As the windows roll up, a sharp, nauseous smell tickles my nose. It is a mixture of cheap beer, vomit, and pungent marijuana. I squirm and check my snowy-white Prada jacket for any stains that might smear my precious coat. Once I realize my jacket is free of blemishes, I quickly use it to cover my nose. 

The UBER driver’s rough, twitching hands clench the steering wheel as he bellows, “Stop fussing! Who do you think you are?” 

I glare at him through the rearview mirror and roll my eyes. An unshaven, wrinkled, sun-burned bumpkin demanding I answer a thoughtless question? I don’t have to answer a question from the likes of him. Instead, I caress my golden Rolex watch and smirk. 

Suddenly, the car screeches to a stop and I lurch forward, banging my head against the front seat. My head throbs in pain as the world goes blurry. A pair of strong arms shove me out of the car and hold me against the bumpy ground. A filthy hand slithers across my arm and grasps my watch, yet the watch desperately clings to its true owner. The stench intensifies as he wraps his bulky arms around me, trying to suffocate me. I desperately try to disentangle myself. 

“Don’t judge me! I can’t help it” The monster’s eyes are bloodshot as he barks and tighten his grips around my neck. 

My head throbs as my ex-husband’s begging, gaunt face flashes in my mind. The arch of Joseph’s eyebrows, his piercing brown eyes, and his thin parsed lips resembled the maniac surrounding me. 

“Jo...joseph?” I mumble, slightly out of confusion from the lack of oxygen, perhaps. 

The man’s eyes widen in shock and he releases his grip on me at once. He narrows his eyebrows and straightens his back as air begins to flow back to my body.

“Joseph...Joseph Miller...” He mumbles. “I knew him. You must be Sarah Miller...”

My neck aches as I try to nod.

“He was a great guy. We were there for each other at the rehabilitation center.” The man looks into the distance as he recalls these memories.

Joseph’s merry laughter rings in my ears. Before our huge fight, he would always greet me with the biggest smile and always treated me with a noble sense of respect. We used to live in a simple two-room apartment with second-hand furniture and moldy walls, but it felt like home. Joseph was a hard-working and diligent man, but things changed when he started coming home drunk and high every night.

“You weren’t there when he needed you. It wasn’t his fault that his company filed bankruptcy and he got fired.” The man grumpily bites his lips.

My eyes widen and I squirm. “What...he got fired?”

The man nods his head and replies, “Yes. He got fired. He never told you because he thought everything was under control…until he started using drugs.” 

I remember Joseph suddenly collapsing on the ground and violently convulsing. I remember when he would bawl late at night waking the neighbors. I remember his limp body lying on the sofa wetting the covers. I remember when I called him useless and compared him to my friends’ more well-off husbands.

“He loved you so much, but you changed when you started pointing out his inabilities and weaknesses every day.”

No. That was wrong. Everything changed when Joseph got addicted to drugs and showed up to work high every day. 

“All the factories eventually shut down around this area because of foreign competition. It wasn’t Joseph’s fault that no factories could offer him a job.” The man looks down at his shoes and sighs. 

The man enters the car once more and looks back one last time. “You wouldn’t understand anyway. All you wanted were those designer bags and well, it looks like you got what you wanted. Congrats.”

The car engine rumbles and fades away around the corner, leaving me lying by the dirt road. The words stab my aching heart, a pain distracting me from the physical cuts I just endured.

I imagine the mansion I now live in with its marble fountain by the gate greeting me with its graceful arms of water, the smooth white linoleum floor shinning its dazzling smile, and the colorful Prada bags lining neatly in my golden closet. Wouldn’t anyone be content with a lavish mansion and a closet full of stylish designer clothes, accessories, and shoes?

However, unlike my simple two-room apartment, my new home now greets me with icy floors, empty rooms, and dead silence. If I manage to catch a snippet of giggles, the thick white walls quickly absorb them, leaving me with only an echo of joy. 

I lay my arms over my body as tears stream down my face. Joseph, I don’t understand why didn’t you tell me everything before. We could have fought these battles together. Was the man I just met going through the same thing as you? Will another loving family be separated like us by unemployment and addiction? 

The thought of Joseph’s pleading eyes sends shivers down my body. I sit up and take my phone out of my muddy bag. I search for local rehabilitation centers and head there to inquire about their volunteer programs and donation policies. No one deserves to suffer from addiction as Joseph did.