It wasZach. Fucking Zach, showing up unannounced. I instantly flew into a panic,grabbing the bags of coke off the coffee table and shoving them under the couchcushions, before rushing to answer the door.
“Hey,”I said, breathlessly. “Sorry, I was sleeping.”
“Yeah,Jen told me you've been tired and shit,” he said, brushing past me and invitinghimself in. He slowly surveyed the place—the floor, table, walls—then said,“Holy shit ... the hell is goin' on here?”
Myentire nervous system took a jolt as I asked, “What do you mean?”
Mybrother shook his head. “Vin,” he bent over and picked up a used paper plate,“this place is a fuckin' mess. Don't you guys clean?”
Ididn't have an answer for him. The truth was, I couldn't remember the last timethe apartment was swept. I couldn't remember the last time I'd even thoughtabout it. Not when all of my time at home was spent getting high and havingsex. It was a miracle that I managed to do laundry every once in a while.
Zachslowly walked through the apartment, shaking his head and sighing, probablythinking about what Pops would've said if he was alive. I bit my tongue,watching warily as he got closer to the couch. Hoping that he wouldn't have asudden urge to lift the cushions, hoping that I had hidden it all, and hopinghe'd turn around and get the hell out.
“Yo,”I said, as he got closer to the couch, “I wanna smoke. You wanna go outsidewith me?”
Heglanced over his shoulder, then nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
Relieved,I snatched my cigarettes and lighter off the table in a hurry. I made a beelinefor the window, urging him with my mind to follow, and thank Christ, he did. Hewas close behind me and I opened the window, ready to step over the ledge andonto the fire escape.
“Waita second.”
Isqueezed my eyes shut. “What's up?”
Zachwas still for a moment, just staring in the direction of the couch. I hadhidden the cocaine, though. I was sure of it. But he kept staring, and then heslowly walked over. Until, just as my palms began to sweat, he bent over.
“Whatthe hell is this?”
Ididn't want to look.
I hadto look.
Turning,I saw him checking out the mirror and gift card still on the coffee table. Itwasn't coke, and my heart calmed just a little. But Zach and I had walked thatpath together. He knew things, he saw things, and right now, he saw something.
Whythe hell hadn't I tucked those away with everything else?
“Idunno,” I said, playing stupid. “Just some crap.”
“Somecrap,” he mocked, picking the mirror up and inspecting it closely. “Some crap,huh?”
“Yeah.”
Hisglare turned on me as he held the mirror up. “Then, what the fuck isthisshit, Vinnie?” he shouted.
“It'sa fuckin' mirror, Zach,” I muttered sardonically, then swallowed as he licked afinger.
“So,this white shit all over it, is just dust, right? Nothin's gonna happen when Ido this, right?” He swiped his wet fingertip along the reflective surface and Iinstinctively stepped forward. He raised a brow. “What?”
“N-Nothin',”I stammered. “Just, that's fuckin' gross.”
“It'sjust dust, though, right?” he challenged, before rubbing his fingertip againsthis gums, and I began to pray.
First,I prayed it really was dust. I prayed he'd feel like an asshole and leave. Butthen, as his lip began to curl and his head began to shake, I prayed that he'dtake it easy on me. I prayed he'd realize that I'm not him, and that I'm notstrong. That I'm not able to just break free from the demons that still have meshackled to their bed.
“Zach,listen—”
“Shutthe fuck up.”
Mylips pressed together, before I tried again. “Zach, you gotta—”
