H . (no longer going on. there will a new version at some point (~xmas 2015 or summer 2016)

I can’t feel my hands or feet. My entire body is freezing and there’s a general feeling of physical numbness. When I force my eyes open it becomes clear as to why I am cold and numb: I fell asleep outside.

This wouldn’t be the first time this has happened since I first got into drugs. Although I don’t remember ever being numb after waking up. Besides that I guess I should consider myself lucky because I don’t have any classes today. I do have work though.

I force myself to sit up against the brick wall behind me. It becomes apparent that it’s still early in the morning and I’m in a narrow alleyway. After warming my hands a bit with my breath I put one in my pocket to pull out my phone and a Marlboro cigarette box along with my lighter. I stick one of the last remaining cigarettes in my mouth and light it. After a few relaxing puffs I turn on my phone and find two texts from an unknown number. The first reads, “Got your number from that guy who beat you up, your dealer apparently.” The second, “By the way it’s Jack and because you were probably on Ketamine or some other drug I wanted to remind you that we’re hanging out on Saturday.”

It dawns on me that I’m smiling wide, wider than I have in a long time, just from reading these dumb texts that don’t give any place for a response. I quit smiling and put my phone back in my pocket.

My feet begin gaining back their feeling and I force myself to stand up, stumbling at first but eventually balancing myself. My head throbs in pain, and I let out a groan. Despite it, I walk out of the alley and find myself between dormitory buildings and immediately feel grateful I’m close to my room. I light another cigarette.

It takes me ten minutes to get up the stairs to the second floor and another five to get to my door. I take the spare key from on top of the door frame and push myself inside and sit on my unmade and uncomfortable bed. Ten minutes after sleeping sitting up I find enough strength to take a half hour long shower involving washing my one arm, and puking up nothing several times. I also discover a nasty bruise just next to my lip where Strat slugged me.

Thoughts of Jack begin shooting through my head, left and right, up and down, and everywhere. Why am I so attracted to him? Why is he so attractive? His laugh is so cute and warm, but would it feel the same when he laughs if I ask him out? Where did he find Strat and how did he convince him to give up my number? If he spent his valuable time on forcing my number out of Strat, does that mean he likes me too? Does he want whatever Saturday holds to be a date? I wouldn’t mind that being a date. His smile is so small and cute. I should probably put some clothes on.

Rummaging through my dirty clothes I still need to wash, I find my work uniform shirt and some skinny black jeans. I scavenge out my black converse from under my dorm bed and put them on without any effort to tie them. Just as I finish, my phone rings, and the name Jack is written at the top of the screen. I find myself smiling again, and I pick it up on the third ring.

“Hey,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m desperate for heroin and Jack’s company.

Jack laughs his adorable laugh before replying. “You really put some effort into that greeting, man. Why are you trying so hard? Anyway… You should meet me at this place called Drexel’s Pizza on Saturday. It’s on 33rd street I think. You got a car?”

I don’t know exactly why, but somehow Jack’s rapid topic changes are nice to listen to. I would listen to him babble on about random stuff for hours. “No. I don’t have a car,” I finally reply. Suddenly the urge for a fix of heroin takes over my mind again, and I start scratching the wrist that has the hand holding my phone. Heroin.

“Alex, you there? Do you want me to pick you up to go to that pizza place tomorrow? Alex?” I put my phone to my shoulder so Jack doesn’t hear me curse under my breath about my heroin. I put it back to my ear.

“Sorry, I’m a bit preoccupied. You can pick me up tomorrow if you want.”

“Great. I’ll get you at like six or something.” I can almost hear Jack hesitate to hang up, and he just flat out doesn’t. “We could go today. I mean, it would be later than six because I have an Experimental Psychology class, but I don’t have night classes and I assume you don’t either…” I want to say something but it becomes hard to form the perfect words. “Sorry… You’re probably not listening to my babbling…”

“I’m listening… So, tonight?” I hold my breath, hoping that he didn’t change his mind for whatever reason in the past five seconds. “I’ll meet you outside the dorm building.” Another pause, and this time it’s much longer.

Finally, Jack replies, “I’ll see you later,” and hangs up. I stare at Jack’s name at the top of the screen in the recent calls app. Why does he make me so happy? Why am I so… fluffy inside? Why was I able to picture his smile perfectly when he was talking to me over the phone? I only saw him once and it was dark out. He’s so stunning… somehow.

Today is going to take forever, but there’s only about ten hours left until it’s after six. I only have to get through a shift at the Old City Cafe and wait another couple hours before Jack picks me up. Just the thought of being in his care with him makes me feel good inside. Who knew thinking about someone driving you to get pizza could make you so happy,
and happy about the part that isn’t pizza.

