When they had told him, he'd been staring out the window of the baby's room. Imagining being home, imagining the snow that would be falling if he were back home. Fucked if he knew why he was still here. Cali-fucking-fornia. Only reason he stayed was in this very room. Or had been in this room
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It was her, or one hell of a goddamned good imitation. No, he knew better. It was her, Vivian. He knew it, he felt it. He believed, he wanted so hard to believe. But, why? Why now, why here? Just disappear off the earth, and suddenly appear on Christmas fucking eve, right on his - their - doorstep ( ... )
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Vivian was clean, well as clean as you can get given her status in life. Yeah, she took the odd line of coke when it was offered, but she didn't squander her own hard earned precious cash on it. If it was offered, then she took it, but she didn't seek it out anymore, and she couldn't actually recall ever having taken heroin. But she knew she had, there ( ... )
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