The Freshmen - 26. Chapter 26

September 13, 2004

Claremont, OH

Jays

I ignored the scenery as the limo whisked me towards downtown Claremont. I had no desire to look at this place that was nothing more than a backwater, a place I would much rather fly over than drive through. I sighed as I pondered that my heritage was much more tied up in this town than I had originally believed. If I gave a shit about Claremont, I would probably be happy that Jim Crampton was my father. By impregnating my mother, who was a Schluter by marriage, he had effectively made me the scion of two of the most prominent families in town. I laughed at how irrelevant that was, and how no one outside of this podunk hole really gave a shit about who was at the top of Claremont’s social hierarchy.

I was largely numb from my nightmare weekend. I had completely blocked out what had happened, and refused to let the memory of those events intrude upon my mission today. That had not been easy. Kris had not come back last night, and I had no idea if he’d be back tonight. I didn’t feel sadness about that; I felt nothing. No one had reached out to talk to me or to see if I was alright, and that normally would have made me incredibly angry, but right now, I just didn’t give a shit. I felt very alone, but very focused and very strong. Today I was going to deal with the asshole who had caused all this.

The limo pulled up to the front of the Crampton Construction Building, the tallest one in town, and the driver opened the door to let me out. I strode confidently through the front doors and took the elevator to the top floor, assuming that was where the executives were housed. I got off the elevator and was a bit confused as to which way to go, when a nice woman spoke to me. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Jim Crampton,” I said.

“His office is down that hall on the right,” she said. I thanked her, strode down the corridor and found a door with his name on it. I walked in and there was an older woman sitting behind a nice antique desk talking on the phone. Even though she was clearly busy, I still thought it was rude that she completely ignored me. I was tempted to throw a hissy fit, but instead I checked out this elaborate waiting room. It was decorated in a very traditional way, much like Grand’s study. All the wood was perfectly matching cherry, the upholstery was in a dark shade of red, and the only variations in color were in the Persian rug. Finding decent interior designers in this part of the world was probably a challenge, so they were probably wise to pick the safe-but-dull approach. The centerpiece of the room was a table with a three-dimensional model of downtown Claremont, highlighting the plans for the James Crampton Annex. The model was very nicely done and covered in glass, presumably to prevent people from moving buildings around and otherwise damaging it. The annex was dominated by a huge fountain, and at the center of the fountain was a statue of Jim Crampton. I rolled my eyes at how massive his ego was, and how he felt he deserved this kind of recognition for posterity. This park was clearly very important to him, much more important than, say, his natural son.

“May I help you?” the receptionist/secretary asked after she’d hung up her phone.

“I’m here to see Jim Crampton,” I said.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked me in her frosty way, which really annoyed me.

“I don’t need one,” I said, giving her some New York attitude. “Please tell him that Jeremy Schluter is here to see him.”

“He is in an executive meeting and cannot be disturbed,” she said. I was surprised that my last name did not seem to register with her.

“How nice for him,” I said. “Tell him I’m here.”

“I cannot interrupt him,” she said firmly.

“Alright,” I said, being slightly cooperative. “Then give him this.” I handed her the packet I’d worked on last night.

“I’ll give him this as soon as his meeting is over,” she said. “If you leave your number, I’ll give it to him.”

“That is unacceptable,” I said to her.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but that’s how it is,” she said, and actually had the nerve to stand up and get in my face. It would have been a little less awful if she was shorter than me. “You can leave on your own, or I can get security.”

“Call security,” I said, then walked over to the model as she picked up the phone. I grabbed the edge of the table, squatted down a little bit, then heaved as I stood up, tossing the table on its side. I briefly congratulated myself on achieving that and credited my strength to all the time I spent at the gym trying to stay slim. The table fell over, causing the glass to break and shatter all over the floor. The little model buildings cascaded out of the overturned display and mingled with the shards of glass, creating a beautiful scene of destruction. I smiled at my handiwork, even as I walked among the glass, feeling it crunch under my feet. I stepped on some of the buildings, crushing them as if I were Godzilla, and that almost made me laugh. In terms of satisfaction at getting revenge, this was definitely one of my top five best moments.

