The Castaway Hotel
Book 2

By: B W
(© 2012 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 12
A Problem Out of Control.  

Friday night I could still see the tension between Kevin and Dustin.  After dinner, Dustin came to me, to ask for a favor.  “Dad, do you mind if I go to the football game with some of my other friends.  I really need some time away from Kevin, until I sort things out.”

“No, I don’t mind,” I told him, “but first I need to know whom you’ll be going with?” 

Dustin quickly told me the other boys’ names, and since I didn’t hear the names of anyone I wouldn’t want him to hang around with, I decided to give him permission to go. 

“Will you be coming home with us or will they bring you back here?” I asked, in order to clarify the situation. 

“I’d like to hang with them for a while after the game too, if that’s okay,” he told me.  “They said they would bring me home later, if that was all right with you.”  Although I still had some reservations about the situation, since I wasn’t able to put a face with any of the names he’d mentioned, I reluctantly agreed. 

“Alright, but just be home by midnight,” I advised him. 

“Thanks, Dad.  I love you,” he told me, before leaving to get ready for his big night out.  After he walked away, I continued to make sure the others were fed and then I hurried them along, so we wouldn’t be late for the game.

Before long, we packed everyone into the van and headed for the school’s football stadium.  This was our big high school rivalry game, against the team from the community closest to us.  It has been our school’s biggest rivalry for well over thirty years.  Our team wore their jerseys to school that day and most students dressed in school colors, because the school also sponsored a pep rally for this game.  It was held just before school let out for the day and was a really big event in our small town. 

As planned, Brandon and Jay met us at the game and then the high school boys went off on their own to look for some of their other friends.  I thought the younger ones were going to stay with me, but they quickly found a group of their fellow students and asked if they could sit with them instead.  After giving them permission, I went up into the stands alone and found a group of teachers and other administrators to sit with.  In a way this worked out nicely, as it was nice to sit and chat with adults for a change, about things other than just the boys. 

We got through all the pre-game hoopla, which included both schools’ bands performing and the teams racing out onto the field for their introductions.  Then there was a great deal of noise, a whole lot of action and one hell of a game on the field.  At halftime, our team was leading by a single point, since the other team had failed to convert one of its extra point attempts.   I was reliving some of the highlights of the game with those I was sitting with, when the boys started showing up, looking to hit me up for some money.  They wanted to go to the concession stand and chow down again, so I complied.  After doling out a few dollars to each of them, they took off, leaving me alone with the adult crowd, who eagerly joked about me being a soft touch.

The second half was just as exciting, even though our team lost the game on the next to last series of plays.  It was obvious there had been a mental breakdown in the pass coverage on one particular play, which allowed the other team’s quarterback to find one of his receivers completely open, about thirty yards downfield.  He hit him with a perfect pass and it only got worse for our team from there.  The receiver did the rest of the damage by avoiding one would-be tackler and sprinting into the end zone, thus completing the sixty-seven yard scoring play.  After the extra point was successful, the other team was leading 33 – 28. 

As they kicked off to us, there was still a chance we could pull the game out.  The ball was caught by our fastest back and he returned it to just over mid-field.  With some great play calling and outstanding ball handling, our team drove another thirty-plus yards, putting them in the red-zone.  It looked as if we were going to score again, when one of the running backs fumbled the ball on the fourteen-yard line.  The other team recovered the fumble and then ran out the clock.  It was a tough loss, but an interesting game to watch.

After it was over, I met the boys at the main gate, where we had agreed to meet.   Of course, Brandon and Jay were with them and we talked for a few minutes and discussed what time they’d come over tomorrow, since they were spending the night.  Once that had been decided, we said our good-byes and went our own way. 

When we got home, the boys cleaned up and goofed around for a couple of hours before they went to bed.  I, on the other hand, sat up and waited for my last son to join us.  However, midnight came and went and there was no sign of Dustin.  I stayed in the family room and continued to watch the tube to help pass the time, while I waited for him show up. 

When that program ended, I realized it was now one a.m. and there was still no sign of Dustin.  I was beginning to panic, because this wasn’t like him.  Since he’d been with me, he’d been fairly responsible, so I wasn’t sure what to think.  Before I knew it, it was after two and the phone rang.

“Hello,” I answered, hoping to hear Dustin’s voice on the other end of the line. 

“Hello.  Is this Mr. Joshua Currie?” the voice asked.  I didn’t recognize it and began to panic slightly. 

“It is,” I confirmed. 

“This is Sgt. Mulligan from the police department,” he informed me, rather brusquely.  “Do you have a son named Dustin?”

My heart sank.  “Yes, I do,” I admitted, while my mind raced with various thoughts about why the police would be calling me about him.  I didn’t have to wait long to get my answer. 

