DAVINA'S STORY, PART 2.

(Part 2.)

Following our strange meeting with Davina, the dentist’s daughter, my sister Sharona and I made future plans with this girl. She was a pill popping mess, so clearly we wouldn’t have a problem hanging out with her. Imagine meeting Amy Winehouse for a round of shots when you expected a dinner with Margaret Thatcher. That was the strange dynamic with so many of the formerly religious kids from our suppressive cult-like world of Orthodox Judaism. Most of my peers from childhood had developed into substance abusers and mental cases. I had heard for years from Davina’s mother Bertha that she was pretty much a MENSA member on the path to being our first lady president. This gave me anxiety and kept me abstaining from such a meeting. After an evening of drinks as this girl threw back Vicodin that were prescribed by her father, Sharona and I realized this was not the meeting we had come to expect. Sharona and I made future plans with Davina, feeling comfortable adding her to our lives.

We hung out a few more times with Davina, still testing the waters. Going out for drinks and having girl talk, I began to reconnect with my childhood friend. It was as if we were playing with Barbies and Polly Pockets once again. Still hesitant to talk about my love for marijuana, I kept our encounters strictly alcohol related. Davina always had a slew of prescription pills in tow, but her father the dentist had written the scripts for these, so it didn’t raise concern. In actuality, it made me more comfortable with her as she was clearly not the goody two-shoes her mother had spoken of. Eventually, my sister and I decided to extend Davina an invitation to our home.

At the time, being the TV junkies that Sharona and I still are today, we had certain Television programs in place and often had friends over to share in the viewing. My sister's favorite show of the time, which has since grown to become one of my favorite series ever, was the Showtime program 'The L Word'. The scripted cable program followed the lives of a group of young and attractive Lesbians in Los Angeles. We’re talking insanely beautiful, well-dressed, groomed, and successful lipstick lesbians touring the city. This was the furthest from my experiences with the lesbian community of Philadelphia, but the girls I knew didn’t have a production crew to put them together. I quickly connected with the show after Sharona introduced me to it and began hosting a specified viewing for the program that continued until it left the air. One Sunday, I invited Davina to our apartment to take part in the viewing party. 

At the time, Davina was dating a variety of men, but nothing seemed strange to me about including her in this weekly ritual. Sharona was not gay, yet she loved 'The L Word'. It was my sister's favorite show, so what was to say it couldn’t be every straight girl’s favorite program? ‘The L Word’ was an infectious program that glamorized beauty, lesbians, and Los Angeles. As an escape, I truly marveled in the program. Inviting Davina, I thought there seemed to be no harm in this. Davina arrived at our home with a bottle of wine and we welcomed her warmly. We had grown to become friends and I was letting my guard down. I had a water pipe - a glorious specimen of a bong - laying out on our coffee table with my weed supply close by. I was inviting Davina into our lives and enjoying this new friendship. It was encouraging to know that we still connected as friends.

Still, there was a strange disconnect with Davina, between the girl I grew up with and the woman before me. Davina wasn't as bright eyed and happy as she once was, but came across somewhat jaded and determined. Enter her love of “happy pills” and their recreational use. Something seemed to have changed over the years, but I knew I had changed as well. I have always nurtured friends who seem to be lost souls, feeling an inner need to bring them happiness. While I was getting along so well with Davina, I sensed that she was struggling internally. By mannerisms alone, I saw something hurting inside her and the nurturer in me wanted to help. I allowed myself to open up to her and I liked her for a feeling of nostalgia. This was a friendship deeper rooted than the new ones I had acquired since leaving home. I was somehow changing the dynamic with a child from my town. As it was very deep rooted and unsettling to open myself up to another kid from my community, this marked a new step for me. Because I was cast out so unfairly as a child, I was always somewhat untrusting of the children I grew up with. Additionally, like I mentioned in Part 1 of this post, I feared certain details making way back to my parents. I was still very much a child at heart and was horribly fearful of damning judgment from my parents. And I felt as if Davina trusted and liked me, which made it more necessary for me to bridge this friendship. Because I felt she trusted me, I continued into this friendship feeling it was going to be a two-way street.

