The Arrest (#1)
Sarge (my stepdad) arrived first. There was no place to hide. I believe it was at this point in which I went into a self-induced coma. No - first I saw him turn red and begin to shake. Okay - now I go into the coma because the next thing I remember was riding in the front seat of his car, watching his hands shake on the steering wheel, witnessing the crimson hue of his ears and neck, and wondering why he wasn't yelling at me. We pulled into the driveway and I'll never forget the tears welling up in his eyes as he said, "I gave you my name, and you ruined it." With that he got out of the car and left me sitting there.
I was arrested. We had to go before the juvenile court judge in private chambers. An agreement was struck; if my parents and I agreed to counseling at the youth center for six weeks, all charges would be dropped and my record would be wiped clean. This would mark the second of four times in my life that I saw my stepdad cry. He walked away and my mother said, "I've never seen him cry. You've destroyed him." Yes, you could say that counseling was definitely in order.
I don't remember much about it - the counseling. I remember sitting in a circle with kids who had set fire to cars or broken into homes. I remember thinking, "Well, this is great. For once I get to be the underachiever." I also remember my individual counseling. My counselor cracked his knuckles. I picked that up, and still to this day pop and bend my fingers when I'm stressed out. I do NOT remember the family counseling. I have buried it too deep. I don't think either of them ever forgave me, and I'm pretty sure Sarge carried his image of a stained name to his grave.
Next: The Other Arrest