Friday night on the town

Then

Despite desperately practicing “Detachment”, I still resorted to texting Teen1 during the evening.  Texts like: “I can come and get you and I won’t say anything, just let me know where you are”.  By the early hours of the morning, the texts were reading: “I will have to start calling people if you don’t let me know where you are and when you will be home”.  And then: “ At least text me so I know you are ok”.  Finally a response from him:  “Can you come and get me?”.

I was in the car and out the door.  Driving through the town centre was like being in the middle of a small town bad movie.  At one end of town, there were a couple of drunk teenagers fighting each other with their mates looking on.  One was obviously bigger than the other and the weaker one looked like he was in for a beating.  Further along the street, young girls were staggering in and out of a convenience store; a large group of young men were yahoo-ing along the street swinging their bottles around; a group of six or eight boys were climbing over the scaffolding on the front of a building and running along the shop awnings.  While I would in the past have ignored all that, it seemed in much sharper focus as I wondered what it was that my son had been up to.   I tried to remember if I thought that hanging out in town was a ‘good time’ when I was that age, but then remembered that I’d have been home in bed by 9pm getting a good sleep before playing sports the next day. 

I picked up my son outside the McDonald’s store.  He slumped into the car, pale, cold, eyes dead, no colour in his face.  I was feeling depleted, empty and terribly sad for him, my heart flickering with compassion for this boy who wanted a night out and to prove that he was all independent and grown up, but who looked bloody awful. 

True to my word, I didn’t say anything to him on the way home.  At the door, I couldn’t help myself: “I think you’ve been acting as if you’ve been drinking or doing drugs.  If you have, I think it is a really dangerous thing to be doing and we need to address this….”.  He cut me off:   “I fucking haven’t so go away and leave me alone”.  Mental note to self: don't bring this subject up at 2am in the morning when he's stoned, and think it is going to achieve anything....

I snuck into his room a half hour later when he was asleep and listened to his breathing.  I don’t think I am going anywhere for a long time.

Wishing all parents a deep and peaceful sleep.