That Son of a Gun
27/05/13 08:10
I guess he decided that he was going to stay overnight someplace and that was that. Maybe the telltale sign was laying in the sink and we just didn't notice it. You know that when he does this sort of thing that he has his corn starch before leaving the house. Nancy and I were busy taking Mrs G down to the Ice House for a little dinner and a cone. Could they find any larger plates in that place to serve their sandwiches on? And what the fuck! No pickles? There wasn't room anyway so we figured that was just the way it is there. But back to Evan for a minute. WTF? What about his getting his work done on Monday (today) so that he can graduate with the rest of his class. I guess that just isn't important to him. His priorities are what again? His mother was beside herself with anguish and you could hear her muffled cries in the darkness of the bedroom as the hour approached midnight. "Where is he", she moaned uncontrollably. "I can't sleep until he comes home", she went on.
He finally texted when she was nearly comatose and all she could do was to roll over. She's done. He can do his own damn economics project. He can go buy his own damn clothes for the prom. I keep telling her that is is not her fault. He is old enough to make his own decisions and he will live and die by them. That's what I keep telling her. You can't have that conversation with him. He's never home long enough to do that for one thing. He never takes responsibility for his own actions for another. It's always someone else's fault. Well, I guess we'll see, won't we.
Everybody wants to know the date for his graduation. I don't know what to tell them so I don't tell them anything. He's shown no indication that he is either wanting or capable of completing what he needs to complete in order to graduate. His teachers complain that he has already checked out. He goes on a trip to Boston with his class and sleeps in the bus while his class carries on. What a fucking loser! I hate to say that about my son but you need to call a spade a spade. And Dr. Rosman is sending Nancy pictures of ties that Evan can wear to the prom and there is a certain amount of cluelessness out there that leaves me scratching my head. And they ask about what to buy for his graduation and again, we don't know what to tell them. For once, when Mrs G asked the question, and when I responded with a "maybe", I wasn't kicked under the table.
The reality is setting in. Nancy won't have to worry about what to wear to the ceremony. There won't be any ceremony. That train left town a long time ago. I guess we'll see. Stranger things have happened. And then there is college in the fall. He will really be on his own then. Our most optimistic projection has him failing out in his first semester. So the question crossing Nancy's lips just last night is, "if he fails after the first semester, are we responsible for paying the balance?" We'll do what we did at St. Thomas. We'll pay in installments and we'll just stop paying when he drops out. That's a lovely thought. I hope he has a place to go because he is not coming back to this house. Not if I can help it.
He finally texted when she was nearly comatose and all she could do was to roll over. She's done. He can do his own damn economics project. He can go buy his own damn clothes for the prom. I keep telling her that is is not her fault. He is old enough to make his own decisions and he will live and die by them. That's what I keep telling her. You can't have that conversation with him. He's never home long enough to do that for one thing. He never takes responsibility for his own actions for another. It's always someone else's fault. Well, I guess we'll see, won't we.
Everybody wants to know the date for his graduation. I don't know what to tell them so I don't tell them anything. He's shown no indication that he is either wanting or capable of completing what he needs to complete in order to graduate. His teachers complain that he has already checked out. He goes on a trip to Boston with his class and sleeps in the bus while his class carries on. What a fucking loser! I hate to say that about my son but you need to call a spade a spade. And Dr. Rosman is sending Nancy pictures of ties that Evan can wear to the prom and there is a certain amount of cluelessness out there that leaves me scratching my head. And they ask about what to buy for his graduation and again, we don't know what to tell them. For once, when Mrs G asked the question, and when I responded with a "maybe", I wasn't kicked under the table.
The reality is setting in. Nancy won't have to worry about what to wear to the ceremony. There won't be any ceremony. That train left town a long time ago. I guess we'll see. Stranger things have happened. And then there is college in the fall. He will really be on his own then. Our most optimistic projection has him failing out in his first semester. So the question crossing Nancy's lips just last night is, "if he fails after the first semester, are we responsible for paying the balance?" We'll do what we did at St. Thomas. We'll pay in installments and we'll just stop paying when he drops out. That's a lovely thought. I hope he has a place to go because he is not coming back to this house. Not if I can help it.