instincts. I will get in the car as soon as I can get organized. I have to email Dan O’Day and Charles Nelson. [Check email—actually to my students with a copy to Dan and Charles—5:01 p.m.]

Lewis Seagull lseagull@kean.edu

                3/7/11

 to DOROTHY, Edison, Faten, Janice, Jason, Jehoshaphat, Jenifer, Jessica, Joanne, Jorge, Juan, Karen, Kevin, Krunal, Krystal, Krystal, Krystle, Luis, Mike, Nicodouins, Rafal, Steven, Sujith, Thomas, Zain

Students:

I have a personal emergency that requires me to be in Charlottsville, Virginia immediately.  I should be back before Friday.

Please communicate within your groups to finalize your proposals.  The evening class (01) should email the proposal to me--one per group--by Friday at 11:00 AM; the afternoon class (02) should be prepared to hand in finished documents on Friday.

Please check the syllabus and finish everything assigned to be completed prior to spring break.

Professor Seagull

5:01 p.m.? I would not have telephoned Gail—she would be home by 5:15.

AMHerriott emails me immediately—5:08 p.m. My directory says her first name is Adrian—she hated that name—went by another—I will check my grade book. Maybe not—she signs email “Adrian.” Looking at it again, I see that "Dorothy" was the name she hated--Adrian was fine.

amherriott@verizon.net

                3/7/11  

 to me

Prof. Seagull, I hope that everything is ok, be safe and we will see you next week. Adrian

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Lewis Seagull lseagull@kean.edu

                3/7/11                  

to Dan, Charles, bcc: Robert

Dan,

Confirming the message I left with Charles Nelson, my daughter is in ICU at the University of Virginia Medical Center in Charlottsville.  I am leaving immediately.  I should be back for my Friday class, or you will hear from me again.

I will notify my students via email--I have a list for both classes.  Thanks for your understanding,

Lewis

 Robert Cirasa                 
               3/8/11

 I'm sorry to hear this, Lewis. Please let me know more when you can. -- Robert...

Charles Nelson                  3/8/11

 Lewis, Thanks for letting us know. I hope your daughter will get well soon. C...

Lewis Seagull lseagull@kean.edu

                3/10/11

to Robert, Charles, Dan

Thank you for your concern and good wishes.  My daughter is stable.  I am back and will be resuming my teaching duties on Friday.

Daniel O'Day doday@kean.edu

                3/10/11

 to me  

Lewis,

Belated thanks for your message.  I do hope that your daughter's situation is improving.  If there is anything I can do to help you at this end, please let me know.

     Best wishes.

     Dan

I think I led them to believe it was a car accident. Lindsay used to walk Bob Cirasa’s dog.

Email to Dan and Charles is 4:38 p.m. Ben must have called around 4:30. So my recollection was correct that I emailed Charles and Dan before my students—the email suggests that maybe I first called Charles and left a message on his machine.  I might have called Gail at work—I will have to ask her if she remembers—I would not have waited a half hour to speak with her.

Gail is now home. What I remember is that there was an argument between us about whether to tell our two sons—Lindsay’s older brothers—and whether I should drive or take the train. We check Amtrak schedules and fares on-line.

I call Matt, our oldest. “I’m going with you, Dad.”

“How soon can you be here?”

“I can take the PATH and the train and be there in an hour.”

I call Jody. “If Matt is going, I’m going too.”

That LPOS decides to take a shower and we have to wait until almost 10:00 for him to get to Westfield.

Gail: “I feel a little bit better that you will have company. I do not want you driving by yourself.”

Lindsay fucking hates me. Lindsay is just like me. She used to follow me around the kitchen—when I made linguini in white seafood sauce, she would peel the hot shrimp for me—eighth grade? She is the only one who would not let me look at her English papers.  Matt loved when I helped him with his papers. Jody had a paper on Henry IV, Part 1 that he resisted—until he became satisfied that I would not just take over and that my comments were helpful. Lindsay refused to read the Spark Notes for The Sound and the Fury—she was the only one in her class that did not know Caddy was pregnant—“What? Caddy is pregnant?”

She went to culinary school—CIA in Poughkeepsie—instead of studying English—to spite me—or was she following her heart as I had not? She was the best writer among the five of us—all writers. At CIA she met Ben—a good thing I thought—for she had no use for the rest of us, and was too young—despite her feelings to the contrary—to be on her own. At least Ben could take care of her.

In high school, when I drove her to school, she wordlessly stared out the window, her back to me, shutting me out. She shut each of us out. By happenstance, she met Matt on a street in New York; he happily crossed to meet her and her comment was, “This is awkward.”

Bob Cirasa told me he saw Lindsay on TV. It was high school and Lindsay was doing a cooking show for her friend’s film class—it was broadcast on local programming.  I never saw the show. Bob told me that Lindsay was great—she was very funny and entertaining. I wonder if I can contact the high school and see if they still have the video for me to see.

I knew in my heart that I would be the last person in the world Lindsay would want to see. But I saw a chance to be a hero and redeem my relationship with her. That actually would occur following her next suicide attempt.

The nurse told me that Lindsay was “pleasantly hallucinating.” Apparently, some of the meds she had hoarded were time release and would be with her for a while. In the car, I wondered if my bright little girl would have brain damage—would she ever be Lindsay again.