Exquisite

Circa: Staten Island 1992

I found myself sitting on a couch at a house party somewhere on Staten Island. The room was filled with cheap cannabis, even cheaper furniture, and cigarette smoke. Sandwiched between two half-baked stoners, my mood began to spiral as the clock ticked. I didn’t want to be there. This wasn’t how I wanted to spend my night. But when you’re the best friend of a chick who’s fucking a drug dealer, compromises are inevitable.

Michaela and I met Tommy at a club. We were looking for our regular drug dealer, but he was nowhere to be found. Tommy was a friend of a friend of a guy we hung out with at a bar once. She and I were becoming known in the circuit, and we had seen him around. He was hard to miss. Chiseled features, full, strong lips, and steely eyes. Unfortunately, his height was pulled from the shallow end of the gene pool. Instead of being an international model, he ended up a drug dealer based out of lower Manhattan. Sinister good looks and cunning street smarts probably made him more money, anyway. Michaela and Tommy were drawn to each other. I was just the hanger-on who benefitted from her relationship with him.

Michaela and I were headed to Bay Street on the island to see a band. They were already big and at the threshold of signing with a label. There was talk of a video for MTV. The singer was a dead ringer for Sebastian Bach, and I was lusting hard. The singer and I made repeated, intense, lingering eye contact during his last show and after he sent one of his friends to “fetch” me. I decided it wasn’t going to be that easy for him. I told the friend I had another appearance to make and couldn’t stay, and that I’d try to make it to his next show. His friend was shocked which told me I played the right angle. I wasn’t so much looking to hook up with the singer specifically, but the band. As an aspiring photographer/model, I was determined to be the next Charles Peterson or Annie Leibovitz. However, if I ended up the next Bobbie Brown, I wouldn’t exactly complain. The band’s next show that night would end differently. I’d either walk away with a gig or a boyfriend. If I played it just right, maybe both.

Tommy was already on the island, which was the only reason why I agreed to give him a ride when Michaela asked. Tommy was hunting a guy who owed him a lot of money and who was supposed to be at this party. The guy didn’t know my car, which gave Tommy the advantage. Considering Tommy gave me blow for next to nothing, it wouldn’t be wise to say no. I double-parked in front of a multi-family brick house, indistinguishable from any of the others on the block. Tommy ran in. Michaela lit a cigarette and scanned the stations, always in search of a Ramones song. We had been friends for so long that there was no need for idle chatter to fill the silence. Not that there would have been much of a conversation, Tommy was back within minutes. The guy wasn’t there. The chick throwing the party didn’t want anyone hanging out front, so either we all went in, or we all left. In a very non-negotiable tone, Tommy said, “We’re going in.”

Clusters of flannel and denim and chain-smoking stringy-haired girls threw glances my way. I was an outsider with my black and leather and clean hair. The volume was almost at a whisper, as if I wasn’t allowed to hear their voices. God, this party sucks, I thought. I felt my body wither and pondered if a life-sucking black hole lay beneath the ugly upholstery. The only light in the room was projected from the TV with the sound off. It was too bright and hurt my eyes. Convinced if I didn’t force myself up at some point, I’d die. I wanted to check on my car parked on the next block. It wasn’t a great part of the island, and my two Nikkons were in the trunk. I also brought photographs I took at the band’s last show and my portfolio. It always annoyed me when people were shocked by my talent and drive. I was a pretty face. No one thought I was capable of more.

I peeled myself off the couch. I hadn’t smoked or drank anything yet and felt unusually weighty. I lumbered across the room to the hallway looking for the bathroom. I felt unsteady, like I’d fall over if someone stared at me too hard. I hated this sluggish high coating on my senses. I always had a strong reaction to sedatives and would rather be propelled than sedated. Thanks to Tommy, I could go for days on end and not go broke. I got in the habit of doing a rail or two when I first got up in the morning. Then knock back a few Sudafed with a shot of Jack to go to sleep. I thought I remembered reading somewhere that’s how Elvis died. But I assured myself I’d be okay. Michaela’s relationships didn’t last long. And with Tommy’s expiration date approaching, I saw an inevitable detox in my future.

I knocked on the door and waited for an answer. Silence. I pushed it open and walked in. I closed the door behind me and felt for the light switch. The moonlight through the window over the shower illuminated the room with a flinty blue tinge. It was a soothing transition from the garish light of the TV and I decided to keep the light off. But the serenity quickly waned. I wasn’t alone. I found myself staring at a guy sitting on the floor, his back against the wall between the tub and the toilet. He looked like a resting puppet, legs stretched out in front of him, arms limp on either side, head tilted in a peculiar way. His tranquil expression suppressed any alarm that might have burgeoned.

I pulled in a slow breath — I’ve seen this before, the words swirled through my head. But this was different. The smallest sounds magnified in my ears, and my body tingled. The air was warm and thick, resisting my movements as I drifted across the room. I kneeled in front of him, mesmerized by his face. I could hear his thin breathing swim in and out through slightly parted lips. His eyes were open, unblinking, and I gazed into them. Then, somewhere inside, a door closed, squeezing out the last bit of light. His pupils expanded until his irises appeared black.

The temperature in the room shifted like the way bathwater cools, so gradually you don’t realize the turn until you’re suddenly cold. And with that, the spell was broken. The air thinned, my senses resurged. I suddenly felt like I was intruding. I stood up and calmly went to the door. I entered the hallway and approached the hostess, glassy eyes, smudged lipstick, and a beer in her hand. She quickly turned as I came up to her. Her smirk vanished when her eyes met mine. “Someone in the bathroom needs help,” I said. I don’t know why those words surfaced. I already knew nothing could be done.

I could hear the panic in her voice echo out of the bathroom as she yelled out random names. I returned to the couch. The lights exploded, flooding the room. The near-comatose crowd jolted alive with a flurry of blurs and sounds. I watched the confusion and shock unfold, and a dozen people filed out the door. The remaining spun in a bustle of chaos. It occurred to me I might have felt him dying all along. Death isn’t always becoming, and I felt privileged to be summoned to such an exquisite event.

Tommy and Michaela materialized in front of me. “We’re leaving now,” Tommy said, and I stood up. “This is not our problem.” And like the remaining scrambling few, we filtered out the door and didn’t look back.