Beyond Recognition - Shadows of Mental Illness

By Jo Anne Barnes

Through heart-wrenching twists and unexpected revelations, Beyond Recognition delves into the profound challenges facing the Wilder family when their teenage son shows signs of mental illness. Will Olivia Wilder's determination to find a solution lead to healing or further turmoil? She seeks guidance from the cunning psychiatrist, Dr. Corona Kirby. Corona becomes Olivia's lifeline to navigating the complexities of mental illness. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jo Anne Barnes
• Release date: Jul 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223788645

Jo Anne Barnes

/Users/joannebarnes/Desktop/JO ANNE BARNES grew up in a small parish in northeastern Louisiana 2.docx

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The bleak jail reminded Track Wilder of the city pound. Maybe that's what it was, a place of iron bars in which to isolate the curs of humanity from the outside, sane world.

Track tugged at a tuft of cotton hanging from the rip in the sofa. The furniture in the waiting room looked as though it had been junked on the sandbar and the sheriff had sent prisoners out to salvage it. Lakeworth could do a hell of a lot better. Too much money in this turd of a town not to at least try.

The jailer stuck his head in the room. You ready for your boy?

Track stood, tense ridges popping out around his mouth. He was a big man with large hands and feet, eyes almost as dark as his hair. We've paid his bail, Sonny! For God's sake, get him out of that cell! His voice bellowed through the room like a deer horn, denying the anxious shuffling of his feet.

The jailer, a layer of fat hanging over his belt, disappeared behind the gray door. Fingerprints around the knob made Track wish for soap and water to scrub them off with. It surprised him that Olivia had not complained.

He sat beside his wife and heaved an impatient sigh. They'd been waiting for more than an hour. How much more could he stand, he wondered, before he ripped the place apart?

What's keeping them so long? Olivia asked, lifting her head higher to relieve the pressure in her spine. She couldn't force herself to lean back on the soiled sofa as Track was doing. It was all she could do to even sit on the sour-smelling couch.

Sonny's back there playing poker. He's probably holding two sevens and a wild card and thinks he's going to win the pot. Shit, I've played with him enough times to know.

Humph! Olivia said, expressing contempt for Track's peccadillo rather than for Sonny Lawler's work ethic. Darling, I thought you'd stopped gambling. She drew out the dar-ling like she always did when she wanted to put her Southern stamp of disapproval on something.

Olivia lowered the fine eyebrow that had been lifted for emphasis. She could raise that brow higher than most people and hold it longer when she put her mind to it, Track thought. He'd watched her keep it arched throughout an entire sermon at church because she disagreed with the liberalism that spouted from the pastor’s lips.

Despite her thirty-nine years that consisted mostly of putting other people in their places, she still had a sweet look about her. Her high cheekbones were too prominent and strong, her forehead too high and unyielding, but her clear blue eyes softened the angular effect and saved her from looking harsh.

Did Thompson tell you what we can expect? Olivia asked. Track had called their lawyer before arriving at the jail.

Ed Mackey's pressing charges. Ryan will have a preliminary hearing next week. They'll probably set a date for another hearing to listen to both sides. I don't think there's a snowball's chance in hell Mackey will drop the charges.

Did you tell Thompson that half the teenagers in town get their jollies by running over Ed's front lawn? He's hateful to them, and it's become a challenge to get even.

Yeah . . . but the others were lucky enough not to get caught. Mackey parked in his driveway tonight, just waiting for Ryan and his friends.

"Don’t say yeah, dear. It doesn’t become you."

"Olivia, I’ve been saying yeah for as long as I can remember, and I do believe it does become me. It sets me apart from a few of the tight-assed bastards in this town you think so goddamn highly of."

At least don’t swear around me, Track. Honestly, you can sound so crude at times.

He didn’t reply. It was no use. In all their years of marriage, he’d never won an argument with Olivia and didn’t think he ever would. The only way he’d have the last say was to hold his hand over her mouth, and he loved her too much to do that.

She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, as though forcing stale air from her lungs. I can't believe Ed chased them in that old Cadillac of his, ramming them in the rear like a man gone mad. He could have killed all three of them.

I plan to talk to him about that.

Don’t make matters worse than they already are, you hear? She tapped her brightly painted nails on her knee and swung her foot. Mackey’s been a jerk ever since I’ve known him. If you’re a jerk in the first grade, you don’t ever get over it. Even his daddy was a jerk.

It won’t hurt to tell him what I think about a middle-aged man chasing a bunch of kids all over town.

