Jaime spent two hours trying to tell us how ridiculous we were, that we were wasting her time. “The drugs belonged to my friend,” she lied.
“Just take the test, Jaime,” I said through clenched teeth. “If you’re innocent, the test will prove it.”
Coaxing and coaxing, I was beside myself with exasperation.
“Don’t bother with the test,” she dismally said. “I’m not clean.”
We said she needed to leave our home and figure out a way to get sober. Stu and I promised we would take care of Brady, who was a little over two years old at the time.
Against our advice to go into a six-month locked rehab, which she could afford with its sliding scale fee, she chose to go back to the same sober living home she failed at twice before. She feared that going into a locked facility and not being able to work; she’d lose her clients and be limited to her visits with Brady. But that would happen, anyway, if she couldn’t get clean. At least, there, she’d have a chance at sobriety.
Her plan was not promising. However, no one knows when someone decides to get sober. Maybe this was her time and we held onto our hope.