Glass (24 page)

Everything changes.

You might call it

distorted

reality

and as much as I once

might have disagreed,

now the silence

closes in,

like in those B

scary movies where

a crypt forms around you,

walls you in,

brick by invisible

brick, regret the mortar

sealing the chinks,

until

there’s only a tiny hole

left, one pinhole

between you and

suffocation.

I finally started my period,

the bad part of that being that it

was a doozy. I bled like a butchered

pig for over a week. Don’t

know if that means I miscarried

or my body just jumped back

in, balls out. Either way, I’m not

pregnant. And that is a very good

thing, especially now that it’s over.

I’m marking the date on my

calendar so I have some idea

when to start being careful.

Oops. Don’t have to be careful.

Trey won’t be home until spring

break, and that’s still weeks away.

[Remember that ob-gyn thing?]

Yeah, yeah. I’ll get around to it,

maybe even before spring break.

Jeez, maybe I can’t get pregnant.

Maybe having a baby at seventeen

screwed up my uterus, confused

my hormones. [Wishful thinker,

aren’t you?] Anyway, I’m safe

for now. A couple fewer possibilities.

Stopped to see my Mexican amigo,

he explains.
Es muy bueno!

The new batch is really good.

Why is it I don’t doubt that?

As we eat dinner, my stomach

churns in anticipation. I can’t

afford to buy much, but I hope—

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.

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.

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?”

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.

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 what 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?

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.

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.

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?”