no, I know—he’ll be generous.
Homework, baths, then bed!
Spoken like a true dad.
We help the girls with their
assignments, hustle them off
to the tub and sweet dreams.
I even read them a bedtime story.
Once they’ve dozed off, Brad
knocks on my door. In the mood?
I know he means for a couple
of tokes, but something else
creeps into my warped brain.
“I’m always in the mood.”
He smiles, and shows off his new
stash, as good as or better than the last.
I’ve been thinking things
through for a while. After
several very smooth hits,
I say, “You know I’m tight
on cash. I was hoping maybe
I could off a little for you, in
exchange for some personal.”
His response is long, slow.
Do you know people who you
can trust? I mean, you’ve been
out of the loop for a while now,
and I have to be very careful.
He is very careful, has to be because
of his kids, and I understand that.
“Yeah, I know a couple of guys
who’d go ballistic if they saw
meth of this quality. Don’t worry.
I’d keep you my bestest secret.”
He grins. I trust you, Kristina.
I just want you to be careful too.
You’re the best nanny in Reno.
I can’t imagine being without you.
We share a couple more bowls,
then he stands, kisses me on the cheek.
Better go. My mind is going places
it shouldn’t. See you in the morning.
The door snaps shut behind him.
My mind is going places
it shouldn’t too. I call Trey,
before my body follows.
The Downside
About counting on someone else
to help you do the right thing
is they’re not always available.
In Trey’s case, that’s often.
The downside of smoking ice
is when you can’t get hold of
someone, sometimes you get mad.
In my case, that’s tonight.
As usual, I get Trey’s message center.
Tonight, I need to hear his voice,
live in my ear. Where are you, damn
it all? Can’t you just once pick up?
Buzzed, antsy, I try TV for company.
But late-night tripe won’t backfill
the gaping hole inside me. The longer
I sit here, the more cavernous it grows.
I go into the bathroom, turn on the
shower, hot enough to redden my
skin, scrub away the building desire
in a release of sandalwood steam.
No such luck. All it does is remind
me of sharing this small, encapsulated
place with the person I love, the one who’s
supposed to love me, but doesn’t call.
I brush my teeth with the same energy
I used on my body, notice a streak of blood
in the spit that spirals down the drain.
No worries. That’s normal, right?
Cleansed, scented, hair wet and cool
down the length of my spine, I feel like
a goddess, jailed in her Olympus. Little
wonder, how the gods toyed with humans.
Toyed with women, to watch
them squirm, pollinate the seeds
of despair; toyed with men, to
satiate their Seven Deadly Sins.
I know it’s not right, that I have
no right at all to do what I’m about
to do. Maybe he’ll say no, send me
back here to swim in emptiness.
Wearing Nothing
But a thigh-length button-up shirt,
barely buttoned, I creep down the hall.
Stop outside the girls’ door, poke
my head inside. Lights out. Totally.
One step at a time, silent as night,
I keep going until I reach Brad’s room.
One ear to the door. Not a sound.
I knock softly and he says, Come in.
He’s lying in bed, alone in the dark,
only moonlight to let me know.
I hesitate, but Bree gives me a shove.
[Go on. It’s only between the two of us.]
Brad draws back the quilt and I slither
beneath it, into his arms. I was hoping
you’d come. Now he’s kissing me, and
it’s nothing like how Trey kisses at all.
But it’s good. Great. And his strength
becomes mine. But before we do
more, I have to tell him, “I know
this isn’t right, but I need you.”
And he says, We need each other.
How can that be wrong? I still love
Angela, and I know you love Trey.
Can’t you and I love each other too?
I haven’t thought past loving Trey,
never considered loving someone else,
especially not at the same time.
Can I love more than one person?
Would that make me love Trey less?
I have no answers now, need no
answers now. Except one.
“Are you saying you love me?”
He Doesn’t Answer
Not with words, as if
vocalizing his response
would give it too much
weight. His silent reply
is heavy enough.
Silent, but for the shush
of skin against skin;
the sigh of heightened
senses; the exclamation
of bodies, no longer
strangers.
The Problem with Sex
Is that it changes everything.
Brad and I are still friends.
But we’re a different kind
of friends. More than pals.
More, even, than fuck buddies.
It’s like we’re stand-ins
for the true loves of our lives.
And the only way to be that
is to let ourselves love
each other.
When you love someone,
you don’t want to hurt
them, even if they deserve
to be hurt. When you love
someone, you want to hurt
them, even when they don’t
deserve to be hurt. It’s totally
messed up, and so are Brad
and I. Totally messed up
because of—and over—
each other.
We don’t talk about the future.
Don’t talk about what will
happen when Trey comes
back, or if Angela decides
her husband and children
mean something to her,
after all. We’re taking things
one day at a time. One night
at a time.
The Problem with Meth
Is similar. It changes
everything. The monster
and I are still friends.
But we’re a different
kind of friends. More
than pals, fuck buddies.
Six months since we met up
again, we are inseparable,
an intricate weave.
No longer do I believe
this is a temporary fling.
More like total commitment.
More like I have walked
down the aisle, holding
hands with the monster.
I don’t think about the future,
or wha
t life would be like
without crystal. It’s almost
always here, within easy
reach. I don’t think about
what it might be doing to
my brain, or my heart.
I know people die from doing
too much. But I’m in control.
Okay, mostly in control.
I am thin. But that’s how
guys want girls to be, right?
I do grind my teeth, and
every now and then I lose
a chip from one. But those
can be fixed, right? Probably
the worst thing is how I’m
kind of edgy. Sometimes
I lose it completely. Once
in a while, I even scream
at the girls. But kids can
be obnoxious and a nanny
should keep them in line.
