When my daughter told me she had a drug problem, I knew I had to do something right away – that I couldn’t wait. My beautiful red headed daughter with so much promise couldn’t even tell me face-to-face. She called me on the cell phone on a Thursday night.
“Mom, I need help. I’ve got a problem – a big problem!” Megan said, her voice broken with tears. I was sitting at the kitchen table at the apartment just getting ready to eat some dinner after work.
At first it all seemed so surreal, as if it was just a dream or a fantasy, or something out of those dramatic movies – it took a few moments for it to really sink in that my daughter was asking for help, begging for help.
“I’m going to come and get you!” I shouted. “Right now. And we’ll figure out what to do. Tell me where you are.” I grabbed my purse and my keys and ran out the door and in 15 minutes, I’d jetted down Highway 85 all the way to Oakridge Mall – maybe it was because I let her hang out at that awful mall and there are bad people there – where had I gone wrong, I thought? I gave my daughter everything she had and now this? I pictured Megan lying in a gutter someplace and shook that thought from my head real quick. Do something, I thought. Do something right now.
I saw Megan standing in front of Target at Oakridge Mall, not looking any different than she did when I last saw her – yet now she seemed so different, so vulnerable somehow, as she saw me and jumped into the car.
I could tell she had been crying and she was standing with her boyfriend for the moment James. Was it him? Was he the one who gave my daughter drugs? I wanted to hate him so bad, hate anyone that would give my daughter any sort of drugs.
“James told me I should call, Mom…” Megan said because I didn’t wave back at James when he waved at me. I drove out of the driveway of Oakridge mall as fast as I could legally.
The drive back home seemed long and silent. At first, neither of us knew what to say. “I’m going to call Heidi,” I said. “You know, my friend in Washington, and I can send you up there.”
“Okay,” Megan said in a small voice, looking so broken and small crunched in the corner of the front seat, not my beautiful confident cheerleader daughter at all.
I wanted to send Megan to someplace safe – it was a matter of life and death, I thought. Yes, I’ll call Heidi. And Megan will go up to Washington to Heidi in the woods. That’s what I’ll do. She would understand. I couldn’t think of anyone else who would, except maybe my other kids.
All these thoughts and fears raced through my mind as I drove back down Highway 85 and handed Megan the cell phone. “Find Heidi’s number and call her now. She’s in my contacts.”