I grab my pack of Marlboros and a lighter, my wallet, keys, and phone, stuff them in my pockets, put on a thick jacket and take off to catch my first bus.

It takes me maybe an hour or so on two buses to finally get to the cafe, and when I do I’m late. I walk inside, sign in, and start cleaning some mugs and put them in the clean section.

Gabe, the same Gabe who got me on drugs and my co-worker, converses with me for the four hours we have until our lunch break. Several times, while we weren’t serving people at the counter, he brings up the fact that he needs to get his fix of coke. I tell him each time that he needs to shut up about it in the cafe and wait until lunch. He doesn’t listen. Gabe never listens.

“So what happened to your face, by the way?” he asks once he gets done serving a customer.

“Nothing. I fell.” I give him the ‘It was my dealer so don’t talk about it anymore since we’re in a mildly crowded area’ look.

We converse about other things unrelated for the next couple hours. Once lunch arrives, however, he and I leave the cafe and head to the nearest Walgreens by Race street. He quickly gets a pack of Camel cigarettes, but I take my time to get a Redbull and Sour Patch Watermelons. At the register, I pay for my stuff, and ask for two packs of Marlboro reds. Gabe and I sit on the steps of a house no one lives in anymore near the cafe, eat our “lunch” and smoke a few cigarettes. We discuss random things that come to mind. Our boss’s intense eye makeup, the nice homeless guy always trying to get us to give him free coffee, drugs.

In the middle of a mini debate on whether or not weed is good my phone rings. It’s Jack. I pick up after a ring or two and signal for Gabe to be quiet so I can talk to this kid.

“Alex! I’m skipping a lecture and hanging in your dorm. Your dealer is so open about your personal information. I’d try talking to him about that. Also, you shouldn’t leave your key on top of the door frame. That’s dumb.”

“Why are you in my dorm?” Gabe turns to me and gives me a confused look. I roll my eyes in response.

Jack laughs his adorable laugh and says, “Cause mine is boring and I’m an ass. You shouldn’t leave your drugs lying around either.”

“Jack, can you please leave my dorm? I don’t like anyone in there.”

“Alex, relax. I’m only looking at the stuff you can see easily. I’m not snooping.”

“Can you just leave? I’m not comfortable with that either.”

“God, okay. Don’t get so defensive. I’m leaving now… Are we still on for tonight?”

“Definitely… Drexel Pizza, right?”

“Yeah… I need to tell you some stuff later too. After pizza though.”

Confused, I don’t respond. What does he have to tell me? He didn’t say ask so he’s probably not asking me out. Is he going to try to convince me to get off drugs? Drugs get me through the day. Is he going to talk about Strat and how he’s a terrible person or something? It wouldn’t surprise me.

“Alex?”

I take a big puff from my third cigarette and then say, “Yeah, sorry, I’m working right now, so I’m a little distracted. Um… we can talk about whatever after pizza. That’s cool.” I take another big puff.

“Great. When do you get off work?”

I finish the cigarette and grab one more. Gabe hits my arm with his hand and points at his watch, letting me know lunch is almost over. I light the smoke and then respond to Jack with, “Four thirty I think. It’ll take me like an hour to get back to campus, though. When are we going for pizza again?”

“Whenever you want. I’ll be done my class around seven if I don’t decide to skip.”

Gabe starts to walk back to the cafe so I follow him. “I’ll probably be hanging around outside around then anyway, so you can meet me there I guess.”

“Sure.” Jack immediately hangs up. I wish he had laughed for no reason before he did. I love his laugh.

The final hours of work go quickly so long as I continue to think about pizza and Jack. Before I know it I’m getting my check from my boss with a ton of eyeshadow, collecting my tips and heading back to campus. As soon as I get there I head up to my dorm, sit in my window sill with the window open, and smoke another Marlboro. As I finish the second cigarette I see Jack talking to a small group of maybe four people walking toward the dormitory building. They’re laughing about something inaudible. I watch them, as uncreepy as I possibly can, especially Jack. He looks so happy and nice. Why would he give that up right now for me? I don’t deserve that.

As he makes his way across the pavement he looks up and spots me, but instead of waving he just gives a smile wider than it already was. His smile can probably get wider than the distance between us and the moon. Jack gives me a second happy look before he walks into the building, his friends separating from him and going somewhere else.

The clock at the head of my bed reads six, meaning I only have an hour before Jack is going to take me to Drexel Pizza. Thinking about it makes me feel… things. I don’t know how to describe it other than that they’re good and awesome things, and that I would love to feel this way all the time if I could.

I’m startled out of my daydreams from a knock at my door. Then there’s another one which makes me actually get up and answer it. I find myself only inches away from Jack’s face, inches away from his thin and soft looking lips, close enough to smell the cheap cologne he probably bathed in. “Hi,” he says in a quiet and breathy voice, very different from his usual upbeat and giggly voice.