The breaking glass and falling table had created a huge crashing sound, and that had evidently roused the attendees of that vital executive meeting. A door burst open and Jim Crampton hurried out of the room, followed by his son Rich and a few other executives. He saw the model on the floor with me standing on top of the smashed buildings and became irate, even as he stared at me. “What the fuck is going on? What the fuck are you doing?”

I grabbed my packet from the secretary and all but threw it at him. “A message from me to you, Dad,” I said. His eyes opened wide in surprise, while I turned on my heel, stopping to pulverize the replica of the Crampton Construction Building with my shoe, then walked out of his office and out of the building. Security didn’t bother me.

I laughed in the limo for most of the ride back to the airport and was in a remarkably good mood as I boarded the plane. I even managed to keep up my spirits during the flight. It wasn’t until I landed in New York that my mood began to deflate. I made it to the Maybach and put up the privacy screen, then tried to avoid the downward spiral I’d plunged into. I tried to restore myself by thinking that I’d call someone and share how deliciously petty I had been when I realized that I had no one to talk to. I was truly all alone.

I turned my phone on to make a call and noticed a bunch of messages. I ignored them and pulled a card out of my wallet then dialed the number. “Dr. Feingold,” he answered abruptly. Just hearing his voice made me start crying.

“Dr. Feingold, this is Jeremy Schluter,” I said. “I really need your help.”

“What happened?” he asked gently.

“I have managed to piss off everyone in my life. I have no one left. I am all alone,” I sobbed.

“Come to my office; come straight here,” he ordered. “There’s a door marked ‘staff only’. Come in through that door. We’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you so much. I am so sorry to bother you,” I said, now almost sobbing.

“That’s why I gave you my number. We’ll see you shortly,” he said, then ended the call.

I phoned Dave and redirected the Maybach to his office, then looked at my phone. I’d been annoyed that no one had reached out to me, when in fact they had; I’d just had my phone off. I didn’t let that distract me from feeling like no one at all cared about me. There were a bunch of messages and calls from Kris, but there was one other text message that caught my eye. “Jeremy, this is Sebastien. Saw your boyfriend out last night partying like a rock star. I told you this would happen to you. Hahaha.”

I felt my sadness change to anger as my moods went on another rollercoaster ride. I copied the text and sent it to Kris, then added the following line: “Wherever you stayed last night, make it permanent.”

He responded almost immediately: “I did not party like a rock star. He is such an asshole. Will you please let me explain this?”

How big of an idiot was I? I had believed him, believed his lies, believed his big, long diatribe about how important his honor was, and the first time he gets mad, he runs off to the bars. He probably had sex with a bunch of dudes in a skeezy back room. And now he wants to talk to me so he can just gaslight me some more? I looked at my phone and recognized that I really was all alone and that there was no one I wanted to talk to, so I turned the thing off and hurled it at the seat in front of me.

The Maybach drove up to Feingold’s office and Dave got out and opened the door for me like he always did. I found that getting out of the car was taking a Herculean amount of energy, and I had no idea how I’d make it all the way to Dr. Feingold. “Can you walk me up to his office?” I asked him. If the expression on his face was any indicator, I must have looked completely fucked up.

“Sure, as long as you don’t mind a ticket,” he said jovially. Like I gave a shit about that. I said nothing; I just held his hand as he escorted me into the building, into the elevator, and up to Feingold’s floor. I found the entrance, walked through it with his help, then paused to thank him. “Glad I could be here for you.”

“Mr. Schluter?” a nice nurse asked. That was Dave’s cue to leave.

“Yes,” I said in a way that was devoid of all emotion.

“We’ve got a room set up for you,” she said pleasantly, and led me to a private examination room. She was a lot nicer than most of the assholes who worked here. She took my vitals, noting that my blood pressure was higher than normal, then finished annotating my chart. “Dr. Feingold will be with you shortly.”

It only took Feingold ten minutes to come see me. I tried to be direct and to the point with him, so I focused mostly on my moods, and how badly they’d fluctuated. “I’m sorry you’re experiencing such pain,” he said sincerely.

