Chapter 3
SERANA
“Why do I have to go with you?”
“Because you’re my friend, and I always shared my food with you while we were locked up,” Moe replied.
“You and I both know you only gave away the stuff you didn’t like,” I snapped. When Moe shrugged, I whined, “Please don’t make me go to bingo again!”
“You’re a grown woman. I can’t make you do anything.”
Taylor scowled and said, “Guilt is a powerful motivator, and everyone knows you’re the best at dishing that out.”
“I don’t use guilt to get what I want; I just explain why you should do something in a way that reminds you how important it is to support our friends in their sober endeavors whether you understand and appreciate them or not.”
“Exactly,” Taylor muttered.
“Fine! I'll go, but I'm going to lay my head down and nap while you play,” I announced.
“Sucker!” Taylor whispered under her breath.
“Are you in?” Moe asked Taylor.
“Absolutly not. I’m going to paint a piece of wood and watch it dry. Once it’s dry, I’m going to paint it again and repeat the process. I can guarantee I’ll have more fun doing that than going to bingo and watching you sit there with your trinkets and ungodly amount of dobbers.”
“She had to buy a plastic case to carry it all,” I tattled.
“Of course she did.”
“You were the one who complained when the red one leaked,” Moe reminded me.
“Because it was in my purse!” I nearly screeched.
“I could hear you guys bickering as soon as I opened my front door,” Fiona complained as she walked into the long grow tunnel that we were working in this afternoon. “What’s going on?”
“Are you busy tonight, Fee?” Moe asked sweetly.
“I’m, um . . . Did you hear that?” Fiona asked as she turned and hurried back outside. “I think Zoey’s calling me!”
Moe stared at the door as it slammed shut and muttered, “Zoey’s not even here.”
Farrah appeared in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at the quickly retreating Fiona. I called out, “Farrah!”
Before she could reply, Moe asked, “Are you busy tonight?”
“Absolutely,” Farrah responded immediately.
“Have Lynn bring the girls to bingo with us,” Moe said sweetly.
“Can’t do it. The girls are staying with Lanna and Kyle, and we’re going to dance class.”
“You’re going to keep taking classes?” I asked.
“We’ve had a lot of fun, so why not?” Farrah asked rhetorically. “Lynn signed us up for six more weeks. The instructor said we’re getting better and asked if we’d like to join a more advanced class soon.”
“That’s a good hobby,” Taylor allowed. “Gets you up and moving, helps you socialize, and gives you a goal.”
“Unlike bingo!”
“We’ve had a blast learning together. I was really impressed that Lynn came up with the idea of us taking classes.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Moe said. When all of us looked at her like she’d just sprouted horns, she asked, “What? I can’t think something is sweet?”
“Well, sure, but you never do, so when you say things like that, we wonder if that might be the code that opens the portal to hell.” Farrah and Taylor cackled, but I just grinned at Moe when she scowled at me.
“Or that you bumped your head and have a possible concussion. Either scenario is perfectly reasonable.”
“If you’re insane,” Moe snapped.
“I wish we could go to dance class instead of bingo,” I complained.
“You could join one yourself. That would give you an excuse for Moe so you don’t have to go with her,” Farrah suggested.
“She’d just change which nights she wanted to play. Besides, I don’t have a partner,” I reminded her.
“Call that guy you danced with last time you were there,” Farrah suggested.
“I don’t have his number.”
“I thought you and Moe went to dinner with him and Josh.”
“We did. I had a lot of fun and thought he did, too, but then he jumped up and ran out like his pants were on fire. I took the hint.”
“What do you mean?” Farrah asked.
“He made some excuse, and I realized that my taste in men was still at an all-time low.”
“What was his excuse?” Taylor asked.
“He was laughing and chatting with us while the mother of his child was in labor! All of a sudden, he got a text and said, ‘Oh, shit! She’s having complications. I’ve gotta go.
’ When I asked Josh what was going on, he told me that Roscoe needed to go to the hospital to take care of one of his ladies. ”
“One of them? What an asshole!” Taylor exclaimed.
“That was my immediate thought.”
Farrah was laughing when she explained, “Roscoe is an OB/GYN, Serana, not a scumbag!”
I threw my hands up and yelled, “Of course he is!”
“You act like that’s a bad thing,” Taylor said, more relieved than I was to find out that Roscoe wasn’t the asshole we had assumed.
“He’s a doctor?”
