Garrett walked back-in and handed me the coffee and then set his coffee up on the edge of the desk. “He smokes pot.” I blurted out. Garrett, said nothing but the wrinkles in his forehead and the way he looked at me I knew he heard me. “And every time I found a bag of weed, he promised me it was his last.” And then in a moment of faultless epiphany, I realize this stranger was the first person I had ever told. Something inside of me realized just then and now how hard his pot smoking had influenced our lives.
“Go on,” said Garrett. “I remember when our daughter was five. I had won the election as chairperson of the pre-school board. I could hardly wait to come home and tell him, but he never heard me. He was so busy yelling at me that our best friend and his wife and kids that we saw at least once a week- were no longer going to come over to our house. And that we were no longer welcome to come over to their house because of your hang-up about Pot. You lecture everyone and now we have lost our best friends.”
I told him that Cathy does not smoke. Just Mike and she hates it as much as me. My husband just said, “Yeah, well Mike is the man of the family and he has cut all ties with us because your are influencing Cathy.”
“I was really, really angry then and shouted back that we have small children. Are you kidding me! You’re not a fucking teenager anymore grow up Nick.”
“And oh, you know, Garrett. When I got angry he would beg for forgiveness because he was afraid that I would leave him.”
We stayed up all night and Nick agreed. He had to get his health back. And he did. He joined a Karate class and it was not much longer than he quit cigarettes and no more Pot. We never did see Cathy and Mike again.