Gimme Shelter -- Part 8

Jay stayed at my house three nights. The fourth night, I told him to call a taxi, and I gave him $20.00 so he'd have enough cash to pay for a drive across town to the Promise Shelter for homeless teens.

The third night Jay stayed with me, I didn't go to sleep at all. I kept a vigil. My bipolar mania had set in, complete with serious insomnia.

My conscience was keeping me awake. Everybody has some element of self-preservation. Jake staying with me was causing me to make bad decisions, and act on them.

The way fuel feeds a fire, so two bipolars caught up in manic behaviour have trouble ending the cycle that feeds endorphins with cocaine-like pleasure.

Sitting in the backyard on a lawn chaise at 4:00 am, I stared at the absolutely full moon, listened to classic rock on the radio, And focused on taking deep regular breaths.

On a large throw rug next to me lay the sleeping Jake. He looked so innocent when he slept. The "smell beads" that encircled his neck seemed extra white under the moonlight. He lay on his stomach, and I grabbed a blanket to throw over him so the damp night wouldn't take a toll on his health. I felt motherly.

He woke up a few minutes after I covered him.

"I'm going inside to the bed. Goodnight." Jake stumbled, either half awake or still zonked from the little belated birthday barbecue bash we had for Robbie that evening.

Robbie had been 18 for almost two months. I do everything late. Actually, this was just an opportunity to celebrate the time with friends. Robbie, Jake, and I smoked some ganja, and talked, and laughed.

"Elvis" couldn't decide where to sleep that night. The poor dog was trying to make sure both of us were okay. He finally laid down in the garage, halfway between our two locations, around dawn.

I felt myself slipping into a psychotic plane of existence. I usually don't realize my behaviour is out of whack until the third day. Sometimes I forget when the last time was that I bathed, or ate. This time, it was that something felt wrong. That wrongness was brewing inside me.

When Jake went in the bedroom, I saw through the curtains that he was using the phone. It was a strange time to be phoning anyone. I figured it wasn't of any immediate importance. Jake had a history of not telling the truth, and I was beginning to recognize another side of him.