EDM

I sped down highway 41, trying to arrive before the sunset. The daytime reveals everything, shadows start to appear at dusk. Finding a parking space in the dark is a nightmare. Preparing a playlist took up a better portion of my morning. I put my phone under my bag on the passenger seat so I wouldn’t be tempted to change the song. The bass was turned all the way up and an over sized coffee was darkening my teeth and brightening my demeanor. The barren wasteland of Wisconsin in December howled past me. I drove fast, passing as many cars as I could. No need for the cruise control, that took away from what I could do. I needed to be as close to my car as possible. I wanted to merge with the spirit of my 2001 Honda Civic.

I reached the halfway point to Milwaukee, my tank read a quarter full. I stopped at a gas station off the highway. It smelled of glass cleaner and stale donuts. Soft hot dogs rolled around in the warmer. I wanted to be in the warm capsule, rolling with the hot dogs. I wondered what I was made of in the same way no one knows what hot dogs are made of.

“Excuse me,” a bearded man said, holding tongs meant for grabbing the hot dogs.

“Oh, sorry,” I said and broke the trance of the rolling hot dogs.

Behind the clerk, a wall of cigarettes beckoned me. I scanned the brands, each reminding me of different nights. Some good, most uneventful.

I paid for the gas and a candy bar.

I got back on the highway. The sun would set in an hour, the same amount of time it took to get to Milwaukee. I took a sip of my coffee. “Fuck,” I said, burning my tongue and almost veering off the road. The rest of the drive was easy. I even reclined my seat a bit.

In Milwaukee I put my guard up, the driving changed. The rules of the road disappeared. Did someone just pass me by driving up on the curb? The speed limit says 25 but if you’re going under 35 you’re ignoring the outlaw rules of Milwaukee.

After a few stressful laps around the block I found a parking spot where I hardly fit. The person in front of me was parked in. I downed the rest of my coffee, which was cold by now. It hit my stomach like ditch water.

I put my bag over my shoulders and strode down the sidewalk to my friends house. College students blasted music listed on the Billboard Hot 100 from their houses. I pictured what shoes they wore, their linking fashion choice. The women wearing white Chuck Taylor's and black Vans. The men wearing some sort of Nike high tops. I felt the normalcy emanating from their windows. They weren’t exploring like my friends were. They stuck with what they knew. At most they would experiment by smoking a blunt on the weekend and googling “trippy music.” I shook my head, hating to admit I was the same age as them.

I knocked on the door to my friends house. His name was Evan. No answer, I texted him and waited a minute longer. Fuck this, he knows me. I walked through the front door.

Evan was staring bug-eyed at the TV holding an Xbox controller.

He pushed brown curls out of his eyes and looked at me, “Shit, I thought you weren’t getting here till 4:30.”

“It is 4:30.”

He looked at his phone, “My bad. Well, you’re here now. Wanna smoke? Wait, you got match right?”

“Come on, who do you think I am? Of course, I do.”

Evan jogged to his bedroom and came out holding a chubby pipe. I could tell from where I was sitting that the inside was coated with sticky rez that looked like tar.

“I purposely don’t clean it so the rez will get us higher,” Evan said.

I nodded, not surprised in the least. “Are your roommates here?”

“Josh is sleeping and Stan is gone.”

I took off my shoes and sat on the couch next to him.

“You took your shoes off? I would advise you to put them back on. The floor is gross. We took care of a ferret for a while and I never knew where he was pooping or peeing. I keep my shoes on now.”

I really wanted to air my feet out. Cold sweat had soaked through my socks during the car ride. I took off my shoes despite his warnings. I folded up my legs in pretzel position on the couch. I tried to hide my feet as best I could. I didn’t like people staring at my feet.

“Do whatever you want man, they’re your feet,” Evan said, passing me the bowl so I could start it off. “You are the guest.”

He had packed the bowl so tightly I could barely spark it. After a few tries and exasperated breaths I got it rolling. We passed the bowl back and forth. The flick of the lighter calmed me, it always reminded me of something better to come.

