Hazy Days

I quit the diner. Joel doesn't like me working. He'd rather I stay in the apartment so he always knows where I am. I didn't argue with him.

My body has been permanently whacked from the graveyard shifts, so I'm wide awake at two a.m. when Joel stumbles in. A cigarette dangles from his lips and he plops next to me on the couch, laying his head in my lap. "I'm so fucking tired, Vic," he closes his eyes. I play with his hair. "And I'm sick of all this bullshit." I don't say anything. He dozes off after a few minutes, ash falling on his chin. I take the cigarette out of his mouth and stub it out.

There's only paid programming on at this hour. A commercial comes on for flameless candle sets and I start to choke up. They show a rose scented candle- my mom's favorite scent. The first Mother's Day I was able to drive, I went all the way to the mall and bought her rose scented everything- body lotion, shampoo, candles. I even bought a rose for Shawn to give to her. They keep going on and on about the amazing deal for the candles, and I start to cry. For two hours, the pattern goes like this: I choke out a few sobs, take a drag of a cigarette, and dry heave. By sunrise I've smoked half a pack and Joel continues to snore lightly from my lap.