The morning after the seventh day, what I feared most materialized; I ingested all the Quaaludes obtained because of the bogus settlement. That’s a great example of, karma.
The job loss self-reproach didn’t come close to the much heavier self-reproach - of not having saved pills. For example, in case I got fired.
Between sobs I reached for my low vision, landline phone, each digit the size of a playing card.
“Mom, dad, please let me come home.” My head fell forward. I cried. I had a convulsing, tragically confused backbone. I continued to talk in utter gurgle, despite being aware of the impossibility of their possible comprehension. “I wanna kill myself, I wanna.”
“Nonsense Sheila.” My Jew mom said. “Buckle down. I can’t even believe you said that. Now what am I going to do?” And that’s Donna Cull. She pointedly knew how to turn the word, worry, into a fiery red gooey substance that can be felt. Two of my sisters inherited the exact same god awful ability.
“What is buckle down?”
My mom snorted, “Don’t change the subject. What we have to worry about is out of this world as it is, now this?”
“Mom, what’s buckle down mean?”
“Your father will pick you up at the station in one hour but you must, strip naked outside, dump the contents of your bag or purse onto the drive way, and then, spray, disinfect, and hose them, so that you don’t bring any germs, into my house. Can you hear me?”
“I,”
“On second thought Sheila, no. Your father will meet you and give you some money. You disturb me.”
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