I drove by Ed’s house on the way over here. I saw the grooves he’s complaining about, but that lawn of his is nothing to be proud of, ruts or no ruts. He doesn’t even keep his yard mowed. It’s all grown up with Johnson grass.

That won’t excuse Ryan and the other boys. Not in the eyes of the law.

Olivia bit her bottom lip, shocked that her husband was so naive. Ryan’s the only one they can press charges against. Skip and Purvis are only fifteen. Besides, Ryan was driving.

Shit! I didn’t think of his age. The judge is apt to go hard on him to set an example.

Track didn't really know Purvis Bentson. He was new in town. But they’d known the Sigler boy since he was born. A good kid. Pete and Gail Sigler owned acreage between Lakeworth and Newellton. Track used to take Ryan out there to look for arrowheads following a hard rain. While Ryan and Skip searched the plowed fields, Olivia and Track played bridge with the Siglers. The boys would bring in their treasures to show them, their faces plastered with mud and pride.

That’s why they’re holding Ryan longer than the others, Olivia said. Skip and Purvis were released right after we got here. They'll probably let Skip and Purvis off and send Ryan to prison.

Calm down. He's not going to prison.

He might. If it's going to cost as much to repair the damage as Ed claims, Ryan could be convicted of a felony.

Hell, Olivia! Let's get him out of jail and then worry about prison.

Joel Thompson’s a good lawyer, she said, a worried look on her face. A little shady at times, but he looks after his own, and we've been clients for years. He'll remind the judge that this is Ryan's first infringement.

Criminal offense, Track said. He patted her hand. Don't worry, babe. Everything's going to be okay.

Track turned his head and regarded the window that was propped up with a sawed-off broom handle. He ought to run for mayor and straighten out this jailhouse. He might do that one day, after he retired from Delta Airlines, if for no other reason than to aggravate Olivia.

She would be horrified, claiming he couldn't win because he was a foreigner. When do I stop being a foreigner? he would ask. And she would say, Never. That's the way the town works. When you married me, I tried to tell you that you wouldn't be accepted. He often wondered if it was because he was a mid-westerner or if that was the rule for everyone who wasn't born and bred in Louisiana, but he never wondered if Olivia might be mistaken.

He stared through the rusty screen. The blackish darkness outside was broken by a cone-shaped beam of light coming from the top of a utility pole. A howling cat streaked by with a yipping Terrier close to its heels. The howling stopped, but the barking continued. Track smiled. The cat had found a tree, the lucky son-of-a-bitch.

He heard the jailer's footsteps in the hallway and looked at his wife. She was dressed in a mauve silk dress she'd picked up in Natchez on sale. The fluorescent lights deepened the lines around her eyes and dulled her honey hair, but she still looked beautiful and younger than her years.

She linked her arm through his elbow, and they stood. Ryan and I are going to have words over this, she whispered. He should know better than to embarrass us this way. I'll never be able to hold my head up in public again. Her arrogant chin rose to a level almost even with his.

Track playfully slapped her on the rump. She looked surprised, but she didn't protest as he'd expected.

Well, Olivia, he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. Boys will be boys.

They walked in silence to the parking area, Ryan sandwiched between his parents, his chin set at a rigid angle to shield himself from the sting of the lecture his mother would deliver. Cutting his eyes her way, Ryan crammed his hands deep into his jeans pocket.

He looked like her, Track thought, despite the tie-dyed T-shirt he wore that she disapproved of so adamantly. His hair was darker, but the sun bleached the ends every summer and made it appear as light as hers.

When they reached her car, out of hearing distance from the jail, Olivia turned to Ryan and asked in that composed way she had of dealing with anything unpleasant. How did they treat you in there, Ryan?

He shrugged indifferently.

Did they search you?

Not for weapons. He cut his eyes in her direction. It's because of my long hair, I guess.

They had no business laying a hand on you! Olivia said indignantly, jumping on his side momentarily. But let this be a good lesson for you, Ryan. I warned you what people would think about your long hair.

Mom, don't bring that up, okay? I don't care what people think.

When word gets around town about this, you might care. You acted like a juvenile delinquent, and that's exactly the way people are going to treat you. I never dreamed a child of mine would do something—

Liv, think back a few years, Track interrupted. Didn't you ever participate in a prank that got out of hand?

Not that I can recall.

Ryan felt grateful for his father's support, even though he knew it would do no good.

Some boys and I put a goat in the high school library one night and fed him an overdose of ex-lax, Track said. We didn't stop to consider the consequences, which we should have. We considered ourselves invincible, just like Ryan and his buddies. Damn near got expelled, too.

