The smoke curls inside of my lungs as my nose turns up involuntarily at the acrid smell around me. The love of my life besides me lifts his perfectly formed lips into a half smile at my reaction; he expects me to be used to all this but I can’t. It’s so… alien. Illegal drug use isn’t something you can get used to overnight. And I’m still not high; I swear it’s impossible for me to get high on this stuff, I guess I’m just a little too highly strung. I pass the blunt to Justin who talks a long hard puff, holds it for about five seconds then exhales, making the smoke form something resembling a Chinese dragon. I’m still doing my best not to wheeze uncontrollably. It’s just the two of us, alone in our bedroom doing what he defines as ‘spending quality time together’.
The pillows smell of pot smoke even though I try to beat some air into it when Justin isn’t looking. The blanket smells too, and the duvet and the curtains. EVERYTHING smells of it and I hate it; truth be told I can’t stand the stuff and I don’t know why I’m here with him rather than doing something more productive with my time. I guess that’s why I’m doing it; because it’s with him. I have so little time alone with him and I’ll do almost anything to be around him. He’s so stressed with work and I don’t know what to do to make it better; we’ve tried the warm baths together and massages, but it just doesn’t seem to work. His temper started to get worse and we were both pulling our hair out at the state of our marriage, it seemed too sacred for us to fall apart over work when we had gone through so much worse before.
* * * * *
The leaves aren’t as spectacular as I’d hoped they would look this Fall but maybe it’s just our location. I imagined the beautiful bright orange maple leaves falling to the earth with the most graceful of movements, I imagined the green green lawns to contrast perfectly with the brightness of the fallen leaves, I imagined when it snowed it would be the most beautiful and colourful of scenes. But it’s not. It’s somewhat disappointing I have to admit, it’s well into November and the leaves are still firmly attached to the trees, there are very few on the ground, and in fact not all of them have turned orange yet. It feels like Goandah is a completely different part of America, like it doesn’t go through the same seasons as everywhere else.
Goandah, Arizona feels like it’s not even on the same planet as everyone else and although the inhabitants are distinctly human they seem to have the most peculiar of habits and pet peeves. It’s taking me quite a while to get used to living in the environment and unfortunately they aren’t all that forgiving. I’m scared to put a foot wrong with some people because I have no way to predict their reactions.
Mrs Galloway is our neighbour on the right hand side and her front lawn is impeccable; from the perfectly trimmed lawn edges to the manicured hedges. Our front lawn however, is an entirely different story; the grass is slightly brown, we have a rickety fence and assorted beer cans tossed over from the sidewalk adorning the lawn. It doesn’t bother me or Justin but according to Mrs Galloway we’re lowering the classiness of the street, so I spent several days bringing it up to an acceptable level, only to wake one morning to find the old bag twiddling with my clematis.
Justin was recently transferred to the Newman Hotel as Head Chef so instead of a rented apartment, I decided for once that we need a home of our own. An actual home. We’ve never been allowed to decorate our houses before because technically it wasn’t our property and therefore it’s never truly felt like home, but this is so different and we love it. I think we needed a fresh start too, after all the tragedy of last year our last house carried too many memories.
I hated the sympathetic looks, the whispering behind my back and the ‘I understand what you’re going through’ even though they had no fucking clue. I had to get away, we both did. We needed to escape from an environment that felt like it was closing in on us and Goandah seemed as good a place as any.
19th May 2004, Lower Park Way, upper New York; a metallic baby blue Honda came careering round the corner, I had been distracted with the birthday balloons Jake had given me to keep hold of. Is there ever a moment in your life which you can remember vividly? Sight, sound, smell, touch, taste? There was no sound, there was an eerie silence which I failed to notice until I relived the moment again; I recall no thump as the car collided into him, no screech of tires as the driver pulled to a halt, we had prepared to cross the road at a point opposite a bakery and I can remember the sickly sweet smell of the freshly baked cinnamon buns as if I were stood infront of it right now, Jakey’s temperature went up into the heights of a fever before he started to go cold, and as the sweet aroma of the bakery became stifling and suffocating I could practically taste it on my tongue, I still can.
It’s my fault Jake died; I should have been watching him. I know it’s my fault and Justin does too, but he chooses not to hold it against me for which I’m grateful. He never says it, he never even hints at it, but I owe him so much; I owe him a new son. I only hit the bumper, but the internal bleeding meant I was unable to have another child and now we will never be whole again.
* * * * *
I watch as Justin lies back on the bed; eyes half closed smiling to himself. He looks happy, content, enjoying the moment. I just wish I knew how to make that moment last.
