Jail Time 2

This is the second of yet another series about my son, Parrish, and his schizoaffective disorder, alcohol and Ativan dependency.  It is also about me and how my son's illness affects me.

Scroll down to read from the beginning.

I called the police and Parrish was arrested for criminal trespass and taken to jail.  Stunned and stupefied, I spent Saturday and Sunday wandering around the house and wondering what to do.  I felt trapped, without options.  I had no plan.  And on Monday morning, I still didn't a plan.  

I made the decision to leave Parrish in jail until I could put together a concrete option that would be best for both of us.

On Monday afternoon, Parrish once again appeared at my doorstep, saying the charges were dropped.  There was liquor on his breath. The weight of the situation slammed me in my heart and I burst into tears, my hands over my face. 

I looked over his shoulder at a young Black man, and Parrish introduced him to me.  I do not remember his name.  He was kind enough to bring Parrish to my house.

The young man left, and I began to question Parrish. He told me the judge, whose name he didn't remember, was an acquaintance of my late husband.  The judge said he had a court full of real criminals and told my son to stop drinking and behave himself. 

Really, it's true.

Ever the strong one, I began looking for a bus to Ft. Lauderdale.  There was one at 11:55 PM (Monday) and I helped Parrish pack for his trip. I literally watched him almost every minute, and he was relatively sober when we got to the bus stop station.  I left him there.  

At 2:00 AM, Parrish was at my door again.  No shit.  He was.  I could not speak. This time he said the bus was cancelled.  Yes, he really said that, and yes, he had liquor on his breath.  

You may wonder where Parrish got the money for beer.  He is on Social Security Disability, and he they send his benefits by way of a MasterCard.  So now you know.

I called the bus station and made a reservation for the bus at 7:05 AM.  I stayed up, watching him all the time.  

At 4:30 AM, I could not stand it any longer, so I packed us in the car, and we went to breakfast at the Krystal across the street from the bus station. I bought a paper and we lingered over it.  At 5:00 AM, I left him at the station.  

There's more.....

© 2012 cj schlottman