JULES/EGGS

VILE SELF PORTRAITS, CHAPTER FOURTEEN/FIFTEEN

JULES

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A mist of sweat and spit lingered in the basement air. The band was in the pocket, grooving, with the whole scattered crowd singing along. A single yellow bulb illuminated the makeshift stage. She took my hands and we danced in circles kicking dust. The pulse of the bass synchronized with my heart. Streams of unknown colors rippled her skin. Everything breathed at once. Up the stairs and out the door, clustered teens in deliberately torn clothes hauled cigarettes and skipped over sleeping shards. A billion flattened beer cans thrown by business majors and money spenders sprinkled the streets and begged to decompose for free. She took my hands, we danced in circles, and everything breathed at once.

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EGGS

(Audio starts at 00:58 seconds)

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The cigarette seared my fingers as it reached the filter. It jolted me into being like defibrillation. Or Narcan. I was parked out front of Pony’s Place sitting in The Saturn. The dull patter of rain on the windshield played a lullaby. I slapped myself to get a grip. My works were strewn across my lap. It was a goddamn miracle nobody walked by and saw. Maybe they had. I grabbed my backpack from the passenger seat and hid the evidence.

My phone rang.

Her ringtone. "Brush P.S.A." by Cool Calm Pete. The car was a mess. That’s the first sign of a druggie. Disarray. And a full ashtray.

And drugs.

"H… hello?"

"Are you on your way?"

"Uh, I’m about to leave… got caught up… I’m hitting the road now—"

"Joseph, c’mon! You said that an hour ago! We need to talk. It has to be tonight."

"I’ll be there soon. I promise."

"Sure you will."

"I love y—"

Click.

I got out to put my backpack in the trunk, thinking that would keep me safe from the pigs. A remnant of innocence. I tilted my head to let the warm rain laminate my face, then lit a smoke and basked in a chemical calm. When I got back into The Saturn I was soaked.

Drowsy on I-93 North.

I sped toward Julia wondering what I would say to her. Things had been bad for a while. The deeper I delved into dope, the more our relationship unraveled. I concealed everything and always wore long sleeves, blaming my Irish skin. But she knows better, I thought. She’s smart. Stunning. Reliable. Holds down a job. Not like me. Imma loser. A junky punk. Imma fuckin’…

…I nodded off and opened my eyes seconds before swerving into the guardrail. I punched myself in the face and rolled the window down hoping the steady current of air would hold my head upright. The speedometer read seventy-five. It was another fruitless Saturday in July. The 29th. I was halfway there. All I need to do is get to Salem, I thought. Just get there. You’ll be fine if you just get there. I lit a smoke and kept my foot on the gas.

The Saturn groaned.

◆◆◆

I pulled into the Salem Mall and parked under a streetlamp at 8:47 p.m. With its glow, I found a vein and nodded off with the spike still in my arm. I woke up five minutes later and pried it out. The gnarled tip snagged my skin. I raised my arm and tasted my blood: annihilation.

I had about 0.2 grams left which I tucked into my cigarette pack and placed in the cup holder. My wake-up dose. I felt at ease knowing it was within reach. My backpack returned to the trunk with the rest of my drugs. I was parked two spaces away from her olive-green Grand Am. We always met when she left work. I’d be there loitering. Shooting.

Nodding.

The rain had stopped. I lit a cigarette and watched the smoke float and furl into space. It was quiet. Idle.

The back door of the mall burst open.

She wore a tight Aztec-print dress, black Doc Martens, a hooped nose ring, preppy red lips, winged eyes, and a golden heart necklace I’d given her before the spike held the strings. Her dirty blonde hair swayed as she strutted toward me.

Gracefully.

"Hey."

"What’ve you been doing all day?"

"Uh, ya know, the usual… why?"

"You look bad, Joe. You look like shit! Are you on drugs? You’re always sick…"

"Jules, I—"

"No, no, don’t bullshit me! You need to tell me! I deserve to know!"

"Julia—"

"No more lies!"

"…"

"Joe!"

"Okay! Yes!"

"What kind of drugs!?"

"Jules—"

"How could you fucking do this to me!?"

"Jules, please, just let me explain."

Tears formed and fell.

"You fuck! Tell me now!"

"Jules, I’m addicted to… opiates… I can’t stop… I don’t know what to do anymore." I had never said it out loud. Once I did, I knew it was true.

