Educated Woman

It had been four years, three months, and 17 days since she’d been home. There were obvious changes: the faded white columns, the untamed shrubs. But the hummingbird feeder was still there, gently swinging below two mischievous tree squirrels. It reminded her of a time when sneaking out her bedroom window at twilight to shimmy down an oak tree and scamper off to a car tucked behind the neighbors drive was a dream ticket to freedom. But the time spent away at university had been eye-opening, ushering in a period of self-exploration and experimentation. She had cycled from one drug to the next quicker than most of the other freshman girls, but had found marijuana to be the only one worth keeping, as it consistently eased the ache in her skull on mornings when the vodka was still fresh on her breath. She found herself content in the social scene, a natural with cigarettes and candor. But her academics had been flooded with mediocrity, and she had been completely uninvolved in extra-curricular activities. Nevertheless she had graduated, with a quiet GPA and no familial representatives in the audience. And now, she had returned home. For how long, she knew not. But what she did know was what mattered to here right then and there. She strode across the back porch and in to her father’s den, where she poured a stiff brandy and took a seat on one of his classic bar stools. She knew then she wouldn’t be at home long, as she took the drink down hastily. She lit up a Parliament and poured herself another. “No, I won’t be here long,” she said, pausing to watch the cigarette glow. She began to think aloud , “Might as well take what I can. At least,’ she took a deep puff, ‘at least while it’s free.’”