"How much?"

"One to two cups a day."

"When was the last time you had a Xanax?"

"Yesterday."

"What's the longest you've gone without taking one?"

"Three days."

"And how did you feel?"

"On the third day: weird."

"Did you experience any tremors?"

"No."

"Nausea?"

"Yes."

"Vomiting?"

"Yes."

"Sweats?"

"Yes."

"Any mental health diagnosis?"

"No."

"Have you ever been to any facility before?"

"No."

"Are the medications you're taking prescribed to you by your physician?"

"Of course."

"Why were they prescribed?"

"Because I was going through a bad divorce situation."

"Then you do do have mental health issues." have mental health issues."

"I didn't have a nervous breakdown or anything."

"That's not what we mean by it."

"Well, I don't know what you mean."

"It's okay. When was your divorce?"

"Actually, my marriage was annulled. Six years ago."

"What happened that made it tough for you?"

"I found out he was also married to another woman."

"Shut up!"

"In another state. So I've been angry and sort of numbing myself off and on all these years."

"Well, no wonder. We would call this a traumatic experience here at A New Day."

"It was very traumatic, to say the least."

"We can help you deal with the substance-abuse issue and help you begin to address some of the emotional ones, since they're obviously linked. So, you're interested in our twenty-eight-day inpatient program?"

"That's correct."

"I see you've already given us your insurance information. Is everything still current?"

"Yes, it is. I just sent it this morning."

"Okay. Let me ask you a few more questions and then I'll be able to process your application."

"May I ask you one, if you don't mind?"

"Sure," she says.

"Based on what I've told you, how long do you think it'll take me to detox?"

"Our intake specialist could better answer that. However, between us, based on your usage, and with supervision, it might take four or five days."

"Is it painful? I mean, will I freak out or anything?"

She actually chuckles. "No, you won't freak out. They'll give you medication that will keep you comfortable during detoxification."

"Thank God."

"But detoxing alone doesn't solve the problem."

"What problem is that?"

"Addiction. It's a disease."

"I've read that."

"It's a chronic illness. Just like cancer. There's no cure. But you can learn how to manage the disease."

Damn. Bernadine didn't think she had a chronic illness. She certainly didn't think taking these pills should be compared to having cancer. But she wasn't in a position to argue about that with this woman. "Thanks for clearing this up for me."

"You're quite welcome. I just have a few more questions for you. Are you or have you had any thoughts of suicide?"

Bernadine felt like saying "Are you fucking crazy? Kill myself?" Instead, she says, "Absolutely not."

"Glad to hear that. Okay. So how soon would you like to come for treatment?"

"I don't know. Soon."

"What kind of support system do you have?"

"Really good friends."

"And do you work outside of the home?"

"No."

"And how would you feel about going to a meeting tonight?"

"What kind of meeting?"

"Narcotics Anonymous."

Bernadine wanted to ask, "Aren't those meetings full of die-hard drug addicts and junkies?" Instead she says: "I don't think I can make it tonight. I'm exhausted just doing this."

"Not to worry. But for now, you're okay, then?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll try to push your application through. After we get confirmation from your insurance company, someone will be in touch with you. How's that sound?"

"Good," she says. "And thank you."

"Thank you for calling A New Day."

Bernadine hangs up and just sits there without moving for about an hour. For some reason, she decides to check her e-mail-something she hasn't done in weeks. There are three jokes from Robin. She opens the first one: "Two little old ladies were sitting on a park bench outside the local town hall where a flower show was in progress . . ."

When the phone rings, it's Savannah. "I think I made a big mistake inviting Robin to go to Paris with me."

"I couldn't agree more."

"You do?"

"Of course. It was a nice gesture, Savannah, all things considered. But let's face it. Robin's a latte with two shots and no foam. Although she's our friend, you need to do this the way you planned it. Hold on, I've got another call coming in."

"No. Go ahead and take it. We can talk later. Thanks, girl."

Bernadine doesn't bother checking to see who it is before clicking over. "Hello."

"Yes, is Bernadine Harris available?"

"May I ask who's calling?" Bernadine doesn't recognize the voice.

"Yes, my name is Rowena and I'm calling from A New Day Recovery Center."

"Yes," Bernadine says suspiciously, as she pushes herself forward in the chair so her bare feet are flat on the floor.

"I've got good news for you. Your insurance company is willing to cover all but twenty percent of the cost of treatment."

"Really?"

"That's pretty good. So does this mean you'd be able to pay the difference?"

"Yes, I can."

"Fantastic. How soon would you be able to come?"

"I don't know. How soon could I come?"

"How does day after tomorrow sound?"

"You mean this Sunday?"

"Will that not work for you?"

Bernadine almost can't breathe. The thought of actually going through with this has been in her head for so long, now that the reality of it is here, she's panicking. It's difficult for her to take in air. She tries not to pant, but it's impossible.

"Are you all right?"

She reaches inside her purse, takes out a Xanax and swallows it. Her forehead is wet. She wipes it dry. "I'm fine," Bernadine says. "Sunday works for me."

She calls John.

"I need to tell you something," she says. Bernadine has no idea what made her call him first.

"I think I may already know. Whatever you need, Bernie: just say the word."

"I need your help." She also can't believe she just came out and said this to her ex-husband. She has never asked him or anybody for help-until an hour and a half ago. "I have a problem," she says.