Coming over for a night of lesbian TV, we didn’t curb our home for Davina. I had my water bong out in plain-view and the house had a certain fog of marijuana circulating. Walking into our home, Davina made no mention of the pipe, other than to remark on its beautiful hand-crafted glass-blown details. I let out a sigh and corked the bottle of wine she had brought. We enjoyed the evening and Davina was quickly engulfed in the program, along with my sister and I. Following this evening, we began to have Davina over every Sunday for 'The L Word' viewing parties, sometimes with other friends and sometimes just the three of us. Sharona began her own friendship with Davina, going bar-hopping and to Jewish events in hopes of finding each other men, respectively. Davina began tagging along with me as I frequented gay bars in Philly. She became the perfect "fruit fly" to accompany my drunken evenings. Davina had really developed into a gorgeous woman at this point. She was tall, thin, and athletic, with curves in all the right places, and had a gorgeous mug. That was another funny "change" about Davina. Years prior, she had undergone two different surgeries to fix the appearance of her nose. This was pressured by her mother Bertha, of course, wanting her daughter to be prettier than she felt she already was.

Prior to reconnecting, I had heard rumors that the most recent nose was unflattering and uncomfortable to view. I had been anxious to see the results in our first meeting at the 'Irish Pub'. The reason I didn't make much mention of it earlier was that her popping the Vicodin freely within the first ten minutes of meeting was far more memorable than her new nose. Honestly, though, Davina was still a striking girl with a gorgeous face. This does shed more light on Bertha's constant pressure over her daughter to improve upon herself, seeing as she was fine before the two procedures. As we grew closer, I was given a deeper glimpse into Davina's life and Bertha only became more of a monster to me. Something about me and Sharona really accessed a certain place in Davina. With time, she became more and more trusting of us and explained that she felt like she was in a non-pressured environment when at our home. As she began to open up more and more, one thing kind of slipped out.

Davina had more in common with 'The L Word' than my sister or myself. It started slowly, but grew into an admission of love. Finally came her admission: Davina loved women and always had. She wasn't ready to fully submerge herself in the life and the culture, but she wanted to meet a girl and see where it went. When Davina was with me, I implored her to feel comfortable and open. She began obsessing with 'The L Word' alongside Sharona and I. Davina began talking openly about what she wanted in a woman and continued to attend gay bars with me, but no longer as my straight girlfriend tagging along. Sharona even accompanied Davina to 'Sisters Nightclub', a lesbian bar in the Philly Gay-borhood. We accepted Davina fully and our friendship had grown. I felt proud and happy that I was able to help another member of the fold. By member of the fold, I am referring to a fellow gay. This was a combining ingredient that we both shared. I began to understand Davina's struggle even more. Not to be stereotypical, but Davina exhibited a lot of gender placement issues that a lot of gay children do. I know I did. Davina was an athletic tomboy that seemed to make better friends with boys than girls as a child. Her mother, Bertha, was never accepting of this and spent her entire childhood challenging her innate personality and desires. As an adult, Bertha continued to push Davina with different pressures that included an eating disorder and multiple experiences under the knife. Davina's struggles were so easily relatable to me that I only wanted to be her biggest cheerleader.

As our friendship grew, Davina became enthralled with the world of partying. I go through "fits" or "phases" where I can go out a lot, but first and foremost, I'm a homebody type of introvert. Preferring my "me time" at home, I’m not an avid partier. It's one of the reasons I have had such a love of marijuana over the years: it keeps me out of trouble and planted on the couch. During the beginning of our reconnecting friendship, I went out a lot with Davina. Our relationship was new and exciting and I had the opportunity to introduce her to a brand new world. I was glee-filled to be part of her coming-out process. That being said, I've always been an old man at heart and I had already spent years partying. I no longer wanted to go out every night. This was my time to start settling down and reigning it back a bit. Davina was not looking to slow down; not one bit.

