Why can’t I live here with you? Because you never leave.
Even for just a little while until I can get back on my feet? It seems you never get back on your feet.
I promise I won’t do drugs here. I won’t even smoke M. I’ve pissed clean, just ask my doctor. You relapsed last time you stayed here even after promising. And this is your grandmom’s, not mine to offer.
I promise I will get up early everyday, even weekends, and I will make my bed every morning and I won’t hog all the juice or take long showers or accidentally break things. I will help out around the house. I can lift heavy things that you can’t. I will mow the lawn and trim the hedge. And I can help grandmom with anything she needs, too. I can cook for you guys, you both like my cooking, remember?
And I will get a job right away and work full time and overtime if they need me. I will save my money so I can get my own place. I promise that I will only need a month here and then I will be out and on my way.
I promise. You’ll be so proud of me.
(note to self: how many times have I had to move him out? first time age 14, counselling as early as age 7, it’s been such a long winding road of separation anxiety)