SATURDAY NIGHT
I'm on several shots of tequila staring at the crowded room and mingling people. I watch the underagers get removed from the venue. I see dates come out of the bathrooms after doing their drugs. I sit here, channelling out my negativity by focussing on the array of colored lights, the music, the liquor…
I'm always the performer. Always the one making noise so no one can hear what's missing. The lights shift to blue and and dances like ghosts around me. I lean back, staring at the spinning crowd, and for a moment, I feel myself in it, before it feels like I'm watching the world from underwater, disconnected. The track changes again, smoother this time. The drop hits and I close my eyes.
I've been fulfilling requests every five songs. One request wasn't even music-related — it was, "do you know where I can get some MDMA?" Laughable, yet not. The next question catches me off guard.
"Hey, how have you been?"
I look to my right to see Josh dressed rather well. He seems… healthier?
"Surviving." I say playfully. "And you?"
He looks happy to see me despite having not even tried to visit me after I left that day. I must have been a burden to him more than I was already aware. Suddenly i am overtaken by an urge to interrogate him. I must know. Impulsively, I speak my truth, not even giving myself a moment to choose my words carefully.
"Why did you stop coming by?"
"The same reason you never called me?"
I roll my eyes. "That's not how women work."
We share a laugh. I feel it again, that spark I ran away from. As I stand up from my seat so I can hug him, I hear his name being called.
You've got to be fucking kidding me.
A curly haired brunette with the prettiest face and most Greek figure appears at his side. We meet eyes, to my surprise I am not threatened. She looks too friendly to scowl at. Besides, this isn't seventh grade. I don't let people know that they've disturbed me. I smile back at her.
"This is Karla, an old friend of mine." Josh introduces her, after many seconds of tension pass by. "She was just in the city visiting."
Old friend. Just visiting. Two keywords that say it all.
I find myself looking down at my feet before meeting eyes with him, accidentally communicating the immense hurt I feel.
"Song's ending. I need to get back to work." I reply to his introduction. "If you're gonna smoke ice, take it outside. Nice meeting you, Karla."
The look on her face is totally worth what I just did.
.
I turn up the volume until it hurts, until I can't think, until there's nothing left but sound vibrations. Time doesn't even exist to me. I look at the front of the room to see Karla yelling at Josh, and then storming out fast. He doesn't follow her. For a second everything slows — the laughter, the motion, the pulse of color. But not in reality.
It's my mind wanting to remember this moment for the rest of my life. It's fucking hilarious, watching them fight, having destroyed what ever false image she had of him. I feel so good that I take out my bag of pink cocaine and do a medium-sized line.
"What the hell was that for?" Josh yells at me. I could laugh at the music toppling over his hot angry voice.
I am laughing.
"You know why." I giggle as I speak mockingly. "Are you proud of yourself?"
He suddenly looks worried.
"Are you on drugs?"
"That's pretty rich coming from you." I turn up the volume louder. My drug-induced euphoria takes over. I both want to aggravate and sleep with him. I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, and check it immediately. The screen reads Ben. Ben is calling?
"I think you should-"
"Hold that thought," I say, motioning him to sit in the chair and keep watch over the stage. "I need to grab this."
I run into the bathroom where all that can be heard are girls snorting and chatting. I left the fucking music on too loud it's making the walls shake. I flip open my phone.
"Hello?"
"Where have you been? We went by your apartment and there was someone else living out of there." Ben's voice sounds surprised. Oceany.
"I moved to New York." I answer, lighting a smoke. "Pennsylvania was never my scene."
There is a silence before Ben explains his reason for calling. Which probably doesn't include inviting me back.
"Jim's missing. Or dead."
"What?"
"His body can't be found. But a crazy fan told us they saw some addict in the alley wearing his clothes."
I hang up the call immediately. I can't do this. Not when the drugs are kicking in. Jimmy. Dead. An addict wearing his clothes.
On my way back to the stage, Josh stops me.
"I need to talk to you."
"Funny how we're always meeting during such occasions," I sardonically say, "I just found out one of my friends died. Do you mind?"
I stare at his face. Something is off. He doesn't say anything.
I look around me and see that everyone is no longer dancing, but walking. In a stiff fashion, as if they just began taking their first steps yesterday, or tethered by their feet. I am stunned by their faces. They are not human.
They are… here. They're fucking here.
I run toward the corner of the room, screaming. Josh grabs and holds me. I struggle to get out of his arms. He, as well, is a zombie. About to eat me alive. I pray to God it doesn't hurt, that I go into some sort of shock, that Jimmy never suffered either when he died and turned into one.
God, I know you are there. Should this be my time of death, allow me to be brought closer to you.