“I need you to make it better,” I said plaintively.

“I think I can do that,” he said, and put his hand on my shoulder in a friendly way. “I want to try new medications to help stabilize your moods, along with some different anxiety meds.”

“As long as it helps, I’m fine with that,” I said.

“We’re going to have to switch you off your existing meds and put you on the new ones pretty quickly, so I want you to spend a few days in the hospital while we make that transition,” he said.

“In the hospital?” I asked with dread.

“Your mood swings have been extreme, don’t you think?” he asked. I nodded. “This way we can keep you healthy and safe.” In other words, he was worried that I would hurt myself. That was annoying, even though I knew that I was at the point where I would probably do just that.

“Fine,” I said.

“We’ll want to keep you isolated so we can tackle this change without too much outside influence,” he said. That all but confirmed that he was worried I’d cause myself harm, because it was just like it had been when I’d been hospitalized after cutting myself.

“I can’t just vanish and not tell anyone,” I objected. The irony that I’d been lamenting that I had no one in my life who gave a shit about me and now I was insisting that there were people who did was not lost on me.

“Tell me who you want me to call and explain this to, and I’ll do it,” he said. “In the meantime, we’ll get you a ride over there and I’ll contact your psychologist so she can help you deal with the issues that are bothering you.”

I stared at him for about thirty seconds, then started crying. “I don’t know whose number to give you. I have driven everyone away.”

“You think about it for a few minutes,” he said, then summoned the friendly nurse back in. He yammered out instructions for her, while I tried to decide who he should contact. In the end, I chose Aunt Claire, even though she didn’t even live here. I knew that she and Grandmaman would always be in my corner.

“I need to call my driver,” I said firmly.

“Go ahead,” the nurse said. I dialed his number and he answered right away.

“You ready, Mr. Schluter?” he asked.

“No, Dave,” I said somberly. “I have to spend a few days in the hospital. Will you let Jacinta know?”

“Sure,” he said. “I really hope you’re alright soon.”

“Thanks, Dave,” I said, then ended the call.

September 13, 2004

Escorial

Palo Alto, CA

Brad

The doors to JP’s study were closed and I heard his voice as he was speaking on the phone, so I paused before knocking. Just as I was about to give up and come back later, the door opened and Stef came out. “Were you looking for me?”

“Let’s go with that,” I said jovially.

“I am going to get something, but you can go ahead and have a seat,” he said, gesturing that I should enter the room.

“Who is he talking to?” I asked, referring to JP.

“His brother,” Stef said, grinning. Claire walked up, looking remarkably together after the bombshell that had landed on her last night.

“Is there some reason we are all assembled out here?” she asked.

“Dad’s on the phone,” I said. “Let’s go eavesdrop.”

“I normally would not do something so rude, but I’m going to allow you to lead me astray today,” she said. Her good cheer was really surprising.

Stef hurried off to run his errand while Claire and I sat in JP’s sitting area on the sofa. He continued with his phone conversation. “You are blaming everyone else for this, when the fault clearly lies with you.” He was really mad, mad enough that it was obvious. That he was so irritated that it had pierced through his shields was rare, and also a little scary. Claire and I exchanged a surprised look. “You ignored him for eighteen years, allowed other people to do your job and raise him, and then when he figures it out and destroys your maquette, you turn around and blame others.” He ended the call abruptly. “Asshole,” he muttered.

“That sounded interesting,” I observed.

“We will find out just how interesting it is when Stef returns,” he replied, then focused on Claire. “And how are you doing?”

“Very well, thank you,” she said. Stef came into the room, shut the doors, and started laughing, even as he handed some printed documents to JP. JP glanced at them then read them more closely, then he started chuckling as well.

“What is so funny?” I demanded, since Claire and I weren’t in on their joke.

“This morning, Jays flew out to Claremont, went to Jim’s office, knocked over the diorama for his park annex, then left him with a packet of papers,” JP said.

He passed the papers over to me, which I put on the coffee table so Claire and I could look over them together. The first was a drawing of how the main square was originally planned out. It had an expansive fountain with a large statue of Jim. “That would be lovely, but the statue is a bit much,” Claire said.

