completed nearly a full month of rehab and then, just like that, had returned to drugs.
“At least I’m fairly sure that’s the case, although I haven’t actually asked her. But all the signs are there. She goes missing. Comes home a couple of days later. Acts like she’s got the flu or something and then gets better, and a day or two passes, and she takes off again. She was still around this morning, but I have no idea if she’ll still be there when I get home from work.”
“That’s hard.” Myrna shook her head. “And I know exactly how you feel.”
“You do?”
Myrna told me about her son, Phil. “He’s in his thirties now, and he’s stayed clean. But back when he was using…well, he put my husband and me through the wringer. It’s one of the reasons my marriage fell apart. We just couldn’t take it.”
“How did Phil get clean?”
“It was his third stint of rehab, a three-month inpatient treatment program in Colorado. It was designed for young men and included lots of hiking and outdoor things.Something about all that fresh air and sunshine worked. Phil’s been clean about seven years now.”
“That’s great. But I doubt my mom would want to do a program like that.”
“So how do you manage to get by, Maya?” Her eyes looked truly concerned. “I mean, with Shannon out using and your dad on the road, who takes care of you?”
I had to laugh at that. “Takes care of me?”
“Well, I know you’re not exactly a child, but you’re not an adult either.”
“The truth is, it feels more like I take care of Shannon.” And suddenly tears burned in my eyes. But no way did I want to start crying here. Instead, I began to angrily pour out more of my story, going into detail about how irresponsible Shannon is, how she doesn’t pay the bills regularly, how collectors call, how I’m responsible for myself. And finally I tell Myrna about my plan to be emancipated.
“Goodness, Maya, I had no idea things were so bad for you. Does your father know?”
Realization hit me then. What if Myrna informed my dad? What if he told Shannon? Oh, he wouldn’t do it to hurt me, but it would mess things up.
“I haven’t told him yet. And I don’t want to tell him…not until I have things in place. He needs to focus on his tour.”
“What kinds of things do you need to have in place?”
I told her what the social worker told me when I was thirteen. “So my plan is to save enough money to get my own place when I turn sixteen. And maybe I can get a car, and I’ll keep on working and—”
“How is that even possible? Do you realize how much it would cost to support yourself? And how will you continue to work full-time once school starts up again?”
“I do homeschool.”
“Who supervises your homeschooling?”
I shrugged. “Me.”
“Do you honestly think a social worker will agree to this?”
I frowned now. “I hope so.”
“Listen, Maya, you need a better plan.”
“I do?”
“Absolutely. And I think I have one.”
“What?” Did Myrna want to adopt me?
“Modeling.”
I let out an exasperated sigh.
“Hear me out, sweetie. Models make excellent money. And they don’t have to work the long hours you’re putting in now.”
“Really?”
“Would I lie to you?”
“Tell me more.”
So Myrna explained how she could help me get signed at an agency owned by her friend and how I would likelyhave no problem getting work. “You could probably make enough money modeling to really support yourself, and then no one would question your plans to be on your own…if that’s the way you finally decide to go.”
“I just know I can’t go on living with Shannon when she’s like that. It’s too hard. And it’s scary too.”
“But what about your dad?”
“He’s too busy for me right now.”
“You’re probably right. It’s not easy to revive a music career.”
“And I’m willing to work. I’ve been working forty-hour weeks since June.”
“Yes, but you won’t be
“At least I’m fairly sure that’s the case, although I haven’t actually asked her. But all the signs are there. She goes missing. Comes home a couple of days later. Acts like she’s got the flu or something and then gets better, and a day or two passes, and she takes off again. She was still around this morning, but I have no idea if she’ll still be there when I get home from work.”
“That’s hard.” Myrna shook her head. “And I know exactly how you feel.”
“You do?”
Myrna told me about her son, Phil. “He’s in his thirties now, and he’s stayed clean. But back when he was using…well, he put my husband and me through the wringer. It’s one of the reasons my marriage fell apart. We just couldn’t take it.”
“How did Phil get clean?”
“It was his third stint of rehab, a three-month inpatient treatment program in Colorado. It was designed for young men and included lots of hiking and outdoor things.Something about all that fresh air and sunshine worked. Phil’s been clean about seven years now.”
“That’s great. But I doubt my mom would want to do a program like that.”
“So how do you manage to get by, Maya?” Her eyes looked truly concerned. “I mean, with Shannon out using and your dad on the road, who takes care of you?”
I had to laugh at that. “Takes care of me?”
“Well, I know you’re not exactly a child, but you’re not an adult either.”
“The truth is, it feels more like I take care of Shannon.” And suddenly tears burned in my eyes. But no way did I want to start crying here. Instead, I began to angrily pour out more of my story, going into detail about how irresponsible Shannon is, how she doesn’t pay the bills regularly, how collectors call, how I’m responsible for myself. And finally I tell Myrna about my plan to be emancipated.
“Goodness, Maya, I had no idea things were so bad for you. Does your father know?”
Realization hit me then. What if Myrna informed my dad? What if he told Shannon? Oh, he wouldn’t do it to hurt me, but it would mess things up.
“I haven’t told him yet. And I don’t want to tell him…not until I have things in place. He needs to focus on his tour.”
“What kinds of things do you need to have in place?”
I told her what the social worker told me when I was thirteen. “So my plan is to save enough money to get my own place when I turn sixteen. And maybe I can get a car, and I’ll keep on working and—”
“How is that even possible? Do you realize how much it would cost to support yourself? And how will you continue to work full-time once school starts up again?”
“I do homeschool.”
“Who supervises your homeschooling?”
I shrugged. “Me.”
“Do you honestly think a social worker will agree to this?”
I frowned now. “I hope so.”
“Listen, Maya, you need a better plan.”
“I do?”
“Absolutely. And I think I have one.”
“What?” Did Myrna want to adopt me?
“Modeling.”
I let out an exasperated sigh.
“Hear me out, sweetie. Models make excellent money. And they don’t have to work the long hours you’re putting in now.”
“Really?”
“Would I lie to you?”
“Tell me more.”
So Myrna explained how she could help me get signed at an agency owned by her friend and how I would likelyhave no problem getting work. “You could probably make enough money modeling to really support yourself, and then no one would question your plans to be on your own…if that’s the way you finally decide to go.”
“I just know I can’t go on living with Shannon when she’s like that. It’s too hard. And it’s scary too.”
“But what about your dad?”
“He’s too busy for me right now.”
“You’re probably right. It’s not easy to revive a music career.”
“And I’m willing to work. I’ve been working forty-hour weeks since June.”
“Yes, but you won’t be
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