She missed the haze. The daily awakening to a jack hammer in her brain and the smell of vodka in her sweat. The entire day was a vision of fog, and then with one sip of the dog’s hair, she felt a live again. It was as if she had never awoken from the night before.
The alcohol soothed her. it allowed her to be the person she envied. It gave her the courage to speak her mind, strength to battle her demons and balance to settle her undeniable clumsiness.
It also allowed her to breathe.
Now, four months later, 120 days in passing, she gave in to the thirst. She could not handle the clarity any longer. Being sober made her feel trapped. It was like she was stuck in a reality where time passed faster yet the days dragged on. She went to work at a minimum wage prison, she ate food prepared in a well established kitchen and she wore clothing that embellished her body like the sleek paint on a sports car.
What she didn’t miss was the throbbing pain that she felt in the mornings. Not the thunder in her head, but the suffocation in her heart. Waking as the sunrise hit the blankets of the bed and vanishing from the sexual fantasy before his eyes fluttered open.
She would leave her mark on his bed side table every morning: a tall glass of water, her lipstick stain on a napkin and the scent of her perfume on his pillow. He’d awake to an empty bed, a hangover and the faint memory of how her body intertwined with his.
She’d steal his heart and he’d take her soul.
This bartering would always take place in the dark of night, when the moon would be in full bloom over the city of sin.
* * *
The movement of their bodies would entertain her troubles for mere minutes until the high began to sink into the depths of sleep and yearning for more. As the high lowered, so did her longing for him. She lived day to day, drink to drink, man to man. Never staying in one place long enough to settle. Never adjusting her lifestyle to suit someone else. Never falling into the safe routine of her parents.
Living life as she did caged her from a constant state of fear because in her mind she had control, although reality said otherwise.
She controlled her alcohol intake and the alcohol controlled her. While fear fueled the need for control.
As long as her mind was occupied and her troubles camouflaged she lived in a state of peace, near contentment.