“Geez, you sent me a postcard from Kinshasa, Zaire. What a great stamp. I got that card and I couldn’t believe it—the Congo. He’s in the Congo having an adventure and I’m stuck here. I used to wait for your letters, and the mailman, he was always so nice—when he came down the street—I’d be in the sun porch, he could see me—he’d give me the high sign when he had one of your letters. One week you were in Africa and the next week it was Finland. I thought, What is that boy doin’?”

“That boy got fucked up on some bad dope in Africa actually. Pretty postage stamps is all they got in Kinshasha, believe me. Man, twenty lifetimes ago; but that’s how life tricks you. You’re thinking he’s in Africa having an adventure and it’s horrible in Africa—back home watching the Atlanta Braves by the air conditioner is where it’s at. Everybody always thinks they’re missing out. It’s an illusion.”

She felt a surge of resolution and finished off the fourth handful. She could see that it was impossible to take all of them but at least the barbiturates were in, the methadone was in, most of the Valium. Her stomach felt like a bowling ball. But she didn’t feel that fucked up, only just a shade past mellow. When is it going to hit? Why hasn’t it hit? What happened? When is this fucking show going to end? She pulled a half pint of Gordon’s gin out of her nightstand drawer and grabbed another handful of poison. It was time to get serious. You could never be too sure. Then a big wave hit her and suddenly she felt like she was blowing out to sea. It was a good feeling. It involved a long expanse of time.

She heard a voice. From far away. It was Bobby. Sounded like he was a million miles away. His voice rang with a subtle twang of desperation. “I said, ‘You really sound fucked up.’ What kind of downers did you say you had?”

She said, “I didn’t say.”

“I’m asking.”

“Fifteen years’ worth,” she said.

Shut up! Don’t let the cat out of the bag now. Medic I. Stomach pumped. Is that what she wanted? Was this just a hysterical gesture?

“Fifteen years’ worth. Are you serious?”

“Why?”

“Just let me in alone in the pharmacy with a grocery bag and five minutes. That’s all I ever asked of God.”

It was hard to judge, but Bobby sounded scared. Her head swirled.

Bobby said, “I just called to say goodbye, darlin’. I’m about to shuffle off the mortal coil. I’m headed fo’ Boogalousa where all is ultimately bound and from whence none return.”

“That’s why you scored?”