Becky and Ben rode their bikes through the trails at the state park as fast as they could for two miles, but now they were winded. Becky would joke in her middle age to her husband that the bikes were not as fast as they used to be made. She was worried he might leave her for an ex-girlfriend or younger woman; just leave her in general. She was rarely aware of it, and didn’t see how her uneasiness confused Ben; whose people pleasing nature was to make her happy. It was perhaps though, why they were successful as a couple. They mostly wanted to take care of the kids and be a good team even if Ben was impulsive with weed and beer, and Becky had a love for indulging in a good boxed wine. At least the boxes had gotten smaller and lasted longer that they did in her more youthful years of adulthood. Becky looked over into a side trail absent mindedly that led to a dead end. She screamed ‘whoa’ to Ben, as if he were her horse. Ben stopped obediently. Over to the right of the dead end down a mere football field was a spot where are car was idling.
“Is that a hose connected to the tail pipe going to the window.” She sprang into action and sped to the car. There was a man passed out inside. Ben caught up quickly and grabbed a rock and smashed the window. They dragged the man out of the car with the help of a third cyclist who had seen the commotion. The man was turning a bit purple, but was still breathing. The new arrival on the scene called an ambulance. The usual dramatics of such conversations began, and the man in the car came to disoriented and started crying. The third man introduced himself as Chase. He happened to be in AA. This never came up. The fact he sold snack cakes for a living did instead, only after the ambulance left.
“I was supposed to die. Why were you there?” said the purple man.
“I guess it was God’s will,” said Chase. The man started sobbing.
“Nobody was there for my son. I don’t… I hate you.” The suicidal man, Steve, was really high and saw the unnamed man as an agent of the a secret organization that deliberately let his son die and let him live. It wasn’t a totally lucid thought, and as he was being put into the back of the ambulance, he decided he would never be forgiven for the sins in his role for getting the photos out of the enemy combatants going through enhanced interrogation as a soldier. They killed his child by driving him to suicide by jumping off a University of Michigan parking ramp and wanted him to live with it. Steve was very high. His doctor wouldn’t catch the aspect of cannabis induced psychosis though. Then again, he hadn’t smoked in half a year. What she was was no reason to really talk to him much beyond the initial evaluation. He was clearly bipolar type 1. Steve had a 20 days stay against his will. Steve had medications and confinement forced on by by court order to where he was put on the wrong medication. The doctor wouldn’t let Steve tell her what medicines have worked in the past and which one’s haven’t. The hospital then sent him a $58,000 bill, because they couldn’t figure out how to bill the VA. Steve still had a lot of depression and anxiety when he got out. That’s when he met Hope.
Joker's Wild 