Can I Buy Some Cocaine?
After all those nights standing at the gas station and waiting for drug dealers, I figured out that the local drug dealers just made their rounds whenever they had something to sell. They stopped at that gas station whenever they saw someone waiting.
I’m pretty sure Gregg never made any actual phone calls to anyone.
Since I was single for two minutes and had a massive crush on Kurt the cocaine dealer, I knew just where to go. I was looking for a long, sleek black car. And I was only at the gas station for about 20 minutes before it arrived.
Kurt got out of the car, all dark and skinny and mysterious, and strolled straight into the convenience store, not even noticing I was there. Before I could catch him, he was gone.
I thought: Should I follow him?
Then: No, I should not.
It was hard, watching him go past without acknowledgement, and not knowing if I’d even get a chance to talk to him, let alone ask about buying cocaine. I’d never done my own drug deal before.
I was standing outside the door, desperate but trying to appear aloof, when Kurt came back outside. He was smacking a pack of cigarettes against his fist. He saw me move in his periphery and acknowledged me with a brief, close-lipped smile and a nod.
He remembers me.
I ran to catch him before he got in his car.
“Hey Kurt …” I started. Then I didn’t know what to say. This was Kurt, after all. Kurt was eminently cool. And I was struggling not to appear desperate.
I didn’t want to believe, at that point, that I was a drug addict. I knew that sometimes there were real junkies, completely strung out, hanging out at the gas station. They stood and stared into the abyss until someone appeared with their fix.
I didn’t want to be that person.
I wanted to be confident and beautiful. I wanted Kurt to take one look at me and think, “Wow, what a knockout! I’d like to get to know her better!”
And then I wanted Kurt to give me some coke.
But I just stuttered at him. What was the coolest way to look hot and also say, “Can I buy some cocaine from you?”
I really, really wanted him to like me. He was the first person I’d found worthy of my affections in years. But I did not appear confident. I’m fairly certain that I came across more like a limp, dying weed.
So when I tried to speak, I was a complete dweeb. It was like asking someone for a date, and the last time I’d done that, in 9th grade, I’d been laughed across the room like part of a Peanuts cartoon.
Kurt saw me stumbling over my words and said, “Get in.”
He didn’t have to ask twice. I raced around to the passenger side of his car and hopped in. Kurt was very, very quiet. He offered me a cigarette, but I had my own. We both lit smokes and sat silently for a moment.
“Where’s Gregg?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “We’re not together anymore.”
“Huh.”
Maybe Kurt was waiting for the inevitable question; he was, after all, a drug dealer.
Instead I said, “What are you doing tonight?”
Kurt turned and stared at me for a second. I dragged on my cigarette.
He put the car in reverse and looked at me again. “Wanna go somewhere?”
“Okay,” I said, still trying to be cool.
But I was never, ever cool.