I woke up at 2:45 am to yelling and screaming from outside of my house. I went downstairs and onto the front porch. A girl with dark curly hair was ranting and crying about her boyfriend cheating on her. A young man was trying to calm her down, with little success. He said, "I'll be right back," running off toward the church parking lot where there was more noise, cars starting up, merriment. She shouted, "Don't leave me alone. I can't be left alone!"
That's when I opened the screen door and walked toward her, asking if I could help. She said she was fine, swaying and reeking of vodka. I said you were just screaming, you're drunk, and you're obviously not fine. She started apologizing for waking me and I interrupted her, "I wake up every few hours anyway, I'm more concerned at the moment about your safety. Was that guy your boyfriend?"
"No," she answered, then started back on the ranting and crying, "He's in the parking lot, flirting with her."
The young man returned and put his hands on her shoulders, gently, "Come on, I just want to get you home."
"Are you the boyfriend?" I asked. He shook his head no, "Just a friend. She got too high and she just needs to be home."
"She told me she lives 45 minutes from here," I said. "Are you okay to drive her?"
He said, "She lives on the next block. She must be thinking of her dorm room at college. I'm just walking her home."
I tell her, "You probably won't remember most of this, but as a mother I have to say it: Drinking or doing drugs until you're not in control isn't safe. And ditch the boyfriend, he's not worth it either."
I watch them walk all the way down the street and turn left. Twenty minutes of my life, and I feel as if I did nothing.