Second Chances

Blonde hair fell into her face as she pleaded for just one more night, one more night with her son. She knew she was a mess, her mascara running and the eyeliner that she’d caked all the way around her eyes mixing with sweat and tears. It was time to bring Micha home though, to his father and stepmother’s house. How had she let things get this far? It seemed like only a few weeks when it had, in fact, been years of dragging everyone around her through this toxic waste dump she called her life. How had she let things go from drinking at a few parties to shooting heroin in the bathroom to becoming a full-blown…she didn’t want to even acknowledge that she was an addict. Even though she’d been to jail four, no five times now; and in and out of at least three rehab and detox centers, she was still a good mom, right?

“You’re being unreasonable!” she shouted.

“Katrina, we made plans for tomorrow. Besides, I saw the pictures from your social media, you went out last night,” Michael sighed, and she could tell this was frustrating for him too.

“He still loves me,” she thought to herself as she wiped at her eyes again.

“I just don’t want you leavin’ him with your friends again,” Michael continued.

“I wasn’t gone!” she shouted. “Those pictures were from the other night! This is my son! You can’t keep my son from me!”

“Katrina,” Michael set his jaw, and she could tell he wasn’t backing down.

“Fuck you! He wants to stay with his mommy, not your whore wife!” Katrina screeched, clutching Micha who cried.

“Hey buddy,” Michael squatted down, “why don’t you go inside and get ready to take your shower? Let me Katrina talk.”

“Y-yes sir,” Micha sniffled.

Once Micha was inside Katrina lost it, “This isn’t fair! I’d never do this to you!”

“You did actually,” Michael folded his arms. “I wasn’t allowed to see Micha unless I had money for you, which you didn’t spend on him. You got your hair and nails done, bought makeup and shoes and…God, I’m not doing this. Micha is staying here, you’re a mess and I wouldn’t be surprised at all if I gave you a drug test and you failed it.”

“I’m not strung out!” Katrina threw her hands up, a string of profanity followed. “I’m his mother, not her!”

“This isn’t about Callie,” Michael shook his head.

“It’s always been about her! She hates me! She’d keep Micha away from me if it killed him!” Katrina screeched.

“She’s the one who pushed for you to see Micha the night before you went to prison, because she knew it’d be the last time you’d see him for God only knew how long,” Michael stood his ground.

“I can bring this to court!” It was a weak threat, she knew there was no way she was getting custody of Micha, or any of his siblings, back anytime soon. Still she seethed and ranted and threatened.

“If that’s what you feel like you need to do,” Michael shrugged. He’d called her bluff and she was furious.

After screaming in his face, telling him a slew of different ways he could go self-copulate, she threw herself into her car and peeled out of his driveway. Tears streamed down her face, and the only thing she could think of was getting high. In her mind, Michael and his wife were the enemies and this was all their faults. She had a good life, she just wanted some help with finances and raising Micha. Was that really too much to ask? It’s not like she wanted to be an addict, and there was that word again.

After driving around for a half hour, debating with herself out loud about whether or not she should go visit her dealer to get just one more bump, she pulled onto the highway. One more to ease the anger and the pain, after all it wasn’t fair. Michael could have given her one more night with her son, he was hers after all, and dammit if she didn’t name their son something close to his father’s name. It didn’t matter that she cheated on her ex-fiance’ with Michael to conceive Micha. She’d known Micha belonged to Michael from the moment she saw the lines on the pregnancy test show up, thus naming the child Micha when she found out she was having a son. This would be the last time she’d get high, things would get better and she could think better when she was high.

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Frizzled hair fell around her face, she was exhausted from the day. Katrina brought drama every time she visited and she didn’t know how much more she could take. Her daughter was an addict, plain and simple. Pat swirled her now melted daiquiri in her tumbler before polishing it off in a few swallows. She traced an old photo with her thumb, how had such a wonderful child grown up to become such a demon? When Katrina was a child she was sweet, loving, kind; but now she brought pain and destruction everywhere she went.

