But wait — I didn't tell you about our new after-after-hours, after the Loft closes and no one's inviting us over their house, what do you mean 6 am is late — we're just getting started. We can only drive over the Mass Ave Bridge so many times, or actually I could go over and over and over and over and over, but Sean starts to get bitchy so I know we need to get somewhere to do some K and Sean says what about the MIT Café, it's open 24 hours.
The MIT Café — are you kidding? Well, I guess that is just on the other side of the Mass Ave. Bridge. We park the car next to some ‘60s cement fortress-prison-type building, but sure enough there are arrows pointing us in the right direction and my head is in just the right place of leaning back, eyes closing and opening to think this is the perfect adventure. And then when we got there, it actually looks like a café, I can get chamomile tea and everything. Or, wait — should I get peppermint? Or licorice – oh, licorice. The person helping me doesn't even look at me like I'm crazy, maybe the MIT Café is the place for us. Should I get a bagel?
A bagel, Abby says, so I get one, but then I can't really figure out what to do with it. I mean I'm not hungry, and I know no one else is. Sean heads to the bathroom, and when she gets back my tea is almost cool enough to drink, and Sean isn't complaining anymore. Abby has her eyes closed, and she's mumbling something. I look around – who are all these people, up this late I mean early? Sean says they're studying, but should I go to the bathroom?
Definitely, Sean says, it’s very white. She hands me the vial, and I walk into the hallway. The bathroom is huge — six or seven stalls, and maybe 10 old-fashioned urinals that go all the way to the floor, right up against one another without dividers. No one's around. I do a bump and stare in the mirror for a while, then I have that feeling like I have to piss but I can't piss, no I have to piss, no I can't, but I stand at the urinal anyway, holding my dick, putting my hands under my balls, rubbing my chest, oh the ecstasy is back, yes I can almost hear the music, and then someone comes in, I look over. He stands four urinals away, but still I'm hoping that he's going to start jerking off. Nothing happens, I mean I hear him piss and that’s all. Then he leaves, and I start rubbing myself again, oh this is so good. I'll just close my eyes and think about some guy standing here holding me from behind, no wait that wouldn't help me to piss, let me turn the water on, just listen to the water.
Sean comes back in the bathroom and I'm still standing at the urinal. Mattilda, she says, how long has it been? Oh — I zip up my pants.
I love it here.
In the bathroom?
Oh, the bathroom. Let's hold hands.
Just try it.
Oh, you're right.
I'm glad you brought us here.
Oh — Abby.
Do you want another bump?
I thought you'd never ask.
Sean goes into a stall and I stand looking at my huge pupils. My turn and I do it right at the sink, no one's around. When we get back in the hall, it's like a different place. I'm giving runway funway stunway and Sean says work.
We get back into the café, and what's this music? Sean, it’s the Smiths — they’re playing the Smiths.
I never realized the Smiths were so cheerful.
Abby still has her eyes closed. I touch her hand — Are you okay?
Mmm, she says. Thank you.
I taste my chamomile tea. Oh, so warm. I love how warm this is. Does anyone want to try?
I don't like chamomile.
Should I get peppermint? I'll get peppermint.
You know what's amazing about this café? No one is staring at us. They're all transfixed by boardgames and hummous and conversations that are blending with the music so I can’t understand. Wait, their lips are moving, but there's no sound. I look closer and I realize they're all on K, everyone at the MIT is on K. I look at Sean, and she nods her head.
Did you notice?
Yes, Mattilda, yes.
Are you sure?
How do you know?
Mattilda, remember, I brought us here.
Oh, Sean – thank you, Sean. Thank you.
Yes, there are the next few days of recovering, or okay the next few days of drugs and then it's Wednesday again, my day off, time for therapy, and I'm trying to explain the crash from ecstasy to Barry, where all that joy just fades away and I'm left crumbled, maybe it's worse because I realize that joy can’t happen without the drugs I mean not that type of joy, it's just not a sensation your body can make. Sometimes I can fix it before bed with K or pot or sleeping pills but then there's always the next day.
Barry says he thinks it would be easier without the drugs, and I just feel so angry because he doesn't understand that there's nothing for me in Boston, nothing except these drugs and I kind of want to walk out right then and never come back but then he says we only have a little bit of time for hypnosis, so I lie back on the chair and suddenly I'm thinking about Jason from childhood, lying on his Star Wars sheets, kissing and hugging, touching each other's genitals, running through the field in his backyard, looking for golf balls. Did this really happen? I mean I know we ran through the field in the backyard, looking for golf balls. I haven't thought about Jason in years, I don't think I've seen him since second grade.
Somehow therapy makes me want to smoke again, the only addiction I've quit, I mean except coffee, and that was back in San Francisco. For the first few weeks, whenever I was craving coffee, I would do a bump of coke, and that really helped.