Vanessa and I were riding the subway, on our way back from the hospital. She had a real pregnant belly now. Our daughter, for we have discovered that it is a little girl, was due to be born in two months. Slowly, my sanity had started to return. Seeing that living thing moving around inside of Vanessa’s belly filled me with a giddy joy that three months ago I would have thought was impossible.
The first thing that happened was that I started sleeping through the night. For months I would fall asleep and then find myself wide awake at four in the morning, with nothing to think of but how much I wanted heroin. No matter what I tried, the sleep wouldn’t come. When that stopped, and I was able to sleep again, my mind began to heal almost immediately.
Still, everything reminded me of junk. Sometimes, walking around the London streets, I would catch the scent of just cooked heroin on the breeze, and it made my stomach churn. Sometimes I dreamed vividly of shooting up, and when I jolted awake my breath was shallow and my heart pounded in my chest. But the days did not seem so impossible anymore. Every day it was getting easier to make the decision to not get high.
We were on the train heading into the West End when they got on. There was a little old lady walking with a cane and a cadaverous-looking man supporting her. I watched them, lulled half asleep by the motion of the train, when my blood suddenly turned to ice as I realized who they were. They recognized me too. Susan tottered over to us, with Jimmy the Scottish junkie from the needle exchange in tow. They sat down opposite us.
“Long time no see,” she said.
“All right?” Jimmy grinned.
Vanessa did not know either of them. Until this point, she had never seen Susan’s face. I could tell that she sensed that they were people I knew from the heroin scene, because she placed a protective hand over mine. She knew that relapses are made of smaller things than meeting up with old dope buddies.
“Hi, Susan,” I said eventually. “How have you been?”
“Well…not so good. Not so good at all.”
They stayed on for a couple of stops. The conversation was vague and circular. She told me that she and Jimmy were living together, and they had found a good doctor near his place in Brixton. I asked her about the cane and she mumbled something about a fucked-up shot of Dexedrine. She was very high: her mouth was slack, and her face looked worn down. A few times she zoned out mid-sentence and her eyes turned up a little in her head. Jimmy was slightly more together. “I have a job now,” she told me, coming back to the conversation.
“That’s great.”
“I work at the needle exchange. They found funding to take me on as a full-time employee.”
“Cool. That’s great news.”
Susan looked over at Vanessa. Vanessa smiled at her awkwardly.
“You’re having a baby,” she said.
“Yes. A little girl.”
“Congratulations.”
I could bear this no more, so I squeezed Vanessa’s hand and told Susan, “This is our stop.” We stood to get off the train. It wasn’t our stop, but I felt like I could not breathe properly anymore. Jimmy shook my hand again, and Susan said, “Nice to meet you” as Vanessa waved at her, and we walked out of the train onto the platform.
We stood there together, as the train pulled off into the night. It was a misty, winter evening. We waited in silence for another train. “Jesus Christ,” Vanessa asked eventually, “that was your ex? That was Susan?”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus Christ,” she said again.
“I know.”
I looked over at Vanessa. She was truly beautiful. I don’t know what I did to deserve her. I placed a hand over her belly again, and we stood closer, huddling for warmth.
“Isn’t life strange?” I whispered to her, as another train pulled into the platform.