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Story: Lookin’ for Love

eleven f

Changes

M y life was empty without my boys. I called them every day to reassure myself they were okay.

“Ava, you need to let go,” Elaine said, after the first week.

“But they’re my babies. I miss them.”

“I’m here with them all day. They need to learn to trust me as their stepmother.”

I hadn’t thought of Elaine as a stepmother. It took some time for the concept to sink in.

“How about we arrange a time once a week for you to call?” Elaine suggested.

I hesitated for a moment before agreeing. Letting go wouldn’t be easy, but it would be in everyone’s best interest.

It didn’t take long to adjust to the single life. I picked up day and night shifts, sometimes working ten days straight. More than ever, I needed to unwind after work. What was the harm in one more drink a night? Without my kids, I had all day to sleep and no need to go directly home.

One night I invited the girls to my apartment for drinks after work. Tina had a surprise for us.

“Check it out, ladies,” she said, pulling a joint from her purse.

“Tina, marijuana is illegal!”

Don’t get me wrong. I knew the hippie drug culture was in full swing. Everybody and their brother got high. Drug deals went down nightly in the bars, but I was a mom. What if the neighbors smelled pot and called the cops? I’d lose custody of my boys for sure.

“C’mon, Ava, take a hit. You won’t believe how calm it’ll make you.” Tina passed the joint to me.

“What the hell.” I took a hit.

We passed the joint from mouth to mouth. By the third pass, I’d melted into the sofa.

“So this is what all the hype’s about,” I giggled.

“Told ya. Maybe tomorrow night you’ll join me out back for a joint before your shift,” Tina said.

“Not if it turns me to mush.”

“It’ll turn you into a better dancer, which means bigger tips,” Tina said.

I’ll always mark that night as the beginning of the end.

I watched my mother go through a pack of cigarettes each night after dinner, which was enough to keep me away from tobacco. Smoking pot was different, especially through a bong. It softened the harshness of the smoke and relaxed me with fewer hits.

I loved the “not-give-a-shit” feeling I got when I was high. Sometimes my regulars tipped me with a joint and a bill. The more I smoked, the looser I got, the better I danced, and the more money I made. The more I made, the nicer my costumes. It was a win-win until my kids came home from Tom.

“No thanks, Tina,” I said when she invited me out back.

“What’s the matter, hon? Got a cold?”

“My kids are back. I need to stay straight.”

“Suit yourself.” Tina lit up.

I practically stumbled over my feet when I began my set. Drooling wolf faces stared up at me from the barstools. Raucous cheers and yelps added to my fantasy. I wanted to run away from the bar scene forever.

I made it through my first set, caught up with Tina in the back, and asked for the joint.

“I thought pot wasn’t addictive,” I said.

“It’s not,” Tina said, “but it’s the best way to get through the night. Betcha anything the day you stop dancing is the day you stop smoking.”

“Until then—” I took the joint out back and lit up.

Now that my kids were home, I made sure I got high only before my shift and nursed one drink through the night. By the time I left work, I was sober and ready to be a mom again.

Tommy entered first grade and Lee began nursery school. Being a single parent wasn’t an easy life, but it was better than life with Tom. I promised myself by the time Lee was ready for kindergarten, I’d find a new career and be home at night.

The monotony of my life went on throughout the school year. The summer of 1971 was fast approaching, and the kids would soon be leaving for ten weeks with their dad and stepmom. I loved my kids more than anything, loved watching them become little people, but I also looked forward to the freedom I’d experienced the previous summer.

My thoughts filled me with guilt. Was I a good mother? Was the time with Tom and Elaine in the kids’ best interest? I searched my heart for answers. None appeared.