They kind of knew each other. They all had a 3:00 standing at the same nail salon. Sandi and Barb were getting their manicures. Karen had her jeans rolled up to the knees and was soaking at the pedicure station.
Talk turned to Whitney Houston’s recent death. They all agreed: it was so sad. “I feel sorriest for Whitney’s mother” Sandi said. “No, it’s probably a bigger heartache for Whitney’s daughter” Barb replied. Karen joined in from her pedi perch, “Maybe not, it can’t have been easy having Whitney has your Mom. Hopefully she is relieved knowing her Mommy is finally at peace.”
Sandi told the women about her friend’s daughter who is so messed up on drugs that her teeth are rotten. The children shuttle back and forth between grandma and mom, depending on the daughter’s state of addiction. “It’s heartbreaking. I was at her wedding twelve years ago. She was loving, smart and straight.” You figure once your grown kids settle down, the worst is over. But here it is years later and Sandi has watched her friend’s daughter turn from beautiful bride to hideous monster.
Whitney talk turned personal, from L.A. celebrity gossip to news of someone’s near and dearest gone bad. Karen wanted to know if the girl was “one of their own.” She poked cautiously around the question, “Is this a girl who lives around here?” Sandi gave her the answer she wanted to hear. “No, this is a work friend who lives across town.” Phew. Far away— their little suburban fortress remains untouched.
We’re all God’s children, the scholars and the junkies. Rest in peace Whitney Houston. May the demons you left behind, leave our children alone. And let us see the day when there is an end to the evils of addiction.
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