Hours later, Lorraine woke up, heart pounding. There had been a violent crash, as if the front door had been knocked down. Music thumped out, the volume on maximum. She sat up, and eased herself off the bed. She didn’t recognize the screeching, confused voice, and the sound of breaking glass topped even the music.
Lorraine pushed open the bedroom door, and gasped. Rosie was reeling around the room, falling into furniture, drinking from a quart bottle of bourbon. She leered at Lorraine, and waved the bottle. ‘You wanna drink? Come on in, sit down, have a drink with me!’
Lorraine watched, incredulous, as Rosie crashed into the kitchen, smashing glasses as she attempted to get one from the cupboard. She swore and kicked at the jagged pieces. Her eyes were unfocused, her face bright red and sweating. She swayed as she poured and held out a half-full tumbler. ‘Have a drink, skinny!’
Lorraine was about to take the glass when the front door opened. She had no idea who the short, squat man was, who knocked the glass out of Rosie’s hand, snatched the bottle from her and began pouring the contents down the sink. Rosie screamed and lunged at him with a punch, missed, and fell into the closet. Brushes tumbled around her as she slumped on the floor, weeping. Her sobs came louder as he ran water into the sink, making sure every drop of liquor was gone. Rosie’s head fell forward onto her chest and her breath came in terrible, heaving rasps.
‘Help me get her into the bathroom and turn that fucking music off!’ Lorraine did as she was told, and between them they dragged Rosie into the bedroom then the bathroom by both arms, like a beached whale, and inched her into the base of the shower, before the man turned it on full blast. When Rosie finally came to, she began to vomit. The man held her head up, getting soaked himself in the process. He snapped out instructions for Lorraine to pass him towels and a pillow. When the vomiting subsided he stuffed a pillow under Rosie’s dripping head, and stood up. ‘She’ll sleep it off now.’
Lorraine followed him into the sitting room. He was attempting to dry himself with one of the kitchen towels. ‘You started her on this binge, huh?’
Lorraine shook her head. He began to brew coffee, and fetched cups, treading warily over the broken glass. ‘What brought it on, then?’
‘I dunno.’ She folded her arms. The smell of the bourbon hanging in the air made her swallow because it smelt so good. ‘You got a cigarette?’
He tossed over a squashed packet, and rubbed his shoulder. ‘She must weigh a ton. I’m getting too old for this — she’s put my shoulder out before now, and my back. Once she knocked me out stone cold... So, if you didn’t bring the bottle in, did she get it herself?’
Lorraine lit the cigarette and pocketed the packet. ‘I dunno. I was asleep.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ he sneered. ‘Sleeping one off, were you?’
Lorraine was annoyed by his aggressive, punchy manner. His neck was short, his greasy black hair thinning, even his hands were podgy. ‘You her boyfriend or something?’ she asked.
‘Her what? You kiddin’? Need a bigger man than me to take that rhino on. I’m her sponsor, but I dunno for how long. They called me from the liquor store — little arrangement we have, saves them from one of her visits. You get her started, did you? Then she went for a bottle? After she’s finished one bottle she’s only after the next, and those bars they got up may have kept them safe from the riots but they wouldn’t from Rosie.’ He helped himself to coffee, and poured some for Lorraine. ‘I’m Jake Valsack.’
‘Lorraine.’
Jake eased his square backside onto the sofa. ‘Well, you made it through a night, then? And...’ He looked at his watch and smiled. When he smiled, his face changed from something that resembled a chimpanzee into a cute pixie. ‘You been dry almost a whole day. We’ll go to the meeting — she won’t be round for a while yet.’
Lorraine had no desire to go to another meeting, so she said she’d stay with Rosie. Jake hooted with laughter. Once again she grew increasingly irritated with him.
‘So, Lorraine, what kind of work did you do before drinking?’
She crossed to the kitchen and poured more coffee. ‘I was a secretary.’
He swivelled round. ‘So you can type, huh? You got a job? Rosie said you’d need one.’
‘You going to give me one?’
Jake hooted again. ‘What you think I am — nuts?’
Lorraine sat on the sofa arm. ‘So what did you do before drinking, Jake?’ she inquired sarcastically. He looked up at her from round, dark eyes — he was a dead ringer for a chimpanzee.
‘I was a doctor. Still am a doctor only I can’t practise any more. Now I help run a clinic for junkies and alkies and anybody who needs help, like Rosie.’
Lorraine looked away for she could read the pain in those animal eyes. Maybe Jake could see something similar in her own because he seemed to relent. He opened his wallet and passed over a card. ‘You can call me on that line. I know somebody who needs a bit of clerical work done, be a few bucks in hand — or you can work for me. I’m a glutton for punishment. We need as many helping hands as possible, but there’s no money in it.’
As she pocketed the card, she felt Jake’s cigarettes. She didn’t dare bring one out in case he asked for them back. He stood up and glanced at the broken screen door. ‘Tell Rosie I’m around.’
Lorraine watched his stocky figure strut off down the road. Then she searched for Rosie’s handbag. She was opening the purse when she heard moaning from the bathroom. Rosie was trying in vain to stand up. Lorraine looked at her, in no way disgusted by the spectacle: she’d seen and been in a lot worse states herself. ‘I guess I just tied another one on, didn’t I?’
Lorraine laughed. ‘Yep, you sure did. Your pal was here — Jake.’
‘Was he? Well, are you gonna stand there gloating or are you gonna help me get up off the fucking floor?’
Lorraine tried to pull her up but fell forward on top of her. Rosie felt like a mammoth blanket. Eventually, after much tugging and heaving, she managed to get into a sitting position, where she held her head in her hands and groaned. Lorraine fetched a glass of water and held it out. Rosie gulped it down, and then demanded another. She drank four full glasses before she rested back against the shower. ‘Did you say Jake was here?’
Lorraine nodded, and Rosie began to cry, guilty and morose. She sobbed and sobbed, a jumbled, incoherent stream of adoring phrases about the chimpanzee man, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes.
‘I’m off to see if I can find a job, Rosie. Did you hear me?’
Rosie hauled herself slowly to her feet. ‘Sure. Do what you like.’
‘Can I take a few dollars?’ she called from the sitting room.
‘Sure, honey, if there’s any left. I dunno how much I spent...’ Rosie dragged herself unsteadily to the chair by the telephone and sat down. “I’ll wait a while, then call him. I need to talk to him. I’m sorry, but I guess you’ll do better without me. I knew I’d make a lousy sponsor. Jake was right about that.’ She leaned back with her eyes closed. ‘You must be proud of yourself. You didn’t have a drink with me, did you?’
‘Nope, guess I didn’t.’ Lorraine emptied Rosie’s purse, and walked out.
She had no intention of seeing Rosie again. She felt almost lighthearted, a strange new confidence in herself: she had not taken a drink. She might have finished the bottle if Jake hadn’t walked in when he did but, as it was, she had not had a drink.
The late-afternoon sun was brilliant, blistering down, and she could feel the pavement scorching through her cheap second-hand shoes. The feeling of being in control of something as simple as her own feet, of walking in a straight line, made her confidence jump a tiny notch higher. She took off the elastic band from her hair, and shook it loose. It smelt of lemons, just like the old shampoo she used, how long ago? Lorraine reached the corner, and stopped to light a cigarette. Tossing the match aside, she inhaled deeply and let the smoke drift slowly out of her mouth. She sucked again at the cigarette, watching the lit rim of tobacco move up the white paper before she exhaled. She didn’t want to think about the past, about what or who she had been.