Hi my name is Rhonda, I'm 45-year-old white woman from upstate NY. You asked me to share my story with your group. I'm not a writer but I will try my best.
About 5 years ago my husband came home one day and told me he wanted a divorce. I was shocked cause I never saw it coming. I thought we had the perfect life. We had two children, a boy and a girl, and a beautiful home. My husband started a consulting company that did very well. I stayed home and raised our children. My life was spent taking care of the kids. When my husband packed his things and left I asked him if he was leaving me for another women. He told me that he was just tired of this life. He said he needed to find himself. He told me a bunch of other crap but he swore it wasn't another woman. He sold off his company for about 5 million dollars. In the divorce settlement I got half. He paid off our home and gave me 2.5 million dollars for the kids and me. Then he just disappeared.
My son Arthur took it hard. He was only ten years old at the time and he was very close to his father. I thought my husband loved him. But after the divorce was complete my husband disappeared and we never heard from him again. My daughter was 15 years old at the time and took it a lot better then my son. She was wrapped up into her own life. I knew deep down she was in pain but she never cried nor did she ever act out. My son on the other hand became distant. We argued constantly. Sometimes he wouldn't speak to me for weeks.
My daughter graduated High School when she was 18 years old and went off to college. That left my son and me alone in the house. Like I said in the beginning, my husbands business did quite well. After our son was born my husband wanted to get a bigger house. I remember when he came home and told me he had just bought a house. At first I was a little upset. I thought we would at least see the house together before he bought it. The house was gigantic. It was the biggest house on the street in a very affluent neighborhood. I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. What really grabbed me was the size of the kitchen. It was almost three times as big as the kitchen in out first house. It was beautiful, and it had something that I had always wanted, it had a center island.
When my son was 15 he started hanging around with a bunch thugs. Soon I found out he was drinking and smoking marijuana. I tried to talk to him about it. But he told me to shut up. He told me to leave him alone. I tried to ground him, but he went out any way. I gave him a curfew but he came home when he wanted to. Nothing I tried worked. One day I came home and found a bunch of his friends in my house doing drugs. I flipped out and went crazy. I threw those hooligans out of my house and told them if I ever caught them around here again I'd call the cops. My son was stoned out of his mind. He told me to go fuck myself and ran out of the house with his friends. After I cleaned up the beer cans and got rid of the liquor bottles I went up to his room. I smoked pot when I was in high school. I didn't really think it was all that bad. I had a feeling my son was into something much worse. He was only 15 years old and some of the people I threw out of my house looked a lot older then him.
I went straight up to his room and started ripping it apart. I found all kinds of drug paraphernalia. I found pips, bongs, rolling papers and a bunch of other things that I just knew were for drug use. What I was really was looking for were needles. While I searched through his stuff I prayed and hoped I wouldn't find any needles. I prayed that my son wasn't hooked on heroin.
After searching his draws, I went into his closet. I found a box that just looked out of place. When I opened the box I found a small digital scale and a big bag of white powder. I just stared at it. I knew what it was. It was cocaine. And there was a lot of it. Kids like to think of there parents as goodie goodie's. They think we are so stupid as though we are born parents and where never kids ourselves. I've been to parties and I've watched people snort cocaine. I never tried it because I was too scared.
My son was out of control. I knew that if he was doing cocaine at the age of 15 that by the time he turned 19 he would probably be into heroin. I knew I had to get him some help. I made up my mind. I was going to put him in Re-hab. I grabbed all the pipes, bongs etc. and tossed it in the garbage. I took the big bag of cocaine cut it open and flushed all of it down the toilet.
My son came home a few hours later and ran up to his room. I followed him. When he opened the door to his room his face dropped.
"What have you done to my room you fucking Bitch." He screamed.
My son has said nasty things to me in the past but he never called me a bitch before. Then he dashed towards the closet.
"Arthur, you need help son…. you're a junkie…. and you're out of control"
"Mom…where's the fucking box…where is it.," he said while he franticly rummaged through the closet.
"You need help…. You're not going to find anything….I flushed it all."
My son turned around and ran toward me. I was scared to death. He grabbed me around neck and started screaming.
"I'm a fucking dead man…. that wasn't my Coke, it didn't fucking belong to me."
I could see the tears in his blood shot eyes. He let go of me and grabbed his backpack. He started stuffing cloths in it.
"Arthur…. what are you doing…where are you going?" I asked.
He didn't respond to me. He kept on repeating, "I'm a dead man…. I'm a dead man."
I tried to block him from leaving but he pushed me out of the way and ran out of the house. I just sat there and cried. He never came back home that night. I thought about calling the police but I was afraid that if they caught him they might find drugs on him.
The next morning I called my friend Sally, She was the only one I knew I could talk to. I told her what happened and she told me that she knew what I was going through. She told me that her eldest son who just graduated law school had a similar problem. I was shocked to find out about this. She came clean with me. She asked me if I remembered when they sent their son to boarding school. She told me that he wasn't really in boarding school that year. She told me they sent him away to intense rehabilitation center. She told me they kept it secret from everyone they knew. She gave me all the information about the re-hab and whom I should call.
I sat around all day waiting for my son to come home. I didn't know what to do and who to turn to. I was still afraid to call the police. I didn't want my business to get around the neighborhood either. Later on that day I finally decided to call the Rehabilitation Clinic that my friend had suggested. I made an appointment to talk to one of there counselors for 10am the next day. I spent the entire night staring out the window hoping to see my son. I sat there till 2am. I was exhausted by that point, so I went upstairs and cried myself to sleep.
They next morning I woke up and took a shower. My bedroom was on the second floor at the far end of my house. I must have been really tired because I didn't wake up until 8:30 am. After I got dressed and put on my shoes I started walking toward the stairs that led down stairs. When I reached the top of the stairs I smelled coffee. I knew new I didn't set the up the coffee machine before I went to bed. Then I heard the refrigerator door close. I got so excited; my son was home. I practically ran down the stairs. I was wearing heals and almost fell flat on my face. I didn't care at that moment. All I wanted to do was hold my son in my arms and try to help him.
I ran in the Kitchen "Arthur…. Arthur."
When I turned the corner I didn't see my son. There was a man sitting at my table drinking coffee.
"Who…. who…Are you? And what the hell are you doing in my house?"
Imagine walking into your own kitchen and finding a strange man sitting at your table. He looked like one of the street thugs I threw out the other day but I wasn't sure. He looked a lot older then a high school kid. He was a white man and he was wearing all black cloths and dark sunglasses I was scared but I didn't want this person to know that I was afraid. He didn't even answer me. He slowly put his hand on the table and took another sip of his coffee.
I screamed at him, "I'm gonna call the police if you don't get the fuck out of my house.".
I was trying my best to sound tuff and mean. But in reality I was scared out of my mind.
"I don't think you want to do that Mrs. Alexander…. I think you better chill the Fuck Out."
"Who are you!" I asked.
I was scared and when he said my name it stopped me dead in my tracks."
"My name is not important right now lady…. What's important is what your fucking son owes me."
