The Talk

February 28, 2012
By Anonymous

"Sit down. We need to talk..."
With those words,
my gut churns.

And I wonder what they know...
Did they find an empty bottle?
Did Drew rat me out?

My heart pounds like a shamanic drum.

Despite the fear,
I fake an innocent smile,
and when my mom softly places her hand on my knee,
in that tender way only a mother can,
the facade crumbles.

I have to tell them--everything.
I open my mouth to speak,
but before one word forms,
they hit me with an unexpected blow.

"We sent Drew away."
Shock and relief escape my chest
with every breath.

Away?
To a different high school?
To a different state?
A different country?

My parents continue to talk,
but I cannot hear them over the loud murmur of
thoughts.

I only tune in when I hear the word "Rehab"--
a place full of druggies and screw-ups.

Now my brother is one of them.

The author's comments:
Poem 7 of memoir

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