“Well, I’m sorry to inform you that we’ve just rushed him to the hospital,” Officer Mulligan told me.  “We’re not certain what’s wrong with him, but he was unconscious when he was discovered.”

“Discovered?  Will he be all right?” I pressed, gravely concerned. 

“I’m not certain as to his current condition,” he informed me.  “The doctors are checking him over now and they asked me to call you.  They need you to come down to sign some forms and get your permission to treat him.”

“I’ll be right there and thank you,” I told him, before hanging up and racing off. 

I went upstairs and woke both Danny and Kevin.  I told them what was up and asked Danny to look after the others, because I figured Kevin would want to go with me to the hospital.  I knew he’d most likely be deeply hurt if I didn’t do this for him, even though the two of them were currently having problems.  We both dressed quickly and then drove off. 

We talked a little on the way down and Kevin kept envisioning the worse case scenario.  I told him to think positively until we talked to the doctors, to which he responded he’d try.  When we arrived at the emergency room, we announced our presence to the nurse at the desk and were immediately rushed over to the intensive care unit, where we could see Dustin lying on one of the beds.  Kevin walked over to stand beside him, while I discussed the situation with the doctor who’d just joined us.

“What’s the matter with him, doctor?” I asked, hoping to finally get some answers. 

“We’re not positive,” he began, “but it looks as if your son has overdosed on drugs or at least had some sort of adverse reaction to them.”  I think my mouth must have hit the floor after hearing that. 

“No, it can’t be!” I responded.  “I don’t think he’s even tried drugs before.”  The doctor gave me that look which said, ‘how naïve can some parents be?’

“I’m sorry, sir,” he countered, “but parents are often the last to know when their children start experimenting with such things.  The police are currently questioning some of the boys who were with him and alerted us to his problem.  We’re running blood tests in order to determine the exact nature of his problem.”

“Where are these other boys?” I wanted to know, hoping they might be able to give me more details about what happened to Dustin. 

“They’ve been transported to the police station, to fill out reports,” he explained.  “One of the officers should be back shortly and will advise me as to any relevant information they’ve discovered.”

“Will you inform me about it also?” I asked, hoping there wasn’t going to be some confidentiality issue with it.  “I’d really like to know what he tells you.”

“Certainly.  I don’t think that will be a problem,” he assured me.  “You may stay here with your son and I’ll let you know whenever anyone contacts me.”

“Thank you, doctor,” I replied, before going to be with Dustin and Kevin. 

I walked over and put my arm around Kevin’s shoulder and looked at Dustin’s prone body on the gurney.  As was typical, there were multiple tubes attached to his body carrying oxygen, fluids and who knows what else into his system.  Kevin was crying softly.

“What happened, Dad?” he sobbed.  “What’s the matter with Dusty?”

“The doctors think it’s a drug overdose,” I explained.  “They’re running tests and talking to other people to try to determine what happened.”

“But he’s never used drugs,” Kevin responded.  “If he did, I’d know, but if he just started now, then I’m the one who drove him to it.  It’s my fault, Dad.  I’m the one who did this to him.”

“Hang on there, champ,” I urged him.  “First of all, we’re not absolutely certain as to what caused this, and even if it is from drugs, you’re not responsible for it.  Dustin’s a big boy and is quite capable of making his own decisions.  He knows the danger of drugs, and if that’s what this is all about, he’ll be the one to accept full responsibility for his actions.”

“But I drove him to it, Dad,” Kevin insisted.  “If he used drugs, he did it because he thought I didn’t love him any more.”

“Did you stop loving him?” I asked.

“No!” Kevin exclaimed, shocked that I’d even asked such a question. 

“Well, then, you didn’t do anything to cause this,” I reiterated.  “Dustin saw what he wanted to see, even though we all tried to convince him he was wrong.  You didn’t do this to Dustin.  Dustin did this to himself.  You can feel bad about what has happened and worry about his chances of recovering, but you absolutely cannot blame yourself for his actions.  You did nothing to cause this.  His problems were all in his mind, but he just wouldn’t admit or accept that.”  Kevin just buried his head into my chest and wept.

“I love Dustin too,” I continued, “and I want him to be all right, but we can’t beat ourselves up over what he chose to do.  Dustin’s teachers and I made certain he knew the dangers of using drugs and understood the possible consequences of abusing them.  If he chose to ignore that information, then we can’t blame ourselves.  We’ll all make mistakes, but hopefully we can learn from them.  I just pray Dustin will have the chance to learn from this mistake and become a better person for it.”

We continued to sit by his side, hold his hand and stroke his hair.  We both spoke to him softly and lovingly, letting him know we wanted him to get better, while making sure he could feel we were there for him.  Some time later the doctor came by to get me, so I told Kevin I had to leave for a few minutes and asked him if he’d be all right. 

“Where are you going?” he wanted to know.

