“I had to go see a patient last night. I was out from eleven to one. One of them must have brought the beer in her backpack. I've never thought about that before.”

“I guess from now on we check,” Zelda said matter-of-factly, not in the least embarrassed to challenge Daphne and her friends. She was not about to let any of them get drunk on her watch, and she knew Maxine wouldn't either. And before you knew it, Jack would be in the midst of it too, and one day Sam. What a thought. Zelda wasn't looking forward to any of it, but she had every intention of sticking around. She loved the family, and her job.

The two women chatted for a few minutes, and then Maxine said she had to go back to Lenox Hill to see her patient. Zelda was off, but she wasn't going anywhere. She said she'd keep an ear out for the girls, and hoped they felt like shit when they woke up. Maxine laughed in response.

“I left the empty bottles on her dresser, just so they know I'm not as dumb as I look.”

“They're going to freak when they see that,” Zelda said, amused.

“They should. It was a pretty sneaky thing to do, and an abuse of my trust and hospitality…” She looked at Zelda with a grin. “I'm warming up for my speech to her. How do I sound?”

“Good. Grounding her and cutting off her allowance might be a nice touch too.” Maxine nodded. She and Zelda always shared pretty much the same point of view. Zelda was firm but reasonable, kind but sensible, and not too strict. She wasn't a tyrant, but she wasn't a pushover either. Maxine had full confidence in her, and her sound judgment, whenever she herself wasn't around. “What did you go out for last night? A suicide?” Zelda asked. Maxine nodded, serious again. “How old?” Zelda respected her enormously for what she did.

“Sixteen.” Maxine offered no other details. She never did. Zelda nodded. Worse than that, she could always see it in Maxine's eyes when one of them died. Zelda's heart went out to the parents as much as to the kid. Teenage suicide was a terrible thing. And judging how busy Maxine's practice was, there was a lot of it in New York, and everywhere else. Compared to that, two six-packs of beer shared among six thirteen-year-old girls didn't seem like such a tragedy. What Maxine dealt with every day was.

Maxine left a few minutes later and walked the short distance to Lenox Hill, as she always did. It was windy and cold, but the sun was out, and it was a beautiful day. She was still thinking of her daughter and her caper the night before. It was definitely the beginning of a new era for them, and she was grateful again for Zelda's help. They were going to have to keep a close watch on Daphne and her friends. She was going to mention it to Blake when he was in town too, just so he was aware. They couldn't fully trust her anymore, and probably wouldn't be able to for years. It was a little daunting thinking about it. It was all so easy when they were the age of Sam. And how quickly time sped by. Soon they would all be teenagers, up to mischief of all kinds. But at least, for the moment anyway, it was pretty normal stuff.

When she got to Jason's room at the hospital, he was sitting up in bed. He looked groggy, worn out, and pale. His mother was sitting in a chair, talking to him, crying and blowing her nose. It didn't look like a happy scene. And the nurse on suicide watch was sitting quietly on the other side of the bed, trying not to intrude and be discreet. All three of them looked up when Maxine walked in.

“How are you feeling today, Jason?” Maxine glanced at the nurse and nodded, and the woman quietly left the room.

“Okay, I guess.” He looked and sounded depressed, a normal reaction to the overdose of drugs he'd taken, and he'd obviously been depressed before that anyway. His mother looked almost as bad, as though she hadn't slept, with dark circles under her eyes. She had been extorting a promise from him not to do it again, when Maxine walked in, and Jason had reluctantly agreed.

“He says he won't do it again,” Helen explained, as Maxine looked him in the eye. What she saw there troubled her.

“I hope that's true,” Maxine said, quietly unconvinced.

“Can I go home today?” Jason asked, sounding flat. He didn't like having a nurse in the room with him, and she had explained that she couldn't leave the room, unless she was replaced by someone else. He felt like he was in jail.

“I think we need to talk about that,” Maxine said, standing at the end of the bed. She was wearing a pink sweater and jeans and looked almost like a kid herself. “I don't think that's a good idea,” she said honestly. She never lied to her patients. It was important that she told them the truth as she saw it. They trusted her because of it. “You took a lot of pills last night, Jason. I mean really a lot. You weren't kidding around this time.” She looked at him, he nodded, and then looked away. He was embarrassed now in the cold light of day.