“I know Josh is sleeping but fuck him, it’s 5:00 PM,” Evan said. He plugged his phone into a speaker larger than himself. He put on his flat-brim hat to keep his hair out of his face. Hundreds of dollars worth of festival pins littered the hat.

The bass rumbled through my heart. The weed had settled in. I could still taste the coffee that had temporarily stained my teeth. I felt a slight pulse in my jaw, I had to actively think not to clench it. Caffeine aggression. I hadn’t seen Evan in months but I now had nothing to say to him. It seemed he didn’t have anything to say either.

“Mortal Kombat or Grand Theft Auto?” He asked me.

“Mortal Kombat. Oh, and by the way. You’re going to lose.”

We played Mortal Kombat for two hours. I said, “fuck this game,” a lot. And he said “I won again,” a lot. Sweat formed under my armpits, natural for me when I play video games.

“When are we heading over?” I asked him.

“Payton said we could head over any time after 6:00. Terry is at work until 7:00. He is picking up, then heading over.”

I had never met Payton before. She lived with her boyfriend Terry a few houses down from Evan. I met Terry before, he was loud and friends with everyone even though it seemed like no one could ever get a hold of him.

“We should leave, I lost eight times in a row. This game hates me,” I said.

“No, you just suck.”

“Obviously, I suck. I need an excuse though,” I said. “Before we go I have to pee.” I stood up and felt the stickiness on the floor.

“We also need to go to Walgreens. I need some juice,” Evan said.

I shut the door to Evan’s bathroom but it didn’t shut all the way. I fucked with the handle and latch for awhile before giving up and leaving the door a crack open. The toilet was poop stained. I swiveled my head to look for a toilet bowl cleaner. I’m not sure why I did because they clearly didn’t have one. In the mirror I saw my red eyes were hardly open. No need to be anxious, it’s only Evan’s friends. They like EDM, I like EDM. Just because I don’t dress or talk like them doesn’t mean they won’t be accepting. The anxiety was the weed talking. I washed my hands with cold water. The hot side didn’t work and there was no soap. There wasn’t a towel either so I shook my hands dry looking like I was doing frantic jazz hands.

“Anything I should know before we go to Payton’s?” I asked.

“Don’t be nervous,” Evan said. He stood by the door watching me put on my dirty low-top sneakers.

The sun had set a few hours ago. We walked swiftly with our hoods up and heads down looking for splotches of ice on the sidewalk. Shouts from already drunk college students merged with the wind. The shouts sounded partly like cries for help. An elderly woman walking two pit bulls crossed the street to avoid us. How rude, her dogs would have loved me. She walked past a group of college students on their porch. Three similarly looking blondes put down their light beers and ran down the stairs to pet the dogs.

The sterile environment of Walgreens would sober up the drunkest person. I bought sparkling water, the fancy European kind. The dryness in my mouth was taking up most of my conscious thought.

Evan grabbed two off brand sports drinks from the shelves. The white fluorescent light cast a twenty-first century glow on him. He held up the two drinks tucking his head like a turtle retreating into his shell. If he was a character in Mortal Kombat that would have been his pre-fight pose. His pose was permanently burned into the memory of the camera, whatever he said would be forgotten. “Electrolytes are more important than you think,” he said.

I don’t think he understood what electrolytes were.

I opened up the candy bar I bought at the gas station a few hours earlier. “Okay, off to Payton’s,” I said, hoping to sound excited and not nervous in any way. I’m pretty sure inside my soul is a nougat center. A soft, sugary, man-made nougat center.

“The walk to Payton’s will only take a few minutes,” Evan said.

“Why do you call it Payton’s and not Payton and Terry’s?” I asked.

“Lowkey, Payton owns Terry. He likes it though. He’s a submissive bitch. Who am I to judge their relationship? They’ve been together for four years.”

“She is going to hate me isn’t she?”

