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Avenue, toward Lenox Hill Hospital. Her face was stinging and raw and her eyes watering by the time she got there, and walked into the emergency room. She checked in at the desk, and they told her what cubicle Jason was in. They had decided he didn't need to go to the ICU. He was groggy but out of danger, and they were waiting for her to admit him for the night, and decide the rest. Helen Wexler pounced on her the minute she walked into the room, clung to her, and began to sob.
    “He almost died …,” she said, hysterical in Maxine's arms, as Maxine led her gently from the room, with a glance at the nurse. Jason was dozing in the bed and hadn't stirred. He was still heavily sedated from the residue of what he'd taken, but he no longer had enough on board to risk his life. Just enough to help him sleep for a long time. His mother kept repeating that he had almost died. Maxine led her a fair distance down the hall, just in case her son woke up.
    “But he didn't, Helen. He's going to be all right,” Maxine said calmly. “You were lucky you found him, and he's going to be fine.” Until the next time. That was Maxine's job to deal with, so that there wouldn't be a third time. Although once suicide was attempted, by any patient, the statistical risk of their trying again was infinitely higher, and the chance of success likelier each time. Maxine wasn't happy that he had tried it a second time.
    Maxine got Jason's mother to sit in a chair, and take some deep breaths. And finally, she managed to speak calmly about it. Maxine said she thought Jason should be hospitalized for longer this time. She suggested a month, after which they could see how he was doing, and she recommended a facility she worked with frequently on Long Island. She assured Helen Wexler that they were very good with adolescents. Helen looked horrified.
    “A month ? That means he won't be home for Thanksgiving. You can't do that,” she said, crying again. “I can't put him away over the holidays. His father just died, this will be our first Thanksgiving without him,” she insisted, as though that made a difference now, with her son at risk for a third suicide attempt. It was amazing what denial did to the mind, and what one clung to, in order not to face the realities of the situation. If Jason succeeded at a third attempt, he would never have another Thanksgiving. It was well worth sacrificing this one. But his mother didn't want to hear that, and Maxine was trying to be firm but compassionate and gentle, she always was.
    “I think that right now he needs the protection and the support. I don't want to bring him home too soon, and the holidays are going to be hard for him without his dad too. I seriously think he'll do better at Silver Pines. You can have Thanksgiving with him there.” Helen just cried harder.
    Maxine was anxious to see her patient. She told Helen they would talk about it later, but they both agreed that he should spend the night at Lenox Hill. There was no other choice, he was in no shape to go home. Helen was in full agreement with that, just not the rest. She hated the idea of Silver Pines. She said it sounded like a cemetery to her.
    Maxine checked Jason quietly while he was sleeping, read the chart, and was alarmed to see how much of the drug he'd taken. He had taken far more than a lethal dose, unlike last time when he had barely taken enough to kill himself. This time had been a far more serious attempt, and she wondered what had brought it on. She was going to spend time with Jason the next morning when he woke up. There was no hope of talking to him now.
    She made some notes on Jason's chart of what she wanted. They were going to move him to a private room later that night, and her orders included a nurse with him, on suicide watch. There had to be someone there to observe him even before he woke up. She told the nurse she'd be back the next morning at nine o'clock, and if they needed her sooner, they should call. She left them