Neal had his smack stash with him, but the coke remained at the house. Serge was to bring it the next day.

We waited impatiently for his return and pounced on him as he entered the room.

'It's about time!'

'Where've you been? It took you long enough. Did you bring the coke?'

'Of course. But I only brought one gram. I'm going to ration you.'

'One gram! For both of us! What?'

'You can't do that! That's sick!'

'Look how skinny you both are. You have to eat to regain your strength.' Neal and I protested vehemently. 'It's only until you leave here,' Serge insisted. 'Then you can do as much as you want. You must eat.'

One gram a day between the two of us didn't last long at all.

'Oo, oo!' I exclaimed, struck with an idea. 'Do you think we could put coke in the I.V. bottle? Then it would go directly into my bloodstream.' The notion intrigued them.

We waited until the bottle was almost empty. Then I stopped the flow in the tube while Serge turned the bottle upside down and Neal mixed some in with the glucose. When I started the flow again, there was an air bubble in the tube.

'Oh, no. A bubble! Will this kill me if it goes in my vein?'

'Don't worry. It's too small.'

The coke affected me immediately. A golden rush.

'Feel anything?'

'Oh, wow!'

We had to call the nurse when the bottle was finished.

'How did these air bubbles get in here?' she asked as she changed bottles.

We shrugged our shoulders innocently.

They continued to give Neal and me glucose for three days and tried to persuade us to eat as much as possible. The doctors prescribed vitamin injections: one day calcium, one day vitamin B complex.

In the morning, Serge would drive away to fetch our daily gram. W'd be anxious to get him going so he could hurry back with the goodies. The hours circled on forever as we waited restless and grumpy for his return. We then sniffed up the one gram fast. By evening it would be gone.

But we did have great afternoons and even enjoyed the group of Goans who came to pray, standing at the foot of our beds and aiming their song in our direction. They ignored our laughter, our rolling eyes, our hand signals, and the way I buried my head in the covers when my giggles grew out of control.

After discharge from the hospital, we returned to the house in Anjuna Beach and resumed our old routine, with one difference—daily vitamin injection 3, one day calcium, one day vitamin B complex. Serge played doctor. We'd bought intramuscular needles in Mapusa, and he provided Neal and me with our cushy shots. If Serge was out when I remembered the injection, Neal gave me mine and I gave him his. It was fun.

Then Serge ran out of coke. He'd sold us most of what he had and was now left with none.

'Neal, could you sell me back half an ounce?' he asked.

'Remember my promise?' said Neal. 'You told me not to let you do anymore coke once you ran out. You made me promise.'

One time, months before, Serge had made me promise not to allow him do more than three fixes of coke. I'd agreed, and alter his third shot I took away his syringe and hid it. What a drama! For two hours he did not stop begging, whining, grovelling, and pleading for me to return his works so he could do another hit. He drove me out of my mind, following me around with clasped hands, 'One more, please, one more.' Good grief, what a nuisance! After that I refused to be responsible for his drug dosages. Now it was Neal's turn.

'Please. Sell me back a quarter ounce?' Serge said to Neal. 'No.'

'Okay, then one gram. One gram!'

'No.'

'I'm out. You can't leave me like this.'

'No.'

'Pleeeeease. Then just let me have a few hits. I'll go out later and buy my own from somewhere.'

'No.'

It went on and on. Neal would say no and move away. Serge would follow begging, and whining.

'One hit, just one. You can let me do one hit. Please?'

He looked so sad. He seemed on the verge of tears.

'No.'

I couldn't bear to see him suffer, so I made a secret sign for him to meet me in the bathroom. I went first, and he joined me a second later. He looked despondent.

'I have a bit left,' I told him. 'You can have some of my coke. Take your works upstairs. I meet you there in a few minutes.'

Neal's calling broke up our meeting, and we returned to the living room.

'What were you two planning in there?' Neal asked.

Serge collected his gear and climbed the stairs. Neal would ask such a question. What was he—the Gestapo? As he was sprawled across cushions, looking up at me through sheep-dog bangs, I blatantly followed Serge.

'Hey, where's everyone going?' Neal asked. 'Can I come?'

Furiously I dashed up the last step and tried to slam shut the double doors. The carpenter had done a miserable job on those doors, though, and they didn't fit together properly. They wouldn't close. I kicked at them. Twice they bounced back at me, but finally the edges connected and I quickly fastened the metal bolt.

I joined Serge in the bedroom. He'd brought up one of the lamps, and it caused grotesque shadows to wave across the saris hanging from the ceiling. The room was bare except for the mattress in the middle of the floor. I sat next to him and took out my stash.

He'd just found his vein with the needle when the explosion came. Terrified, we looked at one another.

'What was that?' he mumbled through the tie in his mouth.

I felt pricks on my body and looked down to see spots of blood on my arms and legs. Serge hurried to disgorge the contents of the syringe. Then I noticed the glass stream over the mattress. At the next explosion, we saw the rock. Serge saw it fly past my head.

'Neal's throwing rocks through the window!'

As I turned to see the broken holes, I shivered with fear. Serge and I scrambled against the wall, frozen in uncertainty.

'He's lost his mind!'

'My windows! Eve got to stop him.'

'Should we go down?'

As another rock sailed in, Neal's voice shouted up to us, 'Hey, what are you guys doing up there?'

That, at least, made him seem approachable, and I dared to yell down, 'Are you insane? You're destroying my house. Stop.'

'Then come down.'

Concern for the house overcame my fear of the lunatic outside. I went downstairs and sat in the living room. Serge followed.

'You broke my windows!'

'Well, I felt lonely down here by myself.'

'How will I fix them? What am I going to tell Lino?'

'What were you two doing up there?'

'Nothing.'

'Why couldn't I come?'

Serge took no part in the discussion and shortly fell asleep. That's what always happened when he took a break from fixing coke—he fell right to sleep, anywhere, anytime.

'You should have let me come with you,' Neal continued. I glanced over at Serge's sleeping form. How could he desert me at a time like this? 'Or even if you locked the door, I wouldn't have come up if you didn't want me