Trusting and Loving.

Monday.

Scott phoned Dan on Saturday. He told Dan he'’d pick him up after work on Monday (today) and take him to Kelly’'s for a few days. This morning, Scott called to say he was having “car trouble” and wouldn'’t be able to fetch Dan until tomorrow. I relayed the message to The Boy when he got up this morning. He was visibly disappointed. He’'d been looking forward to spending a few days with his mum and baby Emily. (As usual, he didn’'t mention Meagan.) He already had his bags packed.

When Dan called Scott to ask about the change of plans, Scott told him he didn'’t have a car with which to fetch him. He’'d lent it to someone and wouldn'’t have it back until tomorrow sometime.

“"Yeah, Scott said he loaned his car to a friend of his and the guy won'’t be bringing it back until tomorrow, Dad,”" Dan explained. “"He'’s not having car trouble. He just doesn'’t have his car at the moment, that'’s all."”

Another promise unfulfilled. Or delayed. I wonder how much longer Dan and Meagan will tolerate lies and empty promises? Why did Scott tell Daniel he’'d pick him up and take him to his mother'’s house, and then lend his car to someone and cancel his plans? I hate disappointing my kids. I know, Ms J, disappointment is inevitable sometimes. It’'s part of Life. But why disappoint when you don'’t have to? Why make promises you can'’t or don'’t intend to keep?

“"Can YOU drive me, Dad?"”

I looked at the clock. It was 1:00. I had to be back at work at 3:15. It takes about 90 minutes to make a return trip to Acton from Mimico. What if there were a traffic snarl? Or inclement weather?

“"No, Dan. We don'’t have time now."”

But he looked so crestfallen. He really wanted to go. He was bored at my house. A change of scenery might do him good.

“"Please, Dad? We have enough time if we go now. I’'m all ready to go. I'’ve got my stuff packed and everything.”" He reached into his pocket and extracted a roll of LifeSavers candy. Butter Rum. My favourite.

“"I'’ll give you this,"” he grinned and popped it into my breast pocket. “"Paid. In advance."”

I love that boy. I’'m a big push-over, I guess. And it WOULD mean I’'d get a few days alone here. I sighed and checked my watch.

“"OK, Dan. Let’'s go."”

So we went. Dan put a backpack and an overnight bag in the car, along with his new guitar.

“"Have you remembered your pills?"” I asked.

“"Got '‘em, Dad. Right here.”" And he patted his faded backpack.

“"And your razor?"”

“"Yup."”

“"Toothbrush?”"

“"Dad! I got everything. Let’'s go. Time is tight."”

We were enroute about ten minutes when Dan remembered something.

“"Ah crap!”" he exclaimed. “"I forgot my smokes."”

Oh dear, I thought sardonically. It'’s a catastrophe. A great, bloody catastrophe.

“"It'’s too late now, Dan. We haven'’t time to go back and get them."”

“"That'’s OK, Dad. I’'ll smoke mum'’s. Or Tim'’s. They smoke Player’s Extra Lights. They'’ll hafta do for now, until I get some of my own."”

Something occurred to him then and he turned to face me in the front seat.

“"I was wondering, Dad, if I might possibly have an advance on my allowance for next week?"”

So you can buy tobacco, Dan? Or drugs from one of your many contacts in Acton? Or maybe Mum will ask you for a loan “until Tim gets his money from the government.” Or until she gets her child support. I shook my head and turned down the volume on the radio. Gosh, I can'’t stand today'’s music. It'’s nothing but noise, devoid of any meaning whatsoever. When I spoke, my voice was firm.

“"No. I gave you twenty dollars on Friday. You bought two CD'’s with it. That was your choice. If you feel you need some money, ask Mum. You said she promised to give you forty dollars. Ask her for it.”"

I knew Kelly would renege on her promise. She almost always does.

“"Alright. I'’ll ask Mum. Or Tim."”

“"Or Gary,"” I suggested. “"Maybe you could ask Gary for some money. If you see him.”"

“"I doubt Gary will be there, Dad. And if he is, I doubt he'’ll give me any money."”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'’ve been drinking wine tonight, Ms Journal. And to tell you the God’'s honest Truth, I'’m getting too drunk to write a good ending for this post.

So anyway, I dropped Dan at his mum'’s place and hurried back to work.

“"If the shit gets too thick there, Dan,”" I told him, “"you call me and I'’ll come and get you. Anytime. Day or night. If you can'’t handle it and you're thinking about getting high, call me. OK?”"

“Don'’t worry, Dad. I'’ll be fine. You can pick me up on Friday when you come to collect Meagan.”"

Trust, Ms J. I’'m trusting my son. I'’m loving him and trusting him. And, believe it or not, missing him.

G'’ night.