Rebuilding Sabrina, part 8

I left Sabrina on the couch riding her high and did a quick tour of her small apartment. I took my big bag along.
Her bedroom was more impersonal than a hotel room.
A double bed, a large wardrobe, a dresser with a mirror framed in light bulbs, a chest of drawers.

On the bedstand, a well-thumbed hardback copy of Fifty Shades of Grey. Well well, there was a spark of life in the girl, after all. On top of the hardback, I placed two old porn paperbacks I had bought that morning in a thrift shop.
On top of the paperbacks, I placed an open pack of Marlboro reds, containing eleven cigarettes, a BIC lighter and a neatly rolled joint.
In the top drawer of the bedstand, I placed an open box of condoms and a cheap bullet vibrator.
The dresser was so clean and ordered it looked like it was still sitting in a furniture shop. I checked the cosmetics.

Powder, a big jar of anti-ageing cream, pink lipstick, a small make-up trousse. I added two tubes of heavy-duty eyeliner, a choice of red, brown and black lipsticks, half a bottle of cheap perfume, assorted pencils. Three bottles of nail polish, matching the lipsticks. A box with fake lashes. A big box of tissues. I tore a few out, balled them and dropped them on the floor.

I placed a big glass ashtray on the corner of the dresser, and poured in the ashes and cigarette butts I had collected in a plastic ziplock bag over the last 24 hours.
I opened a drawer, found a precisely folded black cotton bra, and hung it on the corner of the mirror.
Perfect.
I quickly messed up the wardrobe, tearing the plastic envelopes, dropping a few dresses on the floor.
Music blasted from the parlor. The Pet Shop Boys were singing their hearts out about going west.
I turned.
Sabrina was dancing in the middle of the room, eyes closed,cigarette dangling from her lips.
I wondered if 80 milligrams had been too much.
In the bathroom, I placed another open pack of Marlboros by the toilet - seven cigarettes and a BIC lighter, two joints.
I opened the closet over the sink and mixed up and changed places at the stuff in it. I  squeezed the toothpaste tube in the middle. I dropped my cigarette butt in the toilet, and lit another.
Back in the parlor, Sabrina was now sitting on the coffee table, awkwardly trying to pull another cigarette out of the box I had left there.
Yes, 80 milligrams were probably too much.
In the kitchen, I just placed an half-empty bottle of Absolut in the refrigerator. By the sink, a box of Marlboros with nine cigarettes and a BIC lighter. I found a coffee cup and I squashed my cigarette in it, and left it there.
Then I was back on the couch in time to light Sabrina’s cigarette.
She gave me a big smile.
Her pupils were so dilated I could no longer tell the color of her eyes.

“This is so awesome!” she said, almost screaming over the blare of the Pet Shop Boys.
I stood and turned down the stereo. I should have brought a few CDs, too, I thought.
“This is absolutely awesome,” she repeated, blowing smoke from her mouth and nose. She came and embraced me.
“I can really feel my life changing,” she said, holding me tight. “Like a tide washing over my past, and changing things, altering reality.”
She gave me a squeeze. “It feels beautiful. We must do it again. Go deeper.”
“Oh, sister, we will.”

#

My phone rang the following afternoon.
“I feel weird.”
“You sound weird,” I replied.
She also sounded hung-over and maybe more.
Scared, possibly.
“How’s it going? Got a good night’s sleep?”
Silence. Then, “Yes, I slept late. My head is killing me.”
The rasping sound of a BIC lighter failing to go off, then Sabrina sighed deeply.

“There’s something weird going on,” she said then.
I grinned. “What do you mean?”
“My house changed.”
I laughed. “Don’t be silly.”
“It did. I mean, there’s stuff here that was not here before.”
“Like what?”
I could hear her as she breathed out her smoke.
“My apartment is a mess.”
I chuckled. “Big news.”
“There’s packs of Morlboros all over the apartment.”
I laughed out loud. “Sabrina, darling, you’ve been leaving half-smoked packs of cigarettes all over the place for ages. I  still think you spend twice the money I do for cigarettes, because you drop your packets everywhere.”
She was silent for a moment. “Really?” she said.
“Rough night, uh?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Well, yes. I had the weirdest of dreams.”
I nodded to myself. Next time, 70 milligrams.
“Listen, I was thinking—”
“Yes?”
“Would you come over again for one of those affirmation exercises?” she asked. “I mean, I think they are really working to improve my life, and I’d like to do another.”
I could not repress a wide grin. “Of course, darling. I’m so happy this thing is working for you.”
And I was, really.
Sabrina deserved something better than being a miserable wreck going from one unhappy relationship to the other, blaming herself and everybody else - me included - for her misery. I would set her straight, and get a little revenge as I was at it.
“See you tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yes!” Sabrina said. “That would be wonderful.”