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Authors: Anne Conley
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before.
“I’ve got to go see my sister for a little bit, so let’s say around seven?”
“Okay. I’ll be there at seven then.”
“Um…don’t you need directions?” She asked.
A pause. “Right. Let me get a pen and some paper. Hold on a minute, please.” She smiled again as he actually put his cell phone down, and rummaged around for something to write with.
When he picked up the phone again, she gave him directions to her apartment.
“Uri?”
“Hmm?” He answered, the noise sounding strangely intimate to Heather’s ears.
“What do you have against texting?”
He chuckled. “I’m just old-fashioned, I guess. See you at seven, Heather.”
“See you. Bye, Uri.”
“Bye.”
After hanging up , she grabbed Taco and her bike and made her way to Tiffany’s place. She stopped at a grocery store around the corner from her sister's apartment and bought some frozen dinners and a gallon of orange juice.
Letting herself in, Heather called out. “Hey Tiff? I brought you some groceries.”
A suspiciously ethereal voice came from the living room. “Thanks, but I’m not really hungry.”
Before she went into the living room, Heather poured Tiffany a glass of orange juice and responded, “Then have a glass of juice. You don’t want to get scurvy.” She was only half-kidding.
Tiffany was pacing back and forth in her tiny living room, muttering to herself, wearing the same clothes that Heather had seen her in the last two times she had been here.
“Wh en is the last time you took a shower, Tiff?”
She stopped and seemed to think a little before answering, “d’no.” Her pacing continued, but the muttering had stopped.
Handing her the glass, Heather said, “Drink this. I’m going to run you a bath. I’ll help you get cleaned up. You’ll feel better.”
“I feel fine.”
“Of course you do. You’re high.” Heather left the room and went to the bathroom. It was disgusting. The floor of the bathtub was black and covered with wet towels. Groaning, Heather pushed up her sleeves and pulled out the towels, dropping them into a heap on the floor before going in search of some sort of cleaner.
Once she had scrubbed enough of the grime away to feel okay about setting her sister in the tub, she ran a hot bath.
“Tiff? Come take a bath!” Her sister was immediately in the doorway, fidgeting and shifting her weight from foot to foot.
“I got an idea.”
“Come get in the tub and tell me about it.”
“I can start a tattoo parlor.”
“That would be one way to use your artistic talents.” Tiffany used to be a phenomenal artist. Her pen and ink sketches had won state-wide awards, but Heather hadn’t seen any recent work. She honestly hadn’t seen anything her sister had done in years. “Have you been drawing any lately?”
Tiffany had strippe d, and Heather tried not to stare at her emaciated frame, as she stepped into the tub.
“Not really, but it’s probably like riding a bicycle, you know?” She was fidgeting in the tub, rubbing her legs with her hands, then her arms, then her legs again. “It’s a good idea, thoug h. I can start a tattoo parlor,” she said, hope filling her voice. Heather liked the sound of it but was afraid it was just another great idea to get her through until her next high --- like the idea of the portrait studio and the caricature artist.
“Yeah, Tiff. It’s a great idea.” Heather grabbed some soap and started cleaning her sister.
“I just need to get clean and get some cash.” She was still fidgeting, not moving toward anything to actually wash herself, just letting Heather do it all. “Just enough to get started, you know?” She looked at Heather, beseechingly. “Like $3,000?”
Heather ha d washed her back and shoulders and was moving on to her arms, trying to hold them still. “I don’t have it, if that’s what you’re
“I’ve got to go see my sister for a little bit, so let’s say around seven?”
“Okay. I’ll be there at seven then.”
“Um…don’t you need directions?” She asked.
A pause. “Right. Let me get a pen and some paper. Hold on a minute, please.” She smiled again as he actually put his cell phone down, and rummaged around for something to write with.
When he picked up the phone again, she gave him directions to her apartment.
“Uri?”
“Hmm?” He answered, the noise sounding strangely intimate to Heather’s ears.
“What do you have against texting?”
He chuckled. “I’m just old-fashioned, I guess. See you at seven, Heather.”
“See you. Bye, Uri.”
“Bye.”
After hanging up , she grabbed Taco and her bike and made her way to Tiffany’s place. She stopped at a grocery store around the corner from her sister's apartment and bought some frozen dinners and a gallon of orange juice.
Letting herself in, Heather called out. “Hey Tiff? I brought you some groceries.”
A suspiciously ethereal voice came from the living room. “Thanks, but I’m not really hungry.”
Before she went into the living room, Heather poured Tiffany a glass of orange juice and responded, “Then have a glass of juice. You don’t want to get scurvy.” She was only half-kidding.
Tiffany was pacing back and forth in her tiny living room, muttering to herself, wearing the same clothes that Heather had seen her in the last two times she had been here.
“Wh en is the last time you took a shower, Tiff?”
She stopped and seemed to think a little before answering, “d’no.” Her pacing continued, but the muttering had stopped.
Handing her the glass, Heather said, “Drink this. I’m going to run you a bath. I’ll help you get cleaned up. You’ll feel better.”
“I feel fine.”
“Of course you do. You’re high.” Heather left the room and went to the bathroom. It was disgusting. The floor of the bathtub was black and covered with wet towels. Groaning, Heather pushed up her sleeves and pulled out the towels, dropping them into a heap on the floor before going in search of some sort of cleaner.
Once she had scrubbed enough of the grime away to feel okay about setting her sister in the tub, she ran a hot bath.
“Tiff? Come take a bath!” Her sister was immediately in the doorway, fidgeting and shifting her weight from foot to foot.
“I got an idea.”
“Come get in the tub and tell me about it.”
“I can start a tattoo parlor.”
“That would be one way to use your artistic talents.” Tiffany used to be a phenomenal artist. Her pen and ink sketches had won state-wide awards, but Heather hadn’t seen any recent work. She honestly hadn’t seen anything her sister had done in years. “Have you been drawing any lately?”
Tiffany had strippe d, and Heather tried not to stare at her emaciated frame, as she stepped into the tub.
“Not really, but it’s probably like riding a bicycle, you know?” She was fidgeting in the tub, rubbing her legs with her hands, then her arms, then her legs again. “It’s a good idea, thoug h. I can start a tattoo parlor,” she said, hope filling her voice. Heather liked the sound of it but was afraid it was just another great idea to get her through until her next high --- like the idea of the portrait studio and the caricature artist.
“Yeah, Tiff. It’s a great idea.” Heather grabbed some soap and started cleaning her sister.
“I just need to get clean and get some cash.” She was still fidgeting, not moving toward anything to actually wash herself, just letting Heather do it all. “Just enough to get started, you know?” She looked at Heather, beseechingly. “Like $3,000?”
Heather ha d washed her back and shoulders and was moving on to her arms, trying to hold them still. “I don’t have it, if that’s what you’re
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