Evan grabbed his hat by the bill and re-positioned it on his head. “Don’t be like you were the day before Thanksgiving. You scared my roommates. Josh said, ‘Wow, your friend is a mean drunk.’ Don’t be as cynical. Get really high, it’s usually the only time I see any positivity come out of your mouth.”

I smiled at Evan and patted my bag. Inside, a cheap bottle of whiskey clanked against my flask.

We stood at the door to Payton’s. Loud music muffled Evan’s kocks on the door. Evan knocked again, louder this time. I looked at my phone, 6:45. Payton quickly opened the door, greeting us with a huge smile. Her smile might have been forced, it was hard to tell. It stretched so far across her face it looked like invisible hands were pulling the sides of her mouth. She looked like one of those people that could fit their entire hand in their mouth. She had long wavy hair that looked strangely similar to Evan’s. She hugged Evan right away. Evan awkwardly hugged back. She looked at me and said, “Hi, I’m Payton.”

“I’m Kyle,” I told her. I didn’t hug her or shake her hand. I kept my hands stuffed in my pockets. Just a nod and then she let us in. Music burst from inside. I felt intimidated, her smile had been carnivorous. I wanted to keep at least three paces away from her for my survival.

A few people were already there. Everyone wore clothes bought from a head shop. I was wearing jeans from Kohls and a plain black sweatshirt.

Evan and I sat down next to a skinny guy who loosely wore a geometric patterned scarf around his neck. Faint and blurry tattoos pocked the skin on his forearms. He hadn’t showered in days, you could tell by his greasy hair, but he was clearly the happiest of everyone there. I second guessed my daily showers.

“I said I would wait until Terry was here but I can’t wait any longer,” he said. He pulled out a little baggy with a yellowish, white powder inside of it. He quickly chalked up a line. No one asked him what it was or if they could have any. They had etiquette. He whiffed it and jumped up. For the next twenty minutes he danced alone near the speakers in the corner of the living room. The way he danced it looked like he didn’t have any bones. “Fourth weekend in a row I’ve done molly. I wanted to do all the weekends in a month. And now I have!”

I looked over at him. Payton did too but she was nodding her head along with him. “I love that you love life,” she said.

Was I the only one worried for him? I figured everyone was but it was hard to judge a man doing drugs when we were all doing our own drugs. He was rolling on molly, just like the rolling hot dogs. Spinning until they were eaten. I took out the bottle of whiskey from my bag. “If anybody wants a pull just ask,” I said to anyone listening.

The man dancing in the corner skipped to me and took the bottle from my hands. He took a large swig, enough for me to raise an eyebrow. “Thanks, my name is Jordan. I’ll be seeing you later,” he said and winked at me, or at the bottle. I wasn’t sure where the wink was directed.

“I’m Kyle,” I told him while rubbing my cold hands together.

Evan packed his pipe and added it to the circle of weed that was going around.

The other two people there, who I had barely noticed before, were a couple that were whispering to themselves. They looked eerily similar. Both wore flat-brim hats with their straight shoulder-length hair tucked behind their ears. They must have been dating for a while because it looked to me like their personalities had fused to form one. It looked like they knew something no one else did, but they would never tell you the secret they knew. They were smiling the same way, laughing the same way, and both tapping their right foot to the music. I couldn’t help but think they were on acid. Or some psychedelic equivalent.

Payton emptied a pipe into an overflowing ashtray and wiped the rez onto her bohemian patterned leggings. She held a cigarette steadily between two straightened fingers as if she was in a commercial. The cigarette didn’t look like a regular cigarette, it somehow looked more righteous with her holding it the way she did. She was about to pack another bowl when Terry lunged through the doorway with someone quietly walking behind him. Terry looked with playfully blank eyes around the room and smiled quietly. His expression read, “Huh, me? I’m just here being cute.”

“It is freezing out there. I walked eight blocks just to get this stuff. My hands are numb and I really need to pee. Also, Tyrone came with. He’s coming to the show later,” Terry said and threw a baggy on the cluttered coffee table. The way he effortlessly tossed it with a flick of his wrist made me think he was an athlete but didn’t know it.