I had introduced Davina to my friend Chester one night, while out at 'Bump', a bar in the gay-borhood. The venue - 'Bump' - was a regular spot for me when I went out and very much known throughout the Philly gay scene as a coke bar. There was limited security and easy access to bathroom stalls with maximum capacity of three to four people. I often went there to drink, but if I wanted cocaine, that was the bar to be at.  

All it took was a glance around the room before you spotted at least one drug dealer. From there, it was just a short trip to the back corner of the bar for an ATM machine. With cash in hand, you would go meet your dealer and exchange a few bucks for a baggie filled with white powder. Bag in hand, you would collect your friends and head to the restroom, where you snort some powder together in the stall. A key to the nose with a mound of white powder on top, then a quick snorted inhale brings you to a whole new place. The venue definitely delivered on its promise.

Now, while I knew that an evening with cocaine or "Conny" as she's called on the streets could be an inevitability in a place like 'Bump', it was also a fashionable, posh nightclub in the Philly Gay-borhood. I could easily go there for a night of drinking and that is just what Davina and I planned on for our evening. We wanted a night of drinking, debauchery, and model scouting. It was a harmless evening of fun as I would agree to once a week or so with Davina, at that time. A couple drinks into our evening, Chester showed up at the bar alone. Chester was a gay friend of mine who had grown up in a neighboring town within South Jersey. We hadn't known each other growing up, but had met years since coming out. Chester and I had unresolved sexual tension that had manifested into a snarky flirtation over the years. We would hang out sporadically, but there was often heavy partying involved. Chester had been nicknamed "Scarface" among friends for his insatiable love of cocaine. I have never had a problem with coke, so it never seemed problematic. That being said, I knew that if I committed to an evening with Chester, such things were inevitable. He wasn't nick-named "Scarface" for nothing. Still, we hung out sporadically and I could easily be friendly in public without engaging in drugs.

Davina, up until this point, seemed innocent when it came to drugs. She may have enjoyed her fair share of prescriptions (Vicodin was only one of so many prescriptions she had acquired, admittedly by her father), but she never engaged in smoking pot with me and Sharona and never spoke of other drugs. My assumption was that she was innocent of such things. I did not want to corrupt her. Seeing as I could go out for an evening with coke and be fine another six months without it, I didn’t want to bring Davina into this world. What if she couldn’t handle it? Or worse, what if she loved it too much? Chester and Davina instantly hit it off at the bar and had a good time conversing that evening. At one point, Chester got a call from a friend and left to go blow lines. Davina did not know this was his reason for leaving, but kept raving about him late into the night. I warned her that he may not be the person she wants to hang out with. Explaining that he was more of an acquaintance, I urged Davina to keep him at arm’s length. I knew that Davina was still going through her "coming out" process and was highly vulnerable to drugs. Watching many around me succumb to drug abuse within the gay community during the coming out process, I was fearful Davina may fall into this. I did not want to see her demise, not having known whether or not she could be a recreational user like myself or turn into an addict. Obvious to me, it was clear that she had unresolved issues with her parents and hadn't fully come out yet, so I felt I had to protect her. Davina promised she would keep distance from Chester.

As the weeks went on, I continued to decline Davina’s constant invitations to Happy Hour and evenings at the bars. I wasn't looking to go out every night, but Davina was not of the same mind. She was completely submerged in the partying lifestyle. In response to my lack of availability, Davina began hanging out with Chester. While I had hoped she would not get into drugs, I also knew that she was a grown adult, able to make her own choices. It wasn't my place to tell her how to live her life, but I was hopeful she would make good choice. Within no time at all, Davina began to grow close with Chester and his two best girlfriends. Erin and Julie – two gorgeous straight girls – spent a lot of time with Chester and now they were with Davina as well. I understood the draw to Davina. Many lesbians that I knew at the time, along with today, have a strong predilection for the company of straight girls. Add a hot straight girl to the mix and they have no restraint. It is most equivalent to the ultimate challenge. “Can I change her?” Or better yet, “How long will it take to seduce her?” The four of them would bar-hop frequently and I was constantly turning down invitations to spend time with their group. All four of them were going out very frequently. Close to every night they found themselves at ‘Bump’. I was far more concerned with work and my TV schedule to be bothered with that.     