But everyone deserved a second chance. That’s what Katrina would tell her every time she’d walk through the door and announce she was sober, for real this time and “Mom, please help me get back on my feet. I’m so sorry, I’m gonna do better this time. I promise.” The alcohol numbed part of the pain, but if you asked Katrina about her mother she’d say that Pat was a raging alcoholic and a drug addict. Then, she’d go on and blame her mother for her habits, saying she’d learned to be an addict by watching Pat. How many times had Pat bailed her out of trouble?

The breaking point had come when she’d found the kids at a drug house, she didn’t even know what to call it. A trap house maybe? The kids were dirty, sitting on the floor of this raggedy trailer that had most of the glass busted out of the windows and roaches crawling the floor, eating from a can that no one had bothered to warm up. Everyone deserved a second chance, but how many second chances could she afford to give her daughter when the safety of her grandchildren was at stake?

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Katrina stumbled through a house she didn’t recognize. Last night must have been fun, there were empty bottles strewn on the floor and the remnants of the drugs everyone was doing were scattered on every available surface. She found a bathroom, splashed water on her face and looked in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot with dark baggy circles beneath them, makeup smeared down her face in thick black lines. She’d been a mess last night, but today, today was her second chance. She’d make things right today, she’d take steps to get her kids back. That was the last bit of poison she’d put into her veins. She rubbed the crook of her arm absent-mindedly, genuinely believing that last night was the final time she’d get high. No more waking up in a strange house to strange people and wondering what, and possibly who, she’d done the night before. The drugs had made her a person she didn’t recognize, her clear skin was blotchy and red with pustules sprouting from her pores and scabs from her popping them and picking the scabs afterwards to get out whatever was buried within the day after.

“This isn’t me,” she thought, eyes watering. She sat on the toilet, running her hands through matted sweaty hair. “It’s an illness, it’s a disease, and I am—was! I was just a slave to it; but no more! I deserve a second chance, I’m worth it.”

An empty ache settled into her chest as her mind raced. What could she do to make up for this? As if a switch had been flipped, her head snapped up. She could go shopping, kids loved presents!

Katrina searched the sea of unconscious bodies around the house, hoping to find her purse. She could use the money she’d made from the last trick she’d turned to buy the kids gifts. She smiled as she imagined how excited they’d be when they opened their presents.

“What do kids like these days?” she asked herself, a stabbing sense of guilt piercing her chest when she realized she had no idea what her kids were into. “Doesn’t matter, I can figure it out when I get to the store.” She found her purse, rummaging through it for her wallet. She sank to her knees as she opened it. Empty.

“Now what?”

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It had been a week since she’d stood in front of Michael’s house begging him for one more night with her son. Katrina had called Michael when she was on her way, grinning ear to ear as she patted the boxes in the front seat. Nevermind what she had to do for the money it took to buy the items in those boxes, she was a good mom. She’d do anything for her kids, and these past few days she’d proved it. A small part of her felt guilty, but she suppressed it.

“It’ll be worth it when I see Micha’s face!” she thought.

As she pulled into the driveway, Micha came outside. She knew she wasn’t allowed inside their house, “That bitch doesn’t want me around her kids, little does she know I’m so much better than she could ever be. Imagine if she knew the things I did for these kids.” She had sobered up for this evening, hadn’t gotten high since yesterday. Katrina patted herself on the back for that, it was a great accomplishment. No one could even tell she’d popped a few pills the other day, it was just to take the edge off so she could sleep the meth off after all.

Nothing was going to take today away from her, and as Micha saw the brightly colored paper in her front seat she watched his face light up and her heart felt like it would explode.

“Hey my angel!” Katrina knelt, opening her arms for her son to throw himself into them. Micha loved so hard, so innocently, and she’d spare him from all the bad things and bad people in this cruel world.

“Hey Mommy!” he squealed. “You got me something?”

“I sure did!” she grabbed the boxes from the seat, snapping pictures on her phone as he tore into the wrappings.