I shift my eyes away from his lips and into his. They’re so beautiful. “Hey. Weren’t we gonna meet outside in an hour or so?” I have to force myself to not stare at him and his lips and his collarbones sticking out from his sweater neck.

“I’m skipping class because I’m bored and can’t wait anymore to get some really good pizza.” He lets himself inside my room. I close the door slowly after smiling from his shoulder brushing over mine. “You know, Alex,” Jack says in the same breathy tone, “you really need to get off these drugs. They’ll mess with your brain and everything.”

My hands cover themselves with the sleeves of my jacket and my teeth grab my lower lip. I don’t want to discuss drugs with Jack. The only thing I can find wrong with being with him is how he will try to convince me to get off drugs, even if he is coming from a psychological standpoint or even legitimately cares about my health. Drugs get me through the day.

Jack, after taking a look around my dorm for the second time, turns to face me. He quickly glances at my hands protected by my jacket and then directly into my eyes. “So! Pizza?” It’s microscopic, but I nod and smile. Jack walks back out the door, taking me with him with his arm wrapped around my neck as if we’re extremely familiar with each other.

“Can you actually give me a couple minutes?” I ask him, wanting to change into cleaner, more attractive clothes. He nods and I feel his hand brush against my back as he retracts his arm from around me and I walk back into my dorm.

Quickly, not wanting to waste time, and wanting to have Jack’s arm around me again, I force my way into some skinny jeans with an american flag design and throw on a white Blink 182 shirt and my same jacket. Just so I make sure I don’t smell like smoke and sleep deprivation I practically douse myself in cheap, five dollar cologne. I then grab my usual stuff - phone, wallet, keys, Marlboros - and meet Jack at the top of the stairs.

As cliche as it sounds, Jack’s smile when he sees me makes me melt inside, and I can’t help but smile back at him. “Finally ready?” he asks, and I nod, again.

We take our time walking out of the dormitory building and to his car. It’s a small silver, beat up Chrysler. I think. I’m not really into cars, or have one. I open the passenger’s side door and sit on a ripped up seat.

Jack laughs a little as he shuts his door. “Ignore the mess and all that.” In an attempt to respond I nod. “Not much of a talker, I guess?” I shake my head. Jack turns the car on, heat immediately warming us from the cold, and pulls out of the student parking lot and begins driving towards Center City. It’s already almost completely dark outside. I jump at the sudden playing of really loud music. “Sorry,” Jack says, turning down the volume and changing the genre from emo to punk. “Hope you like Fall Out Boy because I’m not changing it.”

I shift my eyes from the window to Jack’s face, concentrated on the road filled with cars. “I hate rush hour,” I say, quite quietly but in efforts to start a conversation.

“I don’t.” I laugh. “Don’t laugh! Just - okay. I have this weird analysis type of thing about rush hour. You see, society is always working against itself. Like, it tells you that you need to look a certain way but be yourself, or it tells you to have sex but be celibate, or to provide for your family however you can but don’t work at McDonald’s. But during rush hour, everyone is thinking about rush hour. No one cares how you look or what you do because they’re just thinking about how they finally got off work or they’re finally going home. And then everyone gets stuck in traffic and hates it, but it’s all they’re thinking about. It’s like society stops for a second and everyone stopped giving a damn. I guess.” There’s a brief silence, only the quiet playing of Novocaine and the honking horns. “It makes no sense but I like rush hour.”

Jack is so much more attractive when he analyzes traffic.

“It makes sense, I guess. I never really thought about inconveniences that way, though.” Still staring at him, I watch as he smiles and laughs. He’s too cute to agree, to initiate a date with me, if that’s what this is.

“We’re here,” he says, and gets out of the car. I didn’t even notice how quickly time passed. I follow Jack into the pizza place. “You’re gonna love this pizza, Alex. You’ll crave it, like, all the time.” Once he gets in line he adds, “In terms of food.” I nod and stuff my hands in my jacket pockets.

Jack buys me a couple slices of plain and himself a few pepperoni along with a couple sodas. We decide to sit in a booth near the door, his back to the window whereas I face it. Jack finishes his first slice before I get halfway done mine.

“Isn’t it delicious?” he asks, taking some sips of his drink. I nod, and take another small bite. “Alex.” I put the pizza down and look up at Jack. He seems serious. “Alex, I take about a hundred psychology classes, and I might not have any degrees but I can tell when someone needs to talk about something.”

I don’t respond, I just focus on what’s across the street outside.

“Alex.”

I focus on a couple people in an alley between the Walgreens and a music store going out of business.

“We don’t have to talk now, but I know you need to let out whatever you need to let out eventually.”

The people shake hands, but they don’t seem too friendly with each other. They do it again. And one of them leaves.