One specific Saturday night, I agreed to go out with the four of them. I remember it like it was yesterday. Arriving at 'Bump' by myself, I came to meet Davina and her new crew post-dinner. They had been drinking since earlier in the afternoon and were continuing to usher liquor into the evening. I hadn't eaten much that day and by my second cocktail, I was pretty drunk. There were two possibilities for course of action in this scenario. Option one, I would go home and pass out. The second option entailed me finding coke to sober myself up. I was somewhat above the partying nature of life at the time, but I wasn’t completely resolved from it. The thing about cocaine is that while you are drinking, the combination often makes you feel more lucid and aware. Not sober, but the closest thing to it. It ensures a night full of drinking without overly sloppy behavior. As I sat at a booth in the back corner of this bar, Chester turned to me and said: "Want some yay?" "Yay" or "Yayo" is a slang term often associated with cocaine. My gut response at the time: "Yes to Yay." As Chester rose from his seat, I followed closely behind him. I had been pretty drunk, so I didn't really notice the rest of the party. As we filed into the handicapped bathroom stall, Chester pulled out a key and his baggie and shoved that bump right under my nose. As I snorted my instant fix, I became slightly more coherent. Looking around the bathroom stall, I noticed Erin, Julie, and Davina. Was this what she was doing with Chester all those nights they went out? Had I introduced her to this life? I became overwhelmed with guilt, taking personal responsibility for her involvement. I rushed to Davina's side and asked her if she was okay. She told me to "loosen up" as she took a key bump to the nose.

The night continued in the same fashion. The five of us would drink profusely at our corner booth and take frequent trips to the bathroom every twenty to thirty minutes in order to enjoy a little more Cuban export. There came a time where I felt finished with the evening and bid my adieu to the entire party involved. Davina stayed with her group. That was one of the last evenings we spent together as friends.

Later that evening, after I had left, Davina and Julie began flirting intensely. This is by Davina's account as I was not there. As their evening began to come to a close, Davina and Julie stayed at the bar, while Erin and Chester left for the night. Davina and Julie partied well past closing, when the lights come on. They packed into Davina's car and headed to Julie's house. As they approached Julie's apartment building, Davina parked the car. All of a sudden, Julie pounced on Davina. They began kissing profusely with lots of passion. Again, this was by Davina's account, because I imagine it to have been a sloppy, messy kiss at "last call". From that moment on, Davina became obsessed with Julie. She would call me all throughout the day and profess her love, explaining that they were intended for one another. I heard a very different story when I spoke to Chester. From his and Julie’s accounts, it was a playful kiss between two friends, and therefore I questioned Davina. She had never fallen for a straight girl, at least not this openly. I have seen with experience that many times when a straight girl is drunk, they are more than welcome to share a kiss with anything in sight. This is not a blanket statement for all straight women, just many that I've known. What Julie had told Chester was that she had been blackout drunk and shared a sloppy exchange of saliva. That was it; plain and simple.

