Excerpt from: Phone Calls After
Her breathing gradually eased and she jerked open the kitchen door and slammed it shut with a bang. She swiveled around, eyes darting, searching but she didn't know for what. More turns around the kitchen; she saw the unopened cigarettes carelessly tossed on the top of the fridge. Grasping the pack, she took some wine and a wine glass from the cupboard. She intended to either drown her misery or enjoy all her vices; she wasn't at all sure how it would turn out.
The wine spilled a bit as her shaking hand filled the glass. Damn! She fingered the cellophane pack momentarily before committing herself to opening it. The tobacco smelled good. She got up to find matches and gulped at the robust Barolo as she searched. She found them in the same drawer as the candles and sat again at the table. She swallowed more wine and put a cigarette to her lips. It had been five months and the relaxing effects of a cigarette were not forgotten.
She lit up and sucked hard. Her throat caught in a strangled spasm. She couldn't breathe except to gasp. Each inhalation was a ragged scrape. She jumped up, coughing and wheezing as she made her way outdoors again. She braced herself with hands on thighs, wheezed with every breath and coughed her lungs clear. She threw the glowing cigarette into a small snow pile and cursed the bad luck of having kicked the habit. Can't even wallow in pity properly.
Bent at the waist she clutched her body and took several minutes to recover her strength. As she wiped spittle from her chin and stood up, a large dog came out of the shadows, stopped and stood in the yard several feet away. It was staring at her with an open mouth and the twitching tail of friendship. "And what do you want?" Her anger directed at the dog caused it to stumble backward. Anna didn't need any witness to her wreckage. "Go away. Go home." The dog stood there. It had the sharp nose and long hair of a collie, small and with a honey-coloured coat dampened by the gathering night air. The dog out-stared her. Anna gave in first and retreated to the kitchen, slamming the door as she went.
She found the glass of wine, then the bottle, put out lights and climbed the stairs to her en-suite bath. The coughing had wiped her out. As she ran a hot tub she stared at her exhausted face in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot from coughing, her hair stringy from perspiration that coated her face and scalp. She looked pathetic. She slowly peeled off her clothes and dropped them in a heap on the floor. She tested the hot water, cutting through the steamy air with one leg. She settled the glass of wine beside her. She would take charge of the situation. Really. She felt resolve and control returning, shoving aside the misery and despair. She wasn't as pathetic as she looked. This will do for now. And it's not bad, at that.
The silence of the house was loud in her ears. Her senses still twanged with remnants of misery and despair. The hot water dampened despair and the wine soothed misery. She laid her head back against the tub and closed her eyes and wondered when the crying would start.