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Donal and I lay in the backseat while Liam drove us away. I watched the stars go by out the back window.
Imagine your drug addicted father throwing you into the backseat of the car. No regards to your well being. This broke my heart.
Mama and Liam snorted meth off the kitchen table, where it left dust under the metal edge that was so hard to keep clean.
At this point in the story Wavy was TWELVE. Can you imagine knowing so much about drugs at the age of 12 that you know it’ll be hard to clean up?
“Be careful. Don’t do what I did and get knocked up, because then you’ll be stuck. Baby, are you listening?”
Talking to your child as if they are the problem. This woman was “stuck” because of the child she was speaking to. I can’t imagine growing up and feeling like I was the reason for my mom’s downfalls or addiction or reason she “couldn’t leave”. This angered me.
Every letter she’d sent to Kellen, all returned from the prison marked UNAUTHORIZED CORRESPONDENCE.
She couldn’t write to the person she loved (yes inappropriate, but she had no one).
Wavy’s sophomore year, her last letter to him came back stamped: NOT AT THIS ADDRESS. NO FORWARDING ORDER.
She couldn’t write to the brother who also got ripped away from her. It’s amazing she survived this heartbreak.
Donal and Kellen were all she cared about, and they’d both been taken away from her.