“That’s what OB/GYN means,” Farrah reminded me with a confused look.
“I know that!”
“Then why are you so upset by the fact that the man obviously worked hard to get where he’s at in life, has a steady job, a purpose, and all that jazz?” Taylor asked.
“Because he’s a doctor!”
“After she got arrested, Serana made a vow to never date first responders or anyone in the medical profession,” Moe explained.
“Why?”
“I was a nurse. As a matter of fact, I worked in labor and delivery. I injured my back helping a pregnant woman when she lost her balance and started to fall.”
“You had a back injury?” Farrah asked.
“Yes, I did. A bad one. That’s when I started on the pills.”
“Oh,” Taylor and Farrah said at the same time.
“I was working in a hospital and dating a doctor, so that made it easy to get more. When the man I was dating realized I was addicted, he tried to help me, but when he found out I’d been forging prescriptions using his name, he reported me to the nursing board.
By then, I’d graduated from pills to needles and just took whatever I could find.
So, I started volunteering at a women’s clinic that helped low-income mothers and started pilfering their stash while I was still being investigated. ”
“Whoa,” Farrah said sadly.
“So, doctors have access to drugs, and the last thing I need is access to drugs or an egomaniacal doctor to put up with, so I’m almost glad Roscoe ditched me.”
“Maybe letting whoever you date know you’re an addict would be a better idea than avoiding people in the medical profession,” Taylor suggested. She wrinkled her nose before she said, “I sound like I’m running a meeting, don’t I?”
“Speaking of meetings, we’ve got one in about fifteen minutes.
I think this discussion should be a topic we cover today,” Moe said as she walked toward the spigot we used to rinse our hands.
“As a matter of fact, I’ll bring it up myself because I’m sure there are others who think avoiding people in certain professions will help them stay sober. ”
“What do you mean?” Taylor asked.
“Well, an alcoholic probably shouldn’t take a bartending job just like an addict probably shouldn’t work in a pharmacy.”
“Preach,” Taylor said cheerfully. “If I found myself behind the counter of a pharmacy, there’s no telling what damage I could do.
” She looked thoughtful for a second before she said, “Actually, there is. I broke into one through the drive-up window once and ransacked the place to find what I needed.”
“How did that work out for you?” Moe asked.
“It got me five to fifteen.”
Considering the subject matter, most people wouldn’t laugh at her answer, but we weren’t like most people.
All of the women who lived at The Flower Patch were recently released from prison, and most of them were in recovery.
That’s why we were required to attend meetings according to the strictures of our release.
Even though I was only required to attend three a week, I found myself going to more than I was required to just for companionship and camaraderie.
As far as I was concerned, every scrap of encouragement I could get helped my recovery, and being around people I trusted and respected would take me even further in my efforts.
Even if it wasn’t part of our parole stipulations, residents were also required to attend at least one session a week with our counselor, a wonderful doctor named Emerald Hamilton who was close friends with The Flower Patch founder, Zoey Duke.
As we walked across the grass toward the office building where Garvey Forrester conducted our meetings, Farrah asked, “What ever happened with your back injury? Did you have to have surgery?”
I laughed darkly before I said, “No, I just needed a better doctor. The muscles in my back were actually spasming because my hip was out of whack. A friend of mine suggested I see a chiropractor and a massage therapist, which I resisted at first because I had faith in the doctor that was treating me. By the time I finally made an appointment to see a chiropractor, I was at my wits’ end, and the pain was constant.
Looking back now, I can see that I was already an addict by then, but in my defense, I was also in constant pain. ”
“What did the chiropractor do?”
“He snap-crackle-popped my back and rotated my hip in a way that made me think he was trying to crush my sternum and rip my leg off, but by the time he was finished, I felt relief for the first time in months. Of course, it wasn’t fixed in an instant and I was still in some pain even though it wasn’t as debilitating as it had been before.
They told me it would require multiple appointments to keep everything aligned until my body readjusted itself to the way it should be. ”
“So, you kept taking the pills?”
“I did. I tried to tell myself I was just weaning off of them in relation to the amount of pain I was feeling, but that was bullshit. I was lying to myself and everyone else by then, and that didn’t stop.”
“I never asked why you got locked up, but . . .”
“Ladies, you’re gonna be happy with me this evening!” Garvey announced from the open doorway. “I brought even better snacks than usual.”
“You’re just making up for the barrel of cheese puffs you brought last week after your mad dash to the store with Zoey,” I teased.