gel'ing again

toronto, early 90's. major fight, not the time i disappeared for days and he didn't notice, before that, before total disintegration. don't remember causes. mb took me to the club for decompression. double cc and coke . . . many glasses, too many, debate-able. after-hours party in mississauga, jonka's condo filled to capacity. line up for the bathroom, people do lines. i'm the sad puppy, don't feel like i'm really there, like i'm in it . . . rude guy bugs me and i lay into him. not a wise move. he is rude . . . and violent, backhanding the girl, not a problem. i don't back down, feel nothing, numbness . . . wish somebody would do something, anything, to make me feel something, a backhand feels necessary. mb rescues before things get too outta hand. rude guy gets tossed, i'm new but somehow i've got the seniority in this situation, the right friends . . . i am the dealer's girl tho i don't realise this yet, instant security access in friendly territory, tho i'm not holding.

i drift. room to room. group to group. unsettled. into the kitchen. refill time though i can barely stand, too many wobbly pops already. kitchen is bright, too bright, hard to see with so much white. this is not a popular hang-out, only one guy sitting not at the kitchenette but on the counter top, drinking coffee. he has black curly hair, fuzzy brows but not the unibrow, huge brown eyes, longest, darkest lashes i've ever seen. he's beautiful. reminds me of bruno from fame . . . only better looking. i wonder if he plays piano. i stagger, brush up against him as i try to manage the fridge. he steadies me so i don't fall. i think you've had enough. the gall of him! he's serious too, removing me from the fridge, guiding me to the table, easing me into a chair, producing a cup of coffee in front of me. what does he know about anything? he knows enough. he knows i need to slow down. i don't want to drink coffee, don't want to talk to this man, even if he is beautiful. stagger to my feet and swagger on out of there, nobody is going to tell me what to do.

drifing again. rude man has regained entrance. i can't find mb. wide berth. all i want is a drink, no trouble. his looks are not encouraging. searching for another bathroom. what about us people who don't do lines? where are we supposed to go? through a bedroom. sex happening on the king sized bed. boys and girls. attached at every opening. can't tell how many. limbs sprawling. communal moan. another line. for the washroom. white lines on mirrors on the chest at the foot of the bed. arms reaching out from the covers, pulling me in. resistance. curiosity. who is here anyway? almost curious enough . . . relax. take this and chill. join us. you're beautiful. sitting on the bed. adrenaline. reaching for the line. hands on my thighs, the small of my back, my breasts, almost feeling something. whispers in my hair. join us and disappear. this tower's starting to lean. eyes closed. i want to disappear. buttons, snaps, zippers, prying fingers. shouldn't be here. drowning in this magnetic pull. where's my bodyguard? where's mb? resistance is futile.

what do you think you're doing? snapped out of it. snatched from the writhing. tucking me in, straightening me out. you shouldn't be in here. i know. lashes so long and black i'm completely mesmerised. come with me, this way. floating back to the kitchen. coffee. he talks me down, talks me through it. when the feeling comes it bursts out of me in salt water. i've lost time. where was i? what have i done? nothing. shh, shh, don't cry, out in time. i love this man. i want to keep him. want to take him home with me and bring him out everyday like a good luck charm. wear him around my neck. hours in the kitchen and nobody comes in. nobody sees. be right back.

i need to go to the bathroom so badly now, break into the line, squeeze past the girls and onto a toilet. watch the needle under her breast, between her toes. instant glazing. powder crusted nostrils. relief. exit and there is rude guy. just me and rude guy in the hallway, the line disappeared. bitch. you're going to get what's coming to you. fear brings out boldness, stupidity, first blood. punch his nose with everything in me, hoping for shock advantage. works. but he's bloody and seeing red. running back to the kitchen. dark eyes is gone. panic. i'm alone. then mb and rob and scotty and others bursting in. i'm surrounded, enclosed, encircled and escorted to the elevator. rude buddy is shouting from the doorway, but won't follow. mb almost goes back, cooler heads prohibit further action and we escape into the night.

what the hell was all that about? i'm in trouble with my bodyguard. mb is pissed. i'm not allowed to get into fistfights cause i'm too young and too little. i'm supposed to be smart. i'm supposed to know better. when i feel threatened i'm supposed to find one of them. these are the rules. they aren't complicated and they do work. i apologise and she's hugging me, we're crying, i'm falling asleep on her shoulder on the way home. that night i sleep between her and her brother in the big bed. safe. with boys crashed on other beds and floor. as i start to drift i ask her if she knew the guy with the curly hair, the guy with the dark eyes. no, she doesn't know who i mean.

in coming weeks i ask everyone, even jonka. there was nobody there who looked like that. nobody drinking coffee in the kitchen. bodyguards had never abandoned their post, they kept an eye on me. you were not yourself that night. no i wasn't. and i wasn't alone either.

Mood: still friggin' queasy, need to eat something maybe
Drinking: need to drink something too perhaps
Listening To: Paula Cole, I Don't Wanna Wait
Hair: gold-toned