Honest Addict, Chapter Sixteen

16

That night they slept together at her nearby apartment. Their lovemaking was sloppy, fumbling and unfamiliar. Afterwards, she was mostly quiet; the few times she spoke it was in an offhand manner about abstract topics: work, a pair of shoes she had admired earlier in the day. He had to restrain himself from pouring his heart out on the sheets, knowing well that a misstep at this crucial juncture could lead to disaster. Of course, he consciously realized that the odds against an extended relationship growing out of this situation were long in the extreme. Still, it felt good and he wanted to savor the experience as long as it could conceivably last. When she fell asleep he watched her breathing heavily out of the corner of his eye. Then the snoring began. It kept him up most of the night.

They saw each other every day after that for a week. Mostly they met up at the bar. One night they met at a local sushi boat in Japan town. At the end of the meal they had twenty small plates stacked high in addition to four empty twenty-four ounce Sapporo beers – an impressive display of consumption which she was obviously proud of.

“Dude, you see our trophies? We fucking killed it tonight,” she remarked as the waitress approached to clear the area in front of them.
It was as if he was hearing the words for the first time in his life. Not just the exact order of the words, but their very meaning, pronunciation and significance.

At the close of their eighth night together they were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. It was close to dawn. They had been going at it for several hours on and off. He was trying to catch his breath. It was all he could do to keep up with her when she got going.

“I have something to say,” he whispered.
She was quiet for a moment, as if she knew what was coming. “Well, get on with it.”
“Either I’m staying or I’m going.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I think I’m in love with you.”
She sighed. “Tell me when you’re sure.”
“All right, I’m sure.”
She rolled over away from him, her ass and hip a smooth, rolling hill in some faraway land. “I hardly know you. You’re unemployed. We’re both irresponsible drunk children.”
“I have money.”
She turned back toward him. “How much?”
“Kind of a lot.”
“Enough for us to live on without working?”
“For a while. But ultimately no. Not to the standard with which I’m accustomed, anyway. But I could get another job. I’m considered by others to be very good at what I do.”

She fell silent for a long time, during which the shade of darkness lightened perceptibly. It would soon be morning, he thought. Finally, she spoke. “You don’t understand. There are things about me you don’t know.” She reached into a dresser next to her bed and pulled out an ornate wood box, which she opened. Inside was a tiny glass pipe. She took it out and held it in the air, staring at it reverentially.

“I stopped smoking methamphetamine seven months ago, and it’s all I can do to stay off the shit. I keep this little guy around, though. I’ve tried to get rid of it, wanted to smash it into a thousand pieces. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Obviously, I drink way too much. But that’s nothing compared to what I used to go through.”

“I do understand: better than you know,” he replied. “At least you’ve stopped. That’s more than I can say.”
“You get high?”
“Not on meth. I mean, I tried it a few times but it wasn’t my thing. I never shot up heroin, either. Couldn’t stand the idea of sticking a needle into my veins. But just about everything else has been or is fair game. And really, that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
“Another reason maybe I should pass on this,” she said, though he knew from her tone she didn’t mean it.
Peter looked her straight in the eye. “I’ll quit. I’ll never get high again, as long as you’re with me. I swear to you, here and now, I’ll walk away from it all if only you’ll have me. I won’t so much as take a single hit of weed.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“The best deal of my life.” And he meant every word.
“What the fuck,” she said, carefully placing the pipe back into the box and the box back into the dresser. “You can move in here if you like. I’ll make room for your things in the hall closet.”
“I don’t really have any things.”
“All the better,” she replied brusquely as she stretched and rubbed her eyes. “I’m going to call in sick to work today. We can sleep for a few hours then go out. What do you want to do?”
He thought for a moment and was trying to be creative, but ultimately could only focus on one idea. “Have you ever been to the track?”