I just got back from a long, grueling trip to F****** and I have come to realize that there are two indisputable facts. (1) If it’s dark and rainy…I can’t see anything and (2) I can’t see anything…if it’s dark and rainy.
Had it not been for my youngest daughter, I would have probably flown off the side of the road and landed in the Everglades somewhere, underwater with the alligators spitting me out because I don’t have enough meat on my bones to even provide an hors d’oeuvre.
N**** and I went to see J*****. I stopped and got him some cigarettes on the way. We pulled up and he was sitting outside in a lawn chair. I think he spends most of his days and nights doing that.
I looked at N**** and said “what a horrible life he must have. He just sits there and thinks and smokes and drinks.” She thought he looked “bloated” and I thought he looked “frail.” His eyes were puffy and he was thin. It’s getting harder and harder for me to still see that little blonde-haired boy who was such a light in my life.
I took him to a restaurant and we had dinner. I’m not sure he had eaten anything for a few days and he seemed to enjoy the meal but he didn’t eat voraciously like he used to because it hurts his stomach.
He wanted us to stay a while but it was already dark (hence my revelation of night-time, rainy driving.)
I told him what Sam said… “unless and until he decides to get help, you can’t talk to him anymore.”
J***** exuberantly said “but I’m doing something. I have that appointment on Friday.”
He has an appointment at an out-patient clinic that can give drugs for alcohol withdrawal. It costs money for the visits as well as the drugs. I asked him how he was going to pay for it and he just said he’d worry about that later, which I’m afraid means…no money for visits and drugs….no visits and drugs. It will be cheaper to just buy some more booze. I reminded him again that I had found a rehab place and mental help…free. He now equates being in “rehab” with being in jail. He said “you’ve never been to jail so you don’t know what it’s like.” I don’t always understand his reasoning.
He wanted me to stop by on the way out of town and take him to breakfast. That would have added about three hours to my trip and meant that I would be driving in the dark. I told him I just couldn’t and he said he understood. I am still feeling guilty about it. I never know when the last time I see him is going to be the last time I see him and it rips me apart.
I brought my oldest daughters’ firefighter helmets with me. She hadn’t wanted me to store them and I really don’t display anything anymore (firefighter memorabilia, quilts or even pictures of my children and grandchildren) so it was time to give them back.
N**** and I were in the part of town where K****s’ station is so I told N**** to text her and ask if she wanted us to bring them by. N**** was quiet for a few minutes so I asked her if she had heard back from K****.
She said K**** said if we came by she was afraid she would start crying and have to go home…so we didn’t go.
N**** wouldn’t read the text to me so I have no idea what was really said. I told N**** that I believed K**** said that but I didn’t believe she meant it.
K**** is the child that is the most like Loser so the “crying” thing just doesn’t compute. She has very little, if any empathy and she tended to react the same way Loser did if I was sick or hurt…kind of in an accusatory manner as if it HAD to be my fault in some way and it inconvenienced HER.
I imagine that I very well may have seen K**** for the last time.
Oh, to be the abusive, bullying, entitled Loser. He will see her again and his WTC will get exactly what she is adamant about having now….my children, too.
When I finally got back home, the first thing I noticed was my mailbox on the ground. It had been “pushed” over somehow. There were no tire marks or paint on the post. My mailbox is on a 4by and is pretty heavy and is in the ground pretty deep, so the wind couldn’t have toppled it.
I dusted for fingerprints and they’re at the lab now. I’m pretty sure they’re not going to be a match to Robert Redford but I can always hope.
Somebody was taking pictures of my house last week. Maybe they didn’t like where my mailbox was and decided to come move it…or maybe it was Charlie.
Charlie was the little man who followed us everywhere we went. He would leave the fans and lights on all the time. He would misplace things, like car keys and he would eat my childrens’ homework. He would forget to put the lid down on the toilet and leave the empty cardboard tube on the holder. He would drink all but a teaspoonful of milk and then put the container back in the refrigerator. He was quite the little menace and I used to fuss at him all the time.
I thought I had gotten rid of Charlie when I got rid of Loser but alas, I think he must have found me.