“The narcissism is a bit overwhelming,” JP noted coldly, showing us how annoyed he was with his brother.

The next drawing, clearly done by hand, was completely different. I recognized Jays’ handiwork. “This must be the amended version,” I joked to Claire.

“Instead of a fountain, it has an outdoor skating rink,” she noted. “The Jeremy Schluter Skating Center.” We both started laughing at that, at how Jays had appropriated Jim’s big plan.

“I doubt Jim is willing to change his whole memorial so that it’s focused not on him, but on Jays,” I said. It still bothered me to call him ‘Jays’, but I was trying.

“You should look at the next page,” JP said, then snickered.

We flipped ahead and saw what appeared to be a draft for a billboard. It had a picture of Jim on the left, masterfully drawn in by Jays, along with three bullet points: Civic leader; Successful businessman; Impregnated his niece who was over thirty years younger than him. “That may do it,” Claire said, and we all started laughing uproariously.

“That was quite impressive,” JP observed, referencing Jays’ plan.

“I take it Jim did not appreciate Jays’ changes,” Claire said.

“He did not,” JP said. “He implied that this was something you set Jays up to do.” That line was directed at me.

Somehow, I managed to control my fury. “While you know that’s not true, let Jim know that I’m prepared to pay for that billboard to go up all over Ohio.”

“I’ll pass that on,” JP said.

“I also think it would make a wonderful full-page ad in the Claremont Daily News,” I added. “I’ll run it on Sundays. Maybe for a full year.”

“I’ll toss in some money so we can run it daily,” Stef said. JP got a thoughtful expression on his face, which focused my attention on him.

“I am contemplating that since Jays is Jim’s son, that makes Ella Jays’ niece,” JP observed.

“I don’t think Jays will appreciate that new relationship,” I said, since he’d shown Ella nothing but scorn after she’d blown Darius off. Claire gave us an annoyed look, because Ella was still important to her. I decided to change the subject and direct the conversation at her. “You’re really doing well. I figured you’d be a little more upset after Jack’s big announcement.”

“Some of us are able to keep our feelings off our shirtsleeves,” she said, jabbing me in a pleasant way. “I feel very liberated.”

“Liberated?” Stef asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “I feel like I have been fighting to try to save a relationship that Jack doesn’t want, and that’s been exhausting. When he told me that Jessica was pregnant with his child, it was like the blindfold was pulled off my eyes.”

“How so?” I asked, not following her.

“Because it exposed how over we really are,” she said. “I could have gotten angry with him for having unprotected sex with her, I could have gotten upset that my marriage was finished, but instead, I just felt relief.”

“You didn’t have to fight anymore; you could just accept the end result and move on,” I concluded for her.

“Exactly,” she said. “I talked to my attorney and Jack will be served the divorce papers today.”

“How is it going to be when you two see each other?” JP asked.

“I think it will be a bit uncomfortable, but I think that will fade,” she said.

“That’s not where your mind was the last time we talked,” I said.

“Your son has a remarkably succinct way of putting things,” she said, presumably in reference to Will. “He reminded me that I am quite capable of finding men who not only want to be with me, but who will treat me with respect. I don’t have to put up with the kind of crap Jack is throwing at me.”

“At least he didn’t punch you,” JP grumbled, because he was still irritated that Will had hit Jays in his house, and even more annoyed that most of us thought it was justified. He got dirty looks from all of us, and that served to stop him from pursuing that topic any further.

“I’m just having a hard time seeing you handle this so well and so calmly, because that is so entirely foreign to me,” I joked, getting a smile from her.

“My time with Jack in Athens was magical, and if that had continued once we’d returned, I could have survived this, and I would have even tried to be a good stepmother, or whatever the correct term is, to Jessica’s baby,” Claire said.

“I do not understand,” Stef said.

“I saw our time in Athens as us recommitting to each other, while Jack saw it as a nice interlude in our new life that included additional partners,” she said. “It has been extremely painful to realize our experiences were so entirely different, but I have made progress in coping.”

