Drowning Lessons

The memory makes me sicker than I felt that night. I can’t begin to tell you how it all happened so fast, nor can I tell you the end. I must have blacked out after that or repressed it. All I can say is when I came to a few hours after light filled the sky. My brain was still swimming in the toxins. A headache didn’t plague me. I basically suffered the same ailments of the day before: The sun was my enemy; My muscles ached; and my tongue relished a rancid flavor. When I stumbled to the bathroom, everyone seemed to stay out of my way. I didn’t bother closing the door since my main objective was to just brush my teeth and take damage inventory.

I resembled a robot as I unscrewed the cap to Crest minty blast and squeezed a generous amount onto the bristles of my brush; the result didn’t appear like the perfect application in the commercials. While violently scrubbing in small circles, I gathered the courage to look at my reflection: Aside from the foam dribbling down the corner of my mouth, my skin was more sallow than usual. The whites of my eyes were overrun with scarlet roots, and the black under them rubbed down to a speckle or reds, blues, and purples of burst blood vessels. Not caring, I swallowed the soupy toothpaste and sneered.

“I look like a demented Howdy Doody…” The back of my hand wiped away the excess.

“Hey.” Ashley appeared in the mirror beside me. Compared to me, she looked alive.

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

Considering… “Fine and yourself?”

“Good,” she said, slipping locks of her blonde hair behind her ear.

I dampened a washcloth and quickly went to work on cleaning up my raccoon eyes. Ashley just stood their staring at me scrubbing. “What?”

She jumped. “Nothing, it’s just… if you ever need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

The cloth lowered and I watched her sincerity in the mirror. “Thanks, I guess.”

She mustered a thin smile and left.

“That was… odd,” I muttered, reaching for my hairbrush.

Back then I didn’t know what she was referring to, but I got the hint when other witnesses pulled me aside and said that they were there for me. Who knew a few hours could transform me into a charity case? I was just an ass once. It wasn’t my intent for it to happen again, but… it did.

Every where from there on out there was a party somewhere, and I was there losing my mind and making another batch of friends. After awhile my tolerance had built up and one party simply blurred into the next: The same settings, the same faces, the same poison cascading into the typical, red, plastic cups. Every performance boosted my popularity and faded chunks of my memory; some nights I don’t even remember how I got home, but I always rolled over in my bed the following morning, my parents never catching wise. I’d show up at school on Monday and have strangers come up to me and mention events that occurred from the weekend. I’d merely reply,”… hey you… yeah, that was… mhm… see ya this weekend.” I’d go on the dreaded MySpace and see pictures of me in other people’s profiles that I still don’t remember posing for. All of it didn’t bother me though. I know what you’re thinking, it should have. But let me propose this, if you were living in the shadows and you found your way center stage, wouldn’t you accept the consequences? I did, but apparently some people had a problem with it.

“So what are you doing this weekend?” I tried to break the silence inside the car.

Steve stared ahead as he slowed the car to a stop at an intersection. The day was cloudy, maybe on the brink of raining. Apart of me figured the fixed frown on his face was the weather’s doing.

“Steve?” I leaned forward, hoping to catch his eye and get a smile. Ever since he picked me up at my house, he’s been eerily quiet.

He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Tim wanted to hang out Friday.”

“Oh… well, Ray’s having a small get-together at his house that night. You’re already invited, but you can bring Tim along.”

Under his mop of dirty blonde hair, his striking blue eyes surveyed me from their corners. “… By ’small get-together’ you mean a booze fest?”

His comment caught me off guard. “Ye-yes-no… there’ll probably be stuff to drink, but I don’t think that constitutes it as a ’booze fest.’”

“We’ll pass,” he replied, hitting the gas. I was so focused on him that I hadn’t noticed the light changed. I studied him as he drove: he seemed to glare at the asphalt he sped over with his lips pursed, and his knuckles drained white from his strangle hold on the wheel.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” His features relaxed out of casual indifference and retightened.

“Bullshit,” I spat. “I know you wouldn’t be acting this way if something wasn’t bothering you.”

“… maybe you could join me and Tim instead of going to Ray’s.”

“’Instead of going to Ray’s,’ what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged that condescending apathy. “I just thought you could do a night without hanging out with those people.”

“’Those people’?” I raised a brow, rapidly becoming more and more interested where this conversation was going.

“Yeah, all they do is sit around, drink, and smoke pot-”

“And have fun, something that wouldn’t kill you to try.”

“Getting drunk off your ass and high out of your mind isn’t fun.”

“You know I haven’t tried that stuff once-”

“For now.” He accelerated and the car crossed over the dotted white lines in front of a mini van closer than I liked. I was seething in the next seat, clenching my fist. My nails dug into my palm and stung with the knowledge two pairs of crescent shaped marks would darken the skin. The car turned into the parking lot of a strip mall and claimed two spots horizontally, not caring. He shifted it into park and switched off the engine. I looked away in this fresher silence and gazed out the window. No one was outside. Everything looked dead.

