Tuesday, December 1, 2009

NaNoWriMo, Scott's Story, Chapter Thirty-Nine - In Mom's Eyes

Chapter Thirty-Nine – Today, Tomorrow? – In Mom’s Eyes
2009, Present Day – I am 60, Scott is 35, Julie is 32

Today I came home and Scott was up, in the kitchen, leaning on the counter, trying to catch his breath. He was angry, and sweating and in pain. This is what I come home to most days, or if not, he is in his room, laying and watching t.v., laying and listening to music, laying and reading, or just laying. He’s in bed a lot these days. I know he gets up sometimes, because he does the laundry, and does the dishes. But he doesn’t do much else, and isn’t interested in doing much either. He’s awfully depressed these days, and I don’t know what to do about it. It takes a lot for me to even talk to him some days, because it seems like there’s nothing to talk about but his weight. And there’s nothing good about that. Julie wrote him a letter about going to the ranch in Texas. She talked to me about it too, but I don’t know what to think.

I don’t know how we’d get him there. I don’t know if he’d make it or not. I don’t know if it’s the right thing. I just don’t know. But we don’t have the money anyway, so it doesn’t really matter I guess. I won’t let my sister pay for it. I just don’t want to deal with her anymore. And Julie asked me if I’d rather just let Scott die, than swallow my pride and accept the money. Of course I don’t want Scott to die, but I didn’t have an answer for her. If that IS the only help we can get, and my pride gets in the way, how will I ever deal with the guilt of that? Am I going to cause my son’s death, because I’m stubborn? Because I don’t want my sister’s help? There has got to be another way.

Today Scott was mad because I didn’t renew his prescriptions in time, and he’s going to be out of pain pills some time this weekend. He’ll go through withdrawals and I’ll find somewhere to go, out of the house and away from his temper. He’s mad at ME, because I took control of his medicines a few weeks ago. I have them hidden, from him, and from his so-called friends. Someone had gotten into them, and taken a bunch of different ones, leaving him short last month too, way short. Who would do that? I don’t know about these people. They all have mental problems, and other problems. Not a one of them is on the up-and-up, and they’re bad for Scott. They just depress him, and distract him, and suck any energy he has away. So, I took all his pills and hid them, have been doling them out to him daily so that we don’t have a problem again. But I forgot this weekend was a holiday, and that the pharmacy would be closed certain hours. I forgot, and he’s mad. He has been crying, and is feeling really down, hopeless too. I can’t help him, I don’t know what to say anymore except that I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for the life I’ve made for him. I’m sorry that he’s in pain. I’m sorry that I can’t help him. I’m sorry that whatever I did when he was growing up made him turn out this way. I’m sorry for a lot of things, every day. But mostly I’m sorry that he’s probably going to die. Without ever having a relationship, a home of his own, or a child. Without ever traveling to another country, or even another state as an adult. Without ever becoming what he wants to be, and succeeding at life, reaching his goals. He’ll probably never experience any of that, and I’m sorry about it. Sometimes it makes me so sad, I just want to disappear. Forget about everything, start over. Sometimes it makes me so angry, I just want to punch something, or someone. But most of the time, I just feel numb.

Tomorrow is the weekend. I’ll stay in my room most of the time, play on my Nintendo DSi that Julie got me for my birthday. Lose myself in crossword puzzles or books or stupid t.v. shows. I’ll try to stay calm when Scott freaks out. I’ll try not to let this house get me down, how dirty it is, how broken it is. I’ll read the paper and lose myself in that. I’ll take a nap, or take a drive. I’ll get through one more day by sheer avoidance of it. Tomorrow is a new day, my Dad used to say. But tomorrow is the same day as today, and the day after tomorrow will be the same as that. And one day, tomorrow is going to be the day we bury Scott. And that one day might be sooner than we all think.

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