I stood in silence on the porch, leaning against the cold vinyl siding and smoking my cigarette. The pitch black darkness that I watched with such intrigue was shattered by an explosion of florescent glow when Sean swung open the front door and dashed down the steps.
"Where you off to, slick?" I called after him.
His quickly moving feet shuffled to a stop and he turned reluctantly to face me. His face was too thickly covered in shadow for me to read it. Not that I ever knew what Sean was thinking, anyway.
"I'm going over to Emma's house," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and trying to sound as non-chalant as possible.
I laughed and exhaled thick smoke at the same time. "Emma? That's different. I thought you were done with that mess."
He wrinkled his nose and gave me a look of bored contempt, as if Sean's life was just oh-so-complicated an idiot like me could never understand. "I'm not going there for her. In case you've forgotten, I'm with Ellie now. You know, red hair, hangs out here all the time?"
"Hey, smartass, watch your tone." I wanted so badly to wipe that holier-than-thou snarl off his face with something a little less gentle than words.
He rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Whatever, okay? Mr. Simpson's been helping me out alot lately and he invited me over for dinner." That appeared to be all of my divine ignorance he was willing to put up with. He readjusted the black beanie on his head and walked away.
I contemplated my brother and all his complications as I smoked in the dark. But by the time I'd finished my cigarette and tossed it carelessly to the gravel driveway, I'd stopped giving a shit about his moodiness and utter inability to look me in the eye. I got on my bike and hit the pedal hard, driving away to spend a much-needed night away from sullen teenagers, bills I could barely pay, and a fucking house I couldn't escape.
I was amazed that amongst the huge crowd gathered outside the Red Lounge, I actually managed to locate Phil. He'd made friendly with a pair of blondes who were closer to the door and we managed to bypass the long wait. Or the longer wait, I guess I should say, as it was still a good twenty minutes before we got through the door. It wasn't long before I'd grown weary of the evening. Red Lounge wasn't really my scene any more. I was more into smaller venues, smoky bars where I could sit in peace and enjoy the tunes.
No, Tracker, tonight isn't about that shit, I reminded myself. No more sitting in lonely bars, listening to lonely music, drowning out the world. I was there because I was going to meet people, have a good time, and interact with the world for once. I tried to wipe the boredom from my face and put on a smooth smile, pretending like this was the kind of thing I gave a shit about.
When at last we walked through the doors, Dead Sexy Tired had already taken the stage and worked the crowd into a frenzy. The entire club was filled with a swarming mass of dancing bodies, bathed in blue and red lights. I couldn't help but get the feeling that everyone looked the same in this place. Once you stepped onto the dancefloor, you became another faceless piece of the music, moving as a whole. Phil's face lit up with an excitement that had long been absent from him. He wrapped one arm around each of the blondes, who honest to God were named Candy and Cookie, and dove right into it. Sighing heavily, I trudged along behind them. Cheap beer, cheap sound system, cheap blondes; this used to be the kind of thing Phil and I lived for. I tried to play along and dig the scene, but deep down I couldn't help but realize I was already bored.
Throughout the night I ran into old friends. I went through the same "How are you? Whatchu been up to? Yeah that's great, I just went through a shitty divorce" routine until I wanted to puke. And the kind of people I ran into, of course, were the ones that I never actually wanted to see again. The same losers and burn-outs I'd known since high school; all the idiots, like me, who couldn't seem to do anything with their lives. It was thoroughly depressing, and even the prospect of banging Candy, who kept making passes at me, couldn't really cheer me up. What made it worse was the abundance of people much younger than us; kids Sean's age, partying it up in the same place that used to be filled with all my favorite people.
Inevitably, I drifted away from the crowd. I planted myself at a crooked table in the back of the club, tossing pretzels down my throat, smoking, and gently easing my way through a beer. It didn't even seem worth it to get drunk, a revelation that illustrated even more the pitifulness of the situation.
"Oh, Trackerrrrrrrr," a giggly voice erupted from the sea of people. A sweaty, disheveled blonde came bouncing towards me, stumbling into a chair at my table. It was Candy, I think. Or maybe it was Cookie. Who the fuck could tell, anyway? "Why aren't you out there daaaancing? Isn't this band like, so rad?" She laid her head on my shoulder, completely unable to balance herself, and exhaled a rancid wave of beer-breath all over me.
"Yeah, real rad," I replied, tapping the ashes from my cigarette into a plastic green ash tray. I noticed I could see all the way down her shirt with ridiculous ease.
She giggled again, spit dribbling from her mouth onto the sleeve of my shirt. "You know I really really wish you would come dance with me." Her words slurred together into nothingness, her lips pressed against my shoulder.
I sighed. There wasn't even a challenge here. She really couldn't have made it any easier. I probably could have banged her in the bathroom right then. But I had to wonder if I had really reached that pathetic of a point in my life. Surely I had evolved beyond easy lays with cheap bleach blondes? Or maybe I was that pathetic, and maybe this really WAS as good as it got.
