A World Without Music: Regressing

“This is not a morgue,” argued Tammy, reluctant to settle for silence. “I won’t live in a world without music. I love my music!”

“Tammy!” hollered her mother, angrily. “Turn it off!”

“Your music is too loud,” explained her grandmother. “It gives her a headache.”

“If she would get off the marijuana, she would feel better,” thought Tammy. She was not about to give in to her mother’s demands. “I wonder if Grandma knows what she is doing to herself.”

“Your mother is sick.”

“She is always sick,” replied Tammy, on the verge of tears.

“There is a horrible, nauseating, 'dirty runner' smell.”

Tammy’s grandmother had smelled it before when she came over, and suspected it was Tammy’s gym shoes. Tammy told her that her runners were always in her locker at school. 

Tammy knew the smell of old marijuana. Most teenagers did, but were embarrassed to talk about it. Her friends refused to hang around with anyone who smoked marijuana. What was she to do when it was her mother?

Tammy’s mother used every spray she had to eliminate the marijuana odor, but Tammy could smell it when she walked into the house after school.

“Grandma, some teens have to take over the role of responsible parent, right?”

“You are so right, my dear.”

“Sometimes, grandmas have to treat grown up daughters like wayward teenagers.”

“Are you trying to tell me something, dear?”

“Grandma, you may not believe me, but mom is hooked on marijuana. That is what you smell.”

Tammy’s grandmother could not believe what Tammy was telling her, but knew it was true.

“Your mother used marijuana when she was a teenager, until I caught her, that is,” replied her grandmother. 

“Don’t tell me that she is into it again, at her age. She is regressing.”

“I don’t have to tell you, Grandma,” replied Tammy. “You know.”  

“I had forgotten. You are right. This is not a morgue, so play your music, dear. Do you have a set of ear phones?”