It’s too late to call. It’s been too late for hours. It doesn’t stop me from holding on, from squeezing my phone tighter, from closing my eyes to wish…wishing on her birthday that somehow, this time I could be different…better. She scares me now. When I come home and look into my unlined face, my brown curls, my shoulders, my hips, my own angry and accusing eyes, hear the echo of my voice in the way she says mother, breathing it like she’s tired, her matching eyes never quite meeting mine. 

A lit cigarette appears in front of me, balanced delicately between two stubby, tar stained fingers. I grab it, taking a grateful drag. We never talk, Gwen in me, we just sit pressed together, smoking, me with my demons and her with her pain. A little clink announces the appearance of the final member of our merry little band. Nodding my appreciation, I reverently raise the heavy glass to my lips. It’s too dark for me to see outside, but I stare anyway. My reflection merges with blurred landscape passing in the night. Gwen’s scared hand takes the bottle from me, holding it to her taut, obscenely stretched face. Cringing, I watch her in the window, staring at the stream of brown, dripping down what’s left of her chin. I worked up the nerve about year go, asking her what happened. When she finally looked at me, I decided right then and there that people without lips, should never, ever smile.

I stumble forward, wobbly making my way down the narrow aisle, stopping next to my compartment. Honestly, I can’t tell if it’s me or the bus that’s still moving. Rough, scaly hands graze my back as they slip around my waist, jerking me upright. For a moment we dance, bodies flaying wildly to a steady beat of rubber over concrete seams. I stare at the compartments ceiling, feeling my legs being lifted, my shoes taken off. Her breath is hot against my neck as she pulls me closer, tugging the coarse curtain closed, pushing me down onto my back. She fumbles with my belt and I help her, covering her hands with mine, stilling their frantic movement. I’m always amazed by how much she needs this, needs me.