5 Shaky-Shaky.

Little Phil and I woke close to two hours later. I got up and went to my crying son who was defiantly in need of a diaper change now. I turned my head at the smell; amazed that something so small could make something so stinky. It reminded me of horses though I could not remember when I ever saw one. I quickly took out a fresh butt and was glad that I didn't feel like puking at the sight.

"There you go," I said as I lifted my bottom-clean son. "Ready to rock and roll." I lowered him close to me for a hug, smiling. I realized that when it's just him and me life is not so bad. It's great even. The mere presents of him and his sparkling gum-filled smile wiped away all the hate I felt about myself. If I could just hold on to him all through dinner, I thought, maybe it won't be so bad.

But as I sat on my bed with little Phil I began to feel shaky. My hands started to tremble and soon it took all I had not to drop little Phil. I set him down in his crib quickly, wondering what had changed in the last five minutes.

"My hands!" I said, looking at how they jerked about. I put one in front of my face and watched it shake like mad. I stared at it, trying my best to still the wavering limb. My right leg began to twitch around, casing me to fall backward on the bed. I shot back up and shuddered my limbs hoping to push whatever this was out of me, but it didn't work. I continued to vibrate violently.

"Crap!" I cursed. I started to think about what Arnold might say if he saw me like this, what the dinner would be like if I couldn't stop. I breathed fast, my body tingling with dread as I realized what I had to do.

"That's it! I need a drink!" I panicked. "Just one to calm me down. That's all. Just one and no more!" Without thinking I dashed out and room in a frenzy on a mission to find the nearest booze. I got to the kitchen sooner then I thought and started to rummage around.

I went to cabinet after cabinet. I opened, reopened and threw things, tarring the place apart in my quest for solace. My heart quickened with each passing second and I started to wonder if could survive this moment. That's when I found it. The last bottle of rum Arnold had hidden in the back of the baking cabinet.

"AHA!" I shouted, "I knew we still had some!" I ripped off the cap and before I knew it I had five shots worth down my throat. I sighed deeply as the heavenly burning liquid swam down to my belly, loving the harsh taste of it all. My body quickly relaxed and soon I was sliding down the wall. I could feel every part of me calming as I finished off the large amount that what was left.

"Oh yea…" I moaned as I cleaned the bottle with my tongue. "Now we're talking." I set the Bacardi down next to me and rested for a while, happy to have the fearful feeling pass.

I took in the fuzzy scene around me, the kitchen starting to melt away into pools of separated colors. It looked more and more like an oil painting as the rum worked its way around my system. Raising my hand up to my eye I saw that it no longer shook. It was still as a statue. Beautiful.

"Well, time to…something." I pealed myself off the floor and went out back for a smoke. I sighed happily as the nicotine blew out of me, tasting it with my mouth as it exited in huge puffs. I knew that if Arnold saw me right now he'd be mad. But I didn't care. I needed this. If he wants to me so act all wifely for some stupid meal then he'd better be ready to pay. I told him all week how terrible the idea was and he never listened. He just went on and on about how precious and fragile our lives are, and about how I should care about my family. Sorry buddy boy, but I don't give a shit about them. He knew that one when he married me. I don't know why he'd think I'd ever change.

"Fucking Boy Scout," I said, lighting my second cigarette. I moaned in pleasure as I smoked it, happy to finally have the moment I was waiting for, prayed for, and was bound to pay for.

"Helga!" I turned to see who it was, shocked.

"What are you doing here Phoebe," I asked, eyes glaring.

"Your smoking!" she exclaimed.

"So, what are you gonna do about it? Call my hubby and nark in me?" Phoebe walked to me cautiously, like she was about tame a wild lion. Her gloved hands stuck out in front her.

"Come on, lets get out of the cold. Your not even wearing a coat." She started to grab my arm when I shoved her down.

"Get OFF me!" She picked herself back up and brushed off the lightly packed snow on her jacket, looking me over. I could see her eyes shift from worried to sad.

"Your drunk, aren't you."

"Yea well, what's it to you! It's my damn life!"

"I thought that bar scene was a one time thing Helga, apparently I was wrong about that."

"Oh, so Arnoldo told you." I slurred, "What am I? Some sad person to worry over? Criminay," I took huge drags of my cigarette, blowing smoke rings as I did. They expanded out as they floated up. I tiled my head and watched them fly skyward. Phoebe attempted a second time to grab hold of me, taking it nice and slow.

