I Bend my Own Rules 02/08/13

After Monday’s call from Parrish, I didn’t hear from him until some time Tuesday.  He called to say he has a place to live and that he paid in advance for one month and that he paid his probation fees in full.  It sounds like he is living in some sort of boarding house.  I don’t know.  I think I heard a large bird screeching in the background.  

He said he was going to Social Security to change his address and try to get benefits in Georgia.  He said he would go to River Edge, the community mental facility, and get started there.  When he called (three times) last night, he asked for money and food.  When I told him no, he launched into a diatribe about how he didn’t understand why I wouldn’t help him, telling me he could not believe I would let him go hungry and broke, without enough money to take the bus to Social Security.  He ignored my every word as I repeated that he would have to make something happen, that every time I give him money, it leads to disaster.

The next call was worse.  He attacked me for not being willing to go to the store and get him some food and take it to him.  In the next breath he said he doesn’t need anything from me, accused me of being a Macon social butterfly who just wants him put away so I can go on my way and forget about him.  He told me he has issues ranging back for years, that there are many reasons he should hate me.  He denied being impaired and continued to ramble on, saying he is done with me, that there is no excuse for him to being in jail for 55 days, saying no one in his right mind would do that to him, that I needed to look into my dark self and see what I am.  He said he never wants to see me again.  There’s more, but these are the highlights.

My reaction to all of this blather was eerily calm. I am numb and disinterested in anything Parrish has to say.  I care about my son, but I have no inclination to help him go down the drain yet again.  Helping him is a planned disaster.  

This morning he called and wanted to come over to get the bag with his things.  I said I would sit it by the garage door, and he could pick it up there.  It was no surprise that he came around the garage to the kitchen  door and banged on the window.  

I debated going to my room and hiding until he went away.  I didn’t want to see him, but I was weak and opened the door and went outside to talk to him.  He was contrite, depressed and looked like hell. He said he walked from Riverside Drive, a few miles away.  He again asked for money and food and I immediately regretted the decision to answer the door.  He did not seem to remember his words of last night.  I offered to let him listen to them but he declined.  

He asked if he could have a cigarette and smoke it on the deck.  I let him.  The passive aggressive assault continued.  I remembered I have a money order made out to him that I sent him when he was in jail.  It was returned to me because he was already out when it was delivered.  I gave it to him.  He constantly complained of how tired he was, hinting that I should drive him home.  I refused.  I suggested he take the bus but he was not interested.  He brooded for a while and I told him to go home. 

PS - Those of you who are tempted to scold me, you have every reason to do just that.  I can take it.

© 2013 cj schlottman