My son was arrested on his 34th birthday and spent more than a month in jail in Florida. I went down there and drove an hour and a half one way, every day, to see him. I was the only one who went to see him. His older sisters and of course, Loser knew he was in jail. I would tell #3 how he looked and what he said and she would pass the information on to the “others.” I finally told her that she was NOT their fucking secretary and if they wanted to know how he was, they could go see him.
I won’t write about his first drunken tirade, when #3 called Loser and Loser told her to tell me to throw him out on the street…in 15 degree weather. What did he care? He’s retired and living the high life with that WTC. He did mention to #3 that “I would try to make this about the WTC.” Yep. For forty years, it was all about Loser and now, it’s all about the WTC.
The first drunken tirade was because #4 found out what Loser said to his former roommate (who I’ll call Mark.) Mark is a beautiful man who had been a staunch supporter of #4. He has picked him up when he was too drunk to stand up, given him a place to stay and has remained his friend throughout.
Mark is gay and #4 told Loser. #4 was drunk, of course, and Loser screamed “so you’re a fucking, queer faggot prostitute who is selling your ass for rent?” #4 didn’t remember it and when Mark told him, he immediately hit the bottle…rather than confronting that pathetic sperm donor he calls “dad.” Who suffered for it? I did.
Last week, #4 got a job and seemed to enjoy working. He had been sober for about a week but Monday, he was a little late coming home. I had that “feeling.” He finally showed up and was okay but yesterday, he wanted to go “kick the ball around.” I told him I didn’t think that was a good idea because the last time he got soused, he had hidden his vodka at the old mansion up the street. (I couldn’t understand why, when he said he was going to “take a walk,” he seemed to come back drunker than when he left.) I was on the phone with Apple for four hours so I really couldn’t stop him. It got dark and he still hadn’t come back. He finally texted me “I’m right down the street and I’ll be home in a minute.” The next text was “I’m lost.”
For crying out loud. It was thundering, lightning, and alternating between hailing and pouring rain. I told him to walk back to the house and he could sleep on the back porch.
He finally showed up, soaking wet and about to pass out. I had to keep shaking him to get him to get out of the chair. He came in the house and I tried to get him to go to bed. He started screaming at me. The last time he was that drunk, he called me a “selfish fucking cunt.”
He fell down once and I got him up. Then he wanted to go outside to smoke a cigarette. I kept telling him no so he lit up in the house. I took it away from him and he lit another one. He had taken one of my sterling silver necklaces and had been wearing it. He ripped it off and threw it at me.
I finally got him down to the bedroom but I couldn’t keep him in there. I was blocking the door and he kept trying to push me out of the way. I had my back to him and he put me in a bear hug. This kid is tall and strong and outweighs me by more than a hundred pounds. I couldn’t get away from him so I elbowed him. He dropped like a bag of wet cement.
I feel horrible. He has pancreatitis, cirrhosis of the liver and gall bladder disease. I thought “he’s probably going to start bleeding internally and I will have killed him.”
When he finally got up, he looked at me with an almost psychopathic rage.
I got him outside and gave him some quilts. I took the alarm clock out there because he was supposed to be at work this morning at 6. I stayed up until 5 so I could wake him up. He didn’t get up. He finally came walking in the house at 7:30 and said he had called work. He got ready like he was going.
While I was picking up my taxes, he called and left me a message. He said “I’m getting ready to go to work.” He should have been there two hours earlier. #3 texted me and said he had texted her…and sounded drunk.
I came back home and surveyed the aftermath of his stay on the porch. He broke several things.
He’s becoming a scary, abusive drunk, just like Loser and Losers’ mama.
I remember thinking last night….”if he kills me, I hope nobody gets mad at him because he’s just a drunk.”