“But not here,” Nest said quietly.
Bennett Scott blew out a short breath and laughed. “You got a cigarette, Nest?” Nest shook her head. Bennett nodded. “Didn’t think so. World champion runner like you wouldn’t smoke, would you? Bet you don’t drink, either?”
“Nope.”
“Do any drugs?”
“Why didn’t you come here, Bennett?”
Bennett stretched, then slipped out of her leather jacket. She was wearing a sleeveless cotton sweater that hugged her body and retained almost no warmth. Nest got up, took the throw from behind the couch, walked over, and placed it over her shoulders. Bennett pulled it around her without a word, staring down at her teacup on the table.
“I’ve done a lot of drugs,” she said after a minute, still not looking up. She sipped at the tea. “I’ve done just about every drug you could name and a few besides. For a while I was doing them all at once sometimes, just to get away from myself and my crappy life. But the high never lasts; you always come down again, and there you are, the old you, and nothing’s changed.”
She looked up now. “I was sixteen when I was doing all of it at once, but I started a lot earlier.” She shook her head slowly. “That’s why I didn’t call you or write you or try to come see you. I didn’t want you to see me like that. I didn’t want you to know what I’d become. My life was …” She shrugged.
“It wouldn’t have mattered to me, you know,” Nest said.
Bennett shook her head reprovingly. “Pay attention, Nest. I know it wouldn’t have mattered to you. But it would have mattered to me. That’s the whole point.” She shivered inside the throw, her slim body hunching down and tightening into stillness. “When I got pregnant with Harper, I tried to stop using. I couldn’t do it. I wanted to stop, I wanted it bad. I knew what my using might do to her, but I couldn’t help myself. I tried a couple of programs, but they didn’t work out. Nothing worked.”
She brushed back her dark hair. “When Harper was born, I checked into Hazelden. You’ve probably heard of it, big drug-rehab program out of Minneapolis. I got into a treatment center for new mothers, something long term. It was better there. We were all women on drugs with children just born or about to be born. I went there because Harper was born clean, and that was a real miracle. My higher power gave me another chance, and I knew I’d be a fool not to take it. I was turning into Big Momma.” She snorted. “Who am I kidding? I was already there, worse than she ever was. You got any more of that tea, Nest?”
Nest got up and brought over the hot water and fresh tea bags. She poured them both another cup, then sat down again. “Are you better now?” she asked.
Bennett laughed bitterly. “Better? No, I’m not better! I’ll never ever be better! I’m an addict, and addicts don’t get better!”
She glared at Nest angrily, defiantly. Nest waited a moment, then said, “You know what I mean.”
Bennett’s sigh was sad and empty. “Sorry. I’m not mad at you. Really, I’m not. I’m mad at me. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, all year long, I’m mad at me. Loser me.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’m not better. I’m ‘between treatments’ again. I stay good for a while, then I fall off the wagon. Look under relapse in the dictionary and you’ll find a picture of me. It’s pitiful. I don’t want it to happen, but I’m just not strong enough to stop it. Each time I go in for help, I think maybe this is the time I’ll get off drugs for good. But I can never quite manage it.”
“I guess it’s not easy,” Nest said.
Bennett Scott smiled. “Nope.” She exhaled sharply and set down the tea. “It wasn’t so much of a problem when it was just me. But now there’s Harper, and she’s almost three, and she hasn’t ever seen me clean for more than a few months in a row. First year or so, I got into rehabs where they’d let me keep her with me. Now they won’t do that. I don’t have many friends so I have to leave her with anyone who will take her.”