and Tim told me they were all still dating their high school sweethearts, still working at the mall, and living at home with their parents. Anyone could see I wasn't like them anymore.
Didn't they want better? Bangor was a sad place. There was fun to be had out in the world, and it didn't involve hanging out at Tim's and sleeping in the bedroom you grew up in.
There were at least fifteen people there already, and I heard someone say more were on their way. No one greeted me with hugs when they came in. They said hello and then completely ignored me. I caught stares and snide looks like they didn't know what I was doing here. Maybe they were just surprised by how thin I'd gotten, but that wasn't a reason to blow me off.
Tim had bought a case of beer, and Renee was helping herself, pounding one after another. I'd never seen her drink before, but tonight she was sucking them down. And it wasn't just beer, she was hitting every joint that was passed to her. The strongest drug in this apartment was weed, so I was hitting the joints too. Tim didn't hang out with pill-heads or the kids who did blow. I wished he did. Renee said a speedball—mixing blow and dope—was a crazy rush.
We were all huddled in the living room, and Emily, Eric's ex- girlfriend from junior year, handed me a water bong. I took a hit, and just as I was passing it to Renee, Emily asked me about Eric. The room turned silent and all eyes pointed at me.
“What do you want to know?”
“Did he really die from a heroin overdose?” she asked. She wrinkled her nose when she said heroin, like the word grossed her out.
“That's what I heard,” I said.
“You should know, you were living with him,” Tony said. “So you had to have seen it happen.”
What did they want from me? A confession? They needed someone to blame for his death and because I was here, that person was me.
“I have a job,” I said. “So no, I wasn't there when it happened.”
“Were you?” Emily asked Renee.
“Nope, I was at work too,” Renee said.
Wouldn't they love to know Renee saw the whole thing and to keep herself out of jail, she waited to call 9-1-1. But I'd never tell them that, just like I didn't tell the cops Renee was lying when she gave her statement.
“Eric was addicted to heroin and neither of you knew?” Tony asked.
Both Renee and me shook our heads. I didn't need to convince them I was innocent. These people didn't mean shit to me, and what fucking difference did it make? He was dead. Couldn't they just leave it alone?
“They're lying,” Emily said. “You can't live with someone and not know they're shooting up drugs.”
“Look how thin she's gotten,” Frank said and pointed at me.
“You were doing heroin with him, weren't you?” Ryan asked.
I couldn't take this anymore. I needed to get out and find a quiet place where I could shoot up.
I told Tim we were going to get something to eat and we'd be back later. He said this wasn't Boston, and everything closed at ten. We left anyway. We walked down Broadway and stopped when we got to the park. Broadway Park was the one place in Bangor where I didn't have to hide. There was something about the trees, and flowers, and benches that made me feel like I was back in Boston. Maybe it was because it looked so much like our park, Boston Commons.
Screw this place. And screw Eric too. I never should have come back here, and if it wasn't for that asshole dying, I never would have set foot in Bangor ever again. I was better than all those people at Tim's apartment. In fact, they wanted to be like me, living in the big city and away from my parents. And what was waiting for me in Renee's backpack was fucking perfect.
In the middle of the jungle gym, between the slide and wobbly bridge, was a cubbyhole, and we climbed inside. With our legs crossed, we both fit comfortably and used the light from the full moon to guide the needles into our arms. During the nod that was usually filled with warmth and beautiful
Didn't they want better? Bangor was a sad place. There was fun to be had out in the world, and it didn't involve hanging out at Tim's and sleeping in the bedroom you grew up in.
There were at least fifteen people there already, and I heard someone say more were on their way. No one greeted me with hugs when they came in. They said hello and then completely ignored me. I caught stares and snide looks like they didn't know what I was doing here. Maybe they were just surprised by how thin I'd gotten, but that wasn't a reason to blow me off.
Tim had bought a case of beer, and Renee was helping herself, pounding one after another. I'd never seen her drink before, but tonight she was sucking them down. And it wasn't just beer, she was hitting every joint that was passed to her. The strongest drug in this apartment was weed, so I was hitting the joints too. Tim didn't hang out with pill-heads or the kids who did blow. I wished he did. Renee said a speedball—mixing blow and dope—was a crazy rush.
We were all huddled in the living room, and Emily, Eric's ex- girlfriend from junior year, handed me a water bong. I took a hit, and just as I was passing it to Renee, Emily asked me about Eric. The room turned silent and all eyes pointed at me.
“What do you want to know?”
“Did he really die from a heroin overdose?” she asked. She wrinkled her nose when she said heroin, like the word grossed her out.
“That's what I heard,” I said.
“You should know, you were living with him,” Tony said. “So you had to have seen it happen.”
What did they want from me? A confession? They needed someone to blame for his death and because I was here, that person was me.
“I have a job,” I said. “So no, I wasn't there when it happened.”
“Were you?” Emily asked Renee.
“Nope, I was at work too,” Renee said.
Wouldn't they love to know Renee saw the whole thing and to keep herself out of jail, she waited to call 9-1-1. But I'd never tell them that, just like I didn't tell the cops Renee was lying when she gave her statement.
“Eric was addicted to heroin and neither of you knew?” Tony asked.
Both Renee and me shook our heads. I didn't need to convince them I was innocent. These people didn't mean shit to me, and what fucking difference did it make? He was dead. Couldn't they just leave it alone?
“They're lying,” Emily said. “You can't live with someone and not know they're shooting up drugs.”
“Look how thin she's gotten,” Frank said and pointed at me.
“You were doing heroin with him, weren't you?” Ryan asked.
I couldn't take this anymore. I needed to get out and find a quiet place where I could shoot up.
I told Tim we were going to get something to eat and we'd be back later. He said this wasn't Boston, and everything closed at ten. We left anyway. We walked down Broadway and stopped when we got to the park. Broadway Park was the one place in Bangor where I didn't have to hide. There was something about the trees, and flowers, and benches that made me feel like I was back in Boston. Maybe it was because it looked so much like our park, Boston Commons.
Screw this place. And screw Eric too. I never should have come back here, and if it wasn't for that asshole dying, I never would have set foot in Bangor ever again. I was better than all those people at Tim's apartment. In fact, they wanted to be like me, living in the big city and away from my parents. And what was waiting for me in Renee's backpack was fucking perfect.
In the middle of the jungle gym, between the slide and wobbly bridge, was a cubbyhole, and we climbed inside. With our legs crossed, we both fit comfortably and used the light from the full moon to guide the needles into our arms. During the nod that was usually filled with warmth and beautiful
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