What a roller coaster ride I have had. After repeatedly finding my son on my porch, I let him come in. He spent one night in the bed. When I finally got him up the next morning, I asked him how he slept. He said he felt like he was in “fucking prison.” I told him that I hoped he would say something like “it sure beats sleeping on the street.”
He “tinkered” around for a while…filling up hummingbird feeders and putting the top back on my bird bath. Then he said he “needed to take a walk.”
I knew what that meant. It meant he needed a drink. I told him if he went for a walk, he couldn’t come back. He went inside for a minute. Little did I know, he had sneaked a bottle of Vodka in. He started acting more and more peculiar. I should have known he was drinking. I’m such a fool.
He finally said he needed to take a walk. I told him to go on his walk and to keep walking. He said “I’ll be back.” I told him not to come back. Later that afternoon, there was knock on my door. It was the same officer who arrested him the first time. She brought him “home.” He was standing out in the yard, wobbling. She said for me to keep him in the house.
Of course, I let him in. I gave him something to eat and let him put on some clean clothes. He went outside to smoke and then said he needed to take a walk. Unbelievable. I told him he was already drunk and didn’t need anything else to drink. I got him to come inside and locked all three doors that lead outside. They have key deadbolts so he had to have the key to get them open.
He was like a caged animal and started growling like a rabid dog. Then he started yanking on the doors. He went from one to the other to the other. Then he started kicking them. I told him that if he didn’t stop, I was going to call the police. He said “go ahead…and I will never fucking forgive you.” Then he slammed his cell phone down and broke it into several pieces.
He decided to open the bathroom window and jump out but he couldn’t figure out how to get it open. He kept going in there and locking the door. He finally came out and went into the kitchen. He put his fist through the glass in the door.
There was blood everywhere. Then he strong-armed me and cracked a couple of ribs. I called the police and told them to come get him. I opened the door and let him go outside. He grabbed a pair of jeans and wrapped them around his arm. When I told him the police were going to be here any minute, he went berserk. He thought I had called an ambulance. He took off down the street.
The same officer who had brought him home came and I told her he had walked off. She said she’d find him. I showed her the door and my side. She told me not to let him back in if he came back before she found him. She said “he’s going to jail this time.”
She called me about two hours later and said he was at the hospital, getting stitches. She said the paramedics wanted to talk to me about “his meds.” Great. They told me that he had narcotics on him. I knew exactly what they were talking about. My doctor had given me a prescription for Lorazepam because she knew what I was going through with #4. I had to have my picture taken and sign away my house to get that scrip filled and I wasn’t even sure I was going to take it. He took the whole bottle.
I think that’s why he was so violent. He must have taken them with Vodka. Lethal combination there and he’s lucky he didn’t stroke out. I rested a little easier that night. I thought he was in jail and would be safe and sober. When I got up, he was on my porch. He walked here from the hospital. Because I didn’t come down and press charges, they let him go.
He asked me to take the stitches out of his arm. I took them out of his chest when he was filleted open because they were growing into his skin. I told him they needed to be in there for a while. He disappeared and the next day, he called from somebodys’ phone, drunk. I asked him where he was. He didn’t have a clue. The other person got on the phone and said I could pick him up on some street in the next town. They were walking and should be there by the time I got there.
I got there and waited for a while. It was some parking lot across from a service station. As I was getting ready to leave, I saw #4 and this man walking toward the car. #4 didn’t see me and started walking across the street, saying “I need a drink.” He only had a dollar on him and it wasn’t enough to buy one of those little bitty bottles of vodka so they turned him away.
I got him in the car and he laid down in the back seat. I was on the phone with #3 and he heard her talking to me. It pissed him off and he got out of the car. I tried to get him back in but he laid down in the parking lot.
The next thing I knew, a sheriff was there and then the city police. The sheriff was really kind to him and tried to get him to get in the car. The police officer was a cutie-pie and I mean movie star cutie-pie but he said this was the third time he had been called for #4. He wanted to take him to jail.
EMS showed up and decided to take him to the hospital because he said he felt sick. Later that evening, he called me and asked me to come get him. He knew he had been in the hospital but he had forgotten that I had been there earlier and he had decided to take a nap in the parking lot. He didn’t have his shoes or his backpack.
Yesterday, he was on my porch again. He had spent a few nights with the dangerous drug dealer….”his friend.” He was still a little drunk but I made him get up. I gave him some water and asked him if he could be sober for just one day.
I asked him if he wanted to go back to Florida. He said he did so he could see his boy. I told him he wasn’t going to see his boy while he was still drinking. He growled “why are you always fucking putting me down?” I told him I would email Loser and ask him to buy him a bus ticket.
Saints be praised. I emailed Loser and he said he would. He even thanked me for trying to help him. Of course he’s thankful. If I’m doing everything, it means that he and that WTC don’t have to do anything and I’m sure he won’t tell her that he’s buying a ticket for him. She’ll get pissed off. That money could be used for her student loan…or her car payment.
#4 said he really needed a beer because he was weaning himself off of Vodka. I tried to get him to just talk to me. After about an hour, he said he needed to take a walk. I noticed a bottle under the loveseat on the porch. It had a little Vodka in it. He found it and said it would do.
I told him if he drank it, he had to leave. He sat right there, opened the bottle and took a big swig. (Reminded me of my ex monster-in-law. She wasn’t allowed to drink her Vodka, so she grabbed Losers’ beer and downed it.) I told him he had to leave. He said he’d be back.
I told him he absolutely could not come back. “This is not a homeless shelter and you are not going to hang out here drunk all the time.” He said “I don’t have anywhere to go.” I told him he did have somewhere to go, he just pissed it away for booze.
I have no idea where he is. As crazy as it sounds, I was hoping he would be on my porch this morning.
He has told me time and time again that I don’t understand. He’s right. I don’t and I never will. I cannot imagine what it’s like to want a drink so bad that you will do anything and give up everything for it.