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“Mom, I don’t do drugs.”
My voice was shaking and I just wanted to crawl under a rock
until time evolved into something else. My mother’s eyes where
blood shot and huge. And her face was all red and blotchy. A
million wrinkles lined her mouth and forehead. I mean they
weren’t really wrinkles, more like bags of skin. She just stood
in my doorway looking at me.
I had my back against the headboard of my bed in the corner.
My knees were brought up my chest, my arms wrapped around them.
She had asked me straight out if I did drugs. I was in the middle
of watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer, mortified she
would even think of asking me a question like that. I’ve never
ever touched a single drug in my life. And she thinks now is a
good time to ask me? We talked about drugs back when I was in
middle school and I understood fully well what they were capable
of doing: The first time is addiction, it’s hard as anything to
stop, and bad things can happen to you (like death). Addiction.
Nasty words. I was just shell-shocked that she would even think I
would do them. I told her, “No, I don’t do drugs.” And she
proceeded to interrogate me.
“No, I’m being serious. Are you doing drugs? Because I
think you are. You aren’t being your self lately.” Again I
told her flat out no. I tried to explain how I was being my
self lately. “Because I’ve been doing what I do every Tuesday
Night. I watch Buffy.” So, I had no idea where she was getting
her ideas. And this was really starting to bother me. She placed
her hands on the rails of my Daybed and looked at me. “I think
we should go see a doctor.” I was about ready to scream. I
swallowed the big lump in my throat. And said, “Mom, I don’t
do drugs. Why would I do them?” School was going fine. Nothing
has changed all that much. Maybe I ate too many cookies for a
snack and that set her off. I was choking back tears and I was
really upset.
Why wouldn’t she get it through her head that I don’t do
drugs? She shook her head, “No. See this is why we are going to
see a doctor tomorrow.” Her hair was all over the place and she
made this nervous gesture by sweeping it away from her face.
“Mom, I don’t do drugs.” I raised my voice to make my point.
“Then why are you getting so upset?” she asked. “Because you
won’t believe me.” I was crying now. “Why should I believe
you?” I was mopping my face with the back of my hand. “Don’t
you remember? We had this talk about drugs way back in middle
school. How they are extremely bad for you and can kill you,” My
mother looked furious now. Like she was going to throw something
at me. “Please believe me.” I begged. She said fine and left
the room. I was so shaken I didn’t move for a long time, I just
sat there and cried and cried. She looked half crazy. I didn’t
know what to think. She came back into the doorway for my bedroom.
Why didn’t I think of closing the door? Her eyes were wider and
more pronounced. She looked at me and told me again that she still
thinks that I should go see a doctor and that she was setting up
an appointment in the morning. I screamed. I lost it.
Dad came to the door way and looked at me and immediately
asked me what was wrong. I pointed at my mother and choked out
nothings. Mother just shrugged and said, “I think Johannah’s
doing drugs and we should take her to the doctor in the
morning.” I tried to keep my voice as calm as possible and said,
“I don’t do drugs.” My dad understood that plain enough. He
said, “She said she doesn’t do drugs so, what’s the big
deal?”
“Well, Howard. She hasn’t been acting like her self.”
I repeated, “I don’t do drugs.”
I was hysterical now. No one was going to change her mind.
“Mary, why don’t you go to bed?” That was a great idea! Then
she can leave me alone. “No. I’m fine really. But, she
hasn’t been acting like her self lately.” Dad looked at me for
a moment. “Mary, she ate all her dinner. And she is in her room
watching her favorite show. Her grades are fine in school.
What’s so un-normal about that?” My mom tried to walk into my
room. Dad grabbed her by the arm. “What are you doing?” She
waved her hand at him. “I just want to see something.” I moved
as close as to the wall as I could get. I was crying and
hiccupping at the same time. Dad didn’t let go of her arm.
“Howard, please let go of my arm.”
“Mary, please come to bed with me. You’re overly tired
and aren’t thinking correctly.”
“I just want to see something.”
Dad pulled her away from the doorframe. And held her by the
shoulders.
“Mary go to bed.”
“Howard. I think she’s doing drugs.”
I kicked my feet so hard on the bed the bed was shaking.
“I DON’T DO DRUGS!” I screamed. I screamed it again and
again until I was having major difficulties breathing. Dad was
pushing mom away from my room. “Mary go to bed.” He said this
sternly. “Howard!” she kept saying. “Mary, go to bed.”
Finally she gave up.
I heard her walk back to her
bedroom. Dad came in and held me for a long time. I kept crying
and crying. I can’t believe she would think I was that stupid to
take drugs. The idea! And dad agreed with me. “She should have
better faith than that.” He said. I finally lied down curled up
in the fetal position of course. Dad just rubbed my back for a
little while, wound up my Precious Moments music Doll, and slowly
got up from the bed, wished me good night, and closed the door
behind him.
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