My Best Friend

Goddammit. Why was it so fucking bright in here? Why are the fucking blinds open? What fucking time is it anyways?

The clock next to the bed glares an angry 8:00 a.m. and the alarm has been shrilling for at least an hour. Well shit. Now I am late for work. Why does school have to start so early? Those little shits are going to be way more than I can handle today.

On the night stand stood a half empty bottle of vodka and a knocked over bottle of Vicodin. Teacher’s little helpers. It was the only way I could survive another day of teaching a bunch of snot nosed, uppity rich 4^th graders. Hell, their play-dates cost more than my entire monthly salary. It was a job, and I should be lucky to have one, considering my track record with the public school system. And hey, some the nannies took pity on me and slipped me some of their bosses’ prescription pills to keep me in good supply.

Usually I don’t indulge in my weekend treat of alcohol and pain medication, but after coming across the notice for my high school reunion and the shiny faces of my ex-husband and his new little wife, well, I didn’t think it would hurt to numb the pain just a little bit.

I shut off the alarm clock and clicked on some music. Hoping to wash off the stench of self-medication, I turned on the shower and stood under the steaming hot water, humming along with Joe Cocker. I do get along with a little help from my friends. They may be pills and booze, but they were the best friends I have ever had. Leaning my head against the cool tile, I let the hot water run down my back, loosening my aching muscles. I should just call in sick. It was field trip day and they would have plenty of adults to corral the kids as they explored the Natural History Museum. I didn’t have it in me to slap on a fake smile and pretend I cared about dinosaur bones or have Suzie-Know-It-All correct the museum tour guide with “Well, my daddy is a doctor, and he said….” Blah blah blah.

I am pretty sure I have enough vodka to last me the rest of today and into the weekend. Plus Suzie’s nosy nanny slipped me at least a week’s supply of happy pills so I should be set. Once the water started to run cold, I turned it off and snatched up a towel from the pile on the floor. This one looked clean enough…I just needed to dry off the excess water and I am never dirty enough to warrant washing towels too often. Who has time anyways?

Laying at the end of the bed on floor was a robe. I wrapped up in the soft satin, another gift from a disgruntled nanny who stole it when her boss was on a drunken rampage about wrinkled socks, and texted the headmaster at the private school I currently worked at. Once the text was delivered, it blocked the number so I wouldn’t have to listen to his concerned tone at my troubling behavior.

Taking a swig of strawberry vodka and chasing it with a couple pills, I texted my “special friend.” Tony was a pizza delivery guy. Very cliché, I know. We met on Tinder after a night of heaving drinking and bad decisions. He is quite a few years younger than me. Okay, like 20 years younger than me, but damn is he good in bed. It’s like some bad porno where the pizza delivery guy delivers more than just a pizza, but who fucking cares. I am single, old, and he knows what to do to help me relax. Friday nights are usually off limits due to his work schedule and I am usually too exhausted from a day of faking it to want anything more than a hot bath and a bottle of wine and a few sleeping pills, but Friday day times….he is always up for something.

He was at my apartment doorstep within 20 minutes. Enough time for the Vicodin to take over and for my inhibitions to fly out the window. Answering the door in nothing but the robe, he didn’t bother speaking. We both knew the routine and I was past the point of needing romance or small talk. He pinned me against the wall, running his hands over my naked body, kissing me hard. He smelled of cheap aftershave and breath mints. Pushing him off me, I led him to the bedroom, handing him the bottle of alcohol. He pulled out two small pills that looked like candy. Ecstasy. My very best friend. We both placed them on each other’s tongues. His hands began to roam again, and I greedily began to take his pants off.

We both were so high, and the sex was so incredible, I didn’t even care what happened to me. It didn’t matter if I lost my job and my drug supply. At that very moment, sweating and tired from hours enjoying every inch of Tony’s body, I didn’t give a single fuck. I was no longer a 45 year old teacher with a drug and alcohol problem. I wasn’t the teacher who was fired for sleeping with her student and the one who was given this job because the kid’s dad felt sorry for me. I fucked him too, so it was more guilt than pity.

No, right now, I felt 23 again. Young, stupid, and didn’t have a single care in the world. If I had known the path my life would take, I may have thought differently. But I can’t change my past, and if history repeats itself, I have no desire to change my future either. I want to forever stay in this drug induced coma, where sex is cheap and drugs are unlimited.

In the end, I know I will be alright. I will always get by with some help from my friends.