The thought fucking shatters me. I've been pushing it away for an entire week, ever since we came back from Vegas. Without her mother, Autumn doesn't have a reason to stay. What will keep her in Sedona after Faith is gone?
The front door opens wide and Faith steps in. She holds a basic white paper bag, the name of the store she visited nowhere to be found on the sack. The hush-hush, nondescript nature of it makes me smile.
Faith blushes when she catches my gaze. "That was awkward. The girl who helped me called it 'medicating.’ I asked her questions, and she kept saying 'When I medicate…' and then answering me. I felt like telling her to give up the charade, we both know she's recreational." Faith laughs. "What a fucking ordeal."
Her words leave me dumbfounded. Or, more accurately, her use of one word in particular is what has momentarily stunned my brain. I don't think I've ever heard Faith swear. Cancer has changed her; being terminal has changed her; she’s much more carefree.
I stand, reaching into my pocket for my car keys. Faith is so embarrassed I imagine she'll want to be alone for the next part. I just wanted to be here in case she wanted me to go with her to the shop, but she didn’t want someone to see me with a patient and get in trouble. I’m not sure that I would, but it was a good call, I guess. "Well, I'm glad you got what you needed. I'll head out now."
Her arm shoots out. "Wait. Please don't go." She looks down at the bag, her fingers tightening around it. "I don't know what I'm doing. Could you help me?"
I wish I could swipe off the cherry red color in her cheeks as if it were washable marker. Teach my girlfriend’s mom how to smoke weed? Sure … no big deal, and not awkward for either of us.
"Of course, Faith. No worries." I hold out my hand and Faith gives me the bag. It crinkles in my grip as I lead her through the house and out the back door.
"You'll want to be outside," I inform her, holding open the door to allow her to step out. "It's pungent."
"Right," she nods. "I smelled it in college."
She gets settled into her favorite seat underneath the canopy, and I reach into the bag.Pre-rolls. Good. She got something easy. I had my fair share of experience in college, before I got super serious the last two years of undergrad and beyond, but I was terrible at packing the bowl. Ace always did it for me, and teased me mercilessly.
“Didn’t want any gummies or brownies? A vape perhaps?” I grin at her.
She shoos me off with a hand. “The girl tried to give me the gummy bears. I told her I wasn’t a child.”
I grin. “Smoking is good. It helps a lot of my patients with pain and appetite. But the gummies are good too, I hear. Eating it feels different than smoking it.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Is that right, Dr. Miller? You seem to know a lot about this.”
Now it’s my turn for my cheeks to flame red.
"Lighter?" I ask, holding out my palm like I'm in surgery.
Faith mouths the wordoopsand I chuckle, running inside to the junk drawer in the kitchen and grab a lighter.
"Okay," I tell her when I've returned, "you're going to hold it between your lips, and when I light it, you're going to take a drag. A lot like a cigarette."
Faith eyes me appreciatively. "Is it safe to bet you haven't done this with many of your patients?"
I pinch the pre-rolled joint between two fingers and hold it out to her. "You are definitely the first. And you don't need to feel embarrassed. You're in pain and you don't need to be. There are no prizes for enduring pain, Faith."
Even the morphine patch doesn’t seem to do much, because she won’t wear it in the day around Autumn. She wants to be mobile and coherent in her last days with her only child. I don’t blame her.
She sighs deeply, psyching herself up, then takes it from me. Tucking it between pursed lips, she leans closer to me. I flick the lighter and watch the flame singe the ends of the small joint.
"Inhale," I instruct.
Faith listens, and as soon as she breathes it in, she begins to cough. I run back into the house for a glass of water, cursing myself for not thinking of it ahead of time.
"Here," I thrust the plastic cup at her. She's mostly recovered now, just clearing her throat every few seconds.
She drinks deeply, finishing it in one go. "Thank you," she says, setting the empty cup on the table. "Is it always like that?" She glances at the joint on the table as if it offends her.
I shake my head. "It takes practice. Maybe get some gummies on your next run." I wink.
She bends over and grabs it from the table, lifting it up between us. "Won't you join me?"
I put up a hand in protest, but the look she gives me stops me in mid-air.
