The sound of the basketball was just a temporary reprieve from the reality of the weekend. Once I was fully awake I remembered my girls. I dressed quickly and went upstairs. I knocked on Keirry's door and waited until she opened it. She wasn't dressed for work which she was due at in under an hour.

"Are you getting ready?" I asked.

Keirry turned away without a word and crawled back into her bed. "I'm not going."

"You have to. You can't just call out because you don't feel like going."

She started crying. "I can't!" She was sobbing and shaking. I hadn't seen such fear in her eyes since she was a little girl. I pulled her into my arms and rocked her. All the while she clung to me. "I can't do it," she cried over and over.

I called my boss and told him the situation. He's a good guy and told me where to take her.

After she finally got herself together, and Chuck was awake,(He had gotten off at 4 a.m. and had approximately four hours of sleep) I took her to the family practice my boss had suggested.

Even though we didn't have an appointment, once I explained Keirry's last 24 hours they ushered us into the back.

The P. A. (Physicians assistant) came into the room. She barely looked 20 years old. It unnerved me but put Keirry at ease. She talked to Keirry, listened to her, talked some more. Then she looked at me.

"Mom, how do you feel?" she asked.

I looked at Keirry. She looked like a stranger. As a toddler and up until she was about eleven years old, she was always happy. She was a giggler. She had an infectious laugh and a friendly open demeanor. I didn't see that child any more.

"I don't see my daughter any more. I miss her. All I see now is someone in pain. She isn't the same and I miss the happy little girl."

The P.A. listened with enough professional empathy to keep me from losing it. She said a few words about the brain being like a switchboard and how depression can be caused by many different things. I knew my daughter was depressed. That was no surprise. For the first time ever I was hoping this woman would write a prescription for a happy pill. But she didn't. Instead she sent us up to the Outer Banks hospital for a thorough exam from the doctor in the E.R.

And so we went to the hospital where we were checked in and put in a tiny room to wait. The doctor came in, spoke with Keirry for about five minutes then we waited some more.

A nurse wheeled in a huge television and hooked it up. "In a few minutes, you'll be speaking with Dr. Alvarez from the Psychiatric department at Pitt County Hospital. He's going to ask you a series of questions. If he deems it necessary you'll be transported to a center in Raleigh."

Keirry glanced over at me. I knew she was gauging my reaction to that bit of information. The thought of someone taking my daughter from me made me sick to my stomach, but if that would ultimately save her life then by all means, they could take her.

"If that's what will help you, Keirry, you need to go."

She nodded slightly and lay back on the pillow behind her.

Technology is an incredible thing. Here we were at a hospital on a tiny spit of sand, talking face to television-screened face, to a doctor three counties away. He could see us and we could see him. He asked about fifty questions, most directed to Keirry but some to me.

I learned the difference between being suicidal and crying for help. Suicide is planned. There is usually no forewarning. Giving those around you a heads up, like Keirry had done the night before, that was a cry for help. He stepped away from the screen and another person started talking to us. It was an intern who asked basically the same questions. The intern gave Keirry some imaginary scenarios and asked for her response to them. Keirry answered all of them.

Ten minutes later the original doctor showed up again.

"I'm going to ask you, Keirry, if you'd be willing to voluntarily commit yourself for a 72 hour observation. At which time, you'll be evaluated and the best course of treatment can be determined."

"Keirry, if this is what you need to get better. It's only three days."

She shook her head no.

The doctor nodded and motioned for me to step outside of the room. I could see an officer of the Dare County Sheriff's office standing at the nurses' station. I had a friend who worked for the sheriff's department. I knew she was called in on various occasions to transport people to the psychiatric hospital in Raleigh.

"You can make the call," he said. "They can transport her right now. It would be two weeks before you could go visit her."

"You told her it was 72 hours."

"It's 72 hours for the evaluation. Once they decide how to treat her it's two weeks. No contact with the outside."

"Do you think she really needs this?" I asked. I slumped against the wall and pinched the bridge of my nose.

For the first time since we walked into hospital, the doctor smiled. "To me, she seems like she has anxiety. Maybe a little bit over sensitive. She's a middle child, isn't she?"

I nodded. Technically, she was number 3 out of 4, but my oldest son had moved out when Keirry was 3 years old, so out of the three still at home she was the middle child.

"It's up to you, like I said, but I'm going to give you the name of a therapist friend of mine. I'll call ahead and set up an appointment. If you take her to see a therapist here on the beach, I don't see any reason to transport her to Raleigh. " He turned and motioned for the deputy to come over. "Should I tell him to pull his patrol car around?"

I hardly waited for him to finish his sentence before I shook my head no.

They released her into my care with the promise to seek treatment for her.

Keirry went straight to her room after checking out her brother's cast. She was like a different person. My guess was she felt relieved that no one had called her crazy or weird. People had listened to her without judging her.

I left her alone and went to knock on Tracy's bedroom door. She had the saddest look on her face when she opened the door.

"I'm sorry, Tracy. You want to talk about it?"

"Not really," she sighed.

"Did you break up with him or did he break up with you?"

She walked over and sat on the edge of her bed. "It was kind of mutual. I asked him if he was happy and he said not really. So I said maybe we needed a break. He said maybe we do. That was it."

Tracy is a lot like me in most ways. She doesn't like a lot of drama and she's a straight shooter. But she's a romantic. She was hurt that Devyn didn't try to fight for her. He was okay with their separation. The fact that after 16 months together he was ready to walk away, that's what really hurt her.

I managed to give her a little wisdom when she was done telling me about the break up.

"You know I like Devyn, Tracy. Heck, he's like my son after all this time. But honestly you weren't happy and a break could be what you need. Go out with your friends, take some time to figure out what you want. I don't think it's over between you two. Ya'll have a special bond. Just give it some time. If it's meant to be ..." I leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

I found Chuck waiting downstairs for me. When I walked into our bedroom he held out his hand. I slipped my fingers in between his and laid down beside him.

"What the hell is happening to us?" he whispered.

What the hell, indeed.