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  A large mirror greeted them at the top and their refl ections belonged to the people they used to be.

  Heather’s hair had long fi nger curls and ribbons made of silk. Her mother had spent hours putting the curls in her hair before church every Sunday. Heather remembered the safety she felt during those moments and she longed to feel it again.

  Laurie’s refl ection stared back through the vibrant blue eyes of a young woman. Her skin was smooth, her eyes were smoky, and her mouth was full, just as she remembered from her childhood. Laurie had a sweetness to her that balanced out the seductress she had been. She was the perfect balance of wife, mother and playmate.

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  Laurie took Heather’s hand and carefully led the way.

  Heather forgot how good it felt to bask in her mother’s protective presence and wondered if she could choose to stay in that moment with her forever.

  “Stay behind me,” Laurie whispered.

  Her mother refused to pass her own fears onto her children. She worked hard to keep them from knowing the things that scared her. Although claustrophobic, Laurie’s fear had never prevented her from climbing into an elevator and riding to the top of a building. And somehow, she hid her fear the whole way up. Her mother would paste on a phony smile and hum a happy tune while she quietly counted her palpitations.

  With little feet, Heather hid behind her mother and held onto the belt of her skirt. She felt strange as she experienced the emotions of a girl and a woman at the same time.

  “What, Mommy? Who’s in there?” she whispered back, her tiny fi nger pointing to the door they’d stopped in front of.

  “I don’t know, honey. Go hide in the closet,” Laurie whispered loudly as she pointed to a door across the hall.

  Heather sensed the panic in her voice and knew her mom was afraid. Though she was close to Heather’s true age, it was impossible to see her mother as a peer.

  “I don’t want to,” Heather said fi rmly. “I don’t want to hide anymore.”

  The fi rst line came from the child Heather but the second came from the grown up inside.

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  “Stay behind me, honey. It’ll be all right,” Laurie said as she reached for the doorknob.

  Heather held her breath while her mother turned the knob and wondered if a person could pass out from the lack of oxygen.

  The door opened wider and Heather kept her fi ngers twisted into the back of her mother’s waist and her knuckles ached with the muscles she exerted. She followed her mother into the room.

  Noises came from another dark corner and they both stopped in their tracks. Heather grunted from the abrupt slam into her mother’s rear end.

  “Mommy?” she whispered.

  Laurie didn’t respond so Heather worked up the courage to peek around her body again. She moved her head slowly until she could see what was in Laurie’s line of vision. Paralysis seized her just as it had her mother.

  They watched a scene from the past. It was the scene that Heather had struggled for so long to remember and now that she saw it, she wished she hadn’t. Heather and her sisters sat on top of a waterbed that was dressed in a purple velvet bedspread. They were all dressed in nightgowns that were too sexy for most adults and their fresh young faces were made up, seemingly by a hooker.

  Their hairstyles refl ected the seventies with long layered feathers that were sprayed to perfection.

  They were a little angry and very scared. The object of their fear wasn’t far away. A young man faced the girls 324

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  but had his back to Heather and Laurie. She could tell from his posture that he was holding a camera.

  “Very good,” he praised one of them. “You’re such a seductive child.”

  Heather remembered the voice. As an adult, she heard how it dripped with sleaze and a lack of control.

  “Remember how I told you girls to pose?” he asked.

  The girls nodded but remained silent as the pedophile moved to the side, blocking Heather’s current line of vision. She didn’t mind. She didn’t want to see anymore anyway.

  She didn’t want to focus on the scene before them because she had already lived it. All she ever needed was to believe herself that something had really happened to them. She didn’t need to see what the camera fl ashed on.

  She saw the tattoo of a dragon on his right bicep and she remembered his sickly presence. Curtis Knight, friend to all children, had been bad man. It was all she needed to know.

  Heather saw the horror on her mother’s face and knew she had never even suspected. Curtis was young and handsome and he had known the right words to say.

  The neighborhood parents trusted him because no child ever gave them reason not to. Instead, they grew into drug addicts, bulimics and suicides.

  Heather noticed something hanging from her mother’s skirt pocket and she snatched it. It was a gold pocket watch and Heather wondered where it came from.

  She looked at its face and saw the hands were parked at 325

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  11:11. She knew it meant it was time to leave but she wasn’t ready yet.

  Heather wanted to strip her mother of the guilt and herself of the rage that Curtis had created through his selfi sh and gutless acts. She knew if her mother had even suspected, she would have tortured the pervert to death before his arraignment.

  Heather pushed the minute hand back slightly and took Laurie’s hand into hers. She smiled and her mother returned it with a smile of her own. Heather placed her head on Laurie’s shoulder and inhaled through her nose.

  Her mother’s neck always smelled so good and felt so warm.

  “I love you, Mom. I’m sorry for the times my anger hurt you,” Heather said softly.

  Tears stung the back of her eyeballs and she willed them to just fall so that the pain and pressure would be alleviated. She closed the lids for a moment to let the protective wetness seep in. When she opened them again, her mother was gone.