Right?
Relax
It’s not like I hit them. I can stop myself
before things get that out of hand. The most
physical I’ve gotten is giving Devon a good shake.
She deserved it. I mean, she was crying—
freaking out—because I said no to ice cream
after she got home from school. Ice cream?
I told her to go watch TV while LaTreya did
her homework. Devon screamed, Mommy
would give me ice cream and then she just
stood there, yowling like a dying cat. Nerves
frayed, I stomped across the kitchen,
grabbed her cheeks in one hand, squeezed.
“Shut the hell up.” But would she? No!
She looked me right in the eye. I’m gonna
tell my daddy. Definitely not the right
thing to say. I took her by the shoulders,
shook until her head snapped back and forth.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Her eyes
went wide and snot flew everywhere. But
she finally shut up and went to watch TV.
Okay, it wasn’t nice. Blame it on the monster.
Part of My Snappish Behavior
Is being stuck here, no way to go
anywhere unless I walk, or wait
until Brad can take me. It’s like
being stuck in childhood again.
Fixing the LTD will make life
easier, and everyone happier.
I called around, and Pick ’n’ Pull
has a used radiator and fan I can afford.
I just have to find a way to get them,
then talk someone into installing
them for me. I happen to know someone
who’s tool-friendly, and Brad is cooperative.
I’ll pick them up on my way home.
It will give me something to do
this weekend. Oh, I’m getting a new
shipment, so if you still think you
know someone you can off some to,
you might want to give them a call.
My car is getting fixed, and so
is my dwindled stash. Life is good.
I Know Exactly Two People
In Reno who would be interested
in scoring some killer ice. Well,
I might know more, but two for sure.
Both, however, are problematic.
I’ll have to get hold of Grade E
at the Sev. And I can’t do that until
after eleven. And if he wants some,
I’m not sure how to arrange a meet.
The second person is one I hate
with every ounce of my being. One
I swore never to talk to again. Can
I get past all that to make a deal?
[Why not get back at him the only
way you can—make a bundle
off his greed.] It’s a delicate dance,
but using him has a certain appeal.
Despite whatever brain cells
the monster has eaten, I remember
his number. Dial it? Don’t? God,
I hate indecision. Kick me, Bree!
[If you don’t deal with him, Grady
will. Why not be your own middle
man?] All it takes is a glance in my
lockbox. Empty, but for a few bucks.
Fine. I’ll call. But he’d better not
get the wrong idea. The phone rings
and rings, and I’m starting to think
that’s the way it should be, when
he finally answers. The sound
of his voice sends chills through
my body. And not good chills.
Your dime. Start talking.
And I’m trying to, really I am,
but my own voice sticks in my
throat like a big wad of taffy.
At last I manage, “Hello, Brendan?”
I’ve Tried to Get Over
What happened that night.
Tried to blame the meth.
The booze. The situation.
I even tried to forgive him
because Hunter is an angel.
But I can’t forgive him.
Can’t forgive that he forced
himself on me, inside me.
If he’d only been patient,
I probably would have
said yes. Okay. Let’s.
But I was scared, and
being afraid pushed
some kind of on button.
And it seems to me
if that happened once,
it will likely happen
again. I should have
called the cops. Turned
him in, seen to it he’d
never get the chance
to flip that on button
again. And if it wasn’t
for the monster, I would
have. So who is really
to blame? Brendan?
The monster? Or me?
Hey, guess what. It
doesn’t matter, anyway.
We Set Up a Tentative Meet
For tomorrow evening. Barring
complications, my car should
be running by then. I guess
I should be a little scared,
but I’m not. It’s not like he can
rip off my virginity twice.
Later I’ll call Grady, who’d
jump in front of a moving
train to score glass like this.
Hmm. Maybe I should have
arranged to meet Brendan
down by the railroad trench.
Next time. Meanwhile, looks
like I’ve gone into business
for myself. Entrepreneurship,
the American Way. Although
I doubt Warren Buffett ever had
anything like this in mind.
It’s simple. [If not exactly legal,
but then neither is that insider
trading shit.] It doesn’t take a
college degree. [Or even a GED.]
And it’s lucrative. [Only if you’re
not dipping into the profit margin.]
Therein lies a major problem
for me. Wonder, if I quit using
and kept the profit, if I could
actually make some money, save
it up, even. Wonder if I could
quit. [Don’t make me laugh.]
Have You Ever Tried
To quit
a bad habit, one
that has come to
define you?
To cease
using a substance—
any substance—
that you not only
need but enjoy?
To stop
yourself from
lighting up that
cigarette? It’s going
to kill you, but hey,
you’re going
to die
someday anyway,
why not
die happy,
why not die buzzed,
why not die
satisfied? Why not
die sooner, with
fewer regrets, than
later?
Sooner Than Later, Brad Follows Through
He picked up the radiator on
his way home last night, and
he’s already out in the garage
working. Okay, we were up
all night, so he got an early start.
The new stash is all it should be.
Good thing Brad is handy with
tools, and the LTD presents few
surprises. Bolt this here, screw
that there, new hoses, new fluid.
Voila. The car is ready to go by
noon. He comes into the kitchen,
all greasy. I smile at the black
gunk smeared across his forehead
and dotted at the end of his nose.
“I owe you one. I mean, another
one.” And he just looks so cute
I can’t help but go over and kiss
him. We’re lip-locked, temps
rising, when all of a sudden,
Hey! What are you doing?
You can’t do that with Daddy!