Tyrone walked in, holding onto the long ears of his faux-fur hat that hung to his waist. The hat looked like a furry alien with long legs. His ill-fitting jeans had bleach stains. He’s probably a dishwasher, I thought.

“I have a blunt rolled,” Tyrone said, hardly audible above the music.

“We’ll take some,” the acid girlfriend said for her and her boyfriend and lazily raised her arm. The way she twiddled fingers when she lowered her arm reaffirmed my assumption that they were on acid.

“Is whiskey a valid trade for some of that blunt?” I asked and held up my bottle of cheap Canadian whiskey.

“I don’t drink, you can just have some,” Tyrone said sheepishly.

I was extremely grateful that Tyrone was quiet. But he looked comfortable in his silence. I tried to imitate his level of chill.

The acid couple nodded at Tyrone. Seemed they knew each other.

Terry ran out of the bathroom and squeezed onto the couch next to Tyrone. Everyone, besides me, handed Terry the money they owed him for the communal cocaine. Lines were dispensed. I sank back on the couch, hoping they wouldn’t judge me for not doing coke with them.

“Babe, did you get that thing?” Payton asked Terry.

“Of course. Tyrone brought me to his guy’s house to pick it up,” Terry said.

“Good, we’ll need it later,” Payton said.

The night expanded. I drank more liquor and smoked more weed. I hoped for a courtesy bump of coke from Evan. I set my hopes too high though. “I’ll share weed, alcohol, and cigarettes but never overpriced coke cut with laxatives,” Evan said.

I was glued to my spot on the couch. But the alcohol screamed for me to get pizza. “Is anybody else hungry? I’m starving,” I said. The only response I got was a few shakes that told me no one was even remotely thinking about food. I had enough in my wallet for one slice of pizza.

“Wait, pizza?” The acid boyfriend asked and started laughing hysterically. His girlfriend looked over at him with wide eyes when he said “pizza.” She started laughing just as hard as he was and fell on top of him.

Their bodies shook violently with laughter. They were leaning on top of each other with tears streaming down their cheeks. All of us watched them with smiles.

“It’s just that,” the acid boyfriend said, capturing his breath. “Pizza,” he said and lost it again.

“I can’t stop laughing. It hurts so good,” the acid girlfriend said, wrapping her hands around her torso.

“Just get some food when we leave for the show,” Evan said dismissively.

“Good idea. Evan, when are we going?” I asked.

“Half hour probably,” Payton said, speaking for Evan.

Evan didn’t say anything, he was probably used to it from Payton.

“Okay, I have a fourth of a bottle left. We need to finish it before we leave,” I said.

“Why?” Evan asked.

“You shouldn’t need to ask why.” I shoved the bottle at him. “You should just drink.”

Evan took a swig and grunted. “How are you chasing this shitty whiskey with sparkling water?” Evan asked with glossy eyes.

“I’m a sucker for bubbles. Also, it’s lime flavored dude. It’s not completely flavorless.”

“My turn,” Jordan sang from the corner. He grabbed the bottle from my hands and took another large swig from my bottle. “Told you I would be back,” he said and winked again.

“Who is this guy?” I whispered to Evan.

Evan shrugged. “That’s Jordan. All I know is he likes molly and everyone likes him. Look at that smile, how can you deny that?”

I looked at Jordan, who had been off and on dancing for two hours. “One more bowl and then we go?” I asked Evan.

“I have another blunt if you want to spark it. It’s pineapple flavored,” Tyrone said, holding up the blunt.

Evan gladly took the blunt from Tyrone. It was nearing 10:00.

Payton judged everyone with a scrupulous eye. She said very little to me but she did politely show me where the bathroom was. Her bathroom had soap that smelled like ginger. As intimidated by her as I was she was always smiling and attending to others. Her smile was forcefully infectious.

I came out of the bathroom and Payton turned down the music. “Everyone needs to leave my house, we are all going to the show. Don’t forget your ID’s. Also, the after party is here and don’t bring anyone you don’t know.”

