Page 82 of Dark Room Junkie

But this thought made me pause, and I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

No. I’m not falling in love.

I have no idea how that’s supposed to happen.

But why do I keep thinking about him?

As I turned the corner, an ambulance was parked on the street. The sight of it catapulted me back to my childhood. I had long stopped counting how many times the ambulance had been parked in front of our house when I came home from school. This time, too, the blue lights sent my pulse racing, and I swallowed hard.

It’s all good.The ambulance is here, but the whole house is full of crazies. All good.

But old habits die hard. I stood in front of the house for a moment, looking at the front door. With trembling hands, I pulled out the key and opened it. I was shaking all over and was relieved to finally be in the warmth. With heavy limbs, I climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. But when I saw the open apartment door, I froze in place, clinging to the railing and struggling not to collapse on my knees. There were voices encouraging me to take the final steps and enter the apartment.

Once in the hallway, I stopped as a pungent odor hit me. I gagged and coughed, covering my mouth and nose with my arm and closing my eyes as my vision blurred with impending tears. When I opened them again, a policewoman stepped forward. She glanced at the notepad in her hand.

“Are you Mr. Andre ... Andrews?” she inquired, correcting herself from German to English.

“Yes, what ... What’s going on here?” I could barely get the words out.

“Noé Andrews?”

“Yes! Damn it! I ... live here! My mother...”

“Mr. Andrews, there has been a death here,” the woman said in a monotone voice. “Your neighbor complained about the smell.”

I already knew it, but my heart skipped a beat and my breath followed suit.Breathe!“What... What do you mean?”Damn it!What a stupid question to an answer I had known all my life. That one moment. I knew it would one day tear down the walls and pull the rug out from under my feet. No matter how much time I mentally prepared for a moment like this, I was completely immobilized.

“Mr. Andrews, we need to ask you to identify the body. Do you feel up to it?”

I only heard my own stuttering breath. Could I have said no? Could I have lived with the uncertainty, never knowing for sure? When the woman gently touched my arm, I flinched.

“Please, Mr. Andrews, this way.”

With shaky legs and on uncertain ground, I followed the woman through the dark hallway. This was an apartment I was all too familiar with and knew every crack. A putrid smell lingered in the air, infused with cold cigarette smoke, stale beer, and the metallic hint of blood. As we made our way, two paramedics approached us and exited the apartment. The policewoman led me to a mortician standing by a stretcher, scribbling some notes on a form.

“Are you ready?” the man asked, placing the clipboard on the white sheet.

I stared at him. Could anyone ever be ready for something like this?

The man nodded understandingly and seemed so calm. I trembled all over and wanted to say no, but then he lifted the sheet, and I stared into the face of my dead mother. The face of a junkie with blue-tinged lips.

“Is this your mother?”

My mind somehow blanked out, stuck in a whirlwind of hot and cold. A strange sensation cramped in my stomach, pressing against my nerves. I felt sick, and I stumbled backward.

“Mr. Andrews ...” the policewoman said.

I hated the name. It was my father’s name. But would I have preferred to bear my mother’s name instead? No.

“Yes,” I said shortly and rushed down the hall to the bathroom. I stumbled over the bowl and retched bile. My stomach was empty, which made it even more painful.

“I’m ready,” I heard the mortician say.

No!I wanted to shout.You can’t just...

I tore a paper towel from the roll, wiped my mouth, and turned around. As they pushed my mother’s corpse past the open door, my knees gave way, and I sank to the floor.

“Come. I’ll help you,” the policewoman said.

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