Page 84 of Becoming Us
I stepped inside, phone in hand, about to text him—then I heard it.
A gagging sound came from the bathroom. Then a cough. A few seconds later, the toilet flushed.
My insides turned to ice.
I backed out of the room quickly and closed the door behind me as quietly as I could. Then I waited. A few minutes passed before I knocked again.
We said goodbye. But the entire ride to the airport—and all through the flight—I couldn’t shake the dread that had taken root in my chest. I was tired as fuck, but I couldn’t sleep. Not even for a second. My brain wouldn’t shut up. My body wouldn’t stop buzzing. My chest felt like a tight fist.
Anthony, my dealer, was having a party at a friend’s place. I went, mostly to get more weed. Hoping it would help. Hoping something would.
I rubbed my face in my hands as I sat on the couch beside him.
“You look like shit,” he said. “Why don’t you have a drink? Stay a while. Forget whatever’s messing with your head.”
His friends were usually wasted, but harmless.
I shook my head. “I need sleep. I’m so fucking tired I can’t think.”
“And you’re smoking? That’s not going to be enough.” He grinned. “Try something different. I’ve got Adderall, if you’re falling behind in class.”
“Nah, man.” I was already digging in my pocket for my phone so I could pay and leave.
“Or blow, if that’s more your style.”
My hand paused.
“It’s the good shit too,” he added with a sly smile. “Give it a try. I know you’re good for it.” He pulled out a small plastic bag filled with white powder and held it toward me.
I stared at it.
And then I thought?—
About my dad. The big five. That conversation we had in my room when I was fifteen.
About tomorrow’s class, where I didn’t even know what we were doing—plus the paper I hadn’t started.
About how nothing was slowing down, and I was expected to carry everything, hold it all together, when I could barely stay upright.
I thought about the fear. That old, bone-deep kind. The one that lived under my skin. The one that made me freeze. That made me feel small.
I thought about how long it had been since I’d felt wanted. Since I’d been touched. Since I hadn’t felt invisible in a room full of people.
He started to pull his hand back. “You’ve never had any?”
I reached for the bag before he could and held it between my fingers like it might answer something.
He offered me a key. “Here.”
I thought about my dad’s face. Stern. Tired.
Then the flash of his forearm. The gagging sounds.
Something cracked open inside me and I snatched the key.
Took a bump. Held my hand to my nose.
The bitter trail burned down my throat, and my heart kicked up like it was waking from a long sleep.
