George did come over and drank enough beer for the two of us. I worry about him. His doctor has told him not to drink like he does, but he continues. I drove George on home and then walked the short distance back to my house. Before I walked on home, I and George’s mother had a conversation as she was cooking supper in the kitchen. I told her of what had happened recently.
“Honey, you don’t need to go away,” She said. “You are more level headed than my son.”
“I know,” I replied. “My father means well, but he can just be overbearing. He says I am a danger to myself and others.”
“You, dangerous?” George’s mother scoffed. “I have met many more dangerous men than you and they are running free.”
“Well, thank you ma’am,” I replied.
“Sweetheart, stay and eat supper with us,” She asked.
George’s mother was cooking a pot roast with mashed potatoes and green beans.
“It smells so wonderful, but I must get home. I am still very tired from yesterday,” I replied.
“Honey, I am gonna give you some advice,” She then said. “You take it for what it’s worth. Don’t ever let them lock you up. You are a good boy and you help see about my son. He needs all the help he can get. That makes you a good man.”
“Well, thank you ma’am,” I replied. “You know I love George to death.”
“Well, he needs a friend like you. Most people would just let him drive home drunk, but you took the time to bring him and now you have to walk home.” She said.
“Well, I worry he is going to get another DUI,” I replied. “I don’t want to see him in jail.”
“That’s why I like you,” She said. “Even for a white boy, you are a good man.”
I bid Mrs. Jones goodbye and walked on home. It was a beautiful, if warm, southern summer afternoon. I took in all my surroundings thinking that I am so lucky to experience all of this. A few days ago, I thought I was a goner. Now, the trees, the birds, and the wind in my hair are all so titillating. I am enjoying life for a change.
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