Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [53]
I felt confused now, like I wasn’t even sure what we were talking about anymore. But something about this scenario was familiar to me. Painfully familiar. It seemed to happen every time Jacob had gotten involved in drugs. It was as if he suddenly became the expert at throwing confusion everywhere. He could put up smoke screens and get people on the defensive before they even knew what had hit them. And I knew it was happening to me. The trouble was, I didn’t know what to do about it.
“These are good people, Mom,” he continued in a patient voice, almost as if he were explaining this to a confused child. “They have problems, sure, but they are basically good people.”
“Good people?” I repeated, falling right into his trap. “This is a drug house, Jacob. I know it. I can feel it. And you say they are good people?”
He shook his head. “See, there you go, judging again. Remember what you used to tell me, Mom? Remember that leather wrist thing you got me with the initials on it—WWJD? What would Jesus do? Well, is this your kind of Jesus, Mom? Is he the kind of person who goes around judging and dissing people just because they’re different?” Jacob turned his head and spat on the ground. “Cuz if that’s your kind of Jesus, crap, I don’t want anything to do with him—or you!” Then he got off the hood of his car and went back into the house and slammed the door behind him.
I just stood there looking at the shabby duplex and trying to figure out what to do next. Did I go back in there and drag him out? Hardly. Did I get on my cell phone and call his dad and insist that he come over here and help me? Right. I could just imagine what Geoffrey would say. Something like “He’s made his bed…,” or, worse yet, he could blame me for the problem. “What’s the matter, Glennis? Isn’t your little plan working? Aren’t you managing to rescue our son from the demons of drugs?”
I considered calling Sherry, but then I’d never told her everything about Jacob’s problems. This would be a lot to spring on her all at once. Instead, I decided to just go home. Defeated, dejected, and depressed, I got into my Range Rover and drove back to the apartment complex.
My apartment, in stark comparison to the duplex, was so spotlessly tidy that it might actually pass a white-glove test. Maybe Jacob was right.
Maybe I was a neurotic neat freak. Maybe if I loosened up a bit, it would be better. Maybe Jacob would feel more at home here if everything wasn’t perfectly in its place.
I kicked off my tennis shoes and left them in the living room, then went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of orange juice. Then I left the used glass and empty orange juice carton on the counter and went to my room where I fell across my neatly made bed and sobbed.
“I can’t fix this, God,” I prayed in total desperation. “I don’t know how. Please, help me.”
Then I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I could hear someone in the kitchen. Frightened that it was an intruder, since I felt certain Jacob wouldn’t be showing his face around here for some time, I crept around the corner in time to see Jacob tossing my empty orange juice carton into the trash.
“What are you doing?” I demanded as I emerged from my hiding spot.
“Just cleaning up.” He turned and grinned.
“Cleaning up?” I leaned against the wall, folding my arms across my front. “But I thought you were against tidiness and neat freaks.”
“Look, I’m sorry, Mom,” he said as he rinsed out my glass. “You caught me by surprise, and I probably said some stupid things.”
“Well…” I studied my son, confused as to whether this was sincere or not.
“But you need to know it’s not Daniel’s fault. I mean he’s cool. It’s just some of his friends that are messed up. And he tries to help them out by giving them a place to crash, you know. Like Amber, that girl you met today.”
“Amber?”
“Yeah. I mean if you knew what her home was like and the stuff her stepdad does to her, I mean you’d think Daniel was a hero for letting her hide out at his place sometimes.”