Dad had been to the funeral home tonight. A friend of the family which I only knew vaguely had passed away amid great suspicion at an early age.
"It was so sad," my father told me as he handed me my nightly Benadryl.
I sat as Dad listened to the state of the union address on the TV carefully getting each Benadryl out of their container. I popped them into my mouth.
"I didn't just see you take all six did you?" Dad asked.
"I need it to sleep," I replied. "And you grow resistant and tolerant to them over time."
"You and your mother," he said. "Your mother took six Xanax the other night and was so drunk her tongue sounded thick."
I laughed nervously, hoping he wouldn't get on to me. Sometimes you just need to take something to feel better. For me, it is to escape the world. I will sleep like a baby after taking those pills only to wake up about 4 or 5 AM in the morning.
Joyce has been doing strange things. She sits out in her car in the sun for hours smoking Marlboros as she listens to the radio. She also spent a long time trimming her shrubbery today only to not make any progress. I am worried about her.