Page 7 of 13She committed to healthful living like a second job. She ran three miles every morning under dawn-lit smoggy skies. She tried to pray when she woke up. Most often she'd remember around noon, somewhere inconvenient, and so she'd duck into a bathroom stall in the back of the supermarket and drop to her knees right then and there; she liked the grit and melodrama. She tried to keep her praying simple, mainly please and thank you. Sobriety was a way to wake up every morning and think: let's try THAT again. Meaning breakfast lunch and dinner. Meaning getting through the day.
She was taking iron pills to make up for all the blood she'd lost after the abortion. More than most women, apparently. At her check-up two weeks afterward, the nurse had said, looks like you're a bleeder, as if this were a stubborn or childish reaction.