"You need to get inside. Your lips are turning blue." I tried to fight of her grip a second time but fell, my face landing in the snow. I cursed when I got up, hating how the congealed water numbed my face. Or was it the rum? It was becoming hard to tell.

"Fucking weather! I fucking hate it." I shivered some when I noticed that the bangs on my face were ice cold and just as damp. Before I could think of what to do next, I felt Phoebe's heavy coat being draped over my freezing shoulders. I didn't fight it off. I just let my best friend drag me inside, leading me near the fireplace. My teeth chattered.

"Ok, here you go," Phoebe said as she rested my body in a seat by the logs. I saw her take several off the top and stack them. She made sure to align the wood in some strange pattern and lit the kindling. Within moments the fire was roaring. I moved my chair closer to fully expose myself to warmth the hot logs gave off.

"Now, are you going to tell me what's going on here?" she asked, taking the other seat. I looked down at the floor and watched the reflection of the fire in it, thinking how I wanted another drink. I needed something to dull the pain. A headache was starting to build in my forehead. Another smoke would be nice too. But that would be the first thing Arnold would smell when he came home later. Damn.

"Arnold called me today and asked me to come over on my lunch break. He said that you two had some sort of fight this morning. Another patient came in before he could tell me more." I took off my friend's coat and handed it to her. I then stood up by the fire and warmed my damp pants. I continued to say nothing.

"Where is little Phil" Is he up stares in your room?" I nodded yes, still looking down at the hardwood slats. As the fire began to warm me I started to feel sad. This is not what I wanted to have happen. Sure, I did want to end my panic. But I didn't want hurt Phoebe. I didn't want to curse at her like I had. I also didn't want to feel like I had, depressed, cheerless, and begging to sip away every emotion my body could create.

My need to feel numb inside was growing stronger by the second and I knew if I didn't do something fast I was bound to run off. I put my hands over my arms and clamped them down, hugging myself. Biting my lip I thought about the many ways I could continue my current drunken state. Anything was better then this.

"I…um…I need…"

"What do you need Helga? Tell me what you want I can get it for you. Do you want some tea to help warm you up?"

"No I…no tea."

"Do you want me to check on your son?"

"NO! I...want…something stronger. Something to…" I quickly put up my hand again and noticed that the shaking had returned with full force. My right foot started to jerk and tap rapidly on the floor. My breath became quick, shuddering as it left my body. "Please," I heaved, "Don't tell Arnold." Phoebe lowered her head.

"I don't know if I can do that."

"Please Phoebe, Please…" I looked at my best friend, my eyes begging for her to understand me. She had to understand me. Someone had to understand me. "We were supposed to have this dinner and I didn't want to…and…please…don't tell him." I wiped away the tears from my face as I cried. The depression I felt started to weigh in on me again.

I wanted so much to end this. I wanted so much to quench this deep feeling of regret and worthlessness. I looked at my friend through my shrink-rapt eyes and wondered if I could get passed her and run out for more booze. If I could just get one more drink I'll be fine. Just one, and no more.

"You have to help me," I cried, "I just need one more…that's it Phebs, just one more and then I'll do whatever Arnold and you want. Please, you HAVE TO HELP ME!" She looked scared now, unwilling to come any closer to me. Standing, she backed away a little.

"You know I can't do that for you Helga." She said softly, "I think you need a different kind of help."

"No I don't need THAT help! I need a drink! There is a difference you idiot!" I barked. "All I ask is for one drink. I don't think it's going to end the world if I have just one!" I was getting mad now, sensing that maybe she was not my best friend after all. A best friend would help me!

"You think your so much better then me? Huh? You think you can feel all high and mighty because you don't feel like the shit of earth! One drink! God!" I went into my pocket and pulled out my smokes. I lit one up quick, not caring anymore if Arnold, or anyone, smelled the smoke. For all they know it could be from the fireplace.

"Helga I never said I was better then you."

"Yea, well, the smug look on your face says otherwise jackass!" She stared at me, a little shocked at how mean I was being to her.

"Ok, I can't I take this anymore. I'm calling Arnold!" She put her hand in her coat pocket and fished for her cell. I tried to grab it before she had the chance to call and failed, her hands too quick with the speed dial. Phoebe backed away some more as she waited for my husband to pick up. Her voice sounded scared.

"Arnold? It's me. I think you should come home. Yea…really bad." I looked at her hand and judged whether or not I could knock the cell phone out of it. Putting my hands out from my sides, I lunged forward, falling flat on my face. I got up and tried again, this time falling faster and at shorter a distance. I rolled on the ground some, holding my throbbing hands. Before I knew it, I was puking on the floor.