If I Were Your Boyfriend (14 page)

esterday, after the judge rendered her decision, I walked out of the courtroom and was escorted to a holding area. After I'd waited for about twenty minutes, Officer Sanchez entered the area with a box that contained all of my belongings.

  "This is it for you,
amigo. Y
ou make sure that you do right by your father."

  "Oh, you don't have to worry about that," I said as I opened the box and removed my jeans.

  "I don't want to ever see you back here, you understand?" Officer Sanchez was about to leave the room to give me some privacy.

  "Trust me, I'm never coming back to this place. I hated being locked up," I said, even though I hadn't wanted to admit it when I arrived.

  "No, you told me that you liked it here, remember?"

  "Yeah, I remember what I said. This place was better than where I was at, trust me on that one. But staying here permanently would have driven me crazy."

  "Make sure that you do great things with your life. You seem like a smart guy. I hope my perception of you is correct."

  "It is and I will," I said. Officer Sanchez instructed me to place my prison clothes in the box once I was fully dressed and to leave them in the room.

  "You'll have to stop at the front desk to fill out some paperwork. After you've completed it, you're free to go."

  "Hey, thanks," I said, extending my hand for a handshake. "Thanks for helping me get through this."

  "No problem. You take care of yourself." Officer Sanchez said his final goodbye and then left.

  I never thought putting on my own clothes could feel so wonderful and liberating, but it did. I followed Officer Sanchez's instructions and filled out some paperwork at the front desk, which was nothing more than a sheet of paper that confirmed I received all of the belongings I had when I arrived. Once I did that, I walked through a series of doors until I saw my dad sitting on a chair waiting for me. When he saw me, he stood up. I walked over to him and give him a big hug.

  "Man, you've got to go on a diet," I said as I patted his belly, which was as round as a barrel. He tried to suck it in, but that couldn't hide the years of bad eating habits and lack of exercise.

  "Yeah, well, when you get to be my age your metabolism slows down quite a bit," he said, chuckling. My dad is slightly taller than I am, he has broad shoulders that slope downward and he leans forward when he walks. His skin complexion is almond brown and he has a bald pattern shaped like a horseshoe on top of his head. I've been trying to get him to completely shave his head, but he refuses to do it. He keeps saying it might grow back, but the chances of that ever happening are extremely slim.

  "Are you all set?" asked my dad.

  "Yeah, where is our attorney, Mr. Waters? I want to thank him."

  "He walked me through some paperwork I had to fill out but then headed back to his office. He's a busy man. I'll be sure to let him know how much you appreciate his hard work."

  I was silent for a moment as I stood in the presence of my father. On the inside I was jumping up and down, but on the outside I was just trying to be cool about everything.

  "Come on, let's get out of here," said my dad.

  "You took the words right out of my mouth." We walked out of the facility together and into the bright sunlight. I felt renewed and I was certainly overjoyed with the fact that I'd been given a second chance.

  Being able to live with my dad was the best thing that could've ever happened to me. Now I wouldn't have to worry about being in an environment where there was constant yelling and shouting. I no longer had to worry about my mother's mood swings, her lies, her temper or her manipulating ways. I was so thankful that Judge Hill was able to see and understand that I was in crisis and needed an exit out of my situation.

  When my dad and I arrived back at his house we sat out on the patio so we could relax and have a very serious conversation. As I sat I mentally prepared myself to listen.

  "Here." My dad handed me a can of soda as he walked through the large patio door.

  "I know that it hasn't been easy on you," my dad started. "Neither you nor I have known a moment of harmony since the divorce. I'm so sorry that your mom has been encouraging you to drink, which has led to your bad decisions." My dad paused and then looked directly into my eyes.

  "I knew there was something going on but—how serious is your drinking problem?" He asked the killer question.

  I swallowed hard as I tried to find an answer to his question. I didn't know what to say so I remained silent.

  "Okay, let me try getting my answers another way."

  "Where have you been getting alcohol from?" He asked another killer question.

  I leaned forward in my seat, stared at the ground and began tapping my foot against the pavement. His questions were making me nervous. I felt that if I answered them, he might not want me. I feared that he'd ship me off to some orphanage or some reform school for kids who were really messed up.

  "I just want the truth, Wesley," he said.

  Again, I swallowed hard because I didn't know where to begin.

  "Answer me." My dad demanded a response.

  "I, um." I choked on my words. "I know that I have a problem. But I want to fix it. I don't want to be like Mom. She did this to me. She made me drink with her. The first time I drank with her I got so sick and I hated that feeling. But then when I told my friends that I got sloshed with my mom, they all thought she was the coolest mother in the world. Since my friends thought it was cool, I just went with the flow. At first I was a light drinker. I'd have a beer every now and again, but when I entered high school, I hooked up with a group of kids who loved to party. They could get their hands on anything through this adult guy named Neophus and his student contact, who is a girl named Liz."

  "Why didn't you tell me about this? Why hasn't anyone reported these people to the police? With all of this information everyone could be charged with child endangerment, including your mom." My dad was shocked and troubled by what I was telling him.

  "No one wants to be a snitch, Dad. Besides, I wouldn't feel right turning in my own mother. I don't think I could live with the guilt that I'd feel in spite of all she's done. Besides, everyone was having a great time and no one was getting hurt."

  "Well, it may be too late for your mom. The cat is out of the bag and Judge Hill didn't like the fact that your mother gave you alcohol. I'm almost positive that there will be consequences for her actions."

  I didn't say anything because I suddenly felt numb. I didn't like my mother, there was no question about that, but to see her convicted of a crime wasn't on my agenda either.

  "The consequences? Did any of your friends ever stop to think about the consequences of their actions?" he asked.

  "No. We were having fun. We don't think about stuff like that, especially when we're partying."

  My dad leaned back in his chair and brushed his hand across his lips. I could tell that he wanted to know more, but he was thinking about how to phrase his words.

  "Okay." He inhaled and then exhaled. "So, how often do you drink?"

  "Every day," I answered truthfully. "But I want to change," I quickly added. "You've got to believe me. I really want to change."

  My dad stood up and began pacing back and forth. He was thinking very hard. I could see the worry and concern written on his face. He rubbed the tension out of his neck as he processed his thoughts.

  "I'll do whatever it takes, Dad." My emotions started getting involved. I felt as if my father didn't want to know the truth and I began to panic. "Please don't put me out like Mom used to do. I hated it when she did that. She'd come home, start a fight with me and then force me out of the house." I swallowed down my anxiety because I didn't want to cry. I was sixteen years old and way too mature to be crying like a baby, so I began using the angry and bitter feelings I had for my mom to squash the crying spell I felt I was about to have.

  "When she did crazy stuff like that, I wanted to tell you but I didn't know how. I didn't know where to begin or even how to express my pain. I thought everything was my fault, your divorce, her unhappiness and even her drinking problem. Somehow she made me feel as if I was the root cause of everything that was wrong in her life. I took her B.S., Dad. I dealt with it every day and it wasn't easy."

  "Come here." My father placed his hands on my shoulders. "Look at me," he said.

  I raised my eyes and looked directly into his and saw his pain.

  "I'm never going to turn my back on you. Do you understand me?" I nodded yes. "We're going to work together to break through the invisible bars of addiction. You are my son. And whatever it takes to get over this is what we'll do." My dad embraced me and it felt so good to be in the arms of someone who truly cared.