The aftermath
That Thursday afternoon I received a series of phone calls about Harrison having a meltdown and it was clear I needed to get to Leadville. I left cross-country practice in Westcliffe and I drove directly to the CMC campus, arriving after dark. I found Harrison detained in Evan’s office. He had been crying, and was still whimpering and talking nonsensically. We sat on the couch and discussed the situation briefly. From what I could understand, Harrison had been trying to find someone to run with, and had knocked on Lexi’s door. She told him no, that she could not run with him. He then flipped out and began running back and forth in the hall screaming and yelling.
Evan explained that he had to go home now and that we would talk over the weekend about him returning. We needed to get some things from Harrison’s dorm room and Evan accompanied us to the residence hall, and back to my truck. Harrison continued to whimper and then exclaimed dramatically as we loaded up to leave, "Goodbye Leadville! . . Goodbye CMC!”
Harrison had not eaten anything since lunch so we went to Casa Sanchez, the only restaurant open at that hour in Leadville. He was still very upset. While we waited for the food he suddenly became agitated and shoved his phone in my face. It showed a missed call from Lexi. We ate and started the long trip home. As I drove Harrison started to sob again. We passed Box Creek where I knew the old collapsed barn lay out in the dark field to the west. I felt a little stress lift, knowing Harrison was safe for the time-being, but he remained inconsolable. He cried for the next hour as I drove slowly watching for wildlife. He finally fell asleep and I drove the last hour in silence. As we arrived home the Milky Way stretched out across the northern skyline. I quietly urged Harrison inside the dark house and on to bed. He was exhausted. I looked at the unpacking needing done in the truck, shut the door on it and left it for the morning.
Harrison had been away from home for about two weeks and was a changed person. He was also dazed by what had just happened. Our motto had always been, “Tomorrow is another day.” But now that he had tasted independence, it was not the same. Being sent home was seen as punishment rather than a reset.
We did our best to keep him on a positive keel, but his negative behaviors and self-talk were elevated. I had to coach a cross-country meet that Saturday and he watched Sing II with Mary while I was gone. We looked over his class assignments, and carried out Darren’s workouts, including a long Sunday run. We would go back to CMC on Monday for a disciplinary meeting with Evan.
The meeting was in a conference room across the hall from Evan’s office. We sat down at a big table with Evan to my right and Harrison across the table from him. Jen was there as well, and across from me. Evan went over the events that had led us to this meeting, the disciplinary process at CMC and the consequences. Among these were that Harrison would be allowed on campus only on days he had classes, and not allowed to stay in the residence hall over weekends without prior approval and without me staying with him. During this discussion I asked about getting more help for Harrison and Evan shut that down quickly with: “That’s you.” For the first time in dealing with him, I bristled.
Evan placed on the table a four-page Conduct Letter for Harrison to sign. The overriding implication was this was a condition of returning to classes and the residence hall. I scanned the document and my brain froze. I could not digest the massive pile of legalese in such a short time and under these circumstances. Much less could I expect Harrison, or even a lawyer, to process so much material so quickly. I thought this through quickly and could see the cards were not in my favor at this poker table. I knew Evan was doing his job and going through the required motions. However, my intuition was that no court in the land would hold someone with processing issues like Harrison responsible for signing such a packet of legal gibberish under such pressure. After taking a breath, I nodded for Harrison to go ahead and sign the document and we were on our way.
We went back to Harrison’s dorm room. It was a mess of clean and dirty casual wear, running clothes and shoes, welding gear and dirty coffee equipment. Things were piled on both beds, one of them unmade. It took some hours to get the room organized again.
Harrison saw Lexi in the hallway and apologized to her for the incident. I realized I was dragging my feet on leaving him again. Harrison had welding class that evening. I decided to eat dinner in the cafeteria and then leave. The running team tended to occupy a table in the middle of the cafeteria. It was always fun to socialize with Harrison’s teammates. But tonight was uncomfortable. There seemed to be a cloud over the group. Harrison apologized to Lexi’s roommate Anne for the situation. She told him it was all in the past.
When we got up to leave, Brooklyn went out the door with us, and then accompanied us to Harrison’s dorm room. I was really fighting the urge to stay the night but knew I needed to leave. What happened next was a pivotal act of empathy that would soon characterize the way fellow students dealt with Harrison. Brooklyn waited patiently for him to get his welding gear together then walked him over to his class. I quickly packed the last few things for my trip home. As I drove past the welding shop I saw Brooklyn arriving there with Harrison. It was a kind gesture to help him get back on track, and it was comforting to me to know friends were watching out for him. By the time I passed the old collapsed barn south of Leadville I was feeling better, but I also knew I would be back in three days to bring him home again.
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