A Jug of Wine and Mom

I was 18 when it happened…just the one time, but the memory of it will stay with me a lifetime…
My mother was, and is, what you would call a functioning alcoholic. On most days, she would be fine, taking care of my brother and me in the morning, going to work a full day and come home to her wine in the evening. She managed to put away one of those gallon jugs every evening (one of the cheaper brands) before toddling off to bed. My dad worried about her sometimes, but it never seemed to interfere with her work…and my brother and I grew into fine, upstanding men, with a good work ethic and independence.
I should tell you that, growing up, my mother was a fox. Thin but curvy, with a mane of fiery, red hair. Of course, I never saw her as anything but a mom. Being the disciplinarian of the family, she had a glare, when she was angry, that could stop a rabid dog in his tracks. There were, however, a few times I noticed her shapely legs in jean cutoffs and the way her nipples poked through her t-shirt when she was chewing me out for misbehavior.
My dad was a professional photographer, taking freelance assignments all over the country. Often, he would have to leave at a moments’ notice, leaving us boys to fend for ourselves, while Mom worked.
At 18, I got my first real job, having decided against college. Working at a major hotel, I was making great money and decided it was time to leave the nest. I found my own apartment a few miles away from home. My dad seemed proud of me, as he helped me move into my new place. My mother, on the other hand, seemed sad to see me go. She put on a brave smile as she toured my new digs but I could see she was having a hard time letting go of her eldest son. As I hugged them both, I assured my mom that I would still be close if she needed me. It seemed to help a little.
I phoned my folks every weekend, talking mostly to Mom. I began to notice that her speech was getting more and more slurred. She would laugh or cry at nothing and tell me how much she missed her baby boy. Speaking to Dad once, while my mom was out of the room, I asked him if Mom was alright. A man of few words, he said that she seemed to be drinking more lately, but that he was keeping an eye on her.
A few months went by like this, and one night my phone rang and it was my dad. He told me that he had to leave for an assignment in Canada and would be gone for 2 weeks. He asked if I would check in on Mom while he was gone. With real concern in his voice, he admitted he didn’t like leaving her alone as her drinking had increased significantly. My brother was away with friends on a camping trip, so she would be home by herself.
I assured him that I would call and come over as much as I could, until his return.
The very next night, I returned from a grueling day at work at about midnight and crashed on my bed almost immediately. I was torn out of sleep about one in the morning, by the phone ringing. Groggily, I said hello.
There was loud breathing on the other end, followed by sobbing.
“Mom, is that you?” The crying sounded like her.
“Oh, honey…my baby boy…I miss you so much! When are you coming home?” More sobbing.
Never had I heard her this bad before. “Mom…Mom, listen to me. Stay right there, I’m coming over…”
“Really, Honey? But it’s so late…It would be so good to see you, though…Just feeling so lonely right now…” She sounded like she was fading out. Really worrying now, I threw on my sweat pants and a t-shirt and drove as quickly as the law and my beat-up clunker would allow.
Mom had had enough clarity to turn on the porch light…unfotunately, she also left the front door wide open, with her nowhere in sight. I bounded up the porch steps and into the hallway, shouting “Mom! Mom” over and over again. Finally, I located her in the lving room, slumped on the sofa. She was hugging an empty wine jug, some of it having spilled on her nightgown. The room reeked of cheap wine. Looking around the room, I spotted two more empties in the corner. Was this all from one night?
Mom half opened one eye and smiled a lopsided grin. “There’s my baby! You came!” She tried to sit up and fell back down giggling…then the giggles turned to sobs.
“I’m so sorry, baby!…so…sorry…Didn’t want you to see me like this…”
For the first time, I saw a frailty to my mother…it made her seem smaller and all I could think of was taking care of her. I quietly picked her up off the couch and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. Mom seemed to wake up a bit more as I laid her on the bed and she pulled me down to give my neck a strangling hug. “Thanks for coming, Sweetie! I’m alright, realy…I am.”
My caregiver instincts kicked in…”Mom, your nightgown is soaked and smelly…Let’s get you into a dry one.” I lifted her butt off the bed enough to slide the hem up over it, then pulled the whole flannel gown over her head.