Tuesday, July 31, 2012


I'm squeezing tofu over the spinach and Calvin wants to know what that's good for. I say protein, iron, B-vitamins. He says are you vegetarian? I say I'm vegan and then I have to explain what that means. He says wow, I never thought of that, wow. And: Is that spinach? Yeah. Wow—what a great idea, wow—and then Brian is calling him. Brian sounds like he's about to pass out, Calvin says okay, well I'll see you later, okay? He looks right at me, I try not to notice how pretty his eyes are—sky blue and glassy from the coke. I'm confused.

I'm finishing my food and Calvin comes back downstairs, he says Brian and Dave went to bed and do you mind if I hang with you? I say as long as you don't distract me. Because Brian Marshall, the tanning salon queen, did you meet him? Calvin shakes his head no, I say well he'll throw a fit if I don't get my stuff out of the living room. Calvin says well I can help you, I mean I don't mind. His eyes are wide and his lip is vibrating, he takes a ball of tin foil out of his pocket and says do you have anywhere for me to cut this?

I can feel my eyes getting wide. I get Calvin my drug mirror, and he starts cutting the coke. He says you want some? I say is it good? He says yeah it's great blow, fucking great, and there's a lot left, we should split it. I say no, I need to concentrate, but he's not listening: C'mon, I'll just cut you a little line.

Calvin cuts the coke and I wash the dishes. When I'm done, he's got two huge lines on the mirror. I say I just want a little. He does his line and I'm not breathing. Hands me the rolled-up dollar bill and I snort the other line, oh it burns I fucking love it. I can feel my eyeballs in the back of my head, lids closed and when I open my eyes I'm high. I say you're right, that stuff is great. I can't believe it.

Calvin's looking me in the eyes again and I'm looking away. We go into the living room and everything feels slow but frantic, in twenty minutes all my shit is in my room and we're doing another line. I lean my head back and wow. We go in my room, Calvin's on the bed and I'm unpacking boxes. The phone rings and it's Sean saying bitch it's almost one, you better get your ass down here, everyone's waiting. I say all right, just a few minutes, all right.

Calvin says what's up, I say they want me to meet them at the Eagle. He says can I come. I say it's a gay bar. He says I don't mind. All right, I say, and we do some more coke. Damn these straightboys are generous – Sean will never even give you a bump unless you trade her something for it. I check my hair in the mirror and I look hot, every strand of flamingo pink and pillarbox red and the magenta blend in between is in place. Calvin says he'll drive – sounds like a good idea to me.

Calvin's got this tiny little red sports car and we're both wired. I lean my head back and think I shouldn't have done that coke, I shouldn't have done that coke. But then I think fuck it I might as well enjoy it and Calvin puts on "You're So Vain"—classic rock, gross. He says is this okay—I'm nuts about Stevie Nicks—I'm thinking did he really just say I'm nuts? Nuts and blow. He says are you okay, I nod yes.

We get to the Eagle and there's our little youth corner in the back of the bar. Everyone's screaming for me and I'm actually happy to see them. Abby's got his ass against the bar and he's holding Bobby and swaying—they better break up soon, gotta get that bitch out of my house. Billy pokes me and grunts, like he always does. Sean’s eyes get big and she says Oh. You brought. The straight. Boy.

Calvin's the wet dream of just about everyone in the bar: preppy blond boy in jeans and a flannel, so Boston. The Eagle's all South End middle-aged guppies and then us. I get a drink and Jack the bartender looks me up and down, well I bet you've got a big dick, huh. He does that every week.

Billy wants some of my drink, of course – I grab him a cocktail from nearby and say drink this and he acts all shocked but then he drinks it. Bobby's over touching Calvin's ass and giggling. Calvin's totally into it. I'm wired. Abby’s trying to keep her eyes open – she says oh honey I'm messy. I say what's new? Sean's pacing the bar and some queen comes up to me, says is that Mizrahi? I say no, Dollar-a-Pound, and Billy grunts – I'm laughing and the queen doesn't know what to say. Everyone's all about class in Boston.

I get another drink and then I motion to Calvin, we head to the bathroom. He’s about to take out the coke and some queen comes in, takes out his coke, I say can I have a bump? He scrunches up his nose at me and leaves. I finish my cocktail while Calvin gets out the coke, he says do you have a dollar. I say put it on my hand and he pours a pile on, I snort it up then lick my hand, tasty. He snorts the rest from the foil and then I lick it, his eyes are bulging. I say thanks. Then I study my hair in the mirror and everything still looks great, the magenta matches the stripe in my plaid pants and both the red and the magenta contrast so well with the green sweater. I'm on fire tonight.

Someone opens the bathroom door, stares at my hair and says you look like a parrot. She thinks she's reading me but I love it—I lick my lips and say thank you honey. The guy's looking Calvin up and down. Calvin's pretending to piss, or wait he's pissing and I'm just laughing, head up against the wall, loving my rush I could stay here forever. We go back into the bar, Calvin says what are we going to do afterwards? I say maybe Billy can get us into the Loft.

Brian goes over to his pool buddies and I go back to the bar. Abby's getting sad, Billy and Sean are bored. I buy two madrasses and hand one to Sean, tell him to split it with Billy. Their eyes light up. Abby's swaying and here comes Bobby, sashaying down the aisle to—no way, is it "Supermodel?” Then we're all up on the runway—no one knows what to do with us. I'm pushing Bobby aside, cackling and saying you're no supermodel honey. But she actually can walk—even if she is so exaggerated it's scary, she does work it.

Then the song's over and it's Crystal Waters – usually the DJ’s bad, but not this bad. Abby's still leaning against the bar, eyes shut and she's kind of nodding—oh no. Abby, I say, and he opens his eyes, wha-at. I say honey you're a mess, and he shuts his eyes again.


Keith said...

the next time i'm at the eagle alone playing pinball which is what always happens i'm going to think of this story when I go to take a pee. :)

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Yay for pinball :)