“Jesus Christ,” said Rachel. “You didn’t even get me anything for Christmas.” This made Billy cry even harder. Rachel opened the pill bottle, shook out five Percocet. “Take these.” Billy squinted with his good eye, swallowed them with a swig of beer. When he was still talking, half an hour later, she made him take four more. He finally passed out, and Rachel lay in her bed, too high to sleep. Through her bedroom window, she watched the lights next door.
Christmas morning, and there were no presents. She lay in her bed, and remembered the holidays with Laverna, who always spoiled her, no matter how bad she had been.
In the living room, Billy was blue. He was on his back, vomit all over his chest and mouth. Rachel felt nothing, just an urge to protect herself.
Rachel pounded on Krystal’s door. Even though they were opening presents, Krystal left Rocky and the baby, could see the panic on Rachel’s face. Krystal was still in her first year of night classes, but knew enough to call it cyanosis.
“Holy crap,” she said. “I’ve never seen this in real life. I mean, I’ve seen pictures, but he’s really, really blue. What did he take?”
“He was drunk,” said Rachel.
“That’s it?”
“I gave him some pills,” she said.
“Downers?”
“Painkillers. He was in pain! And I wanted him to shut up.”
“It worked,” said Krystal. “It’s called aspiration. He choked on his own vomit.”
“Fuck,” said Rachel.
“Merry Christmas,” said Krystal.
When she called the volunteer dispatch, Rachel drank a beer to steel herself. She didn’t even want to think about the people at home, listening to the police scanner, even though it was Christmas morning. She drank another when the sheriff showed up and pronounced it an overdose. She was grateful that the ambulance did not disrupt the trailer park with sirens, but the people came anyway, watched as the heavy black bag was carried out through the driveway.
* * *
Rachel and Krystal parked in the Datsun and snorted lines of coke on the dashboard, even thought it was dusty, and they kept sneezing.
Inside the fire hall, Rachel and Krystal were so high that they barely noticed the stares, the glares, the admonitions. They needed to be seen by as many people as possible, needed an alibi. They were waiting to be seen by Laverna and Red Mabel. Holding hands, they did a lap around the fire trucks, at warp speed. Rachel’s mother was nowhere to be found.
A kid with the biggest buckteeth Rachel had ever seen carried a coffee can, wrapped in pink construction paper. Scrawled with a sloppy Magic Marker, the can solicited donations for the Petersen family. The kid was pathetic-looking, and Rachel was angered when she realized how much money he would collect. Billy’s extended Montana family did not deserve any compensation, but passing the coffee can was a tradition in Quinn.
Rachel and Krystal checked the bathroom, and no Laverna. Rachel cut more lines on the mirror of her compact, and tried to pick a fight with Krystal about her lipstick and eyeliner. After another line of coke, Krystal finally acquiesced. Rachel was applying a shimmery blue eye shadow when the women’s bathroom door burst open, and the small space was invaded by a trio of large women. The women saw the cocaine, and shut the door behind them. The women had moved to town to work in the brand-new silver mine. They wanted to touch Rachel’s hair, and she let them. She needed all the friends she could get. Krystal was slightly terrified, and excused herself to cower in the bathroom stall.
On the dance floor, there were nine more of these women, and they surrounded her, protected her from flying beer cups. Ginger Fitchett pushed her way through the ring of silver miners, swatting at them with her expensive purse.
“You’ve got some nerve,” said Ginger, pointing a finger at Rachel’s chest.
“Fucking snob,” said Rachel, and let the tallest silver miner dip her backward. Krystal danced by herself, one shimmery eye twitching. Ginger would not allow Rachel to ignore her, and grabbed her arm.
“I’m serious,” said Ginger. “Hasn’t there been enough suffering?”
“Oh my god,” said Rachel. “Go away!” Ginger screamed as two of the miners picked her up, lifting her off the floor and depositing her near one of the flaming barrels. Ginger kept screaming, and stomped her foot, ineffectual because the floor was cement and the disco was incredibly loud. “She’s underage! Underage!”
Krystal flew across the room and waved a finger in Ginger’s face. “She’s not drinking! Don’t be such a twat!”
Ginger was horrified by this outburst, and they watched as she commandeered the judge. Apparently, seeking legal advice.
The silver miners cheered for Krystal and hoisted her up on their shoulders. Krystal was not used to this admiration, and basked in it, and was smiling when she joined Rachel on the dance floor.