Chapter 21: Two Steps Back, One Step Forward

Monday, September 17, 1984

Today was the first Blue Jeans Day of the semester, and we were all ready.

It turned out to mostly be a non-issue. Perhaps a few people looked at me oddly, and perhaps they didn’t. It was very hard to tell. In any case, no one said anything negative to me. Five people gave me a thumbs-up, and one said, “Hey, nice jeans!” He was wearing blue jeans, too, so I figured it was related.

In any case, it felt good to participate. It was, literally, the least we could do, but it counted.

When Cammie and I got home from Introductory Accounting, it was to find Angie on the phone. The parts of the conversation I could hear were pretty interesting.

“So,” she said, “How do you think we should proceed?”

There was a pause, then, “I know I could do more, now, but ... yeah. Let’s maybe wait and see.”

Another pause, then, “I didn’t really think it would be all that smooth a road either. Do we think we can trust...?”

She cut herself off and listened, then said, “Okay. Obviously, I trust your judgment. Hopefully, this is good news in the long run, even if it kinda sucks right now.”

After one more pause, she said, “Thanks, Jane! We’ll talk to you soon. We really should get down there and meet in person, but...”

She nodded a few times, then said, “Yeah, that’s about it. Take care! Talk to you soon!”

When she hung up, she gave a big sigh. Paige hugged her before I could, but it was a near thing.

“I have a guess,” I said.

“Almost certainly right,” she said, then waved to Cammie and said, “Hey! You and Mel are welcome to join us, since you’re fully in the club now.”

“Is Mel back yet?” Cammie said.

“Nah,” Paige said.

Just then the door opened and Mel came in. She looked at us and said, “What did I miss?”

“Angie was about to tell us,” I said.

“Family meeting!” Angie yelled.

Then she grinned and said, “I’ve always wanted to say that!”

Paige giggled and hugged Angie again.

We took seats in the living room, and Angie said, “Okay, so. Dr. Stanton, aka Jane, aka our therapist, called. The whole thing is pretty simple. You all know that I’ve been in touch with my birth mother, Sharon, via her therapist and Jane.”

“Yeah,” Cammie said. “And that it’s pretty hush-hush.”

Angie nodded and said, “Yeah. I’m not sure how Mom will take it. Dad, either, but mostly he’ll follow Mom’s lead on this sort of thing.”

I nodded along with that. Dad could surprise us, sometimes, but usually wouldn’t.

Angie continued, saying, “So ... Sharon had a ... well, ‘relapse’ is as good a word as any.”

“Fuck!” Paige said. “Stupid...”

Angie cut her off, saying, “Don’t say it. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right, but ... you’re also wrong.”

“Explain!” Paige said.

“It’s just...” Angie said, then sighed deeply. “Look ... it’s ... it’s just not that easy. There’s a reason why addicts relapse. It’s fucking hard to stay clean! People in prison can’t do it, even though you’d think it would be harder to score drugs there. I mean, being really bluntly honest — with myself, not just y’all — if I hadn’t had a bunch of things: having died and come back to life, and also being a teenager with really limited resources, plus having Mom and maybe Steve watching my back, and finally being all concerned with helping Steve, I’d have been using. April and May of 1980 kinda really sucked in some ways. Few friends, few ways to meet them, all that.”

Paige shook her head, and said, “That’s kind of news, girlfriend,” while giving Angie a big hug.

Angie sighed again.

“I know, but there was no reason to bring it up. I was over it by July, even before Steve was Steve. Candice ... that ... I really wanted to get wasted after that, but I was holding it together for Steve. Then Max entered the picture, and I was too busy trying to save him. Max gave me my first real opportunity to get wasted, and I didn’t take it.”

I nodded along, and so did Paige.

“Seriously, I’m over it,” Angie said. “I mean, okay, ask me again if there’s some really bad thing I need to cope with, but I’m just not that person anymore. Too much has changed.”

We nodded again. I was pretty sure she was right.

“Anyway, it’s ... Sharon didn’t have that. She had the opposite. She’d gotten clean under lockdown, and psych lockdowns are often much better at policing access than prisons. Then the halfway house tested her all the damn time. When they took the brakes off, though...”

Angie shook her head, sighed, and continued, saying, “All of it hit at once. She had an idea where I was, but couldn’t talk to me. She’s got a record, and it’s keeping her from finding a decent job. They were still checking in on her all the time, which is pretty oppressive. Necessary, but still. The way I hear it, she got depressed, found some guy, and fucked him for drugs.”

“Shit!” Paige said. “I’m gonna say...”

“No, you’re not,” Angie said. “Seriously, you’re not, because you’re not hearing the stuff I’m not saying.”

“Tell!” Paige said.

“So ... girls — and I’m restricting it to you, because Steve might know where I’m going with this question — tell me. What’s the definition of a ‘hot chick?’”

I had a good guess, just from how Angie put that. Better than the girls did. They started naming body parts, and a few behaviors.

After a minute or so, Angie cut them off.

“A ‘hot chick’ is a girl who’ll fuck you. At least, that’s how a lot of guys see it.”

Paige snorted, and then said, “Okay, fine, you have a point.”

I grinned and said, “Cammie’s pretty hot.”

Cammie blushed, and Mel made a face for a second. Then she realized where I was going with that and just giggled. As she did, Cammie joined her.

