Page 139 of The Apple Tree

“It’s not your fault,” one of the other patients said. She was an older lady with weary eyes but a kind smile. “I have four kids. Great kids. But by the fourth I was past the point in my life where I felt like I wanted to change diapers or chase a toddler. My third child was already sixteen. The idea of starting the eighteen-year process all over again was unimaginable. But I did it. However, I don’t blame any woman who doesn’t feel like she can. And I’m sure your mom wasn’t thinking of you when she took those pills.”

She didn’t know my mom, but I wanted to believe her.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Doyou have family coming for Thanksgiving?” A guy who looked close to my dad’s age asked as I sat on a park bench in the courtyard and watched two squirrels.

“I doubt it.”

He gestured to the bench.

I nodded and scooted over to make room for him. He sat next to me and lit a cigarette.

“Can you have that here?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He took a puff and blew out the smoke. “They want me to get better, not kill myself.” He laughed.

I grinned.

“I’m Raymond,” he said, offering me the cigarette.

I shook my head. “I don’t smoke.”

He wiggled it closer to my hand. “But you could.”

I stared at it. “I have getting my ears pierced, bangs cut, and a perm on my list before smoking.” I took the cigarette. “But I bet there’s not a salon in this place.”

He laughed.

I took a puff and instantly coughed, handing the cigarette back to him.

“It’s glorious, isn’t it?” he asked.

“It’s not really.” I wrinkled my nose.

“It’ll grow on you.”

“But what does it do for me?”

“Keeps you from being hungry.”

I shrugged. “I’m not fat. Who cares? I like food. I’m an excellent cook and baker.”

“No shit?” He gazed at me.

“No shit,” I chuckled.

His lips pursed as he took another long puff.

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

Raymond twisted his lips and turned his head to blow the smoke away from me. “Seventy-two days. But who’s counting?”

“I thought this was a thirty-day program?”

“I suppose it depends on what you’re here for.”

I brought a knee to my chest and hugged it. “What are you here for?”

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