I got out of
class just after noon. I had another class in three hours, and I knew that I
probably wouldn’t make it back in time. That was alright though, this came
first. It had to. I was starting to feel sick already, and I had stopped lying
to myself about priorities months ago. I remember that it was cold out. It
wasn’t winter yet, but was getting close. Even in November the temperature
could get down into the 30’s in Boston. I put my thick black beanie on, folded
up the bottom, and made my way across the street into the Community College “T”
stop. I was really starting to look the part now, with my Carhartt jacket,
baggy jeans, scraggly beard, and work boots. Nobody looking at me could have
guessed that my backpack was full of books and pens and notebooks.
After about ten agonizing minutes a
train to Forest Hills finally arrived and I got on. A wave of boiling, recycled
air hit me when I walked through the train door, and it momentarily offset the
discomfort of my cold, but sweaty skin. My body’s broken internal thermometer
adjusted quickly though after I took a seat and I could feel the sweat forming
under my hat and my nose begin to run again.
If the ride went smoothly, it’d be about a
half hour from Community College to Forest hills... just about the entire length
of the Orange Line. It seemed like it took forever to make it to Chinatown, but
that was what I looked at as the halfway point, and I was happy to have made it
that far. For a moment I had cell phone service and my phone buzzed in my hand.
It was Dennis. All the message said was “ETA?” I wrote back that I’d be there
in fifteen minutes, but I had already lost service again by the time I’d sent
it. The train kept going for a about twenty more minutes, first through the
colleges and nice neighborhoods, then through the gentrified neighborhoods, and
then the bad ones. By the time we got to the end of the line I had been the
only white person on the train for the last three stops, and was getting some
concerned looks. The locals must have rightfully assumed that I was either some
kind of social worker, or that I was there to buy, sell, or get laid.
Dennis was
waiting for me at the top of the escalator.
“You didn't
fuckin' answer my text! I thought you bailed! I was about to take off!” he
yelled at me a few steps down.
“Fuck off.
You've lived here your entire life but still don't get that there's no service
on the train?” I said loudly back up at him.
“Whatever,
what're you getting?” he asked me.
“Five bags.”
I said “Four for me and one for you,” and handed him a hundred dollars.
Dennis was
just a middle man, not a dealer himself. I didn't know any reliable dealers in
The City yet, so I went through him to get dope. If someone is “middle-manning”
for you, it's implied that they expect some kind of payment--either drugs or
money. Today it was drugs, and Dennis didn't complain.
“Okay,” he
said “Alex is sending a guy to meet me about a quarter mile down Hyde Park Ave.
Sorry bro, but you know the drill. Just sit tight and I'll be right back.
Dennis took
off walking quickly down the street, and I nervously took a seat outside of the
station and lit a cigarette. I wasn't nervous so much about where I was or the
neighborhood, but more about whether or not I'd ever see Dennis again. This was
only the third or fourth time I'd ever gotten dope through him, and it wouldn't
have surprised me if he had a dozen of us using him as middleman and planned on
robbing us one by one. Dennis was probably about my age, 23 or 24 with dirty
blonde hair, had facial features consistent with fetal alcohol syndrome, and
was about six feet tall. He said he was originally from Norwood, but that was
just about all I knew about his history. He was a tough kid to get a read off
of in terms of his personality, but I realized pretty quickly that had it not
been for our mutually beneficial business arrangement, I never would have said
a word to this kid in a million years.
I took in a
long drag of my Camel Light--or "Blues" as they were now called--and tasted the uniquely disgusting taste of burning
filter. I coughed, threw it in a puddle, and immediately lit a new one. I had
just begun to really get anxious that he wasn't coming back when I saw him come
bopping around the corner. When he got a little closer he made eye contact,
gave me a smirk and a thumbs up, and relief filled my soul.
He walked up
and said “Bro, this shit's gotta be fire. All rock and pretty fuckin' dark.”
“Beautiful,”
I said. “Where you wanna go?”
“This way,
there's a park just up the street.” He said, starting to walk and motioning
with his head for me to follow him.
“Ok.”
We walked to
the park up the road without saying a word. When we got there, both of us were
sort of drawn to these two benches next to each other, adjacent to a patch of
trees and bushes which provided us some cover to do what we had come there to
do. We moved towards the benches almost automatically. Almost instinctively. We
sat down and I put my backpack in between us. I took out a needle for me, a
needle for Dennis, and a spoon.
Dennis gave
me my four bags. I put two in my pocket and and emptied two into the spoon. I
drew water into the syringe from my water bottle and sprayed it onto the
heroin. I watched it get dark and quickly dissolve into the water. The
resulting hue of the liquid was beautiful. Dennis was right, this was good
stuff. I took some cotton from one of my cigarette filters and drew the
solution into my needle.
I have bad
veins already, and the cold that day didn't help. The dopesickness and
resulting low blood pressure weren't helping me either. After about five
minutes of poking myself to no avail, Dennis started pressuring me to go
faster. He was already high, but unfortunately not high enough to keep him quiet.
I swear, every late-model, American-made car that went by he said was a cop. I
finally was able to hit in my hand. I watched the blood go in, and I pushed it
all back out. It only took about three seconds to hit me, and I immediately
knew that I had done too much. I smiled in ecstasy, completely care free as the
world around me slipped into darkness.
When I woke
up it was dark out and I didn't see Dennis anywhere. It took me a minute to
remember exactly what I had just put myself through, and when I did I realized
why was now feeling so weak and cold and why my mind was so foggy. I looked at
my phone, it was just after 6:00, and I'd been out for a few hours. I drew what
seemed to me like a deep breath into my sore lungs and called out softly for
Dennis. Nothing. I lit a igarette and tried to stay awake. It took me another
five minutes or so of recuperating to realize that my bag was gone. Did that
fucker really steal my bag while I was overdosed? Almost as soon as I'd tossed
away my finished cigarette butt and had gotten to my feet, ready to leave, I
heard a playful voice shout “he lives!” from behind me. Sure enough, there was
Dennis walking up the well-lit sidewalk with my backpack on.
“What the
fuck, man. Where were you?” I snapped, sitting back on the bench.
“You went
out.” Dennis said, his voice sounding completely declaritive and unalarmed.
“No shit,” I
replied angrily “and you thought you'd just leave me here?”
“Well, after
about an hour you were still breathing... no, snoring, so yeah, I took the
opportunity to grab us dinner.” Dennis put my bag down on the bench next to me
and pulled out a bag of McDonald's and two bottles of Coca-Cola. “Tell me
you're not happy to see this right now,” he said proudly.
“I guess I
can't really be mad.” I said, “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing. I
grabbed $20 from under your wallet.” he
said, his mouth already full of Dollar Menu burger.
We sat
eating in silence for a while. I felt almost back to normal by the time we'd
finished. Dennis handed me my last bag of heroin from his pocket, explaining to
me that he'd only done a little and that he was just holding onto it for safe
keeping. I thanked him and put it in a secret compartment in my wallet.
“I gotta get
home. It's a long trip home for me, and my roommates are worried about me,” I
lied.
“Okay” he
said, “same time tomorrow?”
“Yea. Sounds
good.” I said, and started towards the subway entrance.
