Monday, June 17, 2013

Something stopped

Sean opens the door with a kazoo in her mouth. Of course Abba’s playing in the background. Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday me, she says. And then — oh, oh – I forgot. Not Abba, Mattilda’s here. I forgot. Sorry. And she rushes over to the stereo before I have time to say it's okay, switches it to something so good it makes the whole room vibrate. What is this?
Richie, she says, Richie Rich. The one and only. Or no, not the one and only, since we all know about that one in New York with the bleached hair and rollerskates but that bitch doesn't even look like the right cartoon. She doesn’t have those fabulous cheeks. Our Richie has those cheeks. She’s cheeky and she can spin. Spin with me. Spin. Boston's one and only.
Girls, Sean says, take off your coats. Make yourselves comfortable. Welcome. Welcome. And, welcome. Let me tell you, a lot has happened since you've been gone. A lot. Has. Happened. First of all, another hit. Another hit of ecstasy. Ecstasy you know me as—sextasy. Oh, oh—speaking of sextasy, who has a bigger cock? Tell me, who has a bigger cock?
Wait — wait — don't tell me, Miss Mattilda. I have a ruler. I have a ruler here somewhere. I want to know. The world wants to know. Who. Has. A. Bigger. Cock. Oh, hold on — I need to vomit my guts out. I need to vomit my guts out again. I'll be right back.
Avery and I look at one another. We’re starting to do this a lot. She reaches for my hand. I need more pot. Sean’s clothes are piled up on the floor, suitcases on the other sofa. Where do we sit? Sean comes back out of the bathroom.
Much better. Much, much better. I shouldn't have eaten that pizza. Now, where was I? Where. Was. I? Right — which one’s the man, and which one’s the woman?
Sean, that’s gross. You sound like some homophobic asshole.
Wait, wait, speaking of assholes, let me guess – all you did was bump pussies. Scratch and sniff. Go ahead – say it. The world is waiting. The Inquirer. The Star. National Lampoon's Vacation. Pussy Tourette says “He drives a Carmen Ghia,” but I say the world can't wait for pussy. Whose snatch smells like donuts and whose snatch smells like skunk?
Avery laughs, then she looks down.
Oh, Sean says — let me guess: you’re both bottoms. But wait, Dorothy, wait — I forgot. The bedroom. Come in the bedroom. On the left table, kitty cat meow meow come a come a chameleon Dorito crunch sponge Marge Simpson’s ketamine connection. On the right table, cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs old-school no school blow school blow blow and blow. The wicked witch of the West, blowing it all down. Blow with me, bitches, it’s time to blow — it’s time to blow our fucking hearts out.
Sean, you're out of your mind.
It's my birthday, and I'll cry if I want to. I’ll cry if I fucking want to. Go ahead — sing it, sing it, sing it! Sing it, bitches, sing it for Miss Sean Severe. Sean Severina. Sean Sever Vivina. Korena. Maltese falcon bleemer kachimer. Oh, wait, wait — did I mention — congratulations.
For what?
Miss Mattilda, don't play coy with me. You did the deed. How was it? Wait — wait. Don't tell me — don't tell me, yet. First I need another line. No, really, I'm happy for you. I'm happy for you both. You're too smart for your own good, and he's too stupid.
I'm sorry. I'm getting out of hand. I'm getting out of arm. I'm getting out of chest. I'm getting out of tits and ass. I'm getting out of grass. Grass. That's what's missing – did you bring the grass?
Do you need some pot?
Oh, yes – why didn't you say something before? You two take a walk down lovers’ lane, and I will pause for a moment to catch my breath.
Avery does a line of coke, and when she looks at me I already like her less.
And you? And you, Miss Mattilda? What will it be? Cat tranquilizer, or Colombian cartel?
I don't think I want any more drugs. I need to sleep at some point.
Sleep? Sleep. Who needs sleep? It's my birthday. You can't leave me. You can’t leave me yet.
Sean, nobody's leaving you. I'll do some coke.
I do a line, and as soon as it hits my head I think shit, I just fucked up my high. So then I do some K. Better to balance it out, right? Avery's right behind me. Your turn, I say, and this time I like watching her eyes change.
We smoke some pot. Sean gets a little calmer. The music is really good.
What's going on, Avery says.
What's going on, Sean says. What's. Going. On? Let me take you in the other room.
Sean leads us into the kitchen. The whole table is filled with drug paraphernalia.
