The money, drugs, and temptation - my life on the bad side

Andrew

"Miss? Excuse me?" not knowing how long the nurse has been trying to attract my attention, I finally look up puffy-eyed, my mascara running from tears still leaking from my eyes. 

I don't say anything, but she must get this a lot, because she says nothing about the silence. "Would you like to see your mother?" are the only words from her mouth. I look down at my hands, and nod. "Alright. Come with me then."

She leads me down the white hallway, smelling strongly of antiseptic and death. Misery. Lose. 

On the way, she carefully explains that there will be a lot of tubes attached to my mother, things beeping and swirling, but as long as i don't touch them, I'll be ok. I ask if i can touch her. She says her hand, and only the one without the needle in it. 

"Here you are. I'll leave you in private." the nurse says, stopping at room 312. As she starts to walk away, i want to reach out for her. I want more than anything to have a hand to hold, someone to lean on as i see my dying mother. But then i remind myself I must be strong, have been strong since Daddy died seven years ago, and will forever be. I think that when he died, I did a little too. Nothing will ever be the same inside me now.

So I reach out and grasp the tiny, shining knob in my hand, try and clear my head, and step into the room.

I shove my fist into my mouth and bite down hard to keep from crying again as i look at my mother laying like a dead pig in a kitchen.

The hospital gown she's wearing is partially open at the chest, reveling multiple suction cups stuck all on her stomach and bosom. Her beautiful face is ghostly pale and blue-tinged, and from her long, slim arms a tube is connected. Her hair -- the beautiful brown hair she gave to me-- has been shaved away in one tiny spot on the top of her head, and another one of the self-gripping stickers is stuck there, attached to a thin cable which runs to one of the three machines against the wall.

One shows an erratically jumping line, which i know should be steady. Another make no sense at all to me, only another, thin line. This is the one attached to her head. The other is attached to the two IV's in her arms each dripping something different into each needle at separate rates.

"Alcohol poisoning." I whisper around my fist. This has happened to her once before, but then I was too young to understand. I just waited until she woke up from the seizing unconsciousness, then went to bed as she vomited all night.

"It doesn't look promising." a doctor says, coming in behind me. AS he passes, he offers an  apologetic look over his shoulder. 

"Is that what you say to all the girls who come in to look at their dying mothers?" I snap horsely. He looks back at me once again and begins to stammer out an apology, saying something about how i looked like an adult, her sister. I am not in the mood. "Save your stupid breath for doing what you can to keep her's coming." I tell him, then turn and run form the room.

Running desperately to find a door out of this miserable place, I pass a large window to the gift shop, and see my reflection. Stopping dead, i see what the doctor saw, through a haze of teddy bears and It's a girl! balloons. I see not a young girl, but a woman, with heavy eyes and tattered hair. I see a girl's rumpled clothing and a woman's sunken face.

I see my mother.

Finally, i get outside to a bench, just out side the hospital, but facing a park, so people can pretend there is nothing from their nightmares behind them.

I look at my wrist for the time, but then remember I pawned my watch for a week of suppers. It was a beautiful thing from my grandmother, with my name written behind the hands. 

I miss my grandmother.

I should call the neighbours, check up on Kiki, make sure she's being good. I need to tell them that she has a bath at nights, but she's allergic to any soap but the one that we have in the house. They'll want to know how my mother is doing, though, so I put it off. 

Staring blankly ahead of me, to the empty park there there is nothing but some trees and a well trimmed garden, the playground cloaked in the cover of trees, I don't hear someone sit down beside me until he speaks. 

"Bad day, huh?" the voice is low and deep, almost like a boy trying too hard to sound like a man. But when i look up, it is a man looking back at me. A dark skinned twenty-odd-year-old, his hair short and green eyes piercing. 

"The pits." I reply gloomily, reminding myself of Michel over and over in my head.

The dark man flashes me a smile, his teeth looking extraordinarily white against his skin.

"I'm Andrew." he says, nodding his chin up at me and clicking his tongue. 

"Hello. I'm... uh... I seem to have forgotten. Oh! I'm Laura. How do you do?" his gentle laughter tickles through the air as he extends a long arm towards me.

After a moment of stupidity, I grasp on and we shake, his hands large and cold compared to mine. 

After he finally lets go, he nods towards the building behind us i was trying to ignore. "You got someone in there?" he asks gently. 

My throat chocks up. All i can do is nod. 

He nods back understandingly. "I get it. I had a folk in there once too. She's out now, out of this miserable shit-hole we call life."

"I'm... sorry for you lose?" why am I even talking to this man, anyways? i have no idea who he is, and he has no reason to be speaking to me.

I stand up. "I should get going, they're waiting for me inside." i tell him.

He smiles and takes my hand. "You didn't come in with anyone, Laura, remember?"

I feel panic begin to blossom through my chest. "How do you know my name?" I demand, close to tears. If i could shove my fist in my mouth without him laughing at me, I would. I would do it in a second. 

He laughs anyways, the quiet, gently noise that doesn't match his voice. "You told me, remember? Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. Sit down, i just want to talk." he reaches into his jacket pocket, and though  almost scream, thinking it's a gun, he just pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Want one?" he asks, offering me the box. 

My father used to smoke. Before he was killed by the truck, he would smoke a pack a day. he would always warn me never to get into the habit, because it was just a dirty killer thing, but now all I want is to be close to him.

I take a cigarette, and except Andrew's light.

Inhaling deeply, i feel the acidic burn as the smoke passes through my throat, my lungs, then finally  settle deep in the cavity of my stomach.

After a brief coughing fit, I take another drag.  

"Listen, Laura, I want you to stay here, ok? I'll be right back, but I want to talk to you before you leave." Andrew says urgently. I nod gently, the tobacco and nicotine calming me extreme amounts. Now i see why Daddy smoked -- it's so relaxing, just like the tension in your body is melting away. Along with all your innards. 

  A few minutes later, my cigarette is gone, and Andrew comes back. He sits down very close to me, and when i begin to feel uncomfortable, I scoot away.

"Excuse me, Miss, but are you Didi Laurel's daughter?" I suddenly hear. pulling myself from my cigarette cloud, I take one look at the sober face of the nurse, and break down crying against Andrew's shoulder.