Mighty Mango #4
Art was furious at his son, Jim. He'd been sitting with the envelope from the drug testing company while he was at soccer practice with his mom. It was the second one that had come back positive and he was seeing red.
When he finally got home, the argument dragged on for what seemed like hours.
"I can't believe you're on drugs. Didn't your mom and I raise you right? Didn't we teach you what the consequences are?"
His son yelled back. "I'm not on fucking drugs, Dad! I don't care what the fucking test results say!"
"Don't you talk to me that way!"
On the couch, his mother Jane sobbed. She hadn't said a word since getting home.
"Right, Jim. I'm sure the tests are just wrong, even though we did them twice. Just admit what you did and your punishment might be less."
"No!"
Jim stormed off into his room and slammed the door. Art was even more furious at Jim because his drug episode came in the middle of his mother's sickness. Jane had maybe 6 or 7 months left to live, and now she had to deal with this on top of everything else. Art would have to deal with his son's slide into drugs even as he lost his wife of 20 years.
Jane kept crying.
"It's okay, Jane," said Art. "We'll figure something out. We'll figure out how to get him off this shit."
She just cried harder. Art couldn't bear to see her like this. The ovarian cancer was giving her unbelievable pain, and he couldn't even imagine what it felt like. He sat down on the couch next to his wife and took her hand.
"Jane."
"Jane, talk to me."
She heaved a bigger sob and finally managed a word. "Art. It's... he's..."
More tears.
"Is it something else? Jane? Do we need to take you to the hospital?" He was afraid of the question but he knew he had to ask it. Or should. There's not really an instruction manual for "husband of dying wife."
"It's me, Art."
Art just looked confused. "You? It's what? What do you need?"
She shook her head. "No, Art. The drugs. It's... I... me."
She confessed.
The pain.
It had become unbearable.
She saw a 20/20 report on medical marijuana.
She tried to smoke it but couldn't.
She baked it into cookies and hid them in a jar on top of the cabinet.
And found the cabinet empty one day.
She sobbed.
And Art sobbed too.
When he finally got home, the argument dragged on for what seemed like hours.
"I can't believe you're on drugs. Didn't your mom and I raise you right? Didn't we teach you what the consequences are?"
His son yelled back. "I'm not on fucking drugs, Dad! I don't care what the fucking test results say!"
"Don't you talk to me that way!"
On the couch, his mother Jane sobbed. She hadn't said a word since getting home.
"Right, Jim. I'm sure the tests are just wrong, even though we did them twice. Just admit what you did and your punishment might be less."
"No!"
Jim stormed off into his room and slammed the door. Art was even more furious at Jim because his drug episode came in the middle of his mother's sickness. Jane had maybe 6 or 7 months left to live, and now she had to deal with this on top of everything else. Art would have to deal with his son's slide into drugs even as he lost his wife of 20 years.
Jane kept crying.
"It's okay, Jane," said Art. "We'll figure something out. We'll figure out how to get him off this shit."
She just cried harder. Art couldn't bear to see her like this. The ovarian cancer was giving her unbelievable pain, and he couldn't even imagine what it felt like. He sat down on the couch next to his wife and took her hand.
"Jane."
"Jane, talk to me."
She heaved a bigger sob and finally managed a word. "Art. It's... he's..."
More tears.
"Is it something else? Jane? Do we need to take you to the hospital?" He was afraid of the question but he knew he had to ask it. Or should. There's not really an instruction manual for "husband of dying wife."
"It's me, Art."
Art just looked confused. "You? It's what? What do you need?"
She shook her head. "No, Art. The drugs. It's... I... me."
She confessed.
The pain.
It had become unbearable.
She saw a 20/20 report on medical marijuana.
She tried to smoke it but couldn't.
She baked it into cookies and hid them in a jar on top of the cabinet.
And found the cabinet empty one day.
She sobbed.
And Art sobbed too.
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