“Alex, are you okay?”

Drugs.

“Hey-”

“Can I borrow fifty bucks?” I interrupt him, keeping my eye on the dealer. He doesn’t seem like he’s going anywhere, probably waiting for someone else. “I can pay back, I always do.”

“I’m in college, does it seem like I would just have fifty bucks in my pocket?” Jack sips his soda again. Heroin.

“Do you?” The dealer looks at his phone. He’s impatient.

Jack pulls out his wallet, and takes a twenty out. I get out the booth and leave the pizza place, taking the bill out of his hand on the way. Heroin.

The dealer in the alley starts leaving, but I cross the traffic in the street as quickly as possible and stop him. “Dude, what the -”

“You have any junk?” I stare at him in the eye and he looks around, suspicious. “I have money, I just need a fix.” He goes back into the alley with me. “How much for a gram?”

“Whatever you want. I just need to get all my drugs off me before my friend gets here.” I hand him my forty bucks and take about seven grams off him.

“Thanks, man.” I stuff the heroin in my pocket and run across the street, back to the pizza place. I sit across Jack and immediately stuff my half eaten pizza slice in my mouth. “What’s up?”

He doesn’t respond, he just looks at me with a concerned, confused and slightly annoyed look. “Did I just give you drug money?”

I act surprised and laugh. “I don’t do drugs! Are you crazy?” Under the table, though, I send Jack a text. “Don’t talk about that HERE.” He checks his phone and gives me a look. “We should go,” I tell him. “I have to study for an exam.” We get a box for the leftover pizza and get back into his car.

Jack doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his anger radiate off of him. It’s only been a half hour since we got to Drexel Pizza, and we’re leaving already. I’m an idiot. I ruined everything. He hates me.

We pull into the student parking lot after a very long and uncomfortable silence. Jack takes a single, deep and loud breath. “You owe me thirty five dollars. The twenty you took from me for drugs and then the fifteen I spent on the pizza.” I don’t respond, and I hate that I’m becoming aggressively eager to shoot this heroin into my arm. We sit five minutes not talking or making any kind of noise.

I start gripping the right side of the seat as hard as I can, riddled with anxiety. “I’m sorry. I understand you’re mad… But I haven’t been able to get a fix in a while, and I needed to take the chance when I saw it.” Jack scoffs and gets out his car. I follow him. “Jack -”

“No!” He turns around so quickly I almost ram into him. “Did you set this up or something? Because I feel like it’s set up. You didn’t talk almost at all, and when you did it was about rush hour or borrowing money! And then you just suddenly seemed overly happy and relieved after you bought all that heroin! I just wanted to buy you some cool pizza because you wanted to hang out and I thought you seemed pretty cool outside of drugs. You even said that your typical day didn’t involve drugs.”

“I said my typical day wasn’t getting beat up by my dealer.” That just makes Jack more furious. I hate myself for pissing him off. I need something to calm me down. I need to sleep. I need my heroin. I can’t breathe. I pull out a cigarette and light it, another poor attempt to calm down and feel better.

“Oh my god, Alex!” Jack is basically screaming now. I take a puff of the smoke, too long of one. My lungs force me to cough hard into my elbow. “You’re just… unbelievable.”

“I didn’t set that shit up.” I say, and take another puff. “I’m just a mess because Strat raised his prices and I’ve been without heroin for over a week.” Another puff. “And then I was anxious because I didn’t want to upset you or anything or come off as some low life piece of shit,” I take a puff, “and I didn’t know if I should even say anything because I was scared I’d fuck up. And,” I take another puff, “I kind of, maybe, like you. But,” I take a last puff and throw the bud on the ground and I light a second, “but then I saw that guy and I figured I’d settle down one way or another and -”

Jack moves my hand with my cigarette and then uses his other hand to pull my face in close to his. We’re centimeters from each other’s faces, my eyes staring into his, his eyes staring down at my lips, our foreheads touching. His breath bounces off of me in the cold air like smoke, but it smells like pepperoni. I feel a huge wave of anxiety overcome me, my hands shaking so much that my cigarette gets ashed.

Heroin.

I start thinking about Strat, how we literally were on the verge of having sex because I was so desperate for heroin. I wonder if he’d get pissed if Jack and I kissed. I hope he doesn’t, but at the same time I don’t care if he puts me in the hospital and I go into a coma.

Jack.

After his long hesitation, Jack pushes his now chapped lips against mine. I hope he can’t taste the nicotine and tobacco, or I hope he doesn’t care. All I can taste, though, is the grease and cheese from his pizza, and that pizza was really good. I want to keep kissing him, and not for the pizza. I want to kiss him because he’s him. And I don’t care if he’s kissing me because he’s pissed or that the bruise on my face hurts. He’s him.

Jack.