  Heather looked around the room. There was no longer a staircase and no longer a pedophile. There was also no more Mommy there to protect her.

  Another door appeared and Heather knew she had earned her way out of the room. She walked toward it slowly and told herself the fi rst one hadn’t been that bad.

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  Chapter 26

  Nymphetamine

  Heather stood at the door and hesitated before touching the knob. It didn’t buy her the time she was hoping for because the door opened in apparent expectation of her arrival. She lingered in the doorway, her right hand fi rmly holding the jamb, her left one catching her forehead when her neck muscles weakened under the strain of fear. She remained in the spot until her body began working properly and all functioning restarted.

  At the touch of her fi rst footfall, music started blasting through speakers she couldn’t see. The Four Seasons belted out Oh, What A Night, a tune that had always instilled good feelings in her. Heather’s comfort level began to rise, despite the terror she knew the room might hold. A strange magnetic draw lured her in deeper and she found she didn’t want to fi ght its power.

  She made it about halfway through when nightclub lights fl ooded the room and showed Heather she was on a dance fl oor. She was surrounded by people dancing and 327

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  had to walk carefully so that she didn’t run into them.

  Although they didn’t acknowledge her presence with eye contact or any other interaction, the other patrons subtly created a path that led Heather straight to the bar.

  When she got there, she laid her elbows on the cold surface. The energy level in the room was contagious and she could feel her nerves adjusting to the tempo of the music. She’d almost forgotten that she hadn’t arrived with friends or that she was in Hell’s lobby. Her fi ngers beat the song onto the bar while she waited for service.

&nb
sp; “What can I get for you?” a deep voice asked.

  The bartender was about six foot one and he had a head full of dark curls. His eyes were a piercing blue and his dimples reminded her of Antonio Banderas.

  As he fl irted with her, Heather looked around with growing confusion. She wondered if she had accidentally walked through the door to paradise and envisioned angelic bodyguards coming to toss her out. Glancing around nervously, she prayed the mistake wouldn’t be caught until she’d at least had a drink.

  “Long Island iced tea, please,” she answered with a smile and a wink.

  Heather told herself there was no threat here and became gleefully complacent, allowing herself to believe what she wanted to believe. The id inside was vying to take control and Heather relaxed in the knowledge that her superego would rush in and save her when the time came. To the devil on one shoulder, she was playful and 328

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  attentive but to the angel on the other, she was neglectful and tried to shake off its existence.

  The delicious bartender poured several liquors into a glass of waiting ice and placed it in front of her. She nodded her thanks and took a long sip.

  “What would you like on the side?” he asked.

  Heather noticed that he even sounded like Antonio Banderas and she warmed up to him without the barriers that were usually present. His question surprised her.

  Nobody had ever offered her a side with a cocktail.

  “Come again?” she asked.

  The bartender reached out to take her hand and Heather felt electricity at his touch. His sexiness was ridiculous and it made direct contact with her libido.

  Slowly and teasingly, he opened her fi ngers and placed a menu in her hands.

  “I’m not hungry,” she pouted.

  He started to laugh and Heather felt suddenly naive.

  Innocence was a rare feeling for her and she liked it.

  When she looked down at the menu, disbelief took hold.

  The menu listed every drug known to man and each one had an expensive price. The prices weren’t monetary and Heather felt a shiver at the base of her spine as she read them. She was starting to understand the room and she became anxious about what else, or who else, might pop up.

  Listed under the appetizers were addictive medications like Percocet and Xanax. It amused Heather because she had always joked around about wanting 329

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  to fi nd a restaurant that specialized in drugs. She was tempted to order a pain killer and an anti-anxiety pill just to deal with the rest of the room but instead just perused the strange menu more. She hoped to fi nd a clue that would tell her the signifi cance of the room before her need for excess took over and she started ordering.

  Under the salads were pictures and descriptions of various types of marijuana. Heather instinctively looked around the bar for police and saw none. She decided their presence probably wasn’t conducive to the lesson and therefore, their images hadn’t even been created.

  When she checked out the entrees, pictures of cocaine and alcohol promised her a good time. Heather felt her resistance starting to break as she shifted blame to the One who put her in the room.

  The dessert section was the only area where real food existed. Though she hadn’t suffered the consequences of an unmanageable sweet tooth, Heather noticed the confections she did crave were the only ones listed. Red velvet cake, dark chocolate nuggets and cherry cheesecake called out to her taste buds. She ordered nothing because she feared that her acceptance of anything on the naughty menu would initiate a negative spiral of events. She held tightly to her resistance as the room began to suck away all of her inhibitions.

  Heather caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar. She was shocked to see that her hair fell into long shiny curls, past her shoulders and down her back. She might have been mistaken for beautiful if 330

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  her face weren’t indistinguishable. She looked like the guardian angel her friends had seen hovering around.