Michael stood on the porch, watching and doing his best to let them enjoy their time together. He still didn’t trust her to take Micha after she’d showed up looking a hot mess the other day, “Are you sure he can’t stay for just one night?”

“Katrina,” Michael sighed.

“He wants to stay with Mommy, right my angel?” she cuddled the wiggly little boy into her arms.

“Don’t bring him into this, it’s not fair.”

“Please!” It wasn’t fair, she was clean and sober now. Things would be different, she wanted a second chance to make up for it, all of it.

“Take him for ice cream,” Michael consented. “But bring him right back.”

“Okay,” Katrina smiled until her cheeks hurt.

“I mean it,” Michael was firm.

“Okay, okay,” Katrina opened the car door, but there was no car seat for Micha there. “Can I borrow a…”

“Sure.” Michael didn’t like this and she knew it, but he unhooked the car seat from his wife’s truck and put it into the back seat of her car.

“Thank you so much,” she said, stepping closer to him.

“Go on, before I change my mind.”

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It wasn’t fair. If Michael had let her have one night, just one night, with Micha she wouldn’t have gone back to that house. She wouldn’t have needed another high if she had her son, he kept her sober and clean and gave her a reason to keep her promises.

“I just needed a second chance,” she told the woman taking her picture.

“Turn that way,” the woman pointed boredly.

“It’s not fair!” Katrina shouted.

“Ma’am, I just take the mug shots.” The nameless woman pointed again, she’d told Katrina her name but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that if Michael would have let her have her son for a night then she wouldn’t have gotten high again.

“He doesn’t want me to have him,” she said, but turned the way the woman pointed. “It’s his fault, I’m a good mom!”

“Come with me,” the woman motioned.

“I don’t take anything when Micha’s around,” Katrina continued despite the woman taking no notice. “I’m a good mom, I bought him a new pair of shoes and that movie he likes with those talking dogs that have vehicles and save people!”

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“How am I gonna explain this to Micha?” Michael asked his wife.

“Sweetheart, you’re on your own with that one,” Callie kissed his cheek. “I don’t even know where to start.”

It wasn’t the first time Katrina had been to jail, so the explanation would be the same. Breaking the news, however, wasn’t getting any easier. Micha knew Katrina made bad decisions, but holding a child while they’re crying and asking why their mother doesn’t want them breaks a parent in ways that are unexplainable.

Michael hauled himself from the couch, Callie following behind him in a funeral-like procession.

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The hearing had gone in her favor. The judge didn’t seem to want to rip a mother away from her children, even if she didn’t have custody of any of them. Katrina grinned from ear to ear on her way out of the courthouse, it had been a good choice to argue her case and the judge was obviously on her side and saw that she could do better—no, she was doing better. She couldn’t wait to tell Michael and see the look on his face when she went to pick up Micha; and that bitch he called his wife, her place-holder until he realized that he was with the wrong woman, would probably shit a brick when she showed up.

“Hey,” she rehearsed in her head on the drive over, “Micha’s real mommy is here to pick him up.”

Her journey took her past one of her friends’ houses and she decided to stop to celebrate. She needed to get a real shower and change her clothes into something comfortable, do her hair and makeup, and make sure she was dressed to kill when she showed up to get Micha. Rubbing her successes in Michael’s face was always satisfying.

The house was just like she remembered it. Hell, she practically lived there before she was dragged away. After exchanging pleasantries with her best friend, she showered and day dreamed about the rest of the weekend. Luckily she’d gotten released on a Friday and would have the entire weekend to spend with Micha.

“Aren’t second chances great?” she mused as she lathered her hair.

When she got out her friend and roommates were smoking. The room was hazy and smelled of her favorite poison, maybe one hit wouldn’t hurt. As if on cue, the pipe was offered to her. Katrina’s heart raced, Michael wouldn’t be able to tell would he? No, he was too stupid. She put the pipe to her lips, the cheap gas station lighter beneath the glass bulb, and inhaled.