Smacked

 

(phone ring)

Hello

It didn’t surprise me that Brandon called so late, but there was a sign of angst in his voice. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I was concerned. Maybe for the right reasons. I still decided to pick him up though. I’m not sure if I noticed it, but on the way out I walked by the Pulp Fiction poster hanging in our TV room. Uma Thurman’s face is dead centered, silently staring back at us with penetrating eyes.

(CAR)

It was freezing out, and the full moon’s light was hidden behind giant nimbus clouds. It was hard to see where the road was taking me. (Pause)

The rain hit my windows with the force of sleet. Startling me with a chorus of “smacks” and “bangs” hitting against my windshield. The roads were slick and I probably shouldn’t have been driving.

I don’t remember the time, but it was probably well after midnight. (short pause)

I vividly remember the look on Brandon’s face when he got in the car. His eyes were swollen, red and puffed, like bruises after a boxing fight. He was  pale white, with beads of sweat swarming across his forehead and clinging to his upper lip. It was freezing out, but Brandon was sweating profusely   like he was stuck in a sauna. Brandon looked like he had seen a ghost as he was staring back at himself in the passenger side mirror.

He smelt like piss and vomit.  

I can’t remember if I asked him what’s wrong? (PAUSE) Maybe i was too scared to ask because truthfully, I didn’t want to know the answer. Instead I tried to remove myself, so I asked Brandon if he wanted to go home.

I still remember his response. He asked me to drive around for a bit so he could “cool off”. It was freezing out. I didn’t even question him, but I knew something had happened. I think I just wanted him to tell me when he was ready. Maybe I want to remember it that way. Brandon was speechless, but despite the lack of words, his face told a story that 1000 words could not.

I always wondered what made Brandon so quiet. The first few times we met, the only thing I could get out of him was his name. There was a withdrawn reluctance to open up. He was the hawk, perched on the telephone pole, waiting to see if the landscape was safe before he stuck conversation. (pause)

As a kid, Brandon sheltered himself from others. I wasn’t sure why he had intimacy issues with people close to him.

They say that rescued animals that were abused and abandoned tend to have issues developing relationships.

My brothers cat Benga is a rescue. It took me years for her to even let me pet her. Benga constantly pounced at me, with a hand cocked and dagger eyes that said, “back the fuck up.” I got the message. Until one day, when she realized my true intentions. But after that, Benga would still lash out when she was overwhelmed. It was her instinct to protect herself. She can’t fight it. Even now, when she knows my scent, and seems to love me, she has her moments. There is a constant hesitation to trust.

Bra ndan once told me that he when was 8, his father threatened to kill him and his mother because of their divorce. This turned out to be a dot on the line of strange appearances on the behalf of his alcoholic  father. His mom is remarried now to a nice guy, Bill. He treats her well and he even treats Brandon like his own son. But Brandon still seems to isolate himself from, and resent, Bill.

There’s a scene in Pulp Fiction where Uma Thurman overdoses after a night out with John Travolta. Anyway, John Travolta is panicked, his thug boss’s wife is dying under the protection of Travolta. Needless to say his night isn’t going to well. Travolta frantically rushes Uma to his dealer’s house and then it happens. Boom. Adrenaline rushes.

The numbing silence broke. Brendan told me he was with Tommy and his girlfriend. He pulled his shirt off and showed me what had happened. His chest was marked with with a ballpoint circle of red near the chest cavity. Dried blood smeared around the puncture. Brandon needed a shot for resuscitation. He was dead, but now he is alive.

 

***

           

            Brandon was still in awe, or still in some sort of haze, I couldn’t really tell, maybe it was both. I assumed that he must have done it before, but I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to think that he was a user.

Again I asked Brandan if he wanted to go home. He reluctantly said yes.  I didn’t want to sound selfish, but it was late and I felt a bit uncomfortable. I didn’t know how to handle the situation. Should I hide what happened, or do I need to tell someone for help. I was confused.

   

Benga always used to escape the house and run away from us, but one time she was missing for over a week. Eventually she came back, half dead, limping through the grass in the back yard. My brother had to nurse her back to health. Even after the near death experience Benga still pounced at every chance she had to get outside. I thought knowing the danger would prevent her from doing it again.

 

Brandon never learned from his mistakes. He would take chances on the smallest things. Brandon was prescribed klonopins to reduce his stress, but instead of taking them properly, he would drink on them. Everytime I’d see him nodding off around his 5 beer. Barely able to keep his eyes open. I always thought alcohol disabled his emotions, it numbed him. I may be wrong though. Maybe some people just like the high. I doubt it though, I think he just temporarily masks the issues.

I too rely on vices when I am stressed. We all do. It’s in our nature.

Distraction. Something to remove us from reality.

Some escapes from reality are good, but why do we do things that we know will cause us harm.

My father used to be an alcoholic, well i should say he is an alcoholic, recovering and sober for over 25 years. I am 22 and my brother is 25. One of the things he used to say about drugs and alcohol is that people do it, because it works. We can suppress the problem, and hide it inside us, regardless of what it is. I tend to think this applies to more than just alcohol.  

 

People joke that “Heroin addicts are always talking smack.” I laughed when I first heard someone say this popular joke, but there’s a dark truth to the playful pun on words. Once you are in, you get stuck. I always wondered what makes someone try something that’s highly addictive. It’s difficult to see the value in dancing on thin ice.

 

Brandon never told me why he did it, or if it was his first time. Maybe things are best hidden behind the curtains, but maybe not.