I dont know why Im so angry with her. I dont mean to be so hateful and the way that she flinched when I said it made me turn back to the window and curse under my breath at her.

Shes still stood there though. Shes not going anywhere.

Youre wrong you know. She says so quietly, but firmly. I am not a drug addict. I am on medication, but its medication the doc  . . .

Oh right, medi – cation. I drawl rather sarcastically. Of course you are.

I need the pills, she explains to me. I cant cope without them.

So what drugs do you take? I say harshly Ativan? Valium? Etomine? I reel off all these anti depressants, pills that a doctor prescribes that are supposed to keep us calm and stable. She relents a little, but it is only slightly. She needs to face up to the reality that she is facing a losing battle just like I was and realise that the stuff she is taking will kill her just as easily as the stuff I was.

You can cope without them, believe me that stuff will kill you just as much as the stuff I was on.

She stares at me strangely and changes the course of the conversation.

Whats youre name? She asks me.

Tina. I say.

Shes Mary. Mary. Who is back in here with her thirteenth nervous breakdown.

look. I have to go.      She says backing away.

Sure. I shrug. Whatever. I say. Dont listen.

She smiles and waves and walks slowly to the door.

Mary please come sit with me.

What?  She turns and faces me. I dont know why its so important to me, but I have to make her understand what shes doing to herself.

Ive told you already the doctors prescribe the drugs Im not an addict. She says coldly.

I tell her stubbornly. Havent you been listening to a word that Ive told you? Youre lying to yourself Mary.

She humours me at first and then she comes and joins me on the couch. Before I realise it we have exchanged life stories and Ive also come to realise that I like Mary. She has a sadness that surrounds her and it makes me want to hug her.

Her story is so unoriginal and mundane. Shes the classic clich of the depressed housewife. Mary might have gotten the drugs shes taken legally from a GP. But the reality of it all is thats just a cover up, shes still an addict. Thats where her addiction started. Hers may be perfectly above board and respectable, even socially acceptable, but it still makes her an addict.

I really have to go Tina. She says. My husband is coming to visit.

Her voice is all, formal again. Maybe it got too raw for her, maybe we got to intimate with each others feelings. You can tell Mary is a woman who is no longer comfortable with intimacy. She is edgy and agitated. Both emotions I can sympathise with all too well.

Ill talk with her again tomorrow.

But I am not holding my breath.

(To Be Continued  . . .)