My beloved RBS….you might not want to read this.
#4 got up this morning and got dressed. He walked out to the side porch and I asked him where he was going. He said “nowhere yet.” I went out to say something to him and he was gone.
For some reason, I decided to look around in my bathroom. First, I noticed that a dollar bill I had folded up was missing. The last time Shoe (my grandson) and I went shopping, I found that dollar. It was just a dollar but it had fond memories for me.
I had three dollars on the cabinet over the commode and they were gone. I panicked and started looking for a pouch that I kept a few pieces of jewelry in. It was missing. Some of my rings, bracelets, earrings and necklaces were in there. They were real gold and…all I had left from everything he had already stolen.
Loser had given me a really nice necklace (as a guilt gift when he found the WTC.) #4 stole it. It took me a long time to find another one to replace it but I did. That was in the pouch. I guess I was never meant to have that necklace.
I asked him if he took the money. At first he denied it. Then he admitted it. I also had a Waterford candy dish that was full of change and he took that. Then I asked him when he took my jewelry. He denied it and started walking around looking in laundry baskets, through his dirty clothes pile and behind the sofa. It was ridiculous. He said he remembered “seeing it, ” but “he didn’t think he took it.”
We got in the car and headed up to the pawn shop. They didn’t have it and as we were driving away, #4 said “there’s somewhere else to look.” We ended up at a drug dealers’ house. (I have a little experience with that. When #4 sold our computer for drugs a few years ago, Loser screamed for me to “get his fucking computer back and he didn’t care how I did it.” I met the drug dealer in the middle of the woods with a fist full of cash and nobody knowing where I was or what I was doing. Worked out for Loser. He got his “fucking computer” back and I didn’t get killed.)
The drug dealer said he didn’t have my jewelry so I headed back uptown. There is a mental health place there and I told #4 that’s where we were going. He got real surly and said “can we go by the house and get some water?” I said no. He got so belligerent I ended up raising my voice and telling him we were going. We got there and he didn’t want to go in…he wanted to smoke a cigarette first. I told him no. He didn’t care what I said. He lit up. I went in without him to see if anybody there could help us.
There was a woman who helped with “emergencies” and she was willing to talk to us…but #4 had already vanished. A few minutes later, I saw him beside my car. He reluctantly came in and sat down. He was rude and obnoxious. He looked at this lady and said “are you a drunk?” She was gracious and said “no, I’m a recovering addict.” #4 gave his best Loser imitation when he did the “pffft” thing. He started this grandiose thing that has become part of his repertoire….what a decent guy he is, what a talented soccer player he is, how smart he is, how well-read he is. The more he talked, the more I expected him to again imitate Loser by holding his hands out and say “I’m God.”
She couldn’t get more than four or five words out because he constantly interrupted her. She said she thought he needed to go to detox. He stood up and angrily said “NO.” Then he started talking about all these “so-called doctors with their PHDs and how they think they know everything and they’re all just in it for the money.” It was embarrassing….almost as embarrassing as it used to be, listening to Loser hold court to all the “underlings” of the world.
He can’t be seen until Monday which is fine because he lost his job but I know he can’t stay sober until then. He was drunk when I took him and everybody there knew it. When we got home, he seemed to be getting drunker. I went to “his” room and found an almost empty bottle of vodka rolled up in his sweater. I wonder which piece of my jewelry bought that?
I’m so sick of hearing this “I’m sorry mom” shit that I’m ready to scream.
I told him that I was going to call those people and have him taken to detox. He asked if I would let him get his things together. I told him he didn’t need things to go to detox. I picked up the phone and he glared at me and said “who are you fucking calling?”
He’s gone. I have no idea where he went….maybe back to the drug dealers’ house or to the only tavern that hasn’t banned him. I wonder what he has stolen to pay for the drugs or drink.
I am heartsick over my jewelry…but I should have known he couldn’t be trusted. I mean, am I insane? Yes, apparently I am. Hell, I trusted his daddy and that didn’t work out too well either. I guess I’m just a fool when it comes to the (****) men.
My head is killing me and I feel like I’m going to stroke out any minute.
I don’t know if I’m going to go look for him or not. Yesterday, he texted me “helloy.” I knew he was drunk. He called me and asked me to come get him before he got arrested. I asked him where he was and he said “down the street.” That could have been anywhere. The next thing I knew, I heard a car door shut and went to the door. It was a police car and they had #4 in handcuffs.
So the whole neighborhood got to witness the police bring my son home in handcuffs. The policemen and women here are some of the nicest officers I have ever encountered. They’re gracious and kind…and they’re all getting to know me as the mama of the drunk they have to keep picking up. They brought him home rather than take him to jail. One of them looked at #4 and said “your mama doesn’t deserve this.”
Oh, well. I’m going to try to let this be the last post about him.