It has been a Hell of a week my friends. This story is going to be choppy and full of typos, because I'm tired and sick as a dog right now, but I really need to get this off my chest.
I will start by saying, It's hard to relax after your mother tells you she's been sleeping with a knife under her pillow because she's afraid your brother is going to try and kill her.
On Friday I had a big show. The show went great and I was feeling good. The next day, even with a slight hangover, I was still feeling the residual, warm-fuzziness of last nights show, then I got together with my mom.
My mom has been living in my brother's house for the last six years. She moved in a year after my brother had gone through a messy divorce. As far as I knew everything was going fine.
As soon as my mother sees me she starts bawling, then she tells me what has been going on between her and my brother since the day before the Super Bowl. (Over a month ago.)
My brother, out of the blue, comes home one day, and demanded she get out.
My mother says, "That's fine, but I need at least 30 days to find a place."
Bro's face turns red. He clenches and unclenches his fists, then screams, "You need to get out now. Everyone has someone they can go to."
More yelling ensues and brother finally storms out of the house to his girlfriends.
What makes this even scarier is the fact that my brother is a deputy sheriff and their confrontation takes place while my brother is in full uniform. That means he's carrying a gun.
Since that night every time Bro confronts Mom he is in full uniform.
Things get uglier, Mom comes home one day and all her stuff is packed up. Bro has labeled everything in the house with sticky notes. "This is mine."
Another day mom comes home and the dogs are gone. They were my brother's dogs, but my mom spent more time with them than he did and they were her companions, who she turned to when she felt lonely. When mom asks about the dogs brother says, "They don't miss you and you will never see them again."
On another day, after another argument and more fits of rage, Bro screams, "You are forbidden from speaking to The Unknown about this."
Another time, Mom sees Bro's girlfriend, who just happens to be a doctor, feeding Bro oxycodone.
More things happen, but I can't go on with this part of the story. It's making me feel nauseous.
The first I hear about any of this is last Saturday. I beg my mom to come live with us, but she tells me Bro is leaving on Monday evening for a ten day trip in Hawaii and she will be out by the time he gets back.
I sweat bullets for two days. I can't get a hold of my mom and fear the worst. I finally get a hold of her today. She's bought a house, how she can afford it I have no idea, and will be moving in a month. I convince her to spend the month before she moves with me and Gorky.
Mom will move here on next Monday.
I don't know what is up with my brother. He has never been like this. He is the responsible one in the family. Mom thinks he's bipolar.
I think it's a combination. Bipolar + addiction to pain killers + a girlfriend that seems to be fucking with his head. I don't know.
I do know that I have eight days to decide what to do about my brother. I will have to confront him at some point. He carries a gun, he makes life and death decisions at work. How can I, in good conscience, say nothing?
What if he kills someone?
I have eight days.