Today after school, like the wife of a prison inmate, I found myself purchasing and mailing cigarettes to an institution. C called to beg for them, wanted me to send to her at the rehab centre along with some earphones for her music. The director of the centre spoke to me on the phone and said she felt it was better for C to have these things to fixate on as opposed to the drugs, and I felt somewhat trapped. C also asked me, rather blithely it felt, to tell my parents that in the interest of coming clean she wanted them to know that the $4000 they gave her last month for rent, food, and clothing for the child was all spent on cocaine.
Shawn was angry, didn't want me to send the cigarettes. He sees C as a loser who acts like a child and sticks us with all her problems. And this assessment of her isn't inaccurate. It's just that he never knew her before, and he doesn't have the guilts associated with her situation that I do. He doesn't wonder if he could have been more supportive or if he could have helped her if he'd tried harder the way I do. He's not trying to rewrite the end of my sister's life.
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