Not that there's a statutory limit on that stuff, but that every day you look at the shape of your life and see it as part of the whole: you read the topography and see the choices you've made. Addicts are incapable of doing that, because their lives are heading toward something better, the whole time, so they divide it up into pieces of now. Right now I need a fix. Tomorrow I can go into rehab or quit cold turkey or get my kids back, but first I need a fix. Or to step this dissociation from consequence back to a manageable level: If you go off your diet or stop exercising or whatever it is, if you fall off the wagon, well, January first is at most 364 days away, at any given time.
"It was this thing that happened today," he explains. "Other things have happened other days, things will happen tomorrow." This is what she's taught him. It's scary but it's at least a little healthier, this part of his breakdown. A little closer to the bear. She promises he won't get hurt again, and he barely hears her, and she demands he look her in the eye and promises again. It means nothing. "You should worry about Stevie," he says almost angrily. "He's just a baby." She breaks into tears, unable to explain that's what Shane is too. He asks for the sandwich she's got balanced on her knees, and she weakly hands it over.
Celia kicks in the door to a lucha libre locker room, causing one unmasked gentleman to run off shrieking that he's been seen. Celia's used to that; it's been every day of her life. She crosses the room to Ignacio, who is wearing a revealing black unitard and stretching seductively. She stares at his crotch until he explains he's wearing a cup, and then she demands "a hookup." He considers, and asks to see her culo, and she tells him to kiss her culo, she's talking about drogas. I really like the idea that Celia, being hollow the way Nancy only pretends to be, is actually better at this than Nancy could ever be. Nancy was so angry when she said she never asked to be treated like a big boy, remember? And that's fucking all Celia ever wants.
Celia gives her new associate a whole talk about how she wants a steady supply of weed across the border, and his continued groin stretches -- in a variety of directions and thrusts, with accompanying groans and grunts -- seem as disconcerting and fascinating for Celia as they might be for Sanjay. "You can be my heavy: sniff out the assholes in my life, and bury them in the yard." They agree on a 20% cut, and he puts on his Doberman mask, picking up a big soft bone and growling in her face, jumping around, before bouncing off every surface and out into the arena. She's like, "What the fuck?" but secretly she loves it because it's Ignacio, and he rules unavoidably on all levels.