I checked my wallet, my ID was still there. A few swigs left in my bottle, I took one more. This one hit my empty stomach hard. I stood up, the room spun a little to the left. The nougat inside my soul wasn’t sitting right. I said nothing and handed the bottle to Jordan. He was delighted at my generosity. After his swig he tried to give it back to me. I shook my head. “Give it to someone else. I’m done with it.” I took my flask from my bag and stuffed it in my pants. I visited my parents the weekend before and scoured their liquor cabinet. All they had was vodka and brandy. But free liquor is free liquor. The flask was filled with eight ounces of mid-shelf brandy.

The spins vanished as soon as I took a breath of the dry December air. I looked at my phone, 28 degrees. Too cold to be only wearing a sweatshirt, the whiskey was doing its work. I threw up my hood and kept my hands in my pockets. Evan leaned into every step, tipping his upper body just enough to make me think he was going to fall over. We all shivered on the five minute walk to the venue.

Before going into the venue I ran across the street and bought a slice of deluxe pizza. I ate the slice while waiting for the crosswalk to change from the red hand to the walking person. I caught up with Evan who was still waiting in line to get into the venue.

“Feel better?” Evan asked. His hood was so far over his face I thought he looked like Kenny from South Park.

“I love pizza more than I love myself. Aren’t you going to come down pretty harshly in about an hour?” I asked Evan.

“I was offered a small bump of molly that has me flying right now. And the show is sold out so it’ll be loud in there.”

“In case you need any,” I said and showed him my flask. “This is full of brandy.”

“You stole from your parents again?”

I rubbed my dry hands together trying to warm up. “Yeah, but they don’t drink it anyway. They probably keep it just for me.”

We were getting to the front of the line. I took out my wallet in preparation. I double checked to make sure my ID was there. But it wasn’t.

My ID wasn’t in any pocket of my wallet. I checked and triple checked every pocket in my pants and sweatshirt.

I sloppily turned to Evan. My head felt like it was going to roll right off my shoulders. “My ID is gone. Ugh, I’m drunk and I don’t have my ID. I am basically out of money and I can’t stay here, I’ll freeze to death. They won’t let me in. I know you really wanted to go to this show. Fuck, Evan, I’m so sorry.”

“Are you serious? Did you check all of your pockets?”

“Yeah, it’s gone.”

Evan threw up his hands. “Talk to the person checking tickets and if it doesn’t work we’ll figure something out.”

A woman in her mid-twenties smiled at me from behind a table. “Name please.”

“Kyle Doyle. But I need to stop you. I just lost my ID. Like three minutes ago, I am not lying. It’s just so cold out I must have dropped it and not felt it. Feel my hands, they are numb right now.”

She stared at me for a few seconds, probably amazed at how drunk and high I looked. “It’s okay, I believe you. Just stay calm and don’t tell anyone. Can you at least spell your name for me?” She asked, pushing up her clear rimmed glasses.

“K Y L E D O Y L E,” I said.

“Gotchu. Empty your pockets for these gentlemen and enjoy your night,” she told me.

I emptied my pockets, keeping my flask hidden deep in my underwear which pressed tightly against my taint.

As soon as I walked past the security and into the venue the bass of the opening act silenced any heartbeat I noticed. The bass rattled my rib cage, it felt so good. It was so loud I could barely think. The temperature difference made me shake. It was already a hot and sweaty mess in the venue. Finally I would be as warm as a rolling hot dog. “Hey, Evan, are you getting something to drink?”

“No, I want my hands free so I can dance without restrictions. I want to move through the ether undeterred.”

The opening act was bobbing to the left and right behind her DJ equipment trying to get people dancing. Roughly twenty people nodded their heads to the beat. I stood to the side watching poi dancers, hoping to see an accidental nut shot. As Evan and I watched the rhythmic poi dancers a teenage boy shoved lighted gloves in my face. I watched for a second, became nauseous, and pushed him away.

“Hey man. You could have asked me to go away nicely,” the boy with the gloves said.

