A Small Voice

Chapter Sixteen

8:48 p.m. Sunday, September15, 2001

Rachel took the wheel of our modest Honda. It seemed I was destined to be the owner of shitty cars. I was too tired to drive anyhow, still rattled by the confrontation I'd had with Brittney, but I was grateful that Rachel hadn't come back before we'd wrapped up our twisted conversation. Even though I'd dodged a bullet today, I had a sick feeling that many more were still in the gun. Something or someone was going to snap, and this charade of a life, my life, would unravel for all to see.

"Can we stop at the drug store?" I asked her.

"Of course. You doing okay, love? I know you haven't been sleeping well, but you seem really out of it tonight."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I just feel more anxious then usual. Getting my Xanax refilled will help. I swear, I hate everyone coming to this party—if you can call a bunch of Christians chatting about the weather a party. Honestly, tonight I really need the Xanax."

Rach laughed. "How can you be so antisocial? You've gotta learn to give people a chance. Besides, who says they're all going to talk about the weather? I'm sure there'll be someone at the party to stimulate your sophisticated mind."

"Good one, Rach." She had a knack for bringing me down to earth.

"What happened to that laidback seventeen-year old guy I fell in love with?" she continued.

"The one you fed wine coolers to get him through a party?"

She laughed again. "Touché."

"My turn to ask a question."

"Okay. Go."

"What happened to the free spirit that I fell in love with?"

She quickly fell silent. I immediately regretted asking.

Rachel replied softly after what felt like an eternity. "She's still here."

Her smile had vanished, and her cheeks blushed with the sting of my stupid comment. I knew her carefree conscience was a thing of the past. I knew religious guilt and endless striving had replaced the wild and free soul she'd once been. I don't know why, especially me, of all people, would bring it up.

"I'm sorry, Rach." I leaned in and hugged her while she drove. Her eyes were glossy, and she stared directly at the moonlit road ahead. "I'm just so tired. I'm so fucking tired," I said.

"Please don't swear."

We almost missed the pharmacy entrance when Rachel turned the wheel sharply. The car bounced partially over the curb as she maneuvered it into the parking lot, and it came down with a thud.

"Holy man, Rach," I laughed. "What was I thinking, questioning your wild side?"

"Shut up." She held back a grin. "Don't make fun of my driving."

She then made a point of driving more slowly and found a spot right in front. It was a sketchy part of town, so I was glad I'd be able to see her through the storefront windows while she waited in the car. Sometimes I wondered why she never questioned my coming to this rough neighborhood to refill my meds. There were loads of nicer pharmacies near our house.

"I'll just be a minute." I kissed her cheek.

She simply kept staring ahead. I think she wanted—not so subtlety—to show me she was still mad at me for my comment. But I felt better. I could see the forgiveness oozing out of her; she always forgave me quickly.

"You look cute when you're mad."

"I could strangle you, Dan."

"Really? I'm game, as long as you're naked."

She shook her head, and her expression melted into a small grin. "You're so weird. Hurry up, we don't always need to be the late couple."

I hopped out of the car far too eagerly and opened the aging pharmacy door. More than a few florescent lights were out, and the others were blinking. This had an eerie effect, and made me feel at home. This was the kind of place where my vices weren't judged. The pharmacist, an aging, specter-like waif of a man, filled my prescription. After my prescription was filled, I went to the liquor aisle. I'd gotten into the habit of mixing the antianxiety drugs with alcohol to increase the numbing effect. I craved inner peace, and couldn't achieve it through my doctor's recommendations of exercise and meditation. What did work was getting really fucked up. Besides, I prided myself on not being one of those yoga or gym boys.

I bought a mickey of vodka and a Gatorade. I also picked up a Diet Coke for Rach as a distraction, as well as a peace offering.

I paid, slipped out a side door out of the view of the car, and opened the Xanax and took two, letting them dissolve under my tongue. Then I poured out half the Gatorade on the ground and filled it with vodka. This ratio seemed to minimize alcohol breath. I took a big swig. It was ironic how the cold drink warmed up my throat and stomach, two opposing sensations swirling in my body, like other forces in life—love and lust, sanctity and carnality, life and death. I closed my eyes. I pictured Brittney with her arms and legs tied to the four bedposts, naked except for thin white panties, a wet line of excitement outlining her tight pussy. Fuck, I thought, snapping out of it.

I went back to the car. "I grabbed you a Diet Coke, babe."

"Thanks."

"I'm sorry," I repeated. "Please don't be mad at me anymore."

"You should go back to the doctor. It's like a rollercoaster with you. One minute you're the old Dan and the next, you're cold and mean."

"It wasn't even that bad, Rach, you're too sensitive. I think I spoiled you with kindness. Sometimes I say what I feel now." Rachel was seemingly unwilling to accept that I had changed. And, I didn't have the heart to tell her that the old Dan was gone. "But old Dan is still here." I lifted her hand to my cheek. Her palm felt soft against the stubble of my beard. "I'm sorry, Rach. I'll go see the doctor." I poked her side.

"Stop it."

"Try not to smile, Rach." I tickled her.

"Stop it, I'm driving."

"Oh! I saw a smile!"

"No, you didn't."

Despite what she said, she was obviously more cheerful. The drugs kicked in after a few minutes, and I felt playful and dozy, like someone who'd stayed up too long and finds everything funny and can't stop laughing about it. I kept tickling her, trying to kiss her neck while she scolded and pushed me away.

Stopping before she got too annoyed I laid backon my seat, closing my eyes. I thought about the plan. What should I do with this goddamned plan?