sensible and even necessary. He did not know what he did not need to know—that Judy also had a prescription for it from a local doctor for her bad back. And another source—an old school friend.
Even at eighteen, Judy had been sophisticated enough to realize the possibilities inherent in forming an alliance with such a shy, homely, lonely girl as Katrina Brouwer, who lived down the hall in Judy’s dorm at college. Judy had made it a point to be kind to Katrina, and if her friendship was premeditated, calculated, it was still the best Katrina was to get. Katrina went through life with an attitude that put people off—she was too modest and shy. When she graduated from college, she went back to the poor New England city she had come from, lived with her mother, and worked as a receptionist in a doctor’s office. So it was easy for her to call in prescriptions to the local pharmacy for a nonexistent patient, pick up the prescriptions herself, and mail them to Judy. Judy always reimbursed Katrina for the cost of the postage as well as the medicine, and she also remembered to send her gifts and cards on the appropriate holidays. In addition, Katrina had the pleasure of receiving the intimate confidences of another living human being.
“Oh, Katrina, you are so kind,” Judy would say during one of her phone calls. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Londonton is so small, and I know all the doctorspersonally, and the pharmacists—well, if I took one Valium, everyone in town would know it and would wonder about my private life. It would be such a strain. This way, no one knows but you—and we are too close to judge one another.”
Perhaps Katrina would have judged Judy had she not been under the illusion that the Valium she supplied Judy was the only Valium Judy ever took. But what did it matter what Katrina didn’t know; in this case the illusion did everyone nothing but good. Katrina had a friend and the satisfaction of knowing she was helping a friend; and Judy had her Valium.
Judy had her Valium, and in the evenings she had her vodka-and-tonics or scotch-and-waters, and sometimes at lunch she had her wine. Still she did not think of herself as addicted. She never, ever lost control. The alcohol, like the drugs, helped her keep control. And in a life with a façade as flawless as Judy’s, control was essential.
And control was flowing back into her body, she could feel it in her blood. That blessed calm. She slumped against the bathroom wall, closing her eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths, shaking her head in wonder at herself: How could she continue to let such insignificant things upset her? How silly she was! Reynolds Houston was alone and winter was approaching, and he was probably only feeling that human need to reaffirm human contact against the coming darkness. She checked her face in the mirror: she looked normal, quite pretty and composed. She went back out to the kitchen to finish the pie.
Now, here she sat in the sanctuary of the church, studying Reynolds as he read the Scripture lesson. She had known she would see Reynolds at church, so she had fortified herself with another Valium before leaving the house this morning. By now the drug did not so much flow through her as appear to flow around her, screening her from anything that could cause pain. She felt wrapped around by a gauze as clear as air, as impenetrable as iron. She felt beautiful, in a sturdy and respectable way. It pleased her to think how she must appear to the other people around her: a slim, strong, perfect woman, with a family that anyone would envy. She knew that no one could have been a better mother, wife, woman. And what did it cost her? Nothing. She did not drink so much that her health was impaired, and although the gloomy newsmongers, looking for something sensational, occasionally claimed that Valium might cause cancer, she knew better than to take them seriously. If Valium were harmful to human beings, why, it
Even at eighteen, Judy had been sophisticated enough to realize the possibilities inherent in forming an alliance with such a shy, homely, lonely girl as Katrina Brouwer, who lived down the hall in Judy’s dorm at college. Judy had made it a point to be kind to Katrina, and if her friendship was premeditated, calculated, it was still the best Katrina was to get. Katrina went through life with an attitude that put people off—she was too modest and shy. When she graduated from college, she went back to the poor New England city she had come from, lived with her mother, and worked as a receptionist in a doctor’s office. So it was easy for her to call in prescriptions to the local pharmacy for a nonexistent patient, pick up the prescriptions herself, and mail them to Judy. Judy always reimbursed Katrina for the cost of the postage as well as the medicine, and she also remembered to send her gifts and cards on the appropriate holidays. In addition, Katrina had the pleasure of receiving the intimate confidences of another living human being.
“Oh, Katrina, you are so kind,” Judy would say during one of her phone calls. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Londonton is so small, and I know all the doctorspersonally, and the pharmacists—well, if I took one Valium, everyone in town would know it and would wonder about my private life. It would be such a strain. This way, no one knows but you—and we are too close to judge one another.”
Perhaps Katrina would have judged Judy had she not been under the illusion that the Valium she supplied Judy was the only Valium Judy ever took. But what did it matter what Katrina didn’t know; in this case the illusion did everyone nothing but good. Katrina had a friend and the satisfaction of knowing she was helping a friend; and Judy had her Valium.
Judy had her Valium, and in the evenings she had her vodka-and-tonics or scotch-and-waters, and sometimes at lunch she had her wine. Still she did not think of herself as addicted. She never, ever lost control. The alcohol, like the drugs, helped her keep control. And in a life with a façade as flawless as Judy’s, control was essential.
And control was flowing back into her body, she could feel it in her blood. That blessed calm. She slumped against the bathroom wall, closing her eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths, shaking her head in wonder at herself: How could she continue to let such insignificant things upset her? How silly she was! Reynolds Houston was alone and winter was approaching, and he was probably only feeling that human need to reaffirm human contact against the coming darkness. She checked her face in the mirror: she looked normal, quite pretty and composed. She went back out to the kitchen to finish the pie.
Now, here she sat in the sanctuary of the church, studying Reynolds as he read the Scripture lesson. She had known she would see Reynolds at church, so she had fortified herself with another Valium before leaving the house this morning. By now the drug did not so much flow through her as appear to flow around her, screening her from anything that could cause pain. She felt wrapped around by a gauze as clear as air, as impenetrable as iron. She felt beautiful, in a sturdy and respectable way. It pleased her to think how she must appear to the other people around her: a slim, strong, perfect woman, with a family that anyone would envy. She knew that no one could have been a better mother, wife, woman. And what did it cost her? Nothing. She did not drink so much that her health was impaired, and although the gloomy newsmongers, looking for something sensational, occasionally claimed that Valium might cause cancer, she knew better than to take them seriously. If Valium were harmful to human beings, why, it
Similar Books
