couple of weeks after she'd been introduced to the beautiful tragedy that is cocaine, and we'd fallen into a routine.
Every day, after I got out of work, I went home to her and cut a couple of lines for us. It wasn't good and it wasn't healthy, but I’d convinced myself after a few days, that at least it was contained. I was holding the reins and the control, and I figured, as long as I could hold onto that, things couldn't get too out of hand.
I tried not to consider how that was just another lie I was telling myself.
One Friday night, after getting home from work and getting high, I rolled out of bed in a just-fucked stupor and grabbed my overnight bag.
“Shit,” I groaned, opening the bag and heading to my dresser.
“What are you doing, baby?” Andy asked, spreading her arms and legs wide, as she rolled her head lazily from side to side against the pillow.
“I forgot we’re going upstate this weekend,” I said, throwing in a few shirts, some jeans, and half the contents of my underwear drawer.
Andy laughed wildly at the ceiling. “How many butts do you have?”
“I don’t know. You think that’s too much? It’s too much.” I returned some of the underwear to the drawer, then said, “You need to pack. You want me to do it? I’ll do it.”
She began to move her arms and legs, like she was making a snow angel on the mattress. I stood back, transfixed by the movement and the smooth glide of her limbs, and she laughed at my stare.
“You’re freaking me out.”
“You’re fuckin’ beautiful.”
“No, I’m not. I’m plain. And crazy.”
“Not plain,” I shook my head, “just crazy fuckin’ beautiful.”
“And you’re stoned.”
I laughed, raking my hands through my hair. “Crazy fuckin’ stoned,” I agreed wholeheartedly.
“So, why are we going?”
I spread my arms and shrugged. “Zach wants us all up there for a barbeque or somethin’. I dunno. I said yes, so that’s what we’re doin’.”
“Why can’t we just stay here? ‘Cause I wanna stay here and do all the coke.” She laughed, clapping her hands over her crazy beautiful face. “Oh, my God, can you imagine if we did all the coke? Oh, my God, would that be bad?”
“It’d be so bad,” I said, shaking my head. “God, we’d probably fuckin’ die.”
Andy abruptly sat up in bed, her eyes wide. “Are we going to die? Oh, my God, Vinnie, I don’t want to die. I’m not ready.”
She looked so scared, so sad, as her eyes quickly filled with tears. I dropped to my knees at the edge of the bed and took her face in my hands. I pressed kisses to her cheeks, forehead, and lips, then said, “I won’t let us die, sweetheart. Okay? Don’t worry, we’re gonna be fine. I’ll make sure we’re fine.”
With a smile and a nod, her face took on another look of serenity. She grabbed my wrists and pulled me down to the mattress to lay beside her. I protested, telling her we needed to pack, but she shook her head and started to press kisses to my lips and cheeks.
“Not yet. We have to do something else right now.”
I nodded, keeping my eyes on her full lips. “Okay. What are we gonna do?”
“Let's pretend we are dead, okay? Let's pretend we did all the coke and died.”
“No.” I shook my head and pulled from her grasp. “I don't want to do that.”
“Why? Come on,” she giggled, grabbing at my arms and keeping me from leaving. “It's just pretend. We're gonna pretend we're dead, but we're not really, okay? It's fine.”
I wasn't sure if it was fine. I wasn't sure if it was fine at all. But I tried to relax, lying still beside her, staring at her face and the mischievous smile she wore. She laid on her back, instructing me to do the same; our hands clasped between us. She kept her eyes trained on the ceiling, and said, “Okay. Now, close your eyes and hold your breath.”
I did as I was told and trapped the air in my lungs as my eyes shut. The world was still and quiet around me and for one second, exactly one, I was calm. But that second quickly passed and then I thought about my father. Dead. Cold. So still and quiet in the ground. Trapped. That's what he was and so was I. Trapped in my own head. Trapped in my fear of being alone and of being left