Okay, Sean says. Everything is set up. I counted it. 64 vials. 30 quarter grams. 21 half grams. 13, no 14 grams. That makes 65. 65 vials. Do you see how I have it all arranged? Because before, when all the vials were the same size, I had to go in the bathroom to look. Now I can just feel with my fingers. That's what you'll do, you'll just feel with your fingers.
Twattilda, Avarice, please pay attention. Pretend this is Masterpiece Theatre. Or, no — The Twilight Zone. You are about to enter… Xanadu. The City of Lost Children. Pee-wee’s Playhouse. My name is Dawn Davenport.
Well, that's something we can understand. Hi, Dawn.
And I’m a shit-kicker. And a thief. Or is it a thief, and a shit-kicker? But back to business. Listen to my directions. Ask questions later. Oh, wait — I need another line. I'll be right back.
Avery and I look at one another. He leans over and kisses me, just like that, all the bitter taste in his mouth and I'm starting to feel the X again or maybe it's the K and then Sean comes back in.
Oh. I caught you in the act. Did I mention I love it? I. Love. It. But back to business. I'm a shit-kicker and a thief. Ask questions later.
My name is Dawn Davenport, Avery giggles.
No, my name is Dawn Davenport. Okay, I explained the vials. Second step. This is my pager. You know how to work it, work it, work it you know I know you know how to work it. It's still in my name. My contract is on the table. Pay with a money order, and no one will know. Same thing with my apartment. No one knows I'm leaving. Here are the spare keys. What else? What else? You've seen all these gadgets. Waist belt, ankle, shoulder, in case you want to hide anything. If you don't, you can use this one as a headband. Camouflage is very now. What else? What else? Oh – how it works. You see this little wooden door underneath the table. It leads right outside, to a bag of cat litter. Meow. Let me show you. See? That's where they deliver it. You buzz them in, they replace that cat litter with the new cat litter. Oh—oh— you leave the money in the old cat litter. They leave the drugs in the new cat litter. You never see one another. It's fabulous. Do you get it? Fabulous, fierce, and flawless all at once – Flawlessa Contessa. Oh —oh— I didn't tell you. I'm leaving you the business. It's a lot of money. A lot. Of money.
The music just got really loud. Does everyone else notice?
Questions, Sean is saying, questions — does anyone have questions?
Avery says are you saying you don't want to sell anymore?
Sean says 10 points, 10 points for my biggest customer.
And you want us to take over the business?
10 points — 10 points, 10 points for realness. Tens across the board. Keep going, keep going.
But why?
Oh — a stumper. Let's go back in the bedroom. I need another line. Let's celebrate. It's my birthday. I’m 201. I'm making cocktails. I know you like orange juice. Does anyone want a cocktail? No, no — the real question: Does anyone need a cocktail?
We go in the kitchen. I mean we are in the kitchen, but suddenly it feels like we're in the kitchen. Like I can't tell whether it's day or night. Like the music stopped or no, not the music. Something stopped. I still hear the music, but something.
Sean says oh, oh — I have to turn over the tape. Let's go in the other room. And she grabs her bottle of Absolut and takes a swig right from the bottle. Sorry, ladies, she says, I hope you don't mind backwash. We follow her in the bedroom and she does another line of coke. And then Avery. I don't need more, but I do more anyway. K first, then coke. It's better that way.
I'm dying, Sean says.
You're not dying, I say.
No, she says, that's where you're wrong. You're not usually wrong. For example, I am a racist. You got that one right, right away. And, I hate women. Most of the time. Except Tracy Lords. And Betty White. And Cece Peniston. Let's go back in the kitchen, and sit down. The living room is a mess. I'll make you some cocktails. What was I saying? Oh — I'm a liar. But I'm not lying right now. I have five T cells. I'm going home tomorrow. I'm going home tomorrow to die.
How can the room be so quiet, when Sean just turned over the tape?
That's right — five T cells. You know what that means, Mattilda. You’re the activist. That's right. I'm dying. Dawn Davenport is dying. Mother Theresa doesn't have a bed big enough for me. I'm going home tomorrow. My parents are picking me up.
Avery’s eyes are closed, she's squeezing them shut. I move my leg so it's touching hers.
You both look so serious, Sean says — I didn’t mean to fuck up the party.
The music is loud again and someone's knocking on the door, is someone at the door?
No, it's not the door.

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