4-12-2003 | 4:51 p.m.

Chris had to be admitted to the psych hospital yesterday. His mom convinced him that his behavior was "out of control" and that he needed help. She called and asked if I could be with Chris through the admin. process. How could I say no?

The car pulled into my driveway, and there’s Chris in the back seat clutching his backpack. He motioned for me to sit with him – of course his mom complained about being a "taxi driver." He grabbed my hand and kept apologizing, "I’m sorry I’ve been so bad. Please forgive me?" I told him that he’d be okay and to stop worrying about everyone else. We stopped at CVS on the way, so Chris could get a new sketch pad. His mom is such a bitch. She’s drumming her fingers on the wheel, sighing, as if she wanted to get rid of Chris as quickly as possible.

We were dropped off in front of the hospital, and Chris’ Mom smiled at me and said, "Call my cell when you’re done so I can pick you up." Nice to stick around and make sure your son is okay. I sat in the waiting area while Chris was escorted into a locked room. I knew the type of questions he’d be asked. It felt strange sitting there, on the other side. I started to feel paranoid, thinking someone would figure me out and try to admit me too.

I was informed that I could take the elevator with Chris to the ward. They took his backpack to search for any "contraband" type stuff. It’s hard to talk openly with a security guy standing with you. Chris asked if I would visit when people were allowed. I said, "Of course." Very awkward. I know there are pay phones on the ward, but my number would be considered long distance so he wouldn’t have enough change to call. I told him to call collect when he had phone privileges. "But you never answer your phone!" I promised that I would. I gave Chris a hug after we stepped off the elevator. He looked like he might cry, which made me feel like I was going to cry of course. He yelled, "Talk to you soon..." before being led into the locked ward. I had to sign a few papers to get on the visitors list.

I wanted to call someone else for a ride home, but I knew Chris’ mom would have questions. Feign worry!

Another awkward ride. She said she’d call if she heard anything and thanked me. It was around 8:00pm when I got home. I still don’t feel like going anywhere or socializing.

I know I try to make every situation seem funny, like when I mentioned the car ride from the city in my last entry. When Chris picked me up on Sunday, I could tell that he hadn’t been taking his meds. I didn’t really want to be in the car with him, but he had driven 2 hours to get me. He seemed a little shaky and had that weird constant smirk on his face. I could tell he wasn’t okay when he started the number thing.

"How many movies did you see?"
"How many times did you ride the subway?"
"How many hours did you spend with Keith?"
"How many slices of pizza did you have?"
"Did you walk through Central Park? If so, how many times?"

When I told him I saw "The Pianist" he called me Miss Fancy Pants.

I felt like I was filling out a questionnaire. I asked Chris what he’d been up to. "I saw Willard twice."
"Went to McDonalds 3 times."
"Rented Fight Club twice."

Etc. We stopped at the Happy Clown for some ice cream and he giggled a lot. I don’t know. It’s hard to describe exactly how I knew he wasn’t on his meds. When you’re close to someone with that type of problem, you just know.

I know I usually don’t write about my friends here, but this whole situation has ME thinking. Am I headed in that direction? Is my relationship with Chris as "unhealthy" as my therapist says? I know, being selfish. Watching him get locked up like that really freaked me out. Maybe I shouldn’t sit here and think about it so much. I know if I do go out, I’ll probably drink though. I think I’ll spend some time with my little nephew.