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in his recliner, and turned on the television. With Conan curled up on his belly, he fell asleep as silent tears continued to spill from his eyes.
     
     

 
    Five
     
     
    The trailer was dark, but it was always dark, even during the day. During the daylight hours, the darkness in the trailer seemed almost malignant to Sherry Manning – harsh halos of pale sunlight glowed around the edges of the blankets and towels hanging in all the windows – except for the one living room window where the swamp cooler was – and the glow made the smoke from a cigarette someone was smoking look like something sinister as it oozed through the air, then was swept away suddenly by the current of the cooler.
    She lay on the couch with a couple throw pillows under her head. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been lying there, nor did she care. The television was on – The Price is Right had been on for a while, then she’d closed her eyes and opened them to Jerry Springer , closed them again and opened them to Oprah , and now it was a rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond . Sherry liked that show and watched it a lot. She squinted at the television and wondered if it was an episode she’d seen.
    Sherry sat up on the couch and yawned. She smacked her lips and rubbed her eyes. Her mouth was dry and she felt ... gummy. Gummy in her mouth, and gummy all over.
    Andy came in from the kitchen and said, “Hi, babe.” He sat down on the couch beside her, put an arm around her, and kissed her cheek. “I gotta go.” He held a cigarette between the first two fingers of his right hand, and it trailed ribbons of smoke that got caught up and swept away by the swamp cooler.
    “Where you goin’?” she said. Her tongue felt thick and she slurred her words. She sat back a little, reached up, and stroked his smooth face, brushed a strand of his long hair out of his eyes. She loved his hair. It was long and thick and luxurious, a rich brown, like chocolate, and she loved stroking it, running her fingers through it.
    “I gotta pick up David,” he said. “Him and me’re gonna score some weed. Pays the bills, y’know.”
    “Yeah, okay. Gonna be long?”
    “Shouldn’t be. Don’t worry, you got plenty a company.” He looked down at the floor where four bodies formed sprawling lumps under a tangle of blankets.
    “Who’s here?” she said as she squinted down at them.
    Andy frowned for a moment and shrugged. “I’m not even sure anymore. People’ve been in and out today.”
    “Do me a favor before you go?”
    “Sure, what?”
    She reached over and took her black vinyl kit from the end table and handed it to him.
    Andy looked at the kit disapprovingly and sighed. He only smoked weed, he didn’t do the hard stuff. He didn’t like it when Sherry did, either. She didn’t do it very often. Sometimes she got an itch for it, like she’d had the day before. At least she thought it had been the day before. She frowned.
    “What day is it?” she said as he took the kit and opened the zipper.
    “Tuesday.” He opened the kit and went to work. “You know I don’t like you doing this shit. You do it much longer, you’re gonna have trouble getting off it.”
    “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
    Sherry liked to watch him as he held the lighter under the spoon, as he loaded the spike. As he put the tourniquet – a length of surgical tubing – on her arm. Then he tenderly felt for a vein, gently inserted the needle, and –  
    All the gumminess went away. In seconds, Sherry felt pristine and shiny, like the surface of a mirror, like the sharp, glinting, polished-steel blade of a knife.
    Oh, yeah. She dropped her head back and relaxed, slumped on the couch as it moved through her, as it soothed every nerve to the point of ecstasy.
    “You gonna be okay now?” Andy said.
    “Mmm, yeah. I feel all yummy now.”
    He leaned over and kissed her, and she put an arm around his neck, pulled him close, and gave him a long, deep kiss.
    He smiled as he pulled back.