Clutching her bank statement, Bella closed the front door behind her. Left us reeling. She left Husband and me to mop up her debt.
‘Drugs,’ Husband said, ‘I’m telling you its drugs. You don’t go through that sort of money spending it on wine.’
‘It’s not drugs.’ I was adamant. I knew nothing about the epidemic of drugs in today’s society.
Sure, I knew people took drugs–hardened people who lurked in alleyways at the dark of night–people whose bed was a cardboard box–my pathetic vision of an addict.
I read the newspaper, reckless individuals took drugs, young people tragically died, taking their first ecstasy tablet. People dabbled with drugs, smoked weed, tried cocaine.
But, my daughter abused alcohol which Husband and I did not like, but drugs? No, not my daughter. She did not take drugs. Bella was not one of those people.
This I understood: alcohol consumption, many of her peers shared the habit of binge drinking, partying all night, this is what I accepted. Not our way of life, unhappy Bella lived this way, but as Husband kept telling me, ‘It’s a different generation, different to ours.’
I did not know how prevalent drug taking was in a town like ours. I had watched television, seen the characters that ‘did’ drugs, they lived in underprivileged areas. I thought drug abuse was confined to these people, with no jobs, nothing much to do. Nothing much to look forward to.
Bella dressed well, took pride in her appearance, went to work, drove a car, had a good family, came from a good home.
How naive was I.