I shrugged, feeling a tad guilty that when I drank I had very little respect for others.

For the next hour Evan and I walked around, waiting for the dance floor to fill up. Evan found more coke, and I bummed dab pens hits from generous people.

“Look!” Evan screamed at me.

I slowly turned to see the headliner, Gianni Donatella, on stage. The headliner was a short, bony woman with blue hair who pounded on an electronic drum set. She wore a skirt and fake wings that were almost falling off. She looked like a sprite that had been banished from the forest and was now trying to assimilate into the human world.

Evan ran to the dance floor not caring if anyone followed him. The crowd was just as excited as Evan was that she had started playing.

I chuckled and started for the dance floor at my own leisurely pace but was stopped by Payton. She stood close to my face, talking over the music. Terry was swaying beside her. Payton’s brown hair reflected the lights that hung above the dance floor.

“Hey, Kyle. I’m so glad I met you. You’re so chill. Terry told me you would be. He said you were one of the calmest people he had ever met,” Payton said.

“I’m just outwardly calm. Inside it’s a raging forest fire,” I told them.

Terry laughed. His eyes were glazed over. It looked like forming a sentence would have been almost impossible.

“Seriously, anytime you want to come over, our house is open to you. Terry said you live far away but if you want to visit, just text us! We’re headed outside to smoke but it was good to run into you.”

“Yeah, same. See you later,” I said. Was it only cocaine positivity or was there something she actually liked about me? My first impression was to be wary but I was starting to like her. But I also pitied her.

I walked past the people who were too fucked up to stand, sitting in chairs and letting the music melt over them. The dance floor was crowded but I found room between two large bearded men dancing like T-rex’s. I matched the energy with the people around me. We were one pulsating mass of heads, torsos, and limbs. It was like a Mongol horde had chopped us up and made us into a dancing soup. It was a feeling of unity devoid of judgment. Everyone was doing their own drugs, dancing for their own reasons. There was no way the normies could imagine feeling in unison with everyone and everything. They only thought of themselves and how to gain power. This was all about surrendering to the volume and to the claustrophobic space around you.

Through the crowd, I saw Tyrone dancing next to a speaker. He held onto the ears of his furry hat and swayed with the music. He looked like a fish flowing through water.

The acid couple danced like a double helix swirling together. They must have felt like they were floating out of their blood pumping bodies.

I had lost Evan. He was probably dancing like a madman near the stage.

The show ended uneventfully. I thought it had only been half an hour but then Gianni bowed quickly and got off stage. It was two A.M. and I had been at the venue for three and a half hours. What had I been doing the whole time? The liquor had taken over and blurred the concert into the few songs I remembered her playing. I searched the venue for Evan and found him talking very loudly to a person I didn’t know.

Evan was spewing words. “I will agree with you but how are any of us who aren’t trained in math or science supposed to know if the world is round or flat? Or if vaccines work? We could have been lied to and most of us would have no idea. That’s what it’s about Naomi. Oh, hey Kyle. I was telling Naomi about conspiracy theories.”

“Do not, under any circumstances, watch The Truman Show while on LSD. It’s what he did and look what happens at two A.M.” I said to Naomi.

“It’s fine. These are the things I like to talk about. Evan keeps me on my toes,” Naomi said, hugging Evan. Her large hoop earring lightly smacked Evan in the face.

Evan turned to me after Naomi walked away and said, “Let’s go to Payton’s.”

Drunk adults, possibly teenagers, hung off the porch in front of Payton’s house. Two skinny women, one wearing fishnets and boots, the other wearing a sweatshirt and a backwards baseball cap talked about what the jocks were like in high school. They ignored us as we walked past them. The other four people on the porch were stuffed shoulder to shoulder into a tattered couch. They stared into the street holding cigarettes in their hands. They were motionless except for the quick and occasional drag of a cigarette.

The first thing I saw as I walked inside was Terry face down in between the couch cushions.

“He said he was resting,” Tyrone said.

“As long as he isn’t dead,” I said.