Luckily, I didn't have to make that call. At least not yet. There was a loud crash as someone stumbled right into us. Candy flailed on top of me as the table shook violently. Gray and black ashes spilled out of the ash tray all over me. I grabbed hold of Candy and helped her regain her balance while glancing over to catch a glimpse of the girl who'd run into the table. She lifted her head of teased red hair and stared back at me. Despite the heavy eye make-up and glitter, I still recognized Ellie's face. She, however, looked at Candy and I with strangely vacant eyes, before bursting into wild laughter.
"Oops!" she cackled. She gripped the sides of table so tightly I could see her fingers turning white. It took me a moment, staring at her with my mouth open, to soak her in. Just like the night at the convenient store, except maybe magnifying that feeling times ten, I felt like I was looking at a completely different person. An acid green fishnet shirt trailed from her thumb to her shoulder, through which I could see her heavily scarred arms and nothing but a hot pink bra. She was buried in layers of black make-up, clunky jewelery, a black skirt that barely covered anything, and more thigh-high fishnets down her legs. It was the first time I'd noticed how thin she was. Her over-dramatic make-up had begun to smear because of the thick layer of sweat around her face. She looked like the kind of chick who would get into bar fights, who'd get you drunk and steal your wallet, who'd give blow jobs behind the 22nd Street grocery store to pay for a crack addiction. She didn't look at all like the sixteen year old girl who helped my brother with his math homework and took care of a drunken mother. Inside her eyes I saw a frightening emptiness; she was completely fucked up.
"Ew," moaned Candy, standing up to wipe off the beer that had spilled from my bottle. "Watch where you're going, bitch."
Ellie only laughed harder, falling to her knees, arms still clinging to the filthy table. I ignored Candy's complaints over the ruined outfit and got out of my seat, peering over at the crumbling teenage girl on the floor. "Ellie?" I said, speaking her name slowly and clearly.
She looked around frantically at the sound of her name, as if she barely even knew what was going on around her. I sighed and squat down beside her, placing my hand on her shoulder and shaking her slightly to get her attention. "Ellie? Hello?"
She contemplated me for a moment with her bloodshot eyes, before comprehension dawned on her face and she cracked a dazed smile. "Tracker," she said, poking my face with her fingers. She sighed. "Tracker, my friend. What are you doing here?"
"I should be asking you the same thing," I said, looking into her eyes. She wasn't drunk. She was beyond drunk. She was fucked up on something crazy.
"Me? I'm just here kickin' it with my buddy Craig." She started laughing again, this time slowly drifting towards the ground. "Kickin' it. Haha. Isn't that funny?"
It wasn't funny, actually. But I found myself laughing anyway. "God damn. You're high as a kite."
She giggled and murmured meaningless words, sprawled across the floor haphazardly, unaware of the shifting mass of rushing feet that threatened to trample her at any second. I reached foward and wrapped my arms around her, and felt the ridiculous weight of her. Like she was made of stone. With a great heave I pulled her up, even though she was so fucking dazed she really wasn't helping at all. She could barely support her own weight without falling back down to the ground. Finally I got sick of her stumbling, and scooped her up and carried her instead.
"I'm sleepy," she gurgled dreamily. "So so so so sleepy."
"Yeah, well, keep your fucking eyes open," I muttered as I pushed my way through the pulsing crowd. I wondered where the hell I was going to put her. "I really wouldn't recommend going unconscious at this point." I looked down at her face, at the icy blankness in her eyes, and knew she hadn't heard a single word.
I scanned the crowd for Phil, who was drunk out of his mind and busily trying to unsnap Cookie's bra as they danced. It took more energy than I really cared to spare at the moment, but after awhile of screaming in his ear that I needed to get Ellie home, I managed to get his car keys from him. No reason for him to be behind the wheel, anyway, as plastered as he was. And no way was I hauling that chick home on the back of my bike.
My arms were getting tired as I carried Ellie yet again through the teeming mass of drunk head bangers. We were nearly to the exit when a tall, curly-headed teenage guy with two drinks in his hands jumped in front of us and stopped us.
"Ellie!" he said, laughing. The liquid in the plastic cups splashed and spilled over the edges as he shifted his weight back and forth. His eyes were hot pink with intoxication. "I've been looking for you everywhere, man! I met this guy... haha... Ellie, I met this guy, and his fingers were like, GREEN..."
I stared at him, then glanced down at the wreck of a teenage girl in my arms, wondering if she was even conscious. I sighed. "Look, dude, I don't know who the fuck you are, but we're beyond out of here, so adios." I shifted Ellie with another big heave, trying to make the burden of her a little less painful.
Confused, the kid came chasing after us, tugging on my arm, making it even harder to carry her. "No, wait, don't leave me, man!" He had a mad, fearful look in his eyes, and he seemed half-way between laughing and crying. His hands were trembling as he tried to grip my arm, pulling on my patience.
