I didn't expect to hear those words come out of my mom and dad's mouths. "You're sister is a prostitute and a drug addict, " my father told me over the phone that day. The day my world started to unravel. Everyone's world was unravelling.
I had been away for the the last two years, wandering the planet, moving to different cities to find something I could never quite find. He seemed to say these words oh so casually, they just rolled off his tongue, like he was telling me something much simpler, and less LOADED, like, "Honey, I bought some red socks today. What do you think about that?!"
I laughed. He was joking of course. My sister is the smartest woman I have ever met. She's not a prostitute. She's not a drug addict.
"She is honey. She really is. Can you please come home as soon as possible?" He asked. I could tell he didn't even want to ask me that. I was a a world away from them, in South East Asia.
"Of course Dad. I'll be on the next flight out of here. I'll call you when I'm at the airport so you can pick me up okay? And try not to worry. Do you know where she is?"
"I haven't a clue,"he sobbed.
I hung up the phone and raced to the airport.
Twenty four of the longest, most stretched and uncomfortable hours of my life later, I was sitting across the kitchen table from my parents. I was extremely jet lagged, and I almost felt drunk. They were harldy making sense to me.
My sister's boyfriend told them what was going on. She was doing any drug she could get her hands on. And how was she paying for this new, very expensive habit?
"She's prostituting downtown, "Jamie answered simply.
Did I mention that my sister and Jamie are parents?