Davina saw it far differently and began stalking Julie. She would drive to her work during the day and stare at her office from the parking lot. Davina would frequent any place that she knew Julie would go from her grocery store to the Yoga studio she attended. As a friend, it made me worried for Davina. I knew she was heading down a bad road, but she wasn't open to outside opinions. It was rather manic of her, but I didn't realize it at the time. This was her first taste of lesbian love, but it was very one-sided. I just thought it was a little straight girl lust and that she had misinterpreted this girl's actions for feelings. As Davina grew more frantic with her obsession, both Sharona and I pulled away. She was only looking to party and chase this girl and nothing good was coming from our friendship at that time. I assumed I would be there when her heart was broken to help build her back up. Warning Davina about Chester was not enough to keep her from going down a bad path. I know this now, but if someone’s looking for trouble, they generally find it. There didn’t seem to be a way to care for Davina in the way a friend would. She was going down her own chosen path to destruction and I became a bit of a nagging mother type, always trying to help her make better choices. Our distance became somewhat two-sided as Davina grew tired of my opinions.

Then one evening I received a call from Davina, late into the night. It was one or two in the morning and Davina was livid. "Julie and I got into a fight. She hit me." What? How could this have happened? What the fuck happened? Davina went on to explain – in quite the manic rant – that she and Julie had experienced their first lover's quarrel. It escalated quickly and ended with Davina falling down a flight of stairs by Julie’s push. I pleaded with Davina: "Take this as a break up. Things should never resort to violence. You're hurt and sad. This is not a healthy relationship." But, Davina was just angry. She was still in love with Julie and just wanted to vent.

 The following morning I received a phone call from Chester with the real story. It seems that Julie and Erin had thrown a party. The two were roommates and it was more Erin's party than anything else. Chester and Davina were among a group of people invited. No one involved in their group knew of Davina's stalking ways at the time. There were fifteen to twenty people there, including a guy that Julie had a massive crush on. About an hour into the evening, Julie wasn't feeling very well and had work in the morning. She excused herself so that she could retire to bed for the evening. A few moments after she left the room, Davina followed her in. This was something that the entire party had viewed, including the boy Julie was interested in. This was Julie's last straw. While she didn't know of Davina's stalker ways entirely, she was spending far too much time with her and sensing a strange vibe. Almost instantly upon Davina's entry into the bedroom, Julie began to lash out at her, screaming loud enough for everyone to hear: "I am not a lesbian! I like dick. You're psychotic! Get out of my room!" To make matters worse, Davina was heard pleading with Julie: "You love me. We're in love! Don't do this to US." Julie began to wrestle Davina in an attempt to force her immediate exit. As they fought, Davina would not succumb. In the end, Davina was thrown down a flight of stairs from their two-story walk up apartment.

When the morning approached, Davina went to her doctor and found that she had broken her arm. Despite all of this, Davina still stuck to her story that she and Julie were in love and continued to stalk her. I realized that while I couldn't make sense of the whole story, I was not assisting it either. No longer could I stand by and watch my friend go down such a downward spiral. I didn’t know how to get her help. Her own family was very much part of where her pain originated, so a call home to Bertha or Dr. Rosenthal couldn’t amount to anything. It became apparent to me that I would need an indefinite amount of space from Davina. Unable to help her situation, I couldn't be a part of it either. A few months went by and Davina began to fade from my life. I felt horrible guilt and sadness for having to turn my back, but I didn't know what I could do. Feeling like we were both adults, it was Davina's choice whether or not to reach out to her parents. I was not going to make that decision for her, given where she came from. Her father was a man that still instills fear in me up until this day from his abusive nature in the dental office. I can't imagine how hard it was for her.

I wasn't judging Davina or finding fault with her actions. We were just in different places and I wasn't a positive influence for her. Time continued to carry on with a deeper divide. It had been months since myself or Sharona had spoken with Davina. Chester was more of an acquaintance and I wasn’t going out much myself, so it was easy not to hear from him either. Then, one day, Bertha called my mother. Davina had flown to Israel on a whim, amidst a lot of manic behavior. She was staying with a family we had grown up with in Cherry Hill, who had since moved to Israel. It seems she was speaking erratically while stationed with this family, explaining that she was going to travel to Egypt, Jordan, and many other places throughout the Middle East that were unfriendly to Jews. Not only that, but Davina claimed she had met "the one", referring to an Israeli soldier she had known from years prior. The soldier in question was a man. I knew already that this was crazy talk because Davina was a lesbian. I didn't share this with her parents at that time. Davina planned to marry this soldier and travel to these deathly places of war. The family she was staying with forbid Davina from leaving for such forbidden territories.

