THE PRODIGIOUSLY PRODIGAL SON

Although Eduardo was undoubtedly talented, wonderful and amazing, by association to those qualities or simply because he possessed them, he also tended at times to squander them in the belief that they were unaffected by excesses unworthy of him and that, if somewhat diminished could be recaptured easily.  In the long run, that turned out to be true for him; whether or not that was a blessing is debatable.

Except for the unfortunate relationship with his father, Lalo grew up  to be a healthy little boy when, at approximately thirteen, we moved from an apartment to our own home .  The neighborhood was good as were the resident families.  We were all in our late twenties or early thirties, upper middle class.  However, very near by there was a complex of buildings the government afforded less economically fortunate families and it was a hotbed for pushers and such.  Eduardo later told me that he was approached for the first time one day when he was dropped off on the corner by the school bus, offered a trial run of pot and from there on was hooked.  Why do things happen the way they do?  I usually dropped off and picked up Eduardo and Susan at school every day.  Suzy didn’t take the bus that day, why did he?

The fact of the matter is that it was the beginning of the end for a long time because, of course, it escalated into further experimentation, and torment for him and for us all… well, for Suzy and me.  Fortunately, he was able to kick the worst of it in time (I suspect seeing what it did to some of his friends had a lot to do with that, but whatever the motive I’ve always been grateful for the lesser of many evils).

I had asked my family to help me get him out of the surroundings I naively believed were playing a major part in his inability to stop using, never realizing that, by that time, it no longer played the most important role in his addiction, but I was told that he was my responsibility and to deal with it.

Suzy, Lalo and I in Bronxville

A friend of the family who lived in Paris came to visit and, in discussing the situation with her, offered to give him room and board with she and her family until he could acclimate himself to his new surroundings, the language, etc. I bought him a new wardrobe and a round-trip ticket, and his father agreed to send him his share of the child support I had been granted in the divorce settlement for the two children so that he could get by. I watched as his plane took flight, afraid that I might never see him again.  He lived there for about a year studying music and traveling throughout Europe.  By then, my company had relocated me to the States and Suzy and I had been living there for about a year when he came home.  I can still see myself in my mind’s eye elated and running down the platform to meet him when his train arrived in Bronxville, safe if not altogether sound but at least back with me and his sister for a while.

Patricia Bari Frew