And the Bell Rang

I remember the day the two girls walked into Environmental Science class. They didn't fit the mold. Most of the high school juniors and seniors in this elective course were from the elite social cast; Izod shirts, clean-cut, well groomed athletes and student leaders looking to round out their transcripts before applying to college. They oozed privilege and potential. Nothing wrong with that. It is, of course how our system of higher education functions.

Mary and Dede were of another cast, the untouchables, if there is such a social order in our North American culture. And I assure you that there is.

Mary wore black clothing from head to toe. Her long greasy hair was unwashed and pulled forward over her face. She smelled of cigarettes and dirty socks. Her nails were chewed to the quick and painted black. She was goth before there was a word for it.

Dede was huge, 200 pounds of giggling, whispering, flirting, tee-heeing, teen-ager. She wore heavy, blue eye shadow and walked on her tip toes in flowing, remarkable graceful movements. She wore an over-sized faded green combat coat and tight flowered petal pushers. Her hair was brown and her complexion poor.

They slunk into the back of the room and took the corner chairs. The other students seemed oblivious to their arrival. I don't remember ever seeing anyone speak with or look at Mary and Deedee the entire semester. It was as though they were invisible.

They did not, would not participate in class discussion. I would hear them whispering. Mary never made eye contact. Deedee never missed an opportunity to bat her heavily mascaraed lashes at me and giggle. So odd. Disturbing.

One day the bell rang to end the period while I was making an impassioned plea to save the whales or the rain forest or the planet... it was the 70's. Earth Day, Silent Spring, the birth of the EPA and environmental awareness. Everyone lunged from their desks, headed for the door and launched into loud conversations about the big game or the big dance... except Mary and Deedee. They lingered, clutched their books tightly to their chests until the door was clear and then moved swiftly. As she entered the busy hall Deedee called out "He's cute!" and she and Mary giggled down the hallway.

I worked the class hard, made them read and write, give presentations and lots of quizzes and exams. We were going to save the planet together or I threatened a C. Oh God! Can't have that on a college application. Some of them actually turned on to the subject to my delight.

It was sometime in November when I noticed Mary's alarming new behavior. She started wearing her hair covering her entire face, arms wrapped around her body, knees pulled up into a seated fetal position. Deedee had noticed, too. The giggling stopped.

At the end of class I stepped in front of her, blocking her usual escape. "Is something bothering you, Mary? You seem troubled." She cowered, would not speak. "Can I help? Can I get you some help... from the guidance counselor?" I asked. She bolted toward the door and into the hall. Deedee followed and called back, "I'll talk to her, Mr. Foss." OK... that didn't go very well.

I headed down to the guidance office to speak with my friend, Jerry. "Mary has a troubled past. She goes through periods of depression. That's all I can tell you," he said. "Just keep an eye on her. It usually blows over." Not much help.

The phone calls began soon after, calls late in the night... "Hello?"... no answer... "Hello?"... breathing... silence... click. I got a police whistle and on the 5th or 6th call blasted it into the receiver. "OWW! Why did you do that?" I thought I recognized the voice. "Mary? Deedee? Is that you?"... click. The calls stopped... until one, cold, rainy December night.

Connie was in Bangor visiting her family with the car. I was correcting papers when the phone rang.

"Hello?" ...silence.

"Connie, is that you?"

"No" the voice said "It's Mary." She sounded distant.

"Mary?"

"I just called to say good-bye," she continued.

"Good-bye, Mary? Are you going somewhere?" I asked fearing her answer.

"No... I'm going to kill myself," she said and began to sob.

I felt the panic well up in my chest. "OH GOD! No, Mary. NO! Don't do that, kid. It's not... it's not... PLEASE, don't do this. Where are you, Mary? Tell me where you are and I'll come."  Silence.

"Please, Mary... Please," I begged.

"In a phone booth... by Firestone Tire..."

"OK Mary, I'll be right there. Stay right there. OK, Mary? OK?"

"... ok".

I ran out into the pouring rain and stood looking dumbly at the empty parking spot. "OH SHIT!" I screamed. Our landlord's truck was in the garage and I began pounding on the door.

"Moo Gee, Clist ay vous!" he yelled as he answered the door. " Wha da fuck, making all dat noise?" Louie blurted, alarmed and speaking with his French Canadian accent.

"Louie, I need your truck right now! And call the police. Have them go to the phone booth by Firestone Tire! Got that, Louie? Got that? She's going to kill herself... my student..."

