The car ride home was pretty awkward. I knew I was taking my father back home so he could pick up right where he left off. My father continued to talk about the people, how EVERYone else had problems, and he was not like them, he did not have problems….right.
As we got closer to the house, my father asked me if I could stop by the store so he can pick up a case of beer. Really?
“Are you [insert expletive] serious?!?! You want me to stop and get you alcohol on the drive back from rehab??!” I said… Does he not remember everything that happened a few days ago and why I had to take him to the hospital?
I did not take him to the store, instead I pulled in the driveway and walked into the house. My father ended up taking the car and driving himself to the liquor store to bring back a case of beer…pathetic!
I could not even look at my father any more. Seeing him drink completely disgusted me. About every half hour, I would hear the fresh “crack” of a new beer. That night, he drank the entire case of beer he bought earlier that day.
The Friday after my father came back from his 2nd rehabilitation – one week after he came home, he had 11 beers left in the fridge. Can you guess how many he drank?
While I was completely expecting him to drink 5 beers on Friday night and the remaining 6 on Saturday night, I woke up to quite the surprise. ALL 11 BEERS WERE GONE! The empty box was thrown onto the counter as if it were a trophy for him. From having gone out Friday night myself, I asked if he had anyone over that could have assisted him in drinking the 11 beers. My father replied with a simple “no” as if nothing had happened at all. I was quite disgusted.
Also to my surprise, I found that when I was throwing out some garbage in the trash can in the kitchen, there was an empty pint of whiskey. Words can not describe how I felt. I was beyond disgusted and beyond disappointed in him. How could he do this? Why is he drinking this much again? Like most things, my girlfriend was right and I should have listened to her instead of thinking that one drink could lead to eleven beers plus a pint of whiskey in a few short hours.
There were no migraines to speak of. He was not working and had not been around distraught customers. There was NO excuse for any of this! He seemed happy the first day he walked in the door one week ago. He seemed better, I should have trusted my gut last weekend.