No Good Deed

Being neighborly is a vague concept that depends on who the neighbor is and what they need from other neighbors. My next-door neighbor is a single mother (never married, but has contact with her Baby Daddy) and she drinks. When she doesn’t drink, I can be a good neighbor for her, but when she drinks, my stomach roils and my head starts to throb.
A week ago, she had been drinking and told me that if I see the police pull up to her front door, I should know that she has hurt her daughter. She described the daughter in “devil” terms, calling her heart black, and telling me that her daughter is evil and soulless. She told me that the Devil lives inside her daughter and she’s going to have to fight her and will hurt her.

Yesterday, the police pulled up to her front door.

My doorbell rang and it was the neighbor, drunk, and who told me the story of her “evil daughter,” who came home from school and locked her mother out of the house because she had been drinking. As forewarned, I walked over to the house to see if the daughter was okay. I briefly talked to the police officer about the previous weeks’ conversation, and then told the officer that there is a gun in the home. He talked to the daughter, who was unharmed and unarmed, and then asked me if there was a “safe place” for the daughter to go until her mother sobered up; if not, he could either arrest the mother for public intoxication or take the girl to Juvenile Hall – or both.

I asked the daughter if she would feel comfortable staying at my house for a while or overnight, and she agreed. I asked her mother if having the daughter stay at my house was okay with her, and she agreed that it was a good idea. This was all accomplished with a long drunken narrative about her daughter and life in general, punctuated with the loud wailing that only truly drunk people seem able to maintain and still converse. I told the police officer that I would take the daughter to my house, as well as the gun, and he relayed that message to the mother and escorted her to the front door to sleep off the drunk.

No good deed goes unpunished.

The daughter and I had gone to the home before gettting ready for bed to see if the mother was all right, as well as to ask if she wanted the daughter to come home for the night, but the mother refused to talk to either of us, so I set up my bathroom for her to shower and made up a sleeping area on the living room couch. We were just settling in for the night when the doorbell rang: 2 family members from a city 100 miles from here had been called by the drunken mother, who must have told them quite a story for them to hop into a car and drive all the way out here to rescue … someone from something. Although we had gone to the home to ask about the daughter coming back for the night and she was adamant that she didn't want her daughter in the house, the mother sent the young boys to the house to tell the daughter she was to come home. I asked the daughter if that was okay with her, she agreed to go back home with them, and I washed my hands of the entire situation. This is just not what I want in my life … .

An hour later, my phone rang: the mother was on the phone telling me how this was all the daughter’s fault, and then, out of nowhere, wanted to know why I had her gun. I was stunned as I had told the daughter that the police officer thought it would be best to remove the gun from the home until the mother sobered up, and I told the daughter a couple of times NOT to tell her mother that I had the gun. I assured her that I would return it to the mother after she sobered up, and there was no way I would return it to her in her present condition. I told the mother that yes, I had the gun – and I would return it to her the next day, but I was not going to have a conversation with her about any of the days’ events at this late hour of the night.

I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, wishing I simply had refused to get drawn into the family feud next door. I wished that I could not care that the mother has been drinking a lot lately because her life has turned to shit in the past two weeks: her car was repo’d; the owner of her home sent a collection agency to collect back rent; she was fired from her job; and her daughter has about a thimbleful of sympathy and used that up a long time ago. I’ve been a taxi service in the past, so made it clear that I would take the mom grocery shopping (as I did yesterday morning, which is where the alcohol came into play), dropping her off at the local market and picking her up when she was done. But, I am not going to be driving hither and yon: they can ride the city bus.

This morning, I’m totally out of sorts, both pissed off and upset at the same time. I took the puppy to the vet to be spayed – and I had tears running down my face when I had to leave her there! I came home, got the gun and took it next door and told my neighbor I’m done. My priority for my life has to be … me and my life … and not refereeing the ongoing drama at her house! I know that 16-year-old girls can be a handful, but they are still “little” girls, not grown women, so you don’t put all of your adult issues onto those young shoulders and expect the girl to make it all better for you.

And you don’t make the whole mess your neighbor’s responsibility simply because she did a kindness in a troubled time.

I’m done. The ship is sinking with me still on it, and it’s not my ship, so I don’t have to stay aboard and try to save it from the inevitable outcome. If I hear severe domestic disturbances emanating from the house, I’ll call the police; if I hear gunshots, I’ll call the police. I’m done.

As a friend always used to say, "Not my life; not my wife."