Ryan had heard the story before. His father had gone to school bright and early the next morning so he could watch the librarian's reaction. He laughed like hell when she discovered the goat shit, and "that was sweet." Of course, they had to clean it up, and that wasn't so sweet.

Track, when you make light of that sort of behavior, don't you see the message you're sending Ryan?

Mom, he's only joking.

No, we really did it.

Track! Who are the adults here? I do declare, it's hard to tell sometimes.

I'm just trying to lighten the mood, Olivia.

Well, it's not helping, Olivia said. I want to know why he destroyed Ed Mackey's front lawn.

Ryan lowered his eyes.

Look at your mother when she's talking to you, son.

He lifted his head. I didn't know she was talking to me.

Please don't split hairs, Olivia said. Now, just tell me honestly. Whatever possessed you to do such a thing? I'm having a hard time understanding this.

Ryan drew a deep breath of air. I didn't want to go anywhere tonight. You made me go with them, remember?

"Ryan, darlin', I didn't make you. I encouraged you to go out and do something fun, anything besides walling up in that room of yours like you've been doing lately. What kind of fun did you expect to get out of ruining Ed's lawn?"

Silence.

Answer your mother, son.

Look, it wasn't fun. Okay? It's just something everybody does to get a rise out of Mr. Mackey. Purvis suggested it, and it sounded like a good idea at the time. A rotten idea, if you want to know the truth. The whole thing seemed like a hallucination. He could remember circling Mackey's block a few times, revving the engine, hearing the squeal of tires, but it was like someone else had driven the car, and he had watched from a safe distance, feeling very small and insignificant.

We're not finished with this conversation, Olivia warned. Track, I'll carry Ryan home.

Drive him, Track corrected.

Ignoring her husband, Olivia looked at Ryan. Maybe if you apologize to Ed—

Mom! Ryan tugged at the neck of his shirt. It wouldn't do any good. He'd just bite my head off and still send me to jail.

Well, they haven't locked you away yet, Track said, opening Olivia's car door for his son. Let's go home and get some sleep.

The next day Track played tennis, shot pool with the local good ol' boys, then headed to Vernon Pierce's barbershop at a quarter to twelve. Vern had told him that he'd stay open until he got there. On Thursdays, every store in Lakeworth closed for the afternoon. The custom began, Olivia had told him, because the stores stayed open late on Saturday nights so the farmers would have time to shop.

Track climbed on the chair by the window, and he and Vernon immediately got into an argument about the kind of bait that bass were hungry for on Lake Bruin. Vernon considered himself an expert on fishing and was frequently seen hauling his bass boat out to the lake, three miles from town.

Vernon tied a white cape around Track's thick neck and picked up his scissors and comb. He was a small man with a bald head and a trim build. He'd cut hair since Track had lived in Lakeworth, actually much longer than that.

They're really biting, Track, if you use the right bait. You ought to run on out to Lake Bruin while you're home.

Track's flight schedule changed monthly; he was sometimes home for three or four days, sometimes longer.

Try hanging around the state park. I caught a five-pounder out there early this morning.

A five-pounder? I just might give it a try. Maybe I can talk Ryan into going with me.

Terrible thing Mackey did to your boy. I felt bad the minute I found out about it.

Yeah, it kinda honked me that he'd run them off the road.

Vernon stopped snipping. I'm not talking about that, though that was bad enough in itself. I was referring to the paper.

Track turned in his chair to look at Vernon, his curiosity stirred. Tensas Gazette?

Vernon shook his head. Someone had brought in a copy of the Monroe paper. Normally, Vernon never read anything but The Tensas Gazette. The news he could catch on television when business was slow, or when he got bored with hearing about the problems a customer was having with his marriage. Some of them expected him to give advice, not that he couldn't. Not that he didn't when he felt in the mood for it.

Vernon reached behind him and handed Track the middle section of the Monroe Morning World. Jeff Miller gave it to me this morning.

Track's attention traveled to the bottom of the page where there was a picture of Ed Mackey's front lawn, ruts and all. The caption quoted Mackey as saying, I caught the hoodlums red-handed.

Track pulled himself to full height in the chair. That tight-assed prick! Just wait until Olivia sees this. She's going to have what she calls a 'hissy fit.'

Vernon resumed cutting Track's hair. "Ryan's got the town's sentiments on his side if it will make her feel any better. Everyone likes your boy. He used to hang around when he was just a little fellow, hoping he'd get to shine somebody's shoes so he could earn enough money to buy a new fishing lure. Ryan would find a customer who would pay him to run a cloth not much bigger than my hand over his feet and would talk him into hiking out