Erring on the Side of Hope

California is...an interesting place. To most, it's a glorious place, with the promise of sunny, temperate days, glitzy glamorous nights, and plenty of potential success and dreams to lure many an unsuspecting soul here. But there's so many invisible (and sometimes visible) hazards. There are so many faultlines, ready to rupture and break us all apart.

So it is with Himself and me. There's always a faultline, in each relationship, even the most happy and blessed. In our case, the faultline is Himself's son (we'll call him Himself Jr), my soon-to-be stepson. All is not sunshine and harmony in our life right now, and much of it has to do with Himself Jr.

He's a mere fifteen years old...probably the same age as my mother was when she first started to hit the skids. I haven't seen Himself Jr. since before his dad and I got engaged last October; even before then, Jr. had been painting the town a little too red, experimenting with some too-dangerous drugs, getting into too much trouble with the law. We thought he was going to be going to a drug rehab/bootcamp center for a year, and just a day or two ago he was moved to one. Himself and I have had too much experience with addiction and criminal behavior in our families to do or think anything other than "One day at a time," but we still breathed a cautious sigh of relief.

Too soon, it seems. We got the call that Himself Jr. took off from the rehab place (apparently, in California, they can't force minors to stay. Bunch of damned liberal nonsense claptrap, if you ask me) and now no one knows where he is. I have to believe that Himself Jr. is as scrappy and resourceful as ever, and will show up sooner or later, probably sooner rather than later, and almost certainly worse for wear.

But I mourn for Himself. I see the worry that is beginning to carve lines of disappointment in Himself's face. I mourn for his happy-go-lucky streak, his sense of self-worth, his optimism, each of which takes a hit each time Himself Jr. raises hell. I have never reared a child, most likely never will, but I have enough empathy and imagination to conjure the emotions that plague Himself now. And all I can do is just hug him, listen, refrain from making any conclusions or judgments.

The damned pickle of it is that I like this kid. The few times that we've seen each other, we've gotten along. Even laughed a couple of times. He's smart, he's honest (even with everything else, he's honest), and he's absolutely determined not to give a damn that he is wrecking his body, his mind, his life.

As I've said, both Himself and I have seen what addiction can do to a family. And so I worry for us, for our fledgling marriage, for its tender fragile state. I worry about what could happen if Himself Jr. continues down this path. But then, if the worst can happen, and our partnership suffers as a result, I suppose it is just as possible that the other extreme could also happen...

Out here in the desert, the San Andreas Fault runs right through, a volatile flaw in our otherwise stable earth, just ready to open its yaw someday and unleash untold destruction upon us, 2012-style. But here's the cool thing about the Fault--you can see where it is, because there's a band of green foliage growing on it. Green, in the desert. Even in the summer time. Because of the Fault. Water percolates up from the Fault, you see, so even this potentially frightening thing brings some good to us, some life to our region. And of course, it's just as likely as not that the Fault won't get faulty in our lifetime, thereby reducing all of my anxieties to naught.

I'd like to make it so that this faultline in our relationship can be like the San Andreas--despite what happens, or perhaps even because of what happens with Himself Jr., I'd like to see that something else, not awful at all, can come out of it...I'd like for Himself and I make it so that, like the greenery on the San Andreas Fault, something good comes from the faultline which runs through this...I'd like for us to make this a relationship strengthened, a love enhanced through even the most dangerous flaws that lurk at the heart of a home.