“… I’m sorry for snapping.” His voice came softer than before. “I just-… I hate it when you drink.”

I broke the hold the rotted gum sticking to the pavement had over me and glared at him. His eyes softened some, and he no longer gripped the wheel like a pent up maniac. “What do you mean?”

“I hate the person you are when you drink: You’re mean and loud and it just isn’t you.”

“It just isn’t me? We’ve been dating for three months. How could you possibly know who I am?” He remained silent. “Maybe that is me for all you know, or did you ever stop and think about that? I’m doing something that makes me happy. Can’t you just accept that?”

His chin came down inches from his chest. “… yeah, but I’m not…” My fist loosened. “Happy, that is…” he added, bringing his sad eyes to meet mine. I knew where this was going, and I wasn’t going to let it happen, so I scrambled to repair.

“Steve, please, I’ll make it up to you. I promise I won’t drink.” … for awhile.

His head lifted like the apprehension of a child. “You promise?”

I smiled to seal the deal. “I promise.”

He managed to perk up but not entirely to his normal self. “Okay then.” Wearing that crooked smile that makes me swoon, he leaned in and pecked me on the forehead. I wondered if his lips could feel the heated blood surging under the skin. He came away brighter this time. “… let’s hope we’re not too late for the movie.”

The engine roared with the pressure boiling in my skull. I slumped far into the seat, resting my elbow onto the window sill and cradling my head.

God, I’m thirsty.

That upcoming Friday I hung out with Steve and his friend, Tim, to prove I wasn’t going to go back on my word. I received some phone calls asking me where I was, tempting me with comments like, “I’ve got a nice shot of gin here for ya, and it can’t go to waste” or “It’s happy hour, and I don’t see your face. Why is that?” They came like clockwork. Weekends of this passed and I grew tired of them until they stopped all together. Being forgotten didn’t grind on me like Steve thought it did. He was proud of me and at the time that was all I needed. Besides, it’s better to please him than him treating me like a bad after school special. D.A.R.E. just wasn’t groundbreaking for me.

Everything in my life went accordingly. That is… until the craving sprouted. How could I describe this in the simplest of terms… Life can be a bitch, and most times you need something to take off the edge. I didn’t have that anymore. For example, I failed a math test; adding rum and coke would cancel out this little mishap. Mom’s yelling again; a Linchfield Lemonade would make this chastising a tad more pleasant. Another problem with a friend; a nice tall glass of Bacardi would bring the peace. College was going to be cushioned by the welcoming arms of fraternity keggers. I needed something, anything, and it had to come soon.

Nights later and the craving growing stronger, my cell rang with Ray on the other end. He asked why hadn’t he seen me in awhile, and I told him the truth: Steve wanted me to stop. Being the voice of reason, he said Steve didn’t own me. I should be able to do whatever I wanted. The craving agreed and possessed me to say I’d come that night, 10:30, his house.

Steve was working. He would never know.

“Jane, long time no see,” Ray greeted upon opening the front door to his house.

“Well, we’re just going to have to fix that, won’t we?” I grinned, stepping inside.

Ray’s house was a typical suburban two-story nestled in a middle class neighborhood. Its interior walls were littered with family portraits, baby pictures, and snapshots from trips to Disney World. Off season Christmas cards from family and friends lined the mantle just below a school picture of Ray possibly in the seventh or eighth grade before he discovered blonde highlights. The living room furniture were delightful in their clashing fashions: A lumpy, beige couch with fading rose buds and a black, beaten, leather Lazy Boy recliner positioned in front of a television. The clutter was humbling and made the place feel more like a home than a pit. His parents succeeded in that aspect. Too bad they were too stupid to leave the house to Ray for days at a time, usually on weekends.

“Everyone’s downstairs,” he said, closing the front door.

I nodded and as I began to make my way to the stairs, a crunching reverberated up to my ears. Tiny plastic balls of all sorts of colors were scattered across the wood floor. “Ray… what’s up with this?”

He peaked over my shoulder. “Oh that?” His face broke into amusement. “Mike and Ben came over the other day and we had a bee bee gun fight.”

“That’s… uh, smart.”

“Isn’t it though? … come on, I can’t leave those people alone without them stealing or breaking shit.” He went around me and trotted down out of sight. I was quick to follow. Descending the steps, the light became dimmer and the thrash of metal was being played at just the right volume. Powerman 5000... nice.

“I’ll be dancing to you later,” I said quietly. The notion of booze was already getting to me. I couldn’t keep thoughts to myself.

“Jane’s here.” My head snapped over to Ray sitting in a chair right beside where I stood. He already had a pale girl with red hair, no older than fifteen or sixteen, on his lap. “Jane, Tonnie-Tonnie, Jane.”

