I suck in breath like
it hurts to find it,
confess, “I only have
two hundred with me.”
Trey tsks. Can’t do a
ball for a deuce. More
like a couple of g’s.
Two grams is plenty.
But the monster is a
greedy prick. “Can’t
we work something
out? I’m good for the
rest, I swear.” Trey
gives an uh-huh look.
But he says, Well, I do
get to Reno sometimes.
Why not?
Why not?
Why not!
Why Not?
Can I really have established
a new connection so easily?
Nothing in life is that simple.
So I ask, just to make sure,
“Are you sure? Because I can
bring the money to you.”
Not that I can really tell him
when, or how. But still…
But he says, I really do get to Reno,
more often than I’d like, in fact.
I’ll have to come over in the next
week or two. We can hook up then.
But you’d better be good for the rest,
or else…He pounds one fist against
the opposite palm, but his smile
lets me know he’s only joking.
His smile. His incredible smile.
Stop it, Kristina! [No, don’t.]
What I Don’t Really Get
Is just why he’s being
so accommodating.
Just what, exactly, is his
game?
Can he possibly be
interested in me, baby
blubber and all? I want
to be back in the
game.
Lately, I think about it
more and more. Like
a sick little kid, I want
to go outside and
play.
But I’ve never been
especially good at
choosing play
partners. Is Trey
the game
I’m after, and is he
after me? If so, I need
to learn the rules of his
game so I can
play it well.
I Meant to Pick Up a Stash
Make a quick about-face,
head back to Reno. Like
I couldn’t have guessed it
might not turn out that way.
But I haven’t talked to anyone
my age in months. Between
that and the toot, my mouth
won’t stop working.
One bowl. Robyn and I talk
about Reno, how life used
to be. Two bowls. We talk
about how life is now—
too many classes for her,
too much home for me.
Still another bowl. We
talk about our gay siblings.
Trey perks up at that.
Apparently he wasn’t
privy to Robyn’s more
personal information,
and gay relatives are
always interesting to
those who don’t happen
to have any of them.
Another toke. Trey sits
between Robyn and me. His
knee rests against mine.
The warmth of it fights
the crystal’s chills, and
turns me on completely.
My face flares a deep,
noticeable crimson.
Robyn flashes a tweaker’s
smile, one that says, Don’t
fuck with me, or I’ll pay
you back good. In fact,
I’ll pay you back first.
But what comes out of
her mouth is, So, tell
me all about your baby.
I Purposely
Haven’t mentioned Hunter.
I mean, it’s not like the first
thing you do when you meet
an incredible guy is tell
him you’ve got a baby.
But Trey seems more
interested than offended.
Baby, huh? You’re not
married, are you?
His curiosity, and Robyn’s
evil glare, make me smile.
“Nope, not married…”
Even spun, the thought
brings me up short.
So, where’s Daddy? You
living with him or what?
Is he watching Baby tonight?
The meth monster threatens
to pounce, but I rein it in.
Not a single vicious comment
about Daddy the rapist.
“I live with my parents.
My mom babysits Hunter
when I’m not around.”
You still live with your
parents? Mine would have
kicked me out. But hey,
they kicked me out, anyway.
Bree laughs, loving
how it makes Robyn squirm.
Kristina knows it isn’t very
nice, so she blames it
on the crank, which fuels
a very long ramble, Trey’s
knee still sizzling against mine.
“I’d like to move out
but I need a job, and to get one
I need my GED, which I’m
still working on. And even if
if I get a job, I need someone
I trust to take care of Hunter.”
Trey gives me an odd
look, one I cannot
decipher. But all he says
is, Makes sense to me.
Very little makes sense
to me at this moment.
All I can think about
is how great it is to feel
so alive, so in lust again.
Robyn Decides
To break up the party.
It’s great to see you again.
she says. But it’s getting late and
I do have some projects to finish.
“Late? How late?” I still
have to drive all the way home.
I twist Trey’s arm until
his watch reveals the time:
nineteen minutes past one.
No wonder my boobs hurt,
having not been emptied
in so many hours. They’re
hard as stones and leaking
a little. Another twinge
of guilt. No more
breast milk for Hunter.
Trey hands me a scrap of paper.
Here’s my number, and give
me yours, too, okay?
In case you forget to call.
His hand brushes mine
like a summer kiss. Heightened
by the meth spinning circles
in my brain, his simple touch—
not to mention his request—
sparks shivers, thigh to neck.
But it is time to go. I spent
my motel money, and anyway,
I’m much too buzzed
to sleep. Might as well drive
on home. Three hours will
go by like nothing, this buzzed.
“Thanks for everything, Robyn.
Awesome meeting you, Trey.
Hope to see you again soon.”
Real, real soon.
I Start to Leave
Reconsider, knowing I’ll
want to stop for a small
pick-me-up along
the long road home.
“Oh, hey. Can you spare
a piece of tinfoil and
maybe a straw? I’ve got
zip for paraphernalia.
Let’s make you a pipe, Trey
tells me. How about a light
bulb, Robyn? She obliges,
and in a matter of minutes,
Trey turns it into a smoking
device. Be careful. It will get
really hot. Oh, and you’ll
probably need this, too.
He reaches into his pocket,
extracts a lighter. Now just
drop a rock, right in here….
He demonstrates with one
of Robyn’s. Hold the lighter
right about here…. A thin
plume of smoke lifts, and
Trey is quick to inhale.
