My mother has the maturity of an 8 year old and really can’t take care of herself. She has been living in Florida going from one sugar daddy to another with intermittent stretches of living on her own. She is currently living in her own in a duplex. Before that she lived on a yacht with a boyfriend I didn’t even catch his name. My guess is that it was one of those boats where you go down about 3 steps to a large cushioned area that also doubles as your kitchen, bed, living room and toilet by lifting up one of the cushions.
Where my mom goes, hot mess sister follows. I have 2 sisters: hot mess sister and normal sister. Normal sister is my best friend despite being 8 years younger than me. Hot mess sister is the one I wrote about here: My Sister Was a Phone Sex Operator
G has done hard time, drugs, theft….you name it, she’s done it. She does it because my mother is Queen of the Enablers as well as Queen of D’Nile and allows her to come home to a warm bed each night.
My sister could be operating a 5 star crack house and my mother would turn it around and say, “You would be so proud of your sister, she is an entrepreneur and has been given a 4.5 pimp rating for having the best crack in town.”
Yesterday, due to a whole other train wreck, I decided to do my monthly trolling of all the sheriff offices around Fort Myers to see if my sister had been booked recently. Sure as shit, there she was in orange. She had violated her probation from selling heroin in 2014.
I haven’t verbally spoken to my mom in 8 years. We have been communicating via Facebook for the past 2 years attempting to build some sort of relationship. I cut her off after she financed my sister’s trip to travel North to avoid jail time, all the while lying to me that it was paid for by a friend. My sister is dangerous and the fact that my mother put her just an Uber drive away from my sons was unacceptable.
Today I sent my mom the following message:
After receiving this number I decided to call it at lunch to discuss this matter with the probation officer, police or whatever legal office this number was associated with.
I dialed the number. So far, so good it rang to Florida. I wouldn’t be surprised if my mother had given me a number to a Jack in the Box in California just to throw me off. This was progress.
“Hello there!” The overly familiar voice said. “It’s so nice to hear your voice.”
I began to flip out inside. This was supposed to be the number to the police, not my mother. She tricked me. I have not talked to her in 8 years. If you haven’t spoken to a family member in 8 years, there usually is a bit of preparation that comes before a discussion such as topics to avoid, what to touch on, etc. I was completely caught off guard.
“This isn’t the police,” I said shell shocked.
“No, it’s me.” She said excitedly trying to get the same amount of enthusiasm out of me.
I got down to brass tacks. If she fooled me into calling her, she was going to get my line of questioning…..