Andy is gone. He no longer lives with me. But, where does He live? I can't answer that question. Last June, I gave him written notice that His stay with me will end last day of September. I wanted his mother and Andy to have a nice visit. Andy had a four month period to get ready to move out.
All September, Andy did nothing. I asked him if He had called the shelter to make a reservation? No, he did not call. I asked him if He called the Housing Authority to see if his efficiency apartment is ready? No, he did not call the Housing Authority. I asked him if He has sorted through his possessions to decide what he wants to keep and what he wants to discard? No, he hasn't done that either.
The last Wednesday of the month is when his SSI check arrives. Around Noon, He starts on me. Let's get my check cashed. I tell him that the post hasn't arrived yet...and I have a dental appointment in an hour. He'll have to wait a little.
The Mental Health clinic charges Andy a co-pay for his appointments. Andy is reminded that He has to pay up what he owes from this check before leaving my house...He will be given what is left. Andy becomes very angry...probably thinking of the smaller amount he'll have to spend on amusements for himself. Andy really loses his temper and starts to throw things at me. Then He leaves. I call the Police. All I get out of my discussion with the Police is I should get Andy to sign a statement saying that anything He leaves behind, he is abandoning. I agree to do this.
It is Andy's responsibility to clean his room and pack up his things. So, of course, I am the one to do this while he is out. I've taken his key away and locked the doors, per Police suggestion. Up and down the stairs all afternoon, packing his clothes, videos, Cd's, personal items. Possessions are packed in suitcases, boxes, plastic bags...anything I can find. Each package is carried down stairs and put on the kitchen entrance porch. My knees ache.
Later at night, Andy comes back. He is in a better mood. He even apologizes for throwing things. I had driven to the Mental Health Clinic and paid the co-pay for Andy. His money was used, as it was His bill. He does not give me a problem over this. The door is still locked. Through the glass in the door, I explain about the statement he is to sign. He agrees. I'd written it in readiness for the moment. The door is unlocked. Andy signs the statement. I give him his uncashed check, the cash I'd saved for him and the receipt for his paid bill.
He is so happy to get money to spend. I'm sure He'll soon be broke and on the streets. I suggest that he return tomorrow and go through his possessions , possibly give some away to his brothers and repack what he wants to take with him.
I offered to drive my grandson to the Red Roof Inn, as it is an inexpensive place to stay. Andy says He's staying at the nearest Howard Johnson's Inn. He walks away.
Going through my mind are possibilities now discarded: Having a party saying goodbye with his brothers. Moving into the efficiency apartment. I had planned on giving him some of my living room furniture.
Six days later. Andy has not returned for his possessions. I don't know where He is.
addendum: Nine days later, I am in the garage, looking for my tools for a planned repair to the foundation of my Melba St. house. Andy's things are still stored there, but some one has been in them. The neat packages that I packed, have been opened. Clothes are everywhere. Andy has been here, looking through his possessions. There He is. "Hi Andy". He's been looking for his wallet, birth certificate and ID card. He finds them. Andy tells me He's on his way to cash his check and take a taxi to the bus stop. I bite my tongue to stop myself from offering to help him with his tasks. Leaving the town where his family is now relocated, is a big mistake.
Instead, I suggest that my grandson call his brothers to say goodbye. Would he like to e-mail his mother? He says yes. I go into the house to turn on my computer. When I go outside, Andy's bag is gone. So is Andy.