'Okay. Will you do it for me?'
'Sure.'
He broke the neck of the ampoule with a can opener and drew the vitamin B3 into the syringe. I wrapped his tie around my arm and pumped my hand. Watching others, I knew the vein had to be fat and ready. It was actually exciting.
'Wow! I felt an incredible rush from that,' I said. Heat zoomed all the way to my toes as he emptied the syringe.
'I told you.'
'That's wild. The vitamin B does that?'
'Yeah.'
'I felt that whoosh throughout my body. That was great.'
Sasha returned his concentration to the coke. I leaned against the wall and urged my muscles to go limp. It felt strange to be away from the house.
BAM, BAM.
'Oh, no—he's found me,' I whispered and jumped to cover Sasha's mouth with my hand. 'Sasha, please don't let him in. Please. Please.'
The pounding continued and made Sasha nervous. 'I have to open it,' he said. 'There's no lock outside the door, so he knows I’m in.'
'Please, no.'
But the banging went on, and eventually Sasha rose to answer the door. I threw my body on the mattress. 'Okay, but tell him I'm asleep and to go away.' I closed my eyes and played dead. I heard the bolt slide across the door and then squeaky hinges.
'Sasha, have you seen . . .' It was Serge's voice. 'There she is. I've been looking everywhere for her.'
GO AWAY, I thought to myself. I wanted to be alone. I didn't want to see either of them.
Serge's footsteps came in the room.
'She's sleeping,' said Sasha.
'I've been worried. How long has she been here?'
'About an hour. She wanted downs so she could sleep.'
'Well, let her be. As long as I know she's all right.'
Serge tiptoed to my side. I felt the silky material of Chinese pants slide by my arm. Then his silver
'I'll come by later,' he whispered to Sasha on his way out. As soon as the door closed, I sprang to secure the bolt.
'Oh, thank you, thank you, Sasha. I can't deal with their movie. I just can't.'
'Well, he's gone. Try to relax again.'
It didn't seem more than a minute before the pounding came again. BAM, BAM, BAM.
'Sasha, don't open it. Please!'
'I have to.'
Once more I lay down and played dead. This time it was Neal.
'She's here? There she is!' He giggled.
I didn't breathe as I heard him approach.
'She's asleep,' said Sasha. 'She was flipped out. I gave her downs to help her mellow.'
Neal sat on me. 'Hey, cuckoo.'
'Maybe you should let her sleep. She was really out of it.'
I tried to ignore the weight on my hip, but it was difficult when Neal planted his head, nose to nose, against mine. 'Hey,' he giggled.
I broke. 'I'm sleeping. Leave me alone.' I pushed him off me and rolled to my side.
'I know what you need to make you feel better,' Neal said. I heard him rustle his bag and take out his glass block and razor blade . . . SQUEAK, SCRAPE, SQUEAK.
'I need to SLEEP. Go away.'
'Here you go.' SQUEAK. He placed the block in front of my face and inserted the looter in my nose. I moved my head. 'NEAL! I have to sleep.' The looter followed my nostril as I shifted my head side to side to escape it. 'NO!'
'You really don't want any? That is unusual.'
He squeezed between me and the wall and stretched out beside me, lying half on top of me. 'We were worried about you. Serge knocked down the door. I've thought you were still upstairs. How did you get out, anyway? The door is boarded up on the outside.'
He wasn't going to leave me alone. I wanted to scream and scream and scream until I could rid myself of the energy that seemed about to explode from my skin. I rolled over, grabbed the aspirin bottle of coke, stood up, and dashed out the door. Neal followed.
It was drizzling. I ran but soon tired and could only walk. I could hear Neal a few Feet behind. 'Where are you going now?' he asked.
Suddenly I noticed how green everything was and how much had grown. Leaves burst from bushes I'd never noticed in their naked state. I went deeper into the underbrush, hoping Neal wouldn't follow. The ends of branches scratched my arms. I looked down, amazed at my dirty, bloody, scratched-up skin.
'Hey, how are you going?' said the voice behind me. 'Let's stop a moment for a toot.'
'Leave me alone.'
'Come on, a nice toot of coke will make you feel better.'
'I'm too speedy as it is. I don't need more coke. I need to calm down.'
'Okay, then stop a minute and I'll make you a nice big line of smack.'
I didn't seem to have strength left to get away from him. And the smack sounded good.
Resigned, I sat beside him on a rock and let him talk me into smack, and then of course coke, and eventually we went home.
Not long after that, in one of my normal fits of fury at Neal, I banished him to the upstairs rooms. He was not to come down. I didn't want to see his face. He was either to leave my house completely and never come back or to remain hidden upstairs. He didn't want to leave me, so he moved into the empty rooms.
Now it was much better. Serge and I were finally alone. We played, and he made me laugh. We went to sleep in each other's arms. Occasionally I saw Neal approach the staircase and Look down on us. I'd make faces at him and gestures, and he'd go back to his room.
But Serge still left now and then for a few hours. And as soon as his motorbike could be heard pulling away, Neal came down the stairs.
'NO! GO BACK UP!' He'd be assailed by my screams as soon as he set foot on a step. 'GO BACK UPSTAIRS! I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU. I HATE YOU.'
Of course he wouldn't go. He'd patiently wait out my tantrum, and after a half hour or so, I'd forget I hated him. Soon we'd be spacing around together in coke joy, planning the next scams we were going to pull off—to Tahiti, Alaska, New Guinea. Only when I'd hear Serge's returning motor would I remember my anger. Then I'd shriek again and push Neal to the steps, and finally Neal would collect his things and go back up. Sometimes, though, I didn't hear Serge's bike and would be surprised to see him come through the front door.
'Oh, hi,' I'd say and run to throw my arms around him. I was always so glad to see him. And THEN I'd remember again that I hated Neal. Sometimes, though, Serge would be gone so long, he'd return to find Neal and I asleep next to each other. Well, I'd TOLD him Neal sneaked down as soon as he rode away!
One morning I woke up alone in the living room. I guessed Serge had woken early and left.
Then I stumbled on the note. It protruded from the mouth of the bhong.
I've left, it said. I've left because it's Neal you love, not me. I can't take it anymore. I love you too much. If I'm wrong, you know where to find me. I always love you. Serge.
Oh, no!
Frantically I looked around. Serge's window ledge still held the champagne glass, the ashtray, my bent spoon—yet it felt forsaken. I touched the pillow where he'd so recently laid his head. It was cold, damp but cold.