As a result, Davina formulated a story that the patriarch of this family that was showing her such hospitality had raped her. Not to minimize the story, but Davina was not in a clear state of mind at the moment. The family reported to Bertha that Davina seemed high and uncontrollable, clearly on some form of drug. Davina was scaring this family's young children telling them that their father had raped her. It was highly inappropriate and someone needed to come get Davina.

Bertha confided this all in my mother, asking both me and Sharona for added support. We had already stopped hanging out with Davina and didn't have a lot of input to assist the situation. Bertha, always concerned with the outside appearance and opinion of her peers, sought my mother's assistance as an outsider of the community, afraid to share anything occurring with those closest to her. It was strange that my mother was present for such a serious family emergency. My mother and Bertha were never great friends, so it just appeared very odd to all of us. Bertha had reached out to Davina and she had no interest coming home. A plan was devised in collaboration with my mother and Davina's parents. They would inform Davina that her father, Dr. Rosenthal, had a heart attack and was now lying in a hospital bed on life support. It was a sick and twisted lie, but the only thing they could think of to persuade Davina to return home. Davina's initial reaction proved her inability to process information correctly at the time. "Who cares? He'll be okay." This was shocking to all of us and the only thing Bertha could do was insist Davina come home as it may be her last chance to see her own father.

Davina was on a flight back to the states, arriving at the Newark International Airport. The plan of attack was as follows: My mother and Bertha would drive to the airport together and collect Davina. Sharona and I would come in from Philadelphia for the evening and be present for an intervention along with Dr. Rosenthal and her brother Seth, who had traveled home from college. I did not know how Sharona and I got pulled into this intervention. We were young and unprepared for this. It was the last place on earth that I wanted to be and I know Sharona felt similarly. The truth is that I also felt a certain sense of responsibility in the situation. I couldn't feel any other way. Having cared for this girl when her parents wouldn’t, I saw the pain and demons she was battling with. Overwhelmed with a sense of Jewish guilt, I couldn’t help but feel responsible for not reaching out to help her. I didn't know where to go. Out of a sense of obligation and my mother's declaration for my mandatory presence, I agreed to attend. Somehow Sharona and I had been talked into being present for an intervention. We didn’t know what was to come…

Bertha and my mother arrived at the airport and picked up Davina. My sister and I began receiving text messages from my mother informing us of Davina's state of mind. Davina was talking in crazy rants and didn't seem to be sober. On the drive back to Cherry Hill, the three of them had stopped at a restaurant for a small bite. It was meant in an attempt to calm Davina down and prolong the fearful intervention start time. My mother called my sister and I from the bathroom at the restaurant. "Davina's high out of her mind. Her eyes are rolling in the back of her head and she's not making any sense. I'm sorry you're both going to have to be present for this. I don't know how we got involved." This only bred more anxiety for myself and Sharona. We were eating dinner with my father at my parents' home in Cherry Hill, waiting for our cue to head over to the Rosenthals. After my mother called from the bathroom, we all agreed it was time to head over.

As we walked up to the Rosenthal's home, I realized that I hadn't been inside the house since I was a young child. Sure, I was in their converted garage/dental space, but it had a separate entrance and I hadn't been offered entry to their home in years. I remembered a home filled with lavish decorations and fun. As a child, I was always envious of their wealth as well as their home when I was younger. As I walked in the home on this evening, as a grown adult, I saw something completely different. The rooms seemed dark with an unhealthy feeling of loneliness and desperation. The house seemed unused and no longer updated with that modern feel of so many years ago. There was a stale taste in the air and it made me feel more anxious and uncomfortable for what was yet to pass. Sharona and I sat in silence for a half hour or so with Dr. Rosenthal and Seth. All I wanted was to be home and comfortable in front of the TV, preferably stoned. This was not my definition of a fun night; quite the contrary. After a bit of stale moments in the Rosenthal home, we received a text message from my mother informing us that they were approaching the house. Sharona and I came outside, while Dr. Rosenthal and his son stayed within the confines of their home.