“I was kind of drunk. I didn't know what I was doing,” he said, trying to brush it off.

“I think you did,” Maxine said quietly. “You took a lot more than last time. I think you need to take some time off now and think about it, work on it, do some groups. I think it's important that we deal with this, and I'm sure it's tough now with the holidays coming up, having lost your dad this year.” She had hit the nail on the head, and his mother stared at her with a look of panic. She looked as though she was about to jump out of her skin. Her own anxiety was sky high, and she was suffering the same things as her son, without the guilt. Jason being convinced he had killed his dad tipped the scale for him. Dangerously so. “I'd like you to go someplace where I've worked with kids before. It's pretty nice. The kids there are from fourteen to eighteen. Your mom can visit you every day. But I think we need to get a handle on what's happening now. I don't feel comfortable sending you home just yet.”

“How long?” he asked, sounding noncommittal and trying to be cool, but she could see the fear in his eyes. It was a scary thought for him. But his succeeding at his next suicide attempt frightened her even more. She had a lifetime commitment not to let that happen, if she could do anything about it. And often, she could. She wanted this to be one of those times, and to avert tragedy before it happened to them again. They'd had enough.

“Let's try it for a month. Then we'll talk, and see what you think and how you feel about it. I don't think you'll love it, but I think you might like it there.” And then she added, smiling, “It's coed.” He didn't smile in response. He was too depressed to care about girls right now.

“What if I hate it and don't want to stay?” He looked her in the eye.

“Then we'll talk.” If they had to, they could ask to have him committed by the courts, since he had just proven he was a danger to himself, but that would be traumatic for him and his mother. Maxine much preferred voluntary commitment, whenever possible. Jason's mother spoke up then.

“Doctor, do you really think…I was talking to my doctor this morning, and he was saying that we should give Jason another chance… he says he was drunk and didn't know what he was doing, and he just promised me that he won't do it again.” Maxine knew better than anyone that his promise wasn't worth a damn. And Jason knew it too. His mother wanted it to be something she could rely on, but she couldn't. Without question, her son's life was at risk.

“I don't think we can count on that,” Maxine said simply. “I'd like you to trust me on this,” she added quietly. She noticed that Jason wasn't arguing with her, his mother was. “I think your mom is upset that you won't be at home for Thanksgiving, Jason. I told her she can have Thanksgiving with you there. Visits are encouraged.”

“Thanksgiving's going to suck this year anyway, without my dad. I don't care.” He closed his eyes and laid his head back on his pillow, shutting them out. Maxine gestured to his mother to follow her outside, and as soon as they left the room, the private duty nurse went back in to sit with him. He would be closely watched at Silver Pines too. And at Silver Pines, the wards were locked, which was what Maxine knew Jason needed. Right now anyway, and maybe for a while.

“I think this is the right thing to do,” Maxine explained to her, as tears rolled down Helen's cheeks. “It's my strong recommendation. It's up to you, but I don't think you can protect him properly at home. You can't stop him from doing it again.”

“Do you really think he'll try?” His mother looked terrified.

“Yes, I do,” Maxine said clearly. “I'm almost certain of it. He's still convinced he killed his father. It's going to take time to get him past that idea. And in the meantime, he needs to be in a facility where he'll be safe. You won't get a moment's sleep if he's at home,” she added, and his mother nodded.

“My own doctor thought we could give him another chance. He said boys his age often do this for attention.” She was repeating herself, as though hoping to convince Maxine, who understood the situation far better than she.

“He meant it, Helen. He knew what he was doing. He took three times the fatal dose of your medication. Do you want to risk that again, or have him jump out the window? He could run past you and do it in a flash. You can't give him what he needs right now at home.” She wasn't pulling any punches, and slowly his mother nodded, and started crying harder. She couldn't bear the thought of losing her son.

“All right,” she said softly. “When does he have to go?”

“I'll see if they have a bed for him today or tomorrow. I'd like to get him out of here as soon as possible. They can't protect him properly here either. This isn't a psychiatric hospital. He needs to be at a place like Silver Pines. It's not as bad as you think, and it's the right place for him right now, at least until he's no longer in crisis, maybe after the holidays.”