Finally I stopped and turned to look at him, gritting my teeth with anger. I gazed at him for a moment, realizing I'd definitely seen this kid before, and tried to place him. When it came to me, I couldn't help but grin sarcastically and shake my head. "Oh, man, I know you. I can't believe this. You used to hang out with Sean all the time. What the fuck happened to you, man?" He stared at me with sincere confusion, eyes wandering, struggling to maintain his balance. He was so stoned he probably didn't even know where he was, let alone who I was or what was happening. I shoved his arm off me and lifted Ellie's body slightly so that he could see her. "Look at her, asshole. She's fucking strung out to next Tuesday. She's your friend's girlfriend, man. Do you even realize what you're doing? I don't know what you thought you were gonna do tonight, but forget it, party's over. She's going home."
I left him standing there with that same oblivion in his eyes as I shoved through the intoxicated crowd and finally made it out the door.
Sean wasn't home yet when I pulled up in Phil's car, which was a much bigger relief that it should have been. It wasn't like I had done anything wrong. There wasn't any blame he could place on me. But somehow I knew he would. If he was to see me carrying in his completely wasted girlfriend, it would somehow be all my fault. And I guess, in all honesty, I knew it would hurt him to see her like this. I was glad that he didn't have to.
She had begun to stir somewhat as I carried her to the bathroom, and when I flicked on the bright fluorescent light of the bathroom, there was no doubt that she was fully conscious. She started thrashing around in my arms, crying out incoherent thoughts. Her eyes were alive with fear, and she started shaking more than ever. Miscellaneous bathroom supplies avalanched to the floor as her arms flailed wildly, knocking everything over.
"Where am I?" she cried. All the color had drained from her face, and there was a geniune blankness lurking in her eyes. She was out of her mind. "I don't... Where am I... Mommy..."
I placed her shivering body in the shower as gently as I could, hoping she wouldn't hit her head on the ceramic sides of the tub, and cranked the cold water nozzle as far as it would go. I stood with my arms folded and watched as she screamed, shielding her face from the icy rain. She continued to convulse and cry out until she got tired, and her screams faded into pained moans. I was dying for a cigarette; this shit was just a bit much for me. When she finally seemed to have calmed down some, I reached forward and turned off the water, and then helped her sit up. She was still shaking a little, but her eyes weren't quite as glazed over, and she seemed more aware of what was going on.
"Where am I?" she mumbled softly, trying to stand up.
"You're home," I said, sitting her back down. I realized that she wasn't exactly home, but she was stoned anyway, and complicated answers weren't worth the effort. "Sit down, man. Just chill. You need some water." I went to the sink and filled up a paper cup for her. I sat down beside the tub and tried to make her drink it, but she just shoved my hand aside. Her hands felt weak.
"I'm not thirsty." She combed her fingers through her wet hair and exhaled. Her breath trembled over her lips. I grabbed her chin with my hand and held the cup to her mouth, forcing her to drink. When the cup was empty, she tore it out of my hand and tossed it to the end of the tub. "Jesus. Fucking choke me why don't you. My head hurts."
"Yeah, I'll bet it does. You and your little Craig friend got fucked up out of this world."
She laughed and scratched her legs idly, tugging at the elastic black threads of her fishnets. It was hard for me not to notice the dragonfly tattoo on her inner thigh as she laid sprawled across the soaked white tub. I shook my head, shook those thoughts, and got up to get her another cup of water. "I hate Craig," she told the bathroom wall, laughing as she said it. "You know? He's such an asshole. He doesn't even realize how selfish he is. I don't even know why I hang out with him. All he wants to do is fuck me." She laughed even harder at this, thoroughly amused. "He's such a joke. He'll sit there when he's hanging out with me and Sean, and he'll just stare right at me. He doesn't even know how obvious he's being. He looks at me and I can totally tell that he wants to fuck me. Everyone wants to fuck me. Haha. Everyone..."
Her voice trailed off, fading into nothing but soft giggles. When she turned back on her other side, I was hunched over her with more water. She seemed surprised to see me, and it made her laugh even harder. "Sneaking up on me, eh?" She reached out with wet fingers and touched my forehead. "I'll bet you want to fuck me, too, don't you, Tracker? Haha. Of course you do."
"You bet, kiddo," I said dully, putting the cup into her hand. "Now drink this."
She took the cup and wrinkled her nose at it in contempt, but rather than argue, she drank all of it in one large gulp. She flopped over on her other side. Her body relaxed and her breathing slowed. Worried, I grabbed her shoulder and shook her awake. "Ellie, don't go to sleep. Wake up."
She turned and looked at me, squinting her eyes, then dropped back down and closed her eyes.
"Ellie, stay awake. You might not wake up again if you go to sleep now." She mumbled something in response, and soon I noticed she had drifted to sleep again. I sighed and quickly decided it wasn't worth trying to keep her awake. Instead I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette. I sat against the wall as I smoked, hoping to God she'd wake up fine in the morning. The last thing I wanted was to have to explain to the cops was why there was a dead teenage junkie in my bathroom.