Detached

Youth and beauty open doors my friend

Bill’s jealous that I get to go to D.C. with Christian for three days.

I don’t know why I said that because none of it was true. I must have heard it on Netflix which had become my newest and only friend. I guess technically I was still young, 24, but I felt like I was approaching 80 instead of 25. The guy who delivered the $5000 bedroom set from Le’ Diff last week had asked me to hangout – go to the bar since I was his last stop of the day. I’d looked at my phone and saw that it was only 6pm, and it was still light out.

“It’s a little early don’t you think?”

As it stood, I was pissed that the delivery guy had interrupted my sleep. I didn’t like getting up until it was dark out, hence the questionable state of beauty. I was starting to resemble a vampire, only venturing out at night to feed on pills and vodka. And truth be told I was doing more heroin than pills these days, but I didn’t have any friends to care what I was putting up my nose.

That was the final inaccuracy of the phrase – Bill wasn’t my friend. He was the reclusive drug addict Christian had moved me in with when Mike and Brianna kicked me out for smashing my bedroom window out with a post off the bed. I’d been up for three days and thought there were people in the glass. I had the window fixed and everything, but I think we’d all had enough of each other at that point.

Bill was a much better roommate. He never left his bedroom and would drive me to Western Union if I needed cash. Plus his house, while on the wrong side of town, was completely remodeled on the inside, and I didn’t have to pay any rent.

Bill watches me pack with a look of longing on his face. “You know I have to go to court Friday right?” I say, trying to make him feel better.

“Yeah but then you guys can go do whatever you want, go out, go to clubs”

“Yeah I guess” I say with zero enthusiasm, knowing I’ll have to do these things with Christian.

I sleep most of the way to D.C. having drank an entire bottle of red wine, knowing I’d be trapped in Christian’s Audi for hours. He wakes me when we get to Arlington, and I reach for the sports bottle I brought full of champagne and orange juice, my to-go mimosa.

We pass the hotel four separate times and by the time we find it I’m drunk and pissed off, ready to get out and walk. Christian can’t understand why his GPS won’t work, and he won’t listen to my slurred explanation of why it’s hard to get a GPS signal in the city. He must be high on meth because he’s grinding his teeth.

“Fine, remain ignorant” I whisper, curling up in a ball on the leather seat.

I pass out in one of the hotel beds for a bit while Christian eats, and presumably smokes more meth. It’s 4am when I wake up, sweating and hungover. I grab half a bottle of red, tip-toe to the bathroom and lock myself in, but not before grabbing a Suboxone from the lock-box that never leaves my side. I run a bath and can hear my mother’s voice saying ‘you’re going to sit in all those strangers’ dead skin cells?‘.

I let the Suboxone dissolve under my tongue as I sit in the tub. I’m out of benzos, so I have to drink the wine, even though I hate drinking when I first wake up. Not because of the implications but because my stomach doesn’t normally agree with alcohol at such an hour.


 

We won!” Christian yells when we get back to the car later that afternoon. I’m already hungover and the suit Christian had tailored for me is pinching my waist, but for some reason I find this hilarious and double over laughing.

“You do realize that winning is not the same thing as having your attorney tell you that you’re too intoxicated to go in front of a judge, right?”

“I know I know, but at least they didn’t send you to jail”

I light a cigarette and smile, “I’ll drink to that”

And we do – two bottle of Champagne back at the Hilton. I drink directly from the first bottle, eager for the alcohol to hit my blood stream. Christian catches me and says “Don’t do that“.

I roll my opiate pinned eyes, “and why shouldn’t I?”

Because it only confirms what everyone tells me about you…

A smile spreads across my face, “oh, and what’s that?” genuinely interested in the conversation now.

Christian crosses his legs and sits back in the hotel chair “just that you have problems“.

I laugh for the second time that day “do you think I’d be dating someone twice my age if I didn’t have problems?

I’m supposed to call George Mason and set up my financial aid but the champagne makes me sleepy, so I nap and Christian does it for me. When I wake up he makes me sign a power of attorney for him. He’s afraid I’m going to die and my parents won’t let him come to the funeral.

Later, we go to a club with Krissy and Jayden. Krissy works for the IRS and buys two Suboxone strips off of me. I drink too much and get into an argument with Christian (probably about me flushing his phone down the toilet when he hid my lock-box keys), and he leaves me at the club and drives back to Richmond.

I go to an after-hours club with Krissy and we hop out of a moving cab so we don’t have to pay the fare. This would make more sense if we both didn’t have stacks of cash on us. The club closes at 4am, and I wander the streets of D.C. until I finally get a hold of Christian and make him apologize to me. He picks me up at a 24 hour Rite Aid where they refuse to refill my script of Klonopin.

I sleep all the way home, and when I’m back in my brand new bed I turn on Netflix.

Time to get back to my real friends.

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