Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Awkward Advance (21)

     Every single word written here is an extraordinary exaggeration of events that have played out in my head... based on the stories I have heard from people I have met in jail or while I was dealing with my own stupidity and carelessness, resulting from my own addiction to alcohol and drugs. This is in no way a glamorization of drug use, but a tool to lend some humanity to a subculture that has been demonized and written off as a hopeless and worthless part of our human family. I do not condone or promote any of the behavior or activities herein.

            I allowed Crystin to fire off several more blasts into my arms over the next several hours, wiping out nearly half of the bag I took as payment for the bolt I gave to Rhonda.  I felt like I was merely performing ‘buzz maintenance,’ as opposed to my first couple of experiences, which included extreme rushes and feelings of nauseated euphoria.  My later experiences were disappointing at best, so I tried to tell myself that I would reserve the rest of my personal supply for after I had come down for a day or so.  Rhonda made her phone calls, and disappeared from the apartment for awhile to retrieve the cash to pay for the dope inside of the bolt.  Crystin reverted to hiding behind her pillow after Rhonda had left us alone in the otherwise empty apartment.  She was fumbling with a box of Indian arrowheads, and other artifacts that she was very proud to have found on her own, and I broke the thickening ice by asking her about them. 
She began carefully handing the shaped rocks and heavy stones to me one at a time, and I could feel her closely gauging my reaction to each one.  I knew very little about the hobby she enjoyed, but some of the rocks were pretty fantastic, so I listened intently as she explained each ones supposed purpose.  I could feel her staring at me while I was examining each rock she handed to me, and I began noticing that each time she handed me another rock she moved another couple of inches closer to where I was sitting on the couch.  At first I disregarded her advancement, thinking that she was just relaxing in my company.  Then she handed me another rock, and wouldn’t let go of my hand as they touched.
“You have really pretty eyes, do you know that?” she asked, locking her stare onto my sleep-deprived eyes.
“Well, my wife has told me that several times…” I said with obvious discomfort in my voice.  I looked away from her staring eyes, and I used my thumb and forefinger to pinch the rock in her hand, manipulating it simultaneously from her grasp, and also releasing her gentle grip on my now shaking hand.
“Oh yeah… that’s right.  Rhonda said you were married.”  Crystin said, throwing herself back on the couch, feigning a pout. 
“Yeah, I am.  But thank you for thinking I have pretty eyes.  You’ll excuse my disbelief, as I haven’t slept in an untold number of days, and have just recently learned the excesses of banging dope.”  I laughed and put the rocks in my hands back into the box resting in a blanket on the couch.
“I think that’s probably what I see…” she began again.  “You kinda seem to be taking this all in stride, and that fucking turns me on about you.”  She pulled the pillow up to her face, completely covering her features, and offered a muffled, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
“Yeah…well,” I said standing up from the couch.  I grabbed the bottle of cheap white tequila we had started on and sat on the far end of the loveseat.  “Listen, I’m flattered and all… really.  But I’m fucking married, chick.”
“Yeah… for how fucking long, though?” Crystin asked quietly from behind her pillow.  “I mean, when was the last time you were home?  Does your wife do dope?”  Her tone was getting increasingly agitated and loud, “Do you think your relationship is important, or are you just running away from it?  If you’re running away from it, hell… we might as well fuck.  It won’t be hurting anybody.  It’s not like I’m gonna tell… Fuck…” she looked up at me from behind her pillow, and something about her inability to understand my denial infuriated me.
“I’m not cheating on my goddamned wife!  Yeah, you may be right… things are fucked up with me and her… and I’m all fucked up on drugs, but she doesn’t need to add infidelity to her list of reasons to hate me right now.  I’m sure as hell not cheating on her with some fucking banger, dope-fiend in some worn out, old apartment way out here in the middle of nowhere.  I’m fucking sorry.  You’re gonna have to help yourself scratch that itch, sweetheart.”  I pulled deeply on the tequila and nearly choked on the burning sensation in my throat as some accidentally went down the wrong pipe.
Crystin took this opportunity to charge out of the room and into the kitchen where I heard the apartment door slam, and moments later the sound of a car starting and the familiar sound of tires spinning on gravel.  I guess she had embarrassed herself enough this time to split until Rhonda got back home.  I didn’t have time to feel bad about it, and quite honestly I wasn’t really in control of my facilities enough to really register what had just happened.  I simply sat and drank tequila, and finished smoking the foil that I had left alone hours earlier.
It was some time that passed until I heard Rhonda’s car pull onto the gravel from the road.  I hadn’t moved much in that time, and had spent most of it replaying the events leading up to Crystin’s departure.  Along with my racing thoughts about Crystin’s advances on my fidelity, I was lost in thoughts of my family who I had not seen it what seemed like months.  I was lost wondering what was going on with all of them, and what they were having for dinner.  I was wondering what movie they might be watching after dinner tonight.  I was wondering if my wife had taken this opportunity to find somebody to fill the space that I had left.  I wondered in paranoid disillusionment if my wife had been given the opportunity to freely take some random stranger, or a close friend of hers to bed.  I wondered if she had been offered such a thing, if she had taken advantage of the offer.  Finally I was interrupted by Rhonda, who was now standing right over me while I was spacing out.
“HEY!” she yelled, and rubbed my head.  “Where the fuck is Crystin?”
I didn’t answer, and only looked up at her and shrugged.
“She fucking embarrassed herself, huh?” Rhonda laughed, and continued, “I told her you were married, and I thought you was gay… but I guess she just don’t listen.”
“I’m not fucking gay, you bitch.” I smiled in spite of the presumed assumption.
“I know you’re not gay, fucker… but I was trying to avoid something  like this happening.  That girl just needs to keep her legs closed for once.  I swear to God in heaven she does.”  Rhonda dropped a pile of twenty dollar bills into my lap.
“That should cover us… are you ready to go back to the farm?”
I stood up, folded the bills, put them in my pocket and stretched my arms, back and legs… “I’ve been ready since yesterday.  No offense, I’ve had a good time… but I just feel like I belong out there right now.”
“None taken, kiddo.  I know where you belong.  Let's get you back out to Bull.”

This work is the intellectual property of Jerome J. Panozzo

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