The car keys were handed back to Bella.
She would never drink and drive again, she said.
Bella was sincerely happy to be mobile again. After standing at bus stops, after walking to the hospital. We didn’t know then, what we know now–what she had missed the most?
Her illicit trips to Mr Big I Am.
My daughter’s like a butterfly, she has them tattooed on her back, she flits about a lot, is restless on the spot.
Bella only grocery shopped for the day. She did not stock her cupboards.
Her sister bumped into Bella, in a supermarket aisle, and noticed Bella’s basket, how quickly Bella covered three bottles of wine.
I told my husband about the shopping for three. ‘Lots of people drink wine in the evening,’ he replied.
‘But three bottles?’
‘They’ll go in that wine rack.’
‘No.’ I wasn’t having that. ‘She never shops for tomorrow, three bottles are for one night. I think she’s developing a habit. I’m concerned about that.’
He deep sighed.
You see, externally our daughter was managing her life. She went to work, visited us, and went out with friends. I should accept she liked a tipple, and not worry about that.
But I did.