Reunited

Reunited, they stood opposite of each other, talking. The party was crowded and it was easy to get lost, or indeed lose your date. I leaned against the wall, watching them. She was smiling up at him, and I don’t know whether she noticed his blank expression and lack of response, but I did. His eyes were fixed at her, though I don’t think they saw her. I’d seen him, minutes before, shooting up in a room at the second floor. Passing the needle on to someone, he’d let his head loll back against the wall, eyes closed as the initial rush hit him. I’d been watching through the door that stood ajar, watched him drift in and out of consciousness for a while, before getting to his feet and starting to move out of the room. I had made myself scarce, returning downstairs before he noticed I was there, and now I watched him again, staring right through his oblivious girlfriend.

I wondered if she was used to it, or if she really didn’t notice how gone he was. The fact that he’d had to sneak away to get a hit indicated that either she didn’t know about his drug use, or he’d promised her not to do it and went behind her back. Either way, he was high more often than never, and I found myself wondering why. I’d known him for about seven years, since the last year of high school, and back then he’d been as clean as the rest of us. In fact, he’d only been a regular drug user for about half a year, nine months perhaps, but his decline had been rapid. I think he skipped the introduction and went straight on the heavy stuff. There wasn’t much anyone could do, apart from shacking him up for the night when he came stumbling through your door at three in the morning, high as a kite and wanting to play Twister.

It wasn’t that we’d turned a blind eye; several attempts to get him off the drugs had been made, including one try to get him into rehab. Nothing had worked very well, and fact was that it seemed as though he used drugs more frequently since meeting his girlfriend three months ago. It was very tempting to accuse her for being the reason, but it didn’t explain why he’d started or why it’d all gone so quickly downward.

Standing on tiptoe now, she kissed him on the cheek and said something, before disappearing into the crowd. For a while he just stood there, eyes at the spot where she’d been standing, before he turned his head and let his unseeing gaze wander over the sea of faces. I wondered what he saw, and hoped he’d see me waving to him. His eyes stopped at me, but there wasn’t the least hint of recognition on his face. Nevertheless he started making his way toward me, sinking down on the floor with his back against the wall. I followed suit; he was half a head taller than me when sitting, and I surveyed his face without a word. There were faint black shadows under his thin-lidded eyes and he looked pale, even though it was hard to say for sure under the dim lights in the room. His lips were dry, but not to the point of cracking, and his hair was striped with dried sweat. I reached up to brush a strand of hair out of his eye, at which he seemed to really notice I was there and looked back at me with those blank eyes. I gave a small smile, receiving a blink in return before we both looked forward again.

She came back, frowning as she looked around and couldn’t spot him. Asking a few people nearby if they’d seen him, she soon disappeared again after receiving seemingly negative answers. Crowded party, easy to lose your date. For a few more minutes he and I sat there by the wall, before I suggested Twister. Getting to our feet, we left the party without making much noise about it.

We took the detour past the sea, amiably wandering along without saying much. We took the time to stop and climb up on the wave breaker, finding our favourite spot among the rocks and settling down there. Dawn was slowly breaking, and the sky went from blue to a faint orange as we lay next to each other, leaned against the rocks. I turned my head to look at him; he was lost in thought, or perhaps just lost, the effect of whatever he’d injected himself with not yet gone. His big brown eyes were glazed and his lips moved slightly, as if he was talking to himself. I shifted, pulling my knitted size-twelve sweater down over my knees. The garment was far too big for me, but it was very comfortable. Standing up, it reached to just above my knees, and my hands disappeared in the arms. It was the perfect thing to wear on summer mornings like this.

I myself was getting swept away by thoughts, when I felt a hand search its way into the arm of my oversized sweater. When it found my own hand, it clasped it lightly, carefully. I looked over at him and found him gazing at me with a look in his eyes that I’d seen so many times before; a need for comfort and security, for closeness and trust. He was coming down, and he didn’t want to be alone during the fall. The sun was just beyond the horizon, the sky now a fiery orange, and I reached for his other hand. With a slight shiver he moved closer, his face hidden in the crook of my neck as his hands buried in my sweater. Putting my arms around him, I held him close, trying to calm his shivers by stroking his hair much like a mother would her sick son’s.

As the sun peeked over the edge of the sea, he snuggled closer in search for protection, something which I gave to him. It was the best I could do for him right now.

On a rock right next to me, a robin landed. Cocking his head, he surveyed me and my protégé. I smiled kindly at the avian, who began to sing for us, accompanied by the sound of the waves rolling into shore.