“I have to go speak with the Doctor,” I informed him.  “Hopefully, he will have something more to tell me about Dustin’s condition.”  Kevin nodded his understanding, so I slipped out of the room, but not before I saw him bend over and kiss Dustin’s forehead, as I walked out the door.

“Mr. Currie, this is Detective Mark Foreman,” the doctor informed me.  “He is the person in charge of investigating what happened to your son.”  We quickly exchanged greetings and Detective Foreman proceeded to tell us what he’d learned.

“I’ve interviewed several of the boys who were with your son this evening,” he began, “ but I still don’t have all of the specifics about what took place.  It is apparent the boys are scared about what might happen to them, as a result of this, but I think I’ve managed to get most of the basics.  Before I share those with you, however, I have a few questions I’d like you to answer first.  When was the last time you saw your son?”   

“It was somewhere between 9:30 and 10:00,” I replied, “just after the high school football game ended.  He came up and asked if he could go out with his friends for a bit, and after checking on who he was going to be with, I told him to be home by midnight.” 

“That pretty much agrees with what the others have told me so far,” he commented.  “However, after they left the game, it seems at least one of them got their hands on a drug called ecstasy.  Due to the extreme peer pressure, it appears each of the boys decided to give it a try.”  My heart sank at that point, as I realized Dustin had given into temptation, possibly due to his recent depression.  I was now kicking myself for letting him go earlier. 

“The other boys informed me,” the officer continued, shaking me from my thoughts, “that your son was acting strangely and seemed depressed.  They think that’s why he agreed to it.  They also admitted they were surprised by his decision, since he’d turned down many similar chances to try other drugs at various times.  I’m not certain as to what impact it might have, sir, and I’m sorry about what you’re going through, but do you happen to know what your son was depressed about?”

“Let’s just say that it was a lover’s quarrel,” I advised him, “and it happened within the past couple of days.  That’s one of the reasons I let him go out with these friends, hoping it would snap him out of it.” 

“I understand,” the officer commiserated, “and that fills in another piece of this puzzle.  Anyway, the boys all tried the ecstasy, but at first none of them noticed that something was different with Dustin.  They admitted they had no idea Dustin was in any trouble, until they all started to come down from their high.  They explained that when they saw him, they kind of figured he must have had some strange reaction to it.  The doctor tells me he now suspects it was some sort of allergic reaction to the drug.  Your son was lucky that one of the boys had a cell phone and called 911, before they worried about how much trouble they might all be in.”

“Did they tell you anything else?” I pressed. 

“You’ve heard everything I’ve learned so far,” he answered, “and you most likely know more about what led up to this better than I do.”

“I appreciate the information, Detective,” I offered, “and I’m positive it will help the doctors to be better able to treat him, but I want to get back to my boy.  Before I leave, though, I want to thank both of you for everything you’ve done and hope we can join forces to combat this problem of drugs together, once Dustin is doing better.”

They both concurred, so I went back into the area where Kevin was keeping vigil.  We sat beside Dustin’s bed for much of the rest of the morning.  The doctor came in sometime between 9:00 and 10:00, to advise us that they were transferring him from the intensive care unit and into a private room.  He explained that his vital signs had begun to stabilize and that from here it would just be a waiting game to see how his body reacted to the continuing treatment. 

“Will there be any lingering effects from this?” I asked, hoping for a favorable response.

“Much of that is still uncertain,” he informed me.  “Drug reactions can limit the amount of oxygen getting to vital organs, so there is always a chance of organ damage or other side effects.  However, we won’t know for certain, until he is fully stabilized.”  I just looked at Kevin, knowing he wouldn’t like the sound of what we were just told.

“Why don’t you two go home and get some rest,” the doctor suggested, to which both Kevin and I began to object.  “He’d probably prefer to see you alert, rather than sleepy-eyed when he comes to, and I doubt that will be anytime soon.” 

Although Kevin and I both began to speak, the doctor managed to halt our protests, even before they began.  “Look at it this way,” he explained, “we’re going to clean him up now and put him into a hospital gown, before we move him to the other room, and then the nurses will need time to set his equipment up and get him settled, before you’d be able to rejoin him.  Then, when Dustin does come to, we’ll have plenty of questions to ask him, tests to run and we’ll need to examine him again, before you’d be allowed to be with him, so why don’t you just go home and get some rest.  You’ll all be better off for it, when you can spend time with each other again.”  

The doctor then added that Dustin would probably also prefer it if we brought him back some pajamas when we returned, so he could change out of the hospital gown, once he regained consciousness.  He told us the gowns weren’t particularly good for modesty and most patients preferred their own garments, when possible.  After agreeing with all of his various points, Kevin and I reluctantly gave in and went home to catch a couple of hours sleep.

To be continued...

Posted: 07/13/12