  She was a goddess, an angel stuck inside a room full of temptation.

  Heather felt a hand on her shoulder but she didn’t jump. It felt good because it quelled her loneliness. She glanced down and saw it was rough, like the hands of a man chained to daily labor. The tattoo of a snake ran down the pointer fi nger of his right hand and ended in the middle of his palm. The sight of it caused Heather to gulp audibly. She had once loved a man with the same tattoo. When she fi nally gathered the courage to look, Heather directed her eyes to the man touching her.

  “Oh my God,” she said.

  He smiled the sexy half smile that she had fallen in love with as a teenager. Jake broke her heart when she was too young to understand boundaries and she had always credited her fi rst love with her ugliest lessons. He had taught her the meaning of unfaithfulness and deception and she always knew that her penchant to hurt men came from her volatile relationship with him.

  Heather’s heart pounded just as it did twenty years before. His hair was blacker than almost seemed possible and his eyes were still as dark as the night. He winked hello and Heather experienced a rush of the love she had for him so long ago. He had claimed her innocence and, for that alone, would always hold a special place in her heart.

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  “Why are you here?” she asked with a head tilt.

  “I’m drinking,” he answered.

  Jake casually swallowed a twelve ounce beer in one sip and the sight made recall easier. Heather had fi nally walked away from him because his love for alcohol and other women superseded his love for her. Right before their last break up, Jake got drunk and cuddled up to a beer keg instead of her. When she told him goodbye, the nozzle was still implanted in his mouth.

  As usual, he turned his attention away from her and looked to the bartender.

  “Bud bottle and an eight-ball, man,” he ordered.

  “No problem, dude.”

  The Banderas look alike handed her ex-boyfriend a small liquid bottle and Jake accepted it eagerly.

  When she looked down, Heather noticed a dish of red velvet cake had been placed in front of her. She could tell it was moist by the deep red and the wet shine. Suddenly, she wanted to eat it badly. She became increasingly aware of her limitless desires and need to have what she wanted immediately.

  “Hey baby, remember this?” Jake asked.

  He held up the tiny bottle and she knew right away it held Rush, the inhalant they used to sniff as rebellious kids. She clearly remembered the feeling of the forced palpitations and the boost of energy that drove her nerves from zero to sixty in a millisecond.

  “Come on,” he goaded. “Do it.”

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  Heather smiled as a new realization started to sink in.

  Even when she didn’t want something, she still took it to excess. Moderation had never been her forte and boundary pushing may as well have been her major in college. She had never really learned the power of just saying no and subsequently, her life had taken many diffi cult turns.

  Jake laughed and lifted the vial up to his nose. A brief sniff later, he staggered dizzily a short distance from his chair. The bartender laughed along with him and Heather’s fi ngers itched to grab the bottle. She wanted to have fun too.

  “Watch out, man,” the bartender laughed. “That shit kills a lot of brain cells.”

  Jake gathered himself together and looked at Heather with feigned concern.

  “Careful baby, you’ve only got three left,” he said laughing.

  He and the bartender shared a hearty laugh and Heather shook her head with a smile. It was typical for Jake to use her as a target for his jokes. If he had contributed anything positive to her life, it would probably be the ability to laugh at herself.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  As she watched the fun they were having, her inhibitions moved
out one by one. The mature and emotionally developed part of her would have told her that she didn’t really want to sniff it but that part wasn’t home.

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  Heather picked up her drink and chugged it like a sorority girl. She grabbed the cake with her hand and shoved it into her mouth, ignorant of the crumbs that dropped into her lap and frosting that smeared onto her face. She didn’t feel control over her actions anymore and the need to take everything she wanted was becoming stronger than her.

  She grabbed the bottle from Jake’s hand and sniffed at the top of it the way she used to. She was assaulted by the sweet chemical scent and immediately felt the blood rush to her brain as it looked for oxygen to steal. Heather jumped down from her chair so that she could feel the effects of the drug and all three of them laughed like children when her foot caught on the chair and pulled her to the fl oor. As her old boyfriend helped her up, the bartender slammed three shots of vodka onto the bar and raised his in the air for a toast.

  “To having it all,” he said loudly.

  Heather raised her small glass and drank to the selfi sh vow. An ache in her stomach told her the cake hadn’t settled right and the nausea that crept in reminded her why sipping was preferable to gulping. She felt the need to vomit and sat back down in hopes the inaction would alleviate her symptoms.

  Jake was back on the stool next to her and he pulled her toward him. Memories of old feelings marched into her heart like a parade. She wanted him just the way she did so many years before and with no concern of 334

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  reciprocation, she reached out to touch his face. He placed his hand over hers and Heather noticed a ring, loud and shiny, glaring at her from her left fi nger. She pulled back, confused.

  Realization waded through the emotional moat she had surrounded herself with and blanketed her conscious mind with new information. She was married and the stinging shame of her intentions caused her to pull back quickly.

  “I can’t,” she said fi rmly. “I’m married.”