VIVA LA VIDOO part ⅳ

Continued from Viva La Vidoo iii

'No, I really can't,' I whimper. 'I'm twenty. I am a student. Unstable and quirky. I can't.'
'Convince me.'
'Can't do that either. You convince me.'
Rotem doesn't hesitate. 'You don't want history repeating. You can save a life here: she goes back to US, she kills herself. This isn't a guilt trip – this is about your capability, not responsibility. But since you can, you should.'
I say nothing, because it's easy for her to say. I do – Honest Injun do – want to help, save a life, a universe, relieve nightmares. However, the price is well beyond my field of competence.

I try to emulate Rotem in more ways than I'm aware of, but there are limits. I cannot commit to an act which shall transfigure my life.
'I am physically unable –' I try, but she cuts me off.
'I'll pay you, semimonthly. I've got a lawyer who can get us a smooth arrangement. She'll be yours before she's released here, once the medical insurance is sorted.'
The legalities frighten me, the procedures and offices and other bureaucratically Jewish fiends.
'I don't want to push or blackmail you,' continues Rotem. 'Only, I think you're the best choice. I did consider adopting her myself, but I can't take in anyone my husband would be unable to deal with later on. I would have, en serio. But I'm dying.' Now I can see her soul right there in those clear hazel eyes, and I hear my heart breaking, and she looks away.
'Just blackmailed you, didn't I?'
I nod, either way.

Back in her room, Vidoo is asleep. The Dr. has left. I wonder is she truly is BPD, but I swallow it as a worst case scenario, thus nothing would freak me further. Rotem sits on the edge of her bed, and I settle back in the recliner.
'What if I take you to consult with some psychologists and rabbis?'
I shrug, because too many circumstances are shifting out of control. Rotem slips out of the ward to make some calls.

The smoothest way to impose a decision is to argue against it, which happens a day later as the core staff members convene by the ER.
'You can't possibly think you can take her in,' exclaims Eliana, and Benny charges further: 'May, you'll wreck your career and yourself. If I would adopt every lovably suicidal case passing by, I'd be one myself.'
'But I have to,' I emphasize since I can't explain. 'She keeps asking if she's in NYC. The only way to relax her is to promise she isn't, and won't ever be.'
'That's a temporary commitment based on delicate circumstance,' Benny plays el inteligente. 'What if she OD or slashes wrists under your care?'
At times like this, I pull a Rotem. 'I will take full legal responsibility. See if I give a flip. I swear it will not decrease my vocational performance in any way.'
'It will,' says Eliana.
'It won't, precisely because my job is directly related to most of her trouble. She'll leave the current program, yet I'll find a way to fund a DBT [here] agenda for her.

'No you won't,' suddenly the voice in my mind embodies behind me. 'I will fundraise.'
My colleagues stare at Rotem, possibly since she's the first person to stand a few inches shorter beside me.
She resumes despite the glances. 'I'll give you an initial amount now, and VIP reference to two DBT directors in the US. Rest assured that nothing will impair May's functioning: I'd trust her with my life, and have had. Adopting Vidoo will only improve her act.' And they won't argue against that smirk, or the cheque.

Somebody calls my name down the corridor: Sara, my pillar of sanity, with a perfectly heliumed get-well balloon.
'We need to talk,' she admonishes. Whenever we 'need to talk', she is reproachful.
'We can't talk now,' I say. 'I haven't slept much the past fortnight. I won't be very rational.'
'That's ok, you never are. But since you're making a decision here that would affect the entire family, I thought I should intervene.' Shucks, I forgot she's like, my closest relative.
'Fine, but not now. Keep your opinions to yourself until I can rebut them.'
Sara blocks my way to the ward. 'What makes you think you can adopt her?'
'Nothing. Rotem? No, no, not Rotem!' I yell, since she is about to strangle me with the balloon string.

'Don't ever give me Rotem for an answer!' she hisses. 'Not everything Rotem says is irrefutable. Do you understand that Rotem is not a medium for logical discussion? She pulls averages way off range. She could quit drugs on her own, you couldn't. She may adopt psychotic cases, you cannot. You're getting yourself into deep mud here. And Rotem is not a proof of your success.'
'Wait. She didn't decide for me. She put my feelings into words.'
'Your feelings?' Sara is puzzled. 'You haven't slept for 10 days and you're basing judgment on feelings?'
'Stop catching me by the word,' I always get livid when someone mouths my self-doubt. 'I wanted to adopt her all along. It's like meeting Mr. Right. I know it.'
'May, Mr. Right is a myth.'
'Well, it's a myth you can materialize. With hard work. And I'm willing.'
Sara rolls her finger around the string. 'Why, May? Are you trying to right some wrongs? Are you trying to be heroic? Do you need some loving?' she looks up. 'Do you have to put yourself into this position?'
'Sara, I don't hallucinate anymore,' I say, fully serious. 'However, I know this is what I should do. This is not another message from an old Coyote Spirit. I don't care what you or anyone else thinks. This is my call. Not wrong, not right, not heroic. It's the position I'm in.'
She scrutinizes my eyes. Then she passes me the balloon, shrugging. 'We're talking different languages again, insomniac. Do what you think you should, and you have my support. I just hope you won't get hurt.'
'I am doing this because I was hurt,' I say, and she stomps her foot.
'Which is why you can't adopt her! Heck, May, just do what you want.' She marches down the corridor, as I yell some thanks for the balloon.