A Phone Call Home

"Hi, Mom!"

"Hey love, how are you?"

"Pretty good, I guess. I got arrested again, in case you haven't noticed."

"I did. You know I have the ringtone set to 'Jailhouse Rock' whenever you call from jail."

"Haha. Pretty funny Mom."

"I thought about using 'Hotel California' also. So what happened this time?"

"I was with a friend of mine I had met last time I got locked up. His name isn't important, but he was arrested with me. Turns out he's bisexual and wanted to hook up with me."

"I don't see anything wrong with that - this isn't like olden times when just being gay could get someone arrested."

"I'm getting to that part. He wanted to hook up and...well he wanted to score some shit also."

"Oh, I see. Drugs."

"I'm not going to elaborate on that right now. After all, these phone calls are monitored and recorded you know."

"I know, love. I know. So what happened next?"

"We scored some shit, and he drove to the mall parking lot to get high real quick."

"The parking lot at the mall?!"

"Neither of us had the money for a hotel room, and I didn't want to risk getting caught by Grandma in her house. You know, getting high and shit. It was three in the morning, I thought it was safe."

"Fair enough."

"So after we got high, we started, you know...messing around. We stopped when he noticed a cop car coming toward where we were parked. He got his clothes on, and my pants were still around my ankles by the time the cop got to the car."

"You can be so stupid sometimes, love."

"Well, I mean I was going down anyway. I'm on probation and I knew the cop was going to search the car. Anyways, when the cop asked to search the car she found the shit as well as the pipe in my pocket. I'm being charged with possession of methamphetamine and indecent exposure."

"Dang, boy. This is the sixth possession charge you've gotten!"

"I know, Mom. I'm sorry for screwing up again."

"You really need to stop doing drugs. I'm starting to think you like going to jail."

"That's not true, Mom!"

"Then why do you keep making the same mistakes, honey? You weren't even out of jail for a month and here you are calling me from jail – again!"

“I know, Mom! Please, can we skip the lecture right now? Not gonna lie, but I'm still pretty fucked up and I can't deal with it right now."

"Then maybe you'll listen to me this time. You need to get your shit together and stop using. You need to go to rehab. The whole family is worried about you, not just me."

"Yeah, right."

"Grandma called me yesterday asking if I had heard from you. She told me you disappeared about a week ago. No note, no phone call, nothing. She was crying because she didn't know where you were or if you were even still alive."

"Mom, please don't guilt trip me. You know I hate when you do that."

"It's like you don't even care that you're hurting us."

"Mom, I do care. I know I have a drug problem and I know I need help. But it's hard, Mom! Do you know how much it costs to go to rehab? I can't afford it!"

"But you can afford to get high, right?"

"Yeah, it's a hell of a lot cheaper than inpatient treatment - especially since I don't have insurance. We've gone over this several times, Mom...I use street drugs to self-medicate because I can't afford real psychological help and every time I try to get my shit together I always end up back in jail before I make any real progress."

"Is that a reason or an excuse, love?"

"I don't even know anymore, Mom. Maybe it's both. Anyways, the magistrate didn't give me a bond, so I'm stuck in here until I can set up a bond hearing. I don't even know who my public defender is yet my arraignment is scheduled for tomorrow."

"Do you think you'll get a bond?"

"On my sixth possession charge? Probably not. Still, I'm going to give it a shot."

"Do you need me to call the rest of the family and let them know where you are?"

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd greatly appreciate it. Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom."

"How much time do we have left on this call, love?"

"Phone calls are ten minutes, I think we have about four or five minutes left."

"Oh, okay. Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"Well...my birthday is in a few weeks. Can't believe I'll be spending my birthday behind bars for a third year in a row."

"I was going to send you a gift card with a hundred dollars on it. Do you want me to order you some commissary for your birthday instead?"

"Yes, please!"

"I can do that. But I'm telling you now if you get locked up again I won't be so nice. Can't have you thinking I'm rewarding your bad behavior, you know!"

"It's not like that at all Mom!"

"Just so we're clear. Anyways, what would you like me to get for you this time?"

"The usual...a breakfast pack, a meal pack, a hygiene pack, and maybe an e-cigarette or two."

"No e-cigarettes love, they cost too much. How about a Fresh Favorite instead?"

"Okay, the one with the pepperoni pizza and chicken tenders if you wouldn't mind."

"Sure thing. I'll put the order in as soon as we finish talking. And I'll put some money on my phone account so you can call me twice a week."

"You fucking rock, you know that right? I love you so much."

"I love you too."

"I promise this will be the last time I'm going to jail. I've been doing some thinking and I realized I've spent the better part of the last few years behind bars. I'm tired of it."

"I know you're tired of it, hon. But as long as you keep using drugs you'll keep going to jail. Are you ready to stop using?"

"You know what? I think I'm ready this time."

"I hope so. You can be such a good kid when -"

"You have one minute remaining."

"-you want to be. Anyways, we have one minute left. I love you so very much."

"I love you too, Mom. I'll call in a couple days and update you on what's going on."

"Okay, love. Stay safe in there."

"I will. You stay safe out there as well. Goodbye and thanks again for everything, Mom."

"You're welcome. Goodbye."