Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [68]
“But I thought that was all taken care of. I thought you had six months to do your community service, and that was it.”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, they don’t expunge the MIP from my record until I finish the community service.”
“Oh, and I suppose you haven’t even started yet.”
“I’ve been busy, Mom.” He shook his head. “My life isn’t exactly easy, you know. I’m trying to work and make some money, and now I not only don’t have a home, but I don’t have a car.” And then to my total surprise, he began to cry.
“Oh, Jacob,” I said.
“I know it’s my fault, Mom. I’m a real screwup. And I’m sorry. But I just don’t know what to do anymore. It’s like things start looking up, and suddenly everything is caving in around me.” He sat down on the stool and put his head on the breakfast bar.
I wanted to remind him that the caving-in part was most likely a result of his drug use, but I didn’t have the heart to kick him when he was down. Instead I put my hand on his shoulder. “It’s true you have blown it, Jacob. But it’s not too late to fix things,” I told him. “I could call Hope’s Wings and—”
“I don’t need rehab.” He sat up straight and looked at me with a blotchy face and hardened eyes. “I can do this thing myself, Mom.”
“You’ve tried that,” I reminded him. “Remember, you told me you were going to straighten up before. But it’s not working. You need help, Jacob. There’s no shame in that.”
He put his head back down on the counter and said nothing.
“What would it hurt to just go in, Jacob? You could talk to a counselor and find out what they have to offer—”
“Yeah, and then they’ll lock me up,” he muttered.
“Oh, I don’t think it’s like that.”
He sat up straight again. “But you don’t know, do you?”
“I can find out.”
“Yeah, sure.” He shook his head. “But you’d probably say anything just to get me in there.”
“Jacob!” I gave him my sternest look. “I have never lied to you.”
“Everybody lies, Mom, It’s just that some people can pull it off better than others.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that but didn’t want to derail our conversation by asking. “What do you say, Jacob?” I continued. “How about if I call and set up an appointment?”
He studied me for a bit, and I could tell he was trying to decide whether to trust me or not.
“When have I ever let you down?” I demanded. “Don’t you know that I would give up my life for you, Jacob? You’re my son. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
“You threw me out.”
“It was just because my counselor said it was the only way to help you. Believe me, Jacob, I wouldn’t have been able to do it otherwise.” And even as I said these words, I felt a tiny ray of hope. Maybe Dr. Abrams had been right after all. Because here we were just twenty-four hours later having a conversation about rehab therapy, and he seemed to be softening. “Let’s make a deal, Jacob,” I offered. “I’ll let you stay here tonight if you’ll agree to go in for a counseling session.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. As soon as we can get one.”
“And you’ll find out whether they can lock me up against my will or not.”
“Really, Jake, I don’t think they do that.”
“I want to know for sure.”
“Okay, I’ll ask. No problem.”
“Well, I have to work tomorrow.”
“That’s good,” I told him, relieved that he at least still had a job. “What are your hours?”
“Nine to three.”
“Fine. Well, I’ll see what I can do and get back to you. Okay?”
“I guess.”
Then I grabbed him and hugged him. “You do know how much I love you, don’t you, Jacob?”
He nodded and appeared to be choking back tears again. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just that everything is so messed up right now.”
“I know.” I held him back and looked into his eyes. And, although I knew I wasn’t an expert, I really thought he was sober. “But things are going to get better. I really believe it.”
“I hope so, Mom.”
And then, unlike the previous night, we both went to bed. And for the first time in weeks I slept for most of the night.
I felt so hopeful the next morning, even remembered the words from a poster I’d had back the sixties: Today is