“He isn’t,” Evan said. “Terry is resilient. I’m going to go gulp down some water.”

I sat down or fell down on the couch next to Tyrone. I sipped the last of my brandy. Roughly ten people were milling about the house. I was so drunk they could just as well have been ghosts. The acid couple was sitting cross legged on the floor practicing their gloving. She leaned over to pick a hair off her boyfriend’s face. She flicked the hair on the floor beside her. He nodded a thanks and swayed with the beat.

Payton danced her way into the living room like she was a character on a sitcom. It looked rehearsed. “Is there room between you two?” She asked me and Tyrone.

“Yeah,” we both said.

I scooted over.

“That show was amazing. I cannot believe the opener was so good,” Payton said and continued to talk about how good the show was. While talking she took out a small canvas bag the size of a calculator. I was unconsciously watching her but not listening to her. The way she was talking made me think she was trying to distract us from what she was doing. It only made me want to know what was in the bag even more. I looked past Payton and saw Tyrone was watching her too. She took out a tiny baggie of white powder that had a brown tinge to it.

The baggy reflected the light. It had a devilish energy. I could have sworn the baggy was smiling at me.

A few of the people whispered to themselves. Everyone in the room except Payton, Terry, Tyrone, and I got up to leave. Even the acid couple left. It wasn’t overt but it seemed nobody else wanted to be around whatever Payton was doing. I scoffed and thought, ‘Hey, they’re doing drugs, I’m doing drugs, what’s the difference? We’re all just trying to escape our bodies.’ My anxiety from earlier in the night had completely disappeared thanks to the alcohol. Evan was still in the kitchen. Payton weighed up two equally distributed lines for her and Tyrone.

“Your finders fee of course. I would never be so rude as to not let you go first,” Payton said.

Tyrone smiled and bent over with a five dollar bill rolled up in his hand. The powder disappeared up his nose. His shoulders slouched and his pupils shrunk. “That feels nice,” he slurred.

“My turn, I gotta come down,” Payton said. She grabbed the rolled up five dollar bill out of Tyrone’s hand.

She sniffed hard and fast. Her eyes instantly glossed over. She stared straight ahead and started itching herself. After a few seconds she fell back on the couch. Her breathing became deep and restricted and drool fell out of her mouth. She choked and coughed like a sick dog.

“Fuck,” I said and shot up. I staggered to the kitchen, a rush of adrenaline made me feel weightless. My body was drunk but my mind felt sober. Evan was sitting at the rickety kitchen table drinking water and staring at his phone.

“Evan, I think Payton is overdosing. Come into the living room,” I said to Evan.

“What?” Evan said with half closed eyes.

“I don’t know, just call 911. She looks bad. I’m going to look up on my phone what to do,” I said.

Evan fumbled with his phone and dropped it. He bent over to pick up his phone. He snapped up like someone had grabbed his hair and pulled him up.

While he talked to the emergency dispatch I looked up what to do during an overdose. I was so drunk the screen shook up and down. I kept reading half of a line of text and skipping to a different line. I used my finger to trace the lines and read out loud.

I sat next to Payton and checked her breathing. She was silent as far as I could tell. I laid her flat and started CPR.

“Ambulance will be here soon. Do you know what you’re doing?” Evan asked.

“I’m CPR certified but also very drunk. Can you turn down the music?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The house sounded hollow now.

“Did she do heroin?” Evan asked.

“I think so, same amount as Terry. Check on him to make sure he’s not OD’ing too.”

Evan checked his heartbeat and breath. “He’s breathing and his heart is pumping. He’s just passed out.”

“Wake him up.”

Evan slapped Tyrone, somewhat harder than I expected. “What did you do to Payton?”

Tyrone groggily opened his eyes. “Heroin. I did some too. Why? What’s going on?”

“She’s overdosing. This is on you,” Evan said.

“But I did the same amount. We weighed it up on a scale.”

Evan moved over and shook Terry. Terry batted Evan’s hand away and re-positioned himself. Even shook him again. This time no response. “Just to be safe,” Evan said. He checked Terry’s pulse. “He’s good, just drunk.”

