Chapter 14

  One of his new friends didn't have any place to go, so right away Mike wanted to help him.  Mike wasn't concentrating on his recovery, he was worried about his friend.

     "Call the Salvation Army."  I said.  "They'll give him a place to stay."

     His friend had one excuse after the other why he couldn't call them.  I gave Mike $100.00 telling him this should put him up somewhere for a couple of days, but at the Salvation Army, this money would last weeks, or call Detox, they could place him somewhere.

     Mike carried this guy on his back for a few days, until the money ran out, along with his patience.

     It didn't seem like it took very long for the streets to beckon him back.  I don't know maybe 3 weeks maybe a month.  In September I knew he was back into it.  And so did his counselor at drug-treatment.

     He had worked and saved his money, and it seemed whenever he got about $900. bucks in his pocket, off he'd go!

     It also seemed with every program he entered he came back more street-wise.

     Labor Day weekend 1996, I reminded him that one-year ago this week-end he was behind bars.  There was nothing I could say, he was out of my reach.  

     I had finally "let go", this was his life.  I couldn't live it for him.

      "Mike,"  I said firmly, "find something to do with your time.  Stay out of that neighborhood." 

     "Don't worry," he said, his eyes darting to and fro. "I'll behave!"

     "If you get arrested Mike, as much as I love you, I won't get you out."  The calm in my voice surprising me.

     "I know." was his unfeeling reply.

     He ran in and out of the Labor Day picnic, he wasn't hungry.  In Al-Anon they said, once they're gone, they're gone!  Mike was gone.  He was an addict, once you fall off the wagon you go right back to where you were when you last hit bottom.

     I told Patrick "If you see him call me, and tell him to come home." 

     Patrick called me one night talked for a short time, didn't mention seeing Mike though.  The next morning I drove by Patrick's house, circling the block, there was Mike's car, hidden from view.

     I almost kicked the door in,"Patrick, why didn't you tell me he was here?"  I screamed! 

     "I told him to call you, I'm not his keeper!"  Patrick replied heatedly.

     "He was with you last night and you didn't even tell me, you’re supposed to be my brother, his uncle, damn it Patrick,

you could have told me he was all right!"  I cried.

     "He's a big boy, if he wants to talk to you, he will!"  Patrick said.

     "I asked you to let me know how he was, next time you ask me to do anything for your kids, well don't even ask!  Okay!  I responded letting him know I felt betrayed.

     To Mike who was now awake I questioned "What did you do move out?"

     Mike answered calmly, "No, I'll be home later.  We rented some games and I fell asleep."

     "You could have called, you know if you didn't live with us I wouldn't expect you to be there.  But you do live with us, and if you’re not coming home you could give us the courtesy of a phone call!"  I said angrily.

     "I'm sorry." was his weak reply, "I'll be home in a little while."

     Later that evening he still hadn't shown up, so I went looking for him.  I found him at the office.  I went in the shop and found a wrench, I had every intention of smashing every window out of his car.  I don't know why I didn't.

     "What the hell do you think your doing?"  I exclaimed.

     "What?"  He asked.

     "You know damn well what!"  I shot back.

     "Well my car's overheating, so I stopped by here to let it cool off, I was on my home." He replied.

     "Well let's go then, I'll follow you."  I offered.

     "I'll be there in half-an-hour."  He offered.

     "I'll wait!"  I stood firm.

He came home and went to bed.  We talked the next day, I heard the “I'm sorry’s”, the “I don't know why's”.  And I'm convinced he meant all of it, "At the time!"  He tried to live right, but you could see it again, teasing him, calling him, like the proverbial carrot on a rope.  One day I caught up with him and Patrick at the office. I could see he was high.  "Mike, you’re gonna wind up in jail, or dead." I reasoned.  "Please get some help, look at yourself." I cried.

     "Patrick, I don't care what he says to you, "DO NOT" take him to get that s**t.  If he wants it that bad, he can walk!"

     "Okay Peggy, I'm going to take the wrecker home and check on the boys.  Could I borrow $20. I need cigarettes, bread and milk. I'll pay you back or you can take it out of my pay."  Patrick continued, "I'll get my bike, then drop the wrecker off later."

     "Just remember, I don't want you to help him get any crack, he's gonna wind up in jail again."  I repeated.  I felt like Mike was in reasonably good hands, with my brother, as long as he stayed with him.

     This conversation took place at 5 O'Clock in the afternoon, by 5:30 they were both on their way to jail, and our wrecker was on the way to the pound.  Of course I didn't know this until 9:30 that night when Patrick called to ask me to bond him out. 

     "You are kidding me, right?"  I asked in disbelief.  "You don't really think after the conversation we had today, that I would even consider bailing you out of jail.  Didn't I tell you not to take him over there.  Where did he get the money Patrick?  I didn't give him any money!  Why did you stop the wrecker, Patrick?  No, you got yourself into this, you get yourself out."  I expressed angrily.

     I certainly wasn't getting either one of them out.  It might not be the best place to be, but it was better than crack town.  I honestly felt better knowing where Mike was.  Of course the whole family thought I was picking on poor Patrick, making him pay for Mike's bad habit.

     "Look," I screamed, "Patrick had the money, Patrick was driving, so Patrick had control of the situation, or should have."