"Heroin!?" she howled. I surveyed the parking lot. "What!? Are you embarrassed!?" She pointed her flawless finger at my ugly face.

"No, Jules, I just—"

"Don’t fuckin’ call me that!"

"Julia, I can’t stop… I need help."

"…"

"Can we just talk about this? Please?"

She made a veil with her fists.

"Fine! Fucking fine! Follow me to the fuckin’ diner."

"I’m sorr—"

"Shut up, Joseph. Stop-fucking-talking. Just get in your fuckin’ car and follow me."

She stomped to her Grand Am.

As my fingers wrapped around The Saturn’s steering wheel, I noticed my Dr. Grabow pipe in the side door pocket. Packed to the brim. I had lost it in my heroin haze. Smoke drifted throughout the car as I followed her. We drove for two minutes until the diner’s flickering sign emerged from the night. She signaled and turned into its dreary lot. I recalled the painting Nighthawks. We’re troubled souls seeking solace from a senseless world, I thought. Just a man and a woman coming together to talk, to work things out…

Blue.

Blue Blue Blue.

It made me blink hard. Julia was already parked and exiting her car. The pipe was in my hand. The Blue corrupted my windshields and mirrors.

Blue Blue Blue Blue.

I panicked.

They were right behind me. Their headlights bullied me. Their swollen faces scowled in my rearview mirror. I thought about running.

But then I was parked.

Doors smashed shut as I stashed the pipe.

In my side mirror, I watched his cuffs, magazines, pistol, taser, flashlight, and nightstick march toward The Saturn. He wielded the flashlight and shined it straight into my eyes. He was tall, bald, fat, and pasty. Completely clean-shaven, his head was an egg. The window rolled itself down and freed the smoke.

"License and registration."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Why’d you pull me over, if you don’t mind me asking?"

"Uh, yeah, your fuckin’ taillight’s out, kid." He leaned in and inhaled deeply through his nose. "Ya smell that, Officer Drew?"

"Sure do. Smells like he’s been hittin’ the devil’s lettuce!"

There were two of them. Both bald.

Two eggs.

"Looks like it, too!"

I reached for the glove box.

Their spotlights searched the seats.

Every crevice.

"No, sir. I don’t do any drugs," I said, extending my trembling papers to the egg.

"It’s officer, actually. Whya so nervous?" He snatched the papers and they withdrew to their cruiser. I couldn’t breathe, I’d just suck some clean air into my mouth and exhale pollution.

The Blue strobe intermittently defined Julia.

The grinning eggs returned.

"So, Joe, where ah the drugs? Upta you how this goes from here, ya can still do the right thing."

"I don’t have anything, officer."

"Ya sure? The K-9 unit is on the way. We’re gunna find it, so ya might as well just give it up and save us some time."

"Yep, they’re on the way!"

"Sure are!" They laughed together.

The eggs were happy.

I wanted to spill their yolks.

To quit.

To end.

My sorrow liquified as I revealed the pipe.

"Here, this is all I have."

The egg took the pipe. "Where’s the weed?"

"I smoked it all earlier."

They cackled.

Nearly cracked.

The sewer of my life was hilarious.

"Right, ya expect us ta believe that? Officer Drew, ya wanna get an ETA on that dog?"

"Absalutely! I’m sure they’ll be here in no time!"

"How about ya step outta the cah there, Joey."

"No, sir… I’m… I don’t consent to searc—"

"Step outta the fuckin’ cah immediately!" He unbuckled his holster. His eyes were identical to Snook’s.

"Okay, okay. I’m getting out."

The dope was long gone. All I felt was the drumroll of my heart. I got out with my hands in the air.

"Putcha hands down fa Chrissake. Stand here… no, here. Jesus, kid. Putcha hands on the hood and spread ya legs."

"Jackpot!" the twin egg exclaimed. "What’s this, buddy?" He had my smokes. And my heroin. He was excited. 0.2 was a jackpot.

"Test it."

"Yup."

"Ya gut any needles on ya? If I get stuck I’m gunna beat the livin’ shit outta ya," he muttered into my right ear.

"No, sir—"

"Where’s ya works?"

I gazed off at Julia with my palms pressed on the hood of The Saturn. She was so close. Her hands muzzled her mouth. Crystalline tears streamed down her cheeks. I tried to say something. I opened my mouth.

"Hey! Idiot! Where’s ya works?" He twirled me around with his giant ivory arm.

"The trunk. Everything is in the trunk."

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