I continued doing CPR. “Tyrone, this can be cut with anything. And that anything can be distributed unevenly in the bag. She’s dying from something.”

“Why did you give her heroin, man?” Evan said, pacing back and forth. “You know people die from this.”

“She’s done it before, I don’t know what happened,” Tyrone said. “I can hear the siren.”

“Go out the back. Leave before I beat the fuck out of you,” Evan said. He clenched his fists like an angry three year old.

“Dude, she’s not breathing,” I said hoarsely. I sat up and took a deep breath. “I don’t know. This shit isn’t working. She needs more than CPR. I can’t get anything out of her.”

Tyrone stumbled toward the back door. As he was stumbling out, sirens flashed through the living room window. Evan ran out to let them in.

As soon as I saw a police officer I told her, “Heroin, maybe fentanyl overdose. I’ve been doing CPR but she doesn’t have a pulse.”

“Step aside,” the police officer said. She put a ventilator on Payton’s face while the other police officer put something up her nose.

Evan leaned toward me. “Probably narcan.”

After a few seconds, nothing changed and the police officers continued to work on Payton until the EMT’s arrived.

Payton showed no sign of regaining consciousness. Evan and I watched, shaking in our drunkenness. When the EMT’s arrived they decided it was best for Payton to ride in the ambulance to the ER. I wasn’t sure what was going on, they told me what they were doing but I couldn’t follow them. I kept staring at her blue lips, which had shrunk slightly. They looked like a cold child’s lips after coming out of a swimming pool.

The EMT’s strapped Payton to a stretcher and carried her into the ambulance.

“Is she going to live?” Evan asked the EMT’s before they left.

“Yeah, of course,” the EMT said flatly and shut the doors to the ambulance.

I couldn’t help but think he was lying.

The porch was empty. “Everyone must have left when they saw the sirens,” I said walking up the porch into the living room.

I squeezed Terry’s shoulders and shook him hard. His bony shoulders felt like coffee mugs. He was so light it was like shaking a weighted stuffed animal.

“Get up,” I said, halfheartedly.

He groaned and woke up with puppy dog eyes. “What?” he mumbled. His dark bristle brush hair was matted to one side when he sat up. “Why did you wake me up?”

“Terry, Payton had to go to the hospital. She overdosed on whatever Tyrone gave her. EMT’s took her in an ambulance,” I said.

“What? Payton is at the hospital? I need to go. Why didn’t you guys wake me up?”

“We tried but you were passed out,” Evan said.

“Is she okay?”

“I don’t know but they think she is going to make it.”

We waited for the call, quietly drinking water and muttering to each other.

Terry’s phone rang a half hour later.

“Hello? What? No, I swear I didn’t. Please, just stop. I’m so sorry.” Terry hung up and sat on the couch. Staring straight ahead, he focused on nothing. He looked empty. Whispering to us, he said, “That was Payton’s mom. Payton died. They couldn’t save her.”

I drove home the next day with the radio off. My ears rang so loudly from the concert I could barely hear the sound of my blinker. I threw up twice out the window while stopped at traffic lights. My car felt like a cage. I was extremely hungover and still had to work later in the day. Waiting tables while hungover is a certain kind of hell. Payton’s death weighed on me but it was already over with. Work had yet to happen. I started to think about what it would be like if I started to do heroin. I’ve woken up from surgeries, pumped full of dilaudid, happy as a five year old that just put on cool sunglasses for the first time. You’ve seen that kid, evil grin at the corner of his lips, looking at everything like no one can see him. And what, you can buy that feeling on the street? Payton had known that she might die from it. The caramel inside of her soul had left her body. I barely felt bad for her, I had hardly known her. She was only a few drunken memories: her smile, her ginger soap, Terry standing next to her like a puppy. Terry was the one I really felt for. He was going to be living in their house, seeing where they used to sleep, eat, and smoke cigarettes on the porch. Terry would be floating for awhile, looking for anyone to stand next to.