Our toddler grandson with his mummy was to be in a parade for pre-school, dressed as lambs.
Laura wanted to come with me to walk along the float to take pictures, to enjoy.
Laura was two weeks out of rehab.
Early, on the carnival morning, Laura telephoned me. ‘I don’t feel well. I’m not coming with you.’
‘Why, what’s wrong?’
‘Tired, that’s all, for God’s sake, what is this?’
And there we had it, that boulder in my stomach, the silence between us. I expressed my concern, ‘I’ve got an uneasy feeling that you’ve been drinking.’
‘Am I always going to get this when I don’t feel well? Call round and see for yourself,’ she said.
Laura ended the call. I had a couple of errands to run in town. My mobile phone rang. ‘Thought you were calling to see me?’ she asked.
‘I am. I’ll be there in ten minutes.’
She ended the call, again.
I pulled my car to a stop outside her house. Laura was at the window, watching for me to arrive.
I entered her living room. Washed bedding hung over the door. ‘You don’t look well,’ I said.
‘I haven’t been drinking, I swear.’
‘Get ready and come with me. The fresh air will do you good and you were so looking forward to it.’
‘No. I’m going to chill.’
I stared at her blue-blue eyes, jet black with lies.
‘I’m allowed to relax.’ she said.
We left it at that.
addictchild 