That Other Life

Janice sat up, gasping.

Looking for threats, as always.

She was in a clean, white bedroom - clearly furnished for a couple.

Ok….

Not the first time.  Occasionally, for blow, meth, or ANYTHING, she had been the third party at a kink-fest....

Not today.

Today she felt...clean.

  Literally.

No aching head, no pounding heart, no cement-caked sinuses or glass-filled lungs.

Her head was clean.

Why?

Why was today different?

"Mom!" A boyish voice -not cracked, but husky- called.

A knock, and the door burst open

It was Shawn...her baby.  Last seen at the age of 5, crying as the police car rolled away; reaching for her and screaming, “Mama!”

She would know those Arctic Blue-grey tinged with periwinkle- eyes anywhere.

"Mom, you gotta sign this permission slip for the Gorge!"

She sat back and held out her (unshaking) hand for the paper – ready to sign anything to keep looking at her grown boy.  Her son.

The lump next to her stirred; turned over.

Colin? Husband? (Ex)

The man who restrained her crying babies as the police dragged her off?

The man who killed her Happily Ever After when he caught her?

Pills. Drugs.

Colin who consigned her to days and nights of Sex, Drugs, and Flophouses, when he cast her out?

She turned; ready to scratch his eyes out….

Adelaide walked in, flipping her caramel hair over her shoulder.

"Ew. Get a room, guys, or just get up. Feed me!"

Huffed out – flipping that hair again.

Addie, no longer a 7 year-old cherub, but a gorgeous long-limbed woman. 

What WAS this?

A second chance?  A crank-led delusion?

What?

Over the next few weeks, she settled in. 

Making pancakes, checking homework.

Momming.

But there were DREAMS.

The last 10 years of drugs, degradation, and desperation were a bad dream. 

Right?

But she kept having them, no matter how obvious it was, there was no truth to them.

No spiral into addiction after copping Shawn's Ritalin to cope with 50 hours a week at work, two kids, and a husband that spent too much time with The Blazers.

No blowjobs and begging.  No achingly pathetic life, wondering about those babies.

Just this.  Other Life.  Clean, shining, right.

Just this life.

Except for the DREAMS.

Of that life.

Waking up from those dreams, she needed a few shots of vodka.

Waking up from the dreams, she needed a handful of pills.

Waking up from the dreams, she needed to smoke a rock.

Waking up from the dreams, her beautiful babies were miraculous people, and her life was sane.

Clean.

Whole.

For Colin and Shawn and Addie, she stayed clean.  Whole.

One Saturday, as she was cleaning Shawn and Addie's bathroom, she saw it.

White cap, orange bottle.

OxyContin

Seduction in a bottle.  Salvation in a pill.  Spoliation in the palm of her hand.

On Wednesday, she opened the bottle.

On Thursday, she palmed two.

In case.

In case the dreams were too much.

In case…..

In case this life was too much.

In case.