I stood at the doorway staring down at her, wondering what I could do,how I could help my mother escape the gray, swollen mass bulking outthe sofa. Ev...n now, I ask myself if there was anything I could havedone, any words I could have said; something that might have broughther back from her self-constructed purgatory. But I was a child, barelythree months past my ninth birthday. What could I have done?She stirred on the couch, grunting under her breath and fluttering hereyelids. I backed quietly. .”She leaned in against me again and I held her as she sobbed her heart out. She missed them? Who ‘them’? The drugs ... or her parents?“Tell me about them,” I suggested.She sniffed. “Mum told me they met on a dig while they were students. Mum was studying history, and Dad was going for a degree in anthropology. They both went for summer work in archaeology. Mum graduated and went into teaching and Dad got his doctorate. When I was old enough they took me all over; Greece, Egypt, Jordan,. More

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