“Hi.” I smiled. She did the same, raising a red cup. I instantly grew jealous.

As other people said their hellos, I surveyed my surroundings. The basement couldn’t have been more than 10x12 feet with its smoke-stained wall of yellow and cruddy carpeting. Majority of the space was dominated by a pool table in the middle (a favorite of the guys). There was a lot of people here, most I knew but some were new: All spanning from their mid teens to early twenties. More bodies went in and out from the laundry room off to the side where the party favors were kept, and beside it was a bathroom directly to my left. I zeroed in on the toilet in the shadows.

“I’m not hugging you tonight.”

Rosie came out of nowhere with strangers behind her. “Jane, this is Sean, Kiera, Jessica, and Anthony.” The first three were people I recognized from school, but the last was a serious looking kid in black with sunglasses on.

“Hey.” I did my little nod again, not caring who they were but how fast they could get out of my way just so I can get-

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks.” Rosie wouldn’t let up.

A drop-just one drop! “I’ve been busy with school.”

“Finals are a bitch,” the scrawny girl, Jessica, piped in.

Rosie had her eyebrows raised and her arms folded over her chest. “Really? Because that’s not what Ray told me-” Move, please move! “-he said that Scuba Steve has been keeping you on a short leash.”

My foot slid inches, preparing me to beeline for the laundry room. “Well I’m here now, aren’t I? Now if you will excuse me, I’m thirsty.”

“That’s the girl I love!” Rosie wrapped her arms around my neck as I passed. I patted her on the arm and wiggled away.

The laundry room had clothes hung up and thrown everywhere. Ray couldn’t play “House” to save his life. A table could barely be seen under a wide selection of bottles and six packs. I licked my lips, my heart beat racing.

“What can I get ya?” I jumped. Out of my gawking, I failed to notice Corey. My muscles relaxed. “Hey Cor-Cor, you playing bartender tonight?”

“Practice makes perfect.” he shrugged.

“Wow, dream big.” I plucked up a red, party cup.

He snatched it from me. “Shut up or I’ll water down your drinks.”

“Okay, okay, I don’t want any trouble.” My hands raised in surrender. He knew how to threaten, and he threatened well.

“So what do you want?”

My lips pouted as I scanned my options. “… do you have anything with a little… uh… kick?”

“Well, if you want something like that…” His hand hovered over the bottles until it clutched onto the neck of a tall, clear one with a blue cap. “My suggestion to you is start with one of the basics.” He turned it so I could read the front; the solution was no different in appearance to water. “… Vodka.”

I couldn’t recall ever trying the stuff before, at least not in my potholed memory. “Fill her up then.”

“Do you want it straight or mixed?” He asked, unscrewing the top.

“Straight.”

“Brave girl.” He wasted no time pouring it three quarters of the way and handed it to me.

Though it appeared identical to water, it smelled of permanent marker; my nostrils flared at the stench. I fought the urge to take a sip, only to reject it and look like a wimp. I checked on Corey. He wore the same expression as Rosie. I’m gone for a few weeks and I already lose seniority? “Bottoms up.” I shrugged and brought the rim to the slit of my mouth.

Remember: If you let it hit your tongue, it will knock you on your ass.

So I took my advice and tucked my tongue in the ditch of my gums. My eyes cowered behind their lids, as I tilted the cup. As soon as a drop touched and stung my buds, I began to swallow. Going down it sizzled. I kept chugging till I ran out of breath. The last gulp was like a ball of flames severing the entrance of my throat and dropped to the pit of my stomach in an explosion. I came away with big eyes and sucking in air. The aftermath of the explosion boiled the acids and shot up my esophagus where the sizzle burned. I coughed, tears welling from the Devil’s Spit.

I was choking fire.

After a few seconds, the intensity was gone and my throat groaned of first degree burns. I shuddered at its hissing in my gut.

“Good stuff, right?”

I nodded and handed him back the cup to refill it.

The effects of the fire came fast. By the end of that second cup, the party had picked up momentum and people scattered to other areas of the house. Others stumbled about and slurred like me. I didn’t have to click my heels three times to feel like I was home. All it took was a short binge and restrained sipping from there for me to be the happiest little drunk around. My parents thought I was sleeping over at a friend’s house; one that I haven’t spoken to for ages. Something about me needing to get my life straightened out, but I digress. The point is I owned the night. There wasn’t any such thing as good or bad decisions. There was only me and my alcohol-induced insanity in a house full of people with not a parental bone in their bodies. Life, at that time, was good.

Like all good things, it had to come to an end. Karma, I suppose. No, I take that back; Karma comes later. For now I’m going to go with Newton’s most famous law of motion: “For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.” So before I write another word, you could infer my happiness had to come an abrupt halt.