True or False

True or False

Will is still not smoking cannabis, or so he says, and I hope very much that’s true. Everything is unravelling for him though, and it’s confusing how calm he is about it. I know that cannabis smokers have a tendency to live in the present moment, and have difficulty in planning ahead. It is now Tuesday and he needs to vacate the house he is living in on Friday.

By the end of last week I became frazzled talking to him about this, when he didn’t seem to see any urgency to the situation. His job seeker’s allowance has been stopped, he says. Something to do with not declaring how many jobs he’s been for. The housing benefit that was in place has also somehow dried up. Something about cheques being issued in the wrong name. He’s been issued with an eviction notice by his landlord. So, essentially, the things that we urged and helped him to put in place when he moved out of B and B accommodation, are now disappearing. He has no job, either.

I’m feeling calmer about all of this now, but last week felt so angry with him for mucking it all up. How is this possible? That really takes some doing. He had signed a lease on the house for six months, so there should have been peace at least until September, but now ‘here we go again’, to quote Guy.

I have just read an email from a drugs counsellor, who is a member of our campaign group. She was writing about the aspect of rebellion among young people, some of whom use drugs and drink as primary weapons among their arsenal. She had spoken to a 21 year old drug user only yesterday, who said that he was not through with drugs yet, because he hadn’t finished rebelling yet. At 21? Right. Useful information for me; I am now wondering whether, at nineteen, Will is still rebelling. After all, we helped Will move into his present house, and encouraged him to apply for benefits, hoping he could attain a level of independence that way, and achieve distance from us.

I haven’t helped him find a new room this time, despite the urgency. Something stopped me doing so – mainly boredom and utter frustration, the repetition of events is getting to me. However, I am convinced we’re doing the right thing – this time if he mucks up it will be his own handiwork he’ll be attacking and not ours. Hard for a mother not to want to get involved, but he’s made it easier by completing similar circles for years now.

We met this morning. He had two interviews for jobs today. He seems to be getting interviews, but not jobs, and I have talked to him about it being a ‘numbers game’, as the recruiters call it. He seems to say the right things, acknowledges what I tell him, but then no results - so far. I was encouraging and helpful again this morning – last week I wasn’t. Being the shrew disturbs me, but I think he needs the mirror held up to him and did so – again.

This morning he rang to ask if he could borrow an A-Z to find an address in central London. Guy is out of town and has taken the car; both our street maps are in there, so I met Will at the bottom of the hill and bought him one at the local garage on the main drag from Lewisham to Deptford. Looking over at him, checking him out as I always do, I noticed he looked well: his blue eyes clear and sparkling, and told him so. He smiled and said he was keeping off the cannabis. He’s made an appointment to see Donna, the drugs counsellor he used to see. I hope that’s true because he’s going to need support if he’s not going to do rehab.

As we walked along, I told Will what Guy had said to me the day before, when he’d been talking about how he managed to kick smoking several years ago. He’d told himself that he was a smoker who was choosing not to smoke, and that had done it for him. Telling himself he was a non-smoker had produced a negative effect. Will nodded and said he could understand that. We went over the road to a greasy spoon café and sat outside for half an hour, traffic thundering by, I holding Lily at first, not wanting to put her down among the fag ends and chewing gum on the pavement. Out of the corner of my eye I could see smiles of approbation for Lily from passers-by. (Yesterday I came panting out of a shop I’d run into, after tying her up outside, with obvious misgivings, but I needed to buy milk for a later cup of PG Tips, to find a tourist taking her photo.) We talked about the interviews Will had coming up today, and I heard myself laughing loudly at jokes he was making. The sun was out, and it was going to be a warm day. Even this area seemed quite pleasant in the sunshine, but what café these days doesn’t have filter coffee? Come again? This place is as terrible as it looks on the outside. Surrendering to a cup of Nescafe, and toast spread with Stork margarine, (what? are we back in the 1960s here?), I listened to Will saying that he was sure he could find somewhere else to live by Friday. I reminded him that I was going away to visit my brother this weekend, so I couldn’t help him move his things. ‘No, I know, that’s not a problem, I’ll sort it out. I’ve still got a few days’ he said. I pushed the plate of toast over to him, and, examining it closely first, he ate half a slice.

In spite of my resolve, I heard myself asking if he needed any help with finding another place, because a few days isn’t enough, and homelessness scares me. As I was walking away with Lily, waving and wishing him luck, I decided that because of the issue of rebellion I would let him do things himself this time. We’ll almost certainly have to pay the deposit and another month’s rent, but that’s because we need to sleep at night.

Whilst sitting on a grassy knoll in Greenwich Park half an hour later, throwing a ball for Lily, I sent him a text to wish him luck with his 11 o’clock interview. It was for bar staff at a pub near Covent Garden. He rang later to say he thought they liked him, and they had said they would call tomorrow. I hope this is true, too. Last week he told me he was working in a club in Mayfair, which proved to be fantasy. We’ve talked about trying to always tell the truth, but who knows. He sounded happy on the phone, and hopeful. I smiled and looked around at the large oak trees silhouetted against the blue sky, as I listened to him. It’s good for me to have to walk with Lily every morning; we almost always go into the park which is at its most beautiful now. There is every hue of green here, and the roses are in bloom. Being close to the trees in particular, some of which are centuries old, is very grounding for me. I need to remember that I can be as solid as they are: when the high winds begin I need to be as firmly rooted as one of these.. It is a good image for me, as I head towards a possibly stormy few weeks ahead.