“Perhaps having someone else there, a shoulder to cry on, has helped,” Stef said, alluding to Luke. She shook her head at him as she rolled her eyes, because while that was probably true, it wasn’t a factor in her internal musings about Jack and their relationship.

“He has been wonderful,” she said. “He reminds me of how nice it is to be treated like a lady.”

“Are you two serious?” I asked. I began to worry about that, wondering if that was a good thing or a bad thing, and began to get concerned that Will’s big plan to hook the two of them up might backfire spectacularly.

“You are full of probing questions today,” she said, trying to get me to back off and not butt into her business. As if.

“Not just today,” I said, then waited for her to answer.

She sighed, then humored me. “We have fun together and the sex is amazing.”

We smiled at her. “You certainly got Stef’s attention,” I said.

“I have been paying attention the entire time,” he said in his frosty tone, then smiled. “What makes it so good?”

“Before you dive into the intricate details of Claire’s sex life, I would like to know if you see this relationship becoming more serious,” JP said.

“Someone still thinks of you as Daddy’s little girl, one that isn’t supposed to have orgasms,” I said to Claire. Stef, Claire, and I really laughed at that, while JP just frowned.

“Neither one of us needs this to be serious,” she said. “I think that Luke thinks he wants it to be, and that probably explains why he’s had so many marriages, but I’m trying to show him that just enjoying the moment can be fun.”

“No doubt,” I agreed.

“I’m going to fly out to St. Barts with him tomorrow,” she announced. “We’re going to spend a few days there, then stop in Boston to check up on Will and Marie on the way back.”

“That sounds like fun,” I said. “Last time I was there I fought with Robbie damn near the entire time.”

“I’m going to hope your bad karma doesn’t rub off on me,” she said. “But even if we fight and don’t get along, I’m still not going back to Jack.” I nodded somberly in understanding, knowing that her relationship with Jack was now over. Claire had written him off, and there wasn’t much of a chance he’d be able to worm his way back into her heart, even if he wanted to.

“Thanks for explaining that to me,” I said sincerely.

Her phone rang, distracting her briefly. I expected that she’d just let it go to voicemail, so I was surprised when she answered it. “Claire Hobart.” She listened for a few seconds, then spoke. “Would you mind if I put this on speaker, so Jays’ father and grandfathers can hear?” She must have gotten an affirmative response, as she adeptly switched her cellphone to that mode. The sound was bad, and the reception wasn’t great, but it was good enough to understand her caller.

“I’m Dr. Feingold, Jeremy’s psychiatrist,” he said. “He came to see me today and told me he had significant mood problems. I’m going to try him on a new medication, but I want him to spend a few days in the hospital while he starts taking it.”

“He’s being hospitalized?” I asked, stunned.

“Yes,” the doctor said in his abrupt way.

“Is that the usual course of action for someone who is just changing medications?” JP asked.

“It is not, but we are changing them quickly, and I want to minimize the risk of bad side effects and be able to manage any if they happen,” he said, then sighed. “I am also worried about him and want to make sure he’s safe.”

“You think he may hurt himself?” Claire asked, horrified.

“I think that is quite possible,” he answered.

“Thank you for helping him out,” I said, trying to not feel totally guilty. “Can we talk to him?”

“I have asked his psychologist, Dr. Lawanda Jones, to work with him to set up communication guidelines for the next week,” Dr. Feingold said. “She’ll be in touch with Mrs. Hobart about that. Jeremy was very clear in asking me to talk to her and to seek her input regarding his treatment.” It was disturbing that his picking Claire instead of me didn’t bother me.

“You always did have a good relationship with him,” I said to Claire in a both loving and appreciative way.

“Can we see him?” she asked.

“Not for the next three days, at least,” the doctor said.

“What kind of medication are you putting him on?” I asked. I saw that JP had a pen and a pad of paper to take notes, relieving me of that burden.

“I’m going to switch him to Lamictal,” Feingold said. “That’s a good option when the other drugs we’ve tried don’t work. I’m also changing his anxiety medicine, and I’m going to use Zyprexa to help him with his mania.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Claire said smoothly. “Can I contact you if I have any questions about his treatment?”

“You can,” he said, then ended the call.