The Showbag

The Showbag

The Kid

He is an arrogant spoilt asshole. Nothing he did was considered wrong. He was a pyromaniac. Setting fire to his action men, until their faces were scorched and melted. But he is the youngest of five children, although the first three were adults and had families and lives of their own. I hated him when I was growing up. He had such a chip on his shoulder, staring people down in cars because they had gone over the white line on the road when we were crossing it. He embarassed me at school. I had kids coming up to me telling me what my brother had done now, what trouble he was in for doing this. Why should I care? I knew better than anyone what he was like, I lived with him after all.

The Young Adult

Had been expelled from two different schools to date. Mainly only behaviour problems. What was my mother to do? I don't recall it being such a terrible issue. She pandered to his every whim. Allowed him to give up on school altogether at a too young age. He was immature, not ready for work. He was not yet fifteen years old. Shipped off to the family property to work on the farm. Why would you send someone who was openly cruel to animals to work on a farm? Did nothing, bummed around and had bad haircuts. I think they were called under cuts, I vaguely remember him having some type of mohawk at one stage too.
Then my step father left my mother. My mother left the state. At this stage I had finished school and was in her eyes an adult. She left him with me. Two kids in a house, the rent payed up for a few months so that was not a problem. Just we were.

The Party Animal

Had moved in with my mother. He became known for his great dancing skills in the nightclubs. Got himself such a lovely girlfriend. A women nearly twice his age with a child. Loved clubbing. Loved his new girl. Was having a ball. Was given a car to drive, unlicenced he was, and smashed it one night after a heavy bender and left it to rust away. No insurance, no licence what else was he to do? My mother drove his girlfriend to some of her jobs. They were both living with mum, such a happy little trio. Drugs, clubbing, fighting, arguing. But he was such a good dancer.

Back with Me

After cleaning up his act a bit, he ended up living with me again after crying and begging into a phone box late one night. The offer was accepted.
He held a job down for a while, well I thought all was well. In my ignorance there was much going on behind the scenes. I had some electrical items stolen from home, my excellent guard dog didn't stir. Was it someone we knew?
The bungalow at the back was where he lived. Throwing figs from the tree at some rowdy neighbours who were having a party, it was only 10pm. Arrogant and insolent, nobody could have a good time around this person.

Meets a New Girl

She was nice, but very young and inexperienced. Why did she have to choose him to fall in love with? There are so many nice guys out there, and he brings her home. They fight, they argue. She doesn't perform well in bed for his liking. My video guy informs me that she had charged him for some sort of violent act.
They have a kid together. "Well done. This would be the making of him." My mother said. "You will both make wonderful parents." Her mother said.
I said "You've got to be fucking joking." "I knew you'd say that, couldn't you be happy for us?"
Apart, baby without a father and a mother left alone and used, only one month after the birth.

What Should Have Been Rock Bottom

Rescued him again, and again, and again. The last time from a squat around the corner. When the door was opened the smell of faeces burnt my nostrils. Only a bed, a blanket and a small heater. The owner of the house moved hoping he would do the same. But he didn't. Gave him a bath and food.
Left in a fog of heated argument when offered help and guidance. Whisked his belongings away, one bag of crap. Where is he going? Where to now? Back to the slum and dirt you weer living in?

Three Attempts Later

Entered detox, entered rehab. We visited every second weekend, offering support and contact with councellors and his social workers. Took him birthday cake and presents when his birthday arrived. Spent our only day off together as a couple with him in rehab. Surrounded by drug addicts, sex addicts, workaholics, alcoholics. Different faces every second week. "That girl tried to come onto me" Kids running around the place, playing and riding their broken toys supplied at the centre. "Look what I did last week, check out my card from everyone." The showbag. That's what we always called him. Looks good on the outside, all shit on the inside. The card mentioned the word showbag a few times.
And once the attention was removed, and some digging around inside the head was initiated, it got too hard. Six months it lasted.
What a waste of my Sundays, loved the supplied food and that noodle salad was the best I'd ever had. I wonder if I can locate the recipe from them.

Rollercoaster

Back into drugs. Back to lying and cheating and stealing. Back to depending on everyone else. Wants everything for nothing. Immature, drug addict, user and abuser. But not on my time anymore. I've washed my hands of it. I have my own family to worry about. This is an adult. Had just spent six months in a drg rehabilitation centre, and chose to use again after being clean. It was his choice. Runs to my sister after he gets his government payment, she takes him on an all day drinking binge at the football. He had just spent six months in rehab. "He just wants to relax after being couped up in there." She says. He was there by choice, it wasn't prison, like where her boyfriend just spent eighteen months. It was voluntary, can check out anytime.
He just ran again, running away when it gets too hard.
Counceller advised he may possibly end up dead on the streets, this is what addicts do. Not something a past caring sister or mother would like to hear.

Maybe he is Better Off Dead