"Yah, Yah! I got dat. Bad trouble, Glen... Bad trouble." he said as he passed me the keys.

I was drenched and shivering as I raced down Western Avenue. The wipers were on high and not keeping up with the  downpour. The rain even seemed to extinguish the light from the streetlamps.

There was no traffic and I bolted through the red light and into the Firestone parking lot looking for the phone booth... There! The door was closed, the interior light was on. It looked empty... Something black... down low.

I jammed the truck in park and lurched to the phone booth. Mary was huddled down inside, curled up. There was a pool of red blood on the floor and smeared down the glass door. Oh God!

"Mary! It's me... open the door." She rose slowly, her face visible behind the dripping wet hair. her face was calm... serene. She clutched her sides, her hands withdrawn into her bulky black coat.

I squeezed partially into the phone booth and she raised her hands as if to keep me away. The sleeves of her coat fell back. Both wrists had been slashed. Gaping open wounds, bloody, but no arterial spurting. I grasped her forearms and held on.

We heard the sound of the siren and watched the blue lights flash off the wet highway as it approached. Her eyes flashed wildly. She struggled to loosen my grip.

"It's OK, Mary. It's going to be OK," I said though not believing my own words.

She whimpered "Will you stay with me?" I nodded.

The cop quickly assessed the situation. "Get in the cruiser... Cumon, Let's go!" he ordered.

Mary and I got into the back of the squad car. We sat silently speeding through the rain to the hospital emergency room as her blood oozed slowly through my gripping fingers.

Things happened quickly, Mary as strapped onto a gurney and taken away. Information was taken. And I found myself standing alone in the middle of a deserted waiting room. What do I do now? I had no clue. The cop approached me. "Come with me. I'll take you back to your truck." he said.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Back to the truck. Back to the apartment. It was warm and dry. I poured a stiff drink of whiskey and sat... numb. When Connie pulled in, I ran to the car and blurted out the story. She hugged me, took me inside, poured me another drink. Sleep...

My mind snapped to consciousness at first light and I had formulated a plan of action before I opened my eyes. Connie dropped me off at school and I walked into the guidance office to download to Jerry. He knew I was shaken, brought me coffee and the department head and the principal. I repeated the story until the bell rang and then headed for class.

Somehow I got through the morning classes. I don't remember. Fourth Period was my break and I retreated to the teachers room drinking cup after cup of thick, burned coffee. Jerry found me, took me back to his office and closed the door.

"OK buddy, first I'm sorry for what happened." he said." You handled it well. I think you need to know what you are dealing with, so I am going to fill you in. This is confidential information, but you need to know."

I sat numbly as he told the story. Mary and her brother had suffered from horrendous child abuse. They had been sexually molested, beaten, raped, locked in closets and the trunks of cars until the authorities had removed them from their family. Both were now wards of the state and living in foster homes. They had been in psychological counseling for years. It explained a lot of the bizarre behavior and it explained nothing.

"Why wasn't I prepared? Do the other teacher know what they are dealing with? Don't you think we should have been told?" I flashed. "I mean... my God!"

"Listen Glen, there are many, too many, kids here with similar stories. We deal with them every day. It's a shit storm. We can barely keep up. You're job is to teach science. Our job is to back you up. I'm sorry. We didn't see this coming." explained Jerry.

"Well I DID!" I stormed. "What do I do next time?"

"Come to me right away." he concluded. "I'm sorry."

The bell rang and I got to my feet feeling sick. That toxic coffee was eating a hole in my stomach. He put his arm around my shoulder. "Welcome to public education," he quipped. I just shook my head.

I walked into Environmental Science and turned to face the class. There was Mary sitting in the back corner, her wrists bound in bandages, head down. Deedee looked like a caged animal, eyes flashing from me to Mary and back to me.

I taught the class. It was on air pollution and electrostatic precipitators. The preppy kids took notes. I handed out assignments. And the bell rang.

I walked to the back of the room and leaned forwards speaking softly. "Mary, I didn't expect you to be here today."

She spoke,"I'm ok..."

"Are you talking with anyone? Is anyone helping you?" I asked.

"No..." she mumbled.

What the hell! She slashes her wrists, they bandage her up and send her back to school like nothing has happened? Can the system really be this broken? This was so wrong.

