The fact that Jackie knows it’s Claire knocking—that her visits are regular and anticipated enough for that to be her assumption—makes her a bit giddy.
“It’s me,” Claire calls back, glancing behind her to Martha’s house across the road. There’s a gap in the curtains, but she can’t see if anyone is behind them. It tinges the giddiness with a bit of worry. “Are you alright?”
“The door’s unlocked,” comes Jackie’s muffled response.
Claire hurries inside, closing the door behind her, and follows the sound of Jackie’s movement to the kitchen.
Jackie is seated in the breakfast nook, surrounded by white papers and greenish herbs. She’s rolling one of the papers into a long, fat cigarette shape, and when she looks up Claire can see dark circles under her eyes. Her smile is genuine, even if it doesn’t quite light her face up like usual.
“Morning,” Jackie says, running her tongue along the edge of the paper to seal it. She scrunches up the ends, holding it out to Claire. “Want to share?”
The papers, the herbs, the strange smell hanging around the kitchen—the combination of everything she’s seeing finally sparks Claire’s brain, and she gasps.
“Is thatmarijuana?” Claire hisses, looking nervously over her shoulder as if the police might knock the door down at any moment.
Jackie hardly reacts to Claire’s outburst. She sweeps the leftover cannabis into a baggie, tying it up and putting it into a mason jar. “It’s a little harder to get out here than it is in the city, but luckily I brought some with me.”
“But it’s illegal,” Claire whispers. The feeling of being watched has only intensified—if Martha were here, she’d no doubt have something to say. Several things, most likely, and none of them flattering.
“Lots of things are illegal, Claire,” Jackie says quietly. Even through the film of Claire’s anxiety, the moment feels suddenly heavy. Jackie’s brow is furrowed as she taps the joint on the table, like she was just reminded of something she’d ratherforget. “You can leave if it makes you uncomfortable. I won’t hold it against you.”
“I don’t want to leave,” Claire says, sure at least of that one thing. Claire never wants to leave. She only goes back to her own house after their visits because she needs to get things done before Pete gets home. If she had her way, she’d spend her whole day here.
“If you’re sure,” Jackie says. She grabs a silver lighter, flicking the cap off and heading towards the living room. “I don’t usually indulge, but I had a rough night. I’m going to get blazed.”
“A rough night?” Claire asks.
Jackie throws herself onto the plush couch and flicks the lighter. The tip of the paper glows orange, and Jackie take a deep pull on it, holding the smoke in for a few seconds before exhaling it all in a strange-smelling cloud.
“My mother called.”
Claire has never seen Jackie so disheveled before. She has not a stitch of makeup on her face. She’s still in her pajamas, a blue gauzy robe over a silk negligée, and she’s sprawled across the couch with the joint in her hand as if she doesn’t have a guest over. It’s exhilarating to be trusted with this side of her. Claire wonders if anyone else gets to see it, besides her. She hopes not.
“You aren’t close with your mother, right?” Claire says, carefully perching on the cushion near Jackie’s bare feet. Her scarlet toenail polish is chipped.
“That’s an understatement,” Jackie says, flicking ash carelessly onto the carpet. “Have you ever met a Greek Orthodox mother?”
“I can’t say that I have,” Claire says.
“She’s been trying to get my inheritance renounced. Thankfully my grandfather left a will, but my mother got it tied up in litigation for a few years.”
Claire folds her ankles demurely, resisting the urge to clean up the ash. “Why would she do that?”
“She doesn’t approve of my lifestyle.”
“What, just because you’re not married?” Claire scoffs. “That’s absolutely ridiculous.”
Jackie laughs bitterly. She takes another puff—the tip of the joint glows orange, and the smoke rises towards the ceiling. “Among many other grievances. C’est la vie.”
“I’m sorry, Jackie.”
“It’s alright. This is helping. And I’m glad you came to see me today.”
Jackie does seem much more relaxed already. She isn’t acting wild or crazy. She’s just sitting with her head lolled back on the headrest of the couch, humming quietly to herself. The smell is odd, but not harsh and sharp like cigarette smoke. Claire has always associated drugs with hard partiers or beatniks, but Jackie is…well, she’sJackie.
She hasn’t steered Claire wrong yet, right?
“I want to try it,” Claire says decisively.