Sharona and I sat on the porch chairs out front of the Rosenthal home and waited for the car to approach. As a van pulled up to the driveway, we could hear screaming from a distance away. The side door swung open and Davina threw herself to the cement pavement, screaming: "You fucking bitch! You lied to me!" Davina was yelling at her mother repeatedly. Minutes before their return home, Bertha informed Davina that her father was no longer in the hospital as it became evident they were not approaching a health care facility. Davina became enraged, feeling manipulated and lied to, possibly triggering childhood issues. My mother seemed to represent a sense of calm to Davina and she aligned herself with her in the car. Once they returned home and Davina threw herself towards the pavement, my mother instantly grabbed Sharona and I, begging for our assistance.

Davina ran over to a patch of grass on their front lawn and became positioned in a rocking style with her legs crossed, seemingly incoherent. Her eyes were rolling towards the back of her head and nothing that she was saying made any clear sense. "I found my man and my parents took him away from me!" To which, I responded: "But, Davina, you're gay. Right?" Davina couldn't address my statement, clearly out of her mind. Instead she continued to harp on the idea that she was robbed of her freedoms and ability to marry by being drug home. She didn't address her allegations of rape or erratic behavior, but focused on her anger towards her parents. While she was not speaking coherently, it still became obvious that her disdain for both parents was well-warranted. There was half a pack of Parliament Lights seated in the grass next to Davina, providing her with the nicotine sticks that she was manically chain-smoking. I was pretty traumatized at the moment as I had never seen someone like this before me. There was no clear direction as to what she may or may not have ingested – drug wise – but Davina was out of her mind. As she rocked back and forth on the grass, smoking cigarettes, her eyes could not focus. She was like a possessed creature, something right out of the Exorcist. I was scared and nervous, waiting for her head to spin and spit out green bile. Everything about this scenario seemed jaw-dropping and strange. I had never known Davina to be like this, let alone smoking cigarettes. Sharona and I both smoked at the time, but not Davina. Had it been that long since we spent time with her last? She seemed like a completely different person. She was incoherent, angry, and most obviously acting crazy. She kept informing Sharona and I of her plans to go back to the Middle East before the close of the week. This was not a lucid person.

            

Ironically enough, as we sat there watching Davina chain-smoke and go crazy as a result of her overbearing parents, I never saw the parallels. True, Davina did not feel comfortable coming clean with her parents, but here my sister and I could not even smoke a cigarette. My parents knew we both smoked for years now, but it was looked down upon and we were shamed into doing it in secret. It was not a secret however, and like so many other things, I had to keep it out of my parents' sight. This was one of many things I had to curb for my parents. I see now the extreme parallels, but not at the time.

After an hour or so, we coerced Davina to enter the house. Leading Davina into the house, she found her father seated in his Lazy-Boy recliner. She instantly became enraged, realizing that her father had never been sick. As she began to protest, Bertha informed her that she was in a place of love and support. The truth is that despite my family's hesitation, we were all under the impression that this was an intervention founded on love and warmth. Davina had flown off the wall and needed to be reined in. Prior to the intervention, I shared certain details with Bertha regarding Davina's life and her story with Julie, believing her mother just wanted what was best for her. Isn't that what all mothers want? Or, at least, isn't that what all mothers should want?

            Boy was I wrong… The intervention to follow was one of the single most uncomfortable experiences of my life. Wait for part 3 of this sordid story, where you will see a mother’s love is not always what’s best. At least not in Davina’s case. Stay tuned…

Xoxo.

R.