As Robyn and I help him
finish it, Trey says, So,
Kristina, next time
you’re up for the score,
call me. This shit travels
the US-95 corridor up from
Mexico. My connection lives
near Reno. Ironic, huh?
No wonder Trey gets
to Reno sometimes.
Ironic barely covers
it. But hey, next time
I won’t have to drive
all the way to Stockton.
(Let alone have to deal
with Robyn’s evil eye.)
“That’s good to know,
Trey,” says Kristina.
Then Bree takes over.
“Next time you come
over the mountain, be
sure to give mea call.
I’ll pay you back the
hundred. And if you talk
real nice, I just might
add a little interest.”
Holy crap. Team Bree
with the monster, you
never know what you
might get. But Trey
laughs. And just what
do you have in mind?
This is Bree’s game. So
why does she disappear
now? I shrug. “For me to
know and you to find out.”
Guess I’ll have to make
it soon, then. The curiosity
might do me in. He wraps
the hot bulb in a napkin,
walks me to the door, bends
to bring his lips close to my
ear. Careful driving home. I
want you all in one piece.
He Wants Me
All in one piece.
But does that mean
he wants me?
I take the stairs slowly,
head turning cartwheels.
It’s been so long
since anyone has
wanted me.
At the bottom of the stairs,
I turn to look over my shoulder.
I want to believe
that he wants me.
But it’s impossible.
Trey’s backlit silhouette
is still in the doorway.
Maybe it isn’t
impossible. Only
highly unlikely.
He raises a hand, waves
a good-bye. Closes the door.
I never used to
second-guess
myself. What’s up?
The porch light winks out.
Is Trey staying the night?
Well, of course he is.
Why do you think
Robyn wanted you gone?
Jealousy wells up inside.
I want him to stay with me.
Wanting and getting
are two totally
different things.
I want him to take me in
his arms and kiss me.
Why must I torture
myself? He’s with
Robyn. Right now.
I want him to touch
me all over my body.
Cut it out, Kristina.
You’re just making
things worse.
I want him to tell me
he needs me. Loves me.
What am I thinking?
I don’t want
that at all.
Yes I do want that.
I want to be in love.
Stop it! Don’t you
know talking to yourself
is a sign of insanity?
It Is a Clear
Not quite warm
September night,
the obsidian sky
brimming
with stars. An orange
harvest moon lights
the semideserted
highway, and my
confidence
in my ability to
reach home, all in
one piece, grows with
every mile left
dissolved
in my wake. I am
wide awake, buzzed
to the nth degree.
I drive slowly, lost
in thoughts
of Hunter, hopefully
sleeping soundly;
of the things that led
up to having him;
of what life
would be like if he had
never been conceived.
I would never have
could
consider living without
him; never would have
thought I might
easily
distance myself from
him. But I want
someone—other than
a baby—to love, and
soon.
I miss feeling special.
Miss feeling beautiful.
I only hope I haven’t
become
impossible for a guy to look
at with lust in his eyes.
Halfway Home I Stop
For a small pick-me-up,
not because I particularly
need it (my eyes are wide,
wide open), but because I can.
I have stash. It’s talking to me.
One little hit, my heart revs
high, then settles into quick-
step mode. How I’ve missed
that race and pound. How
I’ve missed the lack of control.
It makes no sense. I know
that. But I’m sick of making
sense. Sick of being sensible.
As I consider that, it hits me
that I haven’t called Mom.
Now it’s much too late.
Is she pacing the floor, ready
to pounce when I walk
through the door? Has she gone
to sleep, assuming I stayed
overnight and forgot
the cell phone in my purse?
Cell phone! I yank it out,
and sure enough, there’s
a voice mail message
waiting for me. When you
get this, please call and let
us know you’re safe. I don’t
care what time it is. Mom
is pissed, and rightly so.
I look at the time. Two
twenty. Screw it, I’d better
call. Mom answers on
the second ring. Hello?
Kristina, is that you?
Who else would it be? “Yes,
it’s me. I’m fine. I stayed
late at Robyn’s, decided
to come on home. No worries.
I’ve had gallons of coffee.”
No worries? Kristina Georgia
Snow! Have you no consideration
whatsoever for your family?
We’ve been so worried!
One simple phone call…
She’s right. Of course she is.
But I don’t feel like giving much
ground. “I’m sorry, Mom.
Go on to bed. I’ll be home
soon.” I hang up without
even asking about Hunter. I’ll
have to eat a table full of crow
in the morning, but why
worry about it the rest
of the way home?
I’m Totally in the Wrong
And I totally know it.
And I totally don’t care.
That’s the monster talking
and I totally know that, too. But
I’m totally ready to listen to every
word, every excuse, every suggestion.
I feel great, for the first time in months.
I feel positive about the future, like
I actually might have a future
beyond babies and books. I
feel like I’ve got the world
by the balls. I just have
to remain cool, calm
down my parents, regain
my power. I ask the monster
how to manage that and he replies,
Simple. You need money. Money! Of
course. Can’t have much of a life without
a steady supply of the green stuff. I
I do need money, and that means
a job. But what kind of job?
Only one thought comes
readily to mind.
I Get Home
A little before four. The house
is dark. Silent. Everyone fast
asleep. Except me, of course.
Rather than chance waking up
Hunter, I think I’ll run on down
to the all-night convenience
mart and pick up an application.
Almost every kid in the valley
works at the Sev for a month or two,
while waiting to go off to college,
get married, or find a better job. It
pays minimum wage, and the work
sucks, but beggars cannot be choosers.
I park off to one side, check out who’s