Angie grinned, and said, “You are an exception, brother dear.”

Paige said, “What does this have to do with Sharon?”

Angie said, “It’s simple. Sharon’s hot that way. Bluntly, she long ago learned to fuck the one she was with, whoever that might be. The important thing isn’t that. It’s ... well, she wasn’t under guard or anything. She could’ve vanished and been off the radar for months if she wanted. Maybe forever, or at least forever in the sense that, when she turned up, it’d either be because she got stopped randomly or because she got sick or OD’d.”

Paige made a face, but nodded.

“You’re pretty much painting her as a whore, you know,” Mel said.

Angie shrugged.

“That’s because she pretty much is, or was, a whore,” Angie said, sighing. “She doesn’t have a lot of skills, but she’s still attractive. More than that, she’s willing. It sucks, but it’s pointless for me to lie to myself about who and what she was, is, and maybe can be. She’s a whore, and she got me — I mean, the ‘me’ that was in this body before I got here — killed thanks to her terrible judgment.”

Paige held Angie a little more tightly.

Mel blinked at that.

“I ... I guess it ... it hadn’t occurred to me that ... people, um ... died?” she said, making it sound like a question.

“I wasn’t this Angie Marshall before February 1980. Steve wasn’t who he is before late July 1980. Someone else had to be there. Maybe, if the universe is some custom thing, those people were always supposed to die. Maybe they didn’t even really exist. Who knows? But, if there was an ‘Angie Marshall’ in this body before I got here, she’s gone, so I figure she pretty much died when that jerk cracked my ... her ... our? ... skull.”

Mel shook her head a bit, but nodded.

“That ... it makes sense. It just maybe ... I mean, it’s not your fault, obviously, but it kinda...”

“It really sucks,” Angie said. “I feel like I owe to that Angie to not waste this life. On the other hand, I feel like ... well ... whatever did this is ... it’s not evil. Just killing some helpless girl to put me here is pretty evil, really, in my opinion. Either that Angie was destined to die no matter what, and It — whatever It is — took advantage of that, or It made things so that the other Angie wasn’t ‘real,’ or It rewarded my other self with her own second chance, or ... something.”

We all nodded. I was on the same page with Angie, but I got the feeling she’d put more thought into this than I’d known.

“Anyway!” she said. “That’s all kinda beside the point. Sharon was a whore, and she took advantage of that when she could. I suppose I could get all judgmental and say that’s what she is, ‘cuz she certainly sold herself to get the drugs, but ... well, that’s all she did. She got fucked that once, and then she got really fucked up. Then she went home, knowing that she’d get a parole check in the next few days and knowing they’d drug test her.”

“So ... she wanted to get caught?” Paige said.

“Pretty sure yes,” Angie said, “I even mean it was probably conscious. Addicts lie to themselves more than they lie to anyone else, but they also kinda know when they’re doing it. I think she realized she couldn’t deal with things and the easiest way to get help was to force the system to help her.”

After a second, Paige softly said, “I’m sorry I almost said...”

This time it was Angie’s turn to give Paige a tight hug.

“It’s okay,” Angie said. “It wouldn’t have been a problem. I know you would’ve felt bad, though.”

“Yeah,” Paige said, sighing.

After a short pause, I said, “What happens next?”

Angie said, “This happened a few months ago. Sharon’s therapist couldn’t get permission from her to share the story, so that’s why we didn’t know. And I mean, it’s not because Sharon didn’t want to let her share, it’s because they sent her to forced rehab. She couldn’t talk to her regular therapist in private for the first few months, and it’s still a big secret that Sharon’s in touch with me. Now they can talk a bit. Meanwhile, the system is going to repeat the same steps, slowly, and it’ll be at least a year before Sharon’s back out. We’ll be able to communicate some before she’s out, though. No meetings, but now that her therapist can talk to her again, we’ll be able to send notes. Not right away, but fairly soon.”

“It all really sucks,” Paige said.

“It does,” Angie said, nodding. “Recovery sucks. It’s hard, and ... well. Sharon knows that. If she hadn’t relapsed, I always would have worried. I still will, but I’m pretty sure this is part of giving her a real chance. The addict way is to take the easy way out. She didn’t. If anything, what she did was wave a big sign saying, ‘Hey, look! I could have taken the easy way out and I didn’t! But I can’t do this on my own and you people need to help me.’”

Everyone nodded a bit. I was probably the closest to understanding it, and I couldn’t. Not really.

“You know what really sucks?” Angie said.

“The whole fucking thing?” Paige said.

Angie chuckled.

“Nah. There’s ... well ... ok, ‘Candide’ time again. If Sharon wasn’t such a fuckup, I’d be living with her. I never would have moved here. I wouldn’t know that Steve is like me, and I never would have met the rest of you at all. All is for the best...”

“ ... in the best of all possible worlds,” we all said.

“So,” Paige said. “What really sucks?”

“That I fucking understand what she’s going through! Like, from personal experience! But I can’t share a word of that or even hint at understanding it, because this me couldn’t understand it. Without fully revealing myself, it would sound like the stupidest thing ever for an eighteen-year-old who’d never had any trouble with the law and whose worst crisis was a stupid homicidal boyfriend to claim that she understood the way it feels to be an addict hitting bottom.”