I Wonder What We’re Doing.
Kurt and I did not drive far. In fact, we went only a few blocks. We parked in front of an old, brick house, much like all the other old brick houses in Swissvale.
I had no idea why we were stopping.
“C’mon in,” Kurt said.
I scrambled out of the passenger side, completely flummoxed. Kurt walked in the front door and held open the screen for me. It was a normal suburban residence with a dark, empty living area to the left and a dark but bustling dining area on the right.
A handful of people sat around the table, and Kurt sat down with them. He pulled a chair out a couple of inches and motioned for me to sit, but he didn’t introduce me. The music – classic rock – was too loud. Everyone who spoke had to shout.
The dining room held an eclectic mix: black, white, male, female. They were all unbearably thin. Their neck bones protruded, their wrists were like golf balls, the shirtless guy’s ribs were all visible.
A short-ish guy sat the head of the table, busily building something out of the pile of garbage in front of him. As he diligently moved stuff around, everyone else at the table sat and watched him.
I ignored all of them and watched Kurt. Sitting this close to him, at this table, in this room full of strangers, all I could think is: He’s gorgeous. I wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder what we’re doing. I wonder what we’re going to do.
Meanwhile Kurt lit a cigarette and grabbed a couple of beers from the room-temperature six-pack in the center of the table. He slid me a Budweiser without even glancing in my direction.
I cracked it open and sipped, staring at the wide eyes around me. They didn’t even notice I was there. Everyone was just staring at this guy and his garbage.
Suddenly a tiny mirror was in front of Kurt, long lines of cocaine sprawled on the glass. Kurt deftly made one line disappear, his gorgeous dark waves falling over his face as he leaned forward. Even snorting coke, Kurt looked cool. He slid the mirror to me with his left hand, and handed me a cut straw with his right.
I did a line, then looked at Kurt, who seemed oblivious to my presence.
Telepathically I begged for some direction. Is this for us? Or everybody? Should I pass it to someone else? Or back to you?
Kurt was silent, telepathically and otherwise. So I put the straw on the mirror and pushed it toward the center of the table, from which it rapidly disappeared.
Cocaine was like no other drug I knew. One line inspired this intense, powerful rush of overwhelming euphoria. It was like leaning back and floating on a cloud. Cocaine affects serotonin, dopamine and all the brain’s receptors, providing a feeling of intense calm, joy and peace.
Cocaine was, at that time, the single greatest feeling I had ever experienced. This feeling lasted for maybe ten or fifteen minutes, allowing me to float freely on that cloud forever.
Well, for ten minutes.
Then the euphoria dissolved, leaving me with warm beer, a need for another cigarette, and an inability to stop grinding my teeth.
As I clenched my jaw, I looked for more cocaine, for the mirror, for the straw. I waited, and waited. I stared at Kurt. He did not look at me.
Why are we all just sitting here?
What came around the table next was nothing like anything I’d ever seen before.