Here's a little aside, which was not part of the treatment center memoir. Enjoy!
At exactly three p.m. Taylor sits down, like she does every day, to eat a snack in front of the Dr. Phil show, which starts then.
“Ooh, the heroin twins. I love the heroin twins,” she says, to no one, eyes on the screen, sitting down with her plate in her lap. On the plate there is one almond, one cashew, one walnut, one macadamia nut, one pecan, one pistachio, one Brazil nut, one hazelnut, and one peanut.
It’s a repeat episode of the Dr. Phil show. Taylor has seen it before but she is no less engrossed the second time around. She thinks it’s fascinating that the siblings are both so damaged—so damaged—and self-destructive. They do everything together: they turn tricks (“Johns pay more for twins,” says one twin), they pool their money, score, shoot up, get sick, try to kick.
One of the heroin twins is much worse off than the other, though—the emaciated one with the scabs all over her face and eyelids, whose slurred mumblings are virtually indecipherable. There are subtitles on the screen when she speaks:
“Whenever I get high off crack I always wanna pick my face, which sucks. ‘Cause then it leaves scars.”
She opens her mouth wide to show the camera that “I’ve lost four teeth. They were rotten.”
“I haven’t brushed my teeth in a while…I don’t know, a week.”
“When I cough and spit up stuff I call that crack hack. Mucous. Like nasty mucous and like you see all this black shit.”
She is shown smoking crack: “I’m suckin’ on my glass dick.”
Taylor likes that the girl has a sense of humor about herself. A sense of humor is a sign of conscience, of humanity. There is hope for her.
The other twin, the one who is slightly less of a mess, with clearer skin and a little more meat on her bones, is pregnant, and really wanting to get clean, and she is hoping Dr. Phil can help her, and her sister.
Taylor takes her time with her food, to make it last. With her front teeth she scrapes tiny nibbles off of each nut, one by one, in order. She lingers over every miniscule morsel, sucking it, moving it to her back teeth, chewing and grinding it into liquid, savoring the flavors on her tongue as they intensify and then disintegrate.
“I wish I had a partner in crime,” she thinks, eyes on the TV screen.
Your writing is very vivid,. It really paints a detailed picture. Great work, Juliana!
I've been enjoying these! I have your biography, and I hope you publish another book. This particular entry shows off your writing talent. Such great imagery, painting a picture of Taylor, as if we are watching her ourselves. Very moving. I'm looking forward to reading more! :)