"Listen Mary, I have a friend who is a counselor at the mental health clinic. If I called, would you be willing see him ?" I was grasping at straws.

"Would you go with me?" she asked watching me intently from behind her hair.

"Sure. Sure  I would. Give me your number and I will call you this afternoon." I said.

Mary and Deedee walked out of the door and into the teeming tumult of teenagers.

I hurried back to Jerry's office. "Somebody's got to take my study hall. I need to use your phone." I explained what had just happened.

" OK, OK, I'll cover you. You follow up with your psychologist friend. You're right. She needs to be seen today." Jerry hurried off.

My Doctor friend, Robert, agreed to see her at 3:00 that afternoon. I found Mary in her sixth period class and we agreed that I would pick her up at the address she gave me on Oak Street. Things were moving quickly.

Connie and I juggled the car after work and I pulled into Mary's driveway at 2:30. She was sitting on the steps. Her foster mother waved from the front porch as we drove away. Weirder and weirder...

The Doctor walked into the waiting room at 3:30 and asked us into his office. I sat uncomfortably as he began assessing the situation. It soon became clear that my friend and the mental health community knew much about Mary's unfortunate history of abuse.

Mary was unresponsive. He probed and questioned. She remained silent or responded with one word answers. After 20 minutes, the Doctor leaned forward and said, "If you don't talk with me Mary, I will be forced to involuntarily commit you to the State Mental Hospital for observation. You are clearly at risk of causing yourself further harm."

Mary exploded. She sprang to her feet and backed into the corner, teeth barred, fists clenched, spitting, screaming. "You Fucker! I'll kill you if you touch me. Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" The screaming didn't stop. Robert and I backed out of the office and into the hall. "She is totally psychotic and needs to be constrained for her own safety. I'll call her foster mother and the restraint team." he said.

Two very big guys showed up right away holding a jacket with belts and straps. They stood blocking the door as Mary continued to tear up the room, screaming long shrill animal howls. Robert came back breathless. "There is no answer at her foster home. Glen, will you authorize the order committing her? We need to act now."

What had I gotten myself into? I paced back and forth, trying to think it through. There was no walking away from this one. I had seen the gaping wounds in her wrists. She would do it again. I signed the order.

The restraint team moved in and wrestled her to the floor. Her screams were ungodly, like nothing I had ever heard. Sounds of agony. She flayed and bucked as they strapped her into the restraint jacket and onto a gurney. She was wheeled to a waiting ambulance and sped away.

I sat down with my head in my hands. Robert tried to reassure me. "You did the only thing you could do, Glen. I want you to go home and have a drink." And I did.

By 9:00 I had calmed down and was rehashing the nightmare when the phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Mary's foster mother," the voice said. "I was wondering when you expected to bring Mary home..."

My mind began to burn at the base of my skull. Oh my God!

Deep breath. "Obviously, no one has contacted you. I'm so sorry. Mary has been committed to the State Mental Hospital. Someone will be calling you right back. I'm so sorry..." click.

I'm going to be sued. I'm going to lose my job. I'll probably never teach again. The thoughst were racing through my head as I called Robert. He assured me that he would call immediately, that there must have been an administrative screw-up... Ya THINK!

The next morning the guidance department chair and the principal sat dumbly and listened  to the story. There were no words of counsel or support. Just worried expressions. They backed away and left me swinging in the breeze. I was on my own. Welcome to public education, indeed.

Four weeks later, Mary showed up in class. She acted as if nothing had happened. As she left class I said, "Glad you are back. Hope you are feeling better..." She nodded and left.

I never spoke with her foster mother again. I received no follow-up from guidance. I don't think it was still an issue when I was let go the next year; budget cuts, junior man... so sorry... the principal even shed a tear... I think.

There wasn't much time for reflection. Connie was pregnant with twins, we had just lost our apartment and I had to find work. I ended up working in a paper mill which led to a profitable and interesting career. I didn't think about Mary except to occasionally wonder if she had survived her nightmare life. I didn't see how she could have...

The year was 2000 when the letter came in the mail. Mary wrote that she was well, married and had children. She said she was happy. And she wanted to thank me for saving her life. Amazing...

I never wrote her back, didn't want to rekindle the relationship. Still, it was a gift to hear she was on her feet and still on the planet.

Life is such a mystery. Who knows why things happen as they do or what can happen as the offshoot of an individual action. All I know is that Mary got a life. And I got this story...