Phew, we’ve reached the end! This is the last entry in the “Levee” series, and I can’t say I’m sad to see it go. That’s not entirely fair. It’s been an great excerise in exploring a different way to write memoir. Creative Non-Fiction, if I have to name it. But it certainly isn’t easy to stike the right balance. Thank you all for joining me in this experiment.
If you have no idea what I’m talking about. Welcome! Glad to have you here. If you want to get all caught up, check out the links below.
A rope of saliva clung around the corner of my mouth, drooling against the fitted sheet of my mattress. The room was bright. Over-exposed. My fingers crept around the mattress, feeling for a pipe, tinfoil, baggies, anything, even a cigarette. All they found was an empty BIC lighter. My stomach pulsed a flare of pain. The lighter slipped through my fingers as I brought my hand beneath my shirt. Surely, I was dying. But my gut was clean. No gouges, no blood; just tight, solid flesh.
“Hey,” Mike’s voice filtered through my bedroom door. “You up?”
Despite the lack of any wounds, I continued holding my stomach lest all the contents spilled out upon standing up. They didn’t. I shambled to the door to crack it open.
“Our friend got back to me,” Mike said, without bothering to look up from his phone. Music played out of the half-broken stereo. The sound drifted in from the living room, drowned in a static hum. “If I leave now I can make it back by tonight.”
“Ok,” I managed, with no concept of how long that would be. I didn’t even know what time it was. My legs ached. They begged to lay back down.
Mike nodded and went to grab his backpack from the couch, leaving everything else behind. There was no point in pretending he would go back to his own home. Not today. This was ground-zero, where the only reason anyone left was to get more drugs. The heavy frame of the apartment door shook behind him as he left.
I collapsed back onto the mattress. My thighs weren’t twitching yet. That was good. It meant there was still time before withdrawals started. If I could force myself back asleep now, I might avoid them entirely. The empty BIC lighter rested next to my head. Faint-red. Yesterday, it was bright neon. Why did it look like it had been left out in the sun all summer?
What happened last night?
My mind dimmed, unable to conjure anything to memory. I racked my brain, searching shadowed crevices for any hint of last night’s events. Nothing. Nosie carried up from the street outside, a concert of idle engines and muffled shouting. Eyes shut, I let them flow over me like a city lullaby. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t worth losing my chance to sleep.
A rope of saliva clung around the corner of my mouth, drooling against the fitted sheet of my mattress. The room was dark. Under-developed. My fingers crept around the mattress, feeling for a pipe, tinfoil, baggies, anything, even a cigarette. All they found was the damn BIC. Pale-pink. Several shades lighter than when I last checked. My eyes squinted to study it further, but someone started pounding at the door.
Please be Mike.
I jammed the lighter into my pocket and pushed myself off the bed. Cold sweat pricked through the back of my knees, shaking, while they worked to keep me upright. Clearly, the withdrawals had started. But despite my waning energy, I made it out of my room, around the corner, down the hall, and to the front door. Mike’s victorious grin greeted me from the other side.
Achoo! The sudden sneeze almost knocked me off balance. I couldn’t have held it in if I wanted to. Here was another side effect of detoxing—feeling my throat again.
“Sounds like I made it just in time,” Mike said, following me to the living room. “I already snuck some in the downstairs bathroom. This one’s for you.” He tossed over a chunk of melted brown sugar, twisted off in Seran wrap.
“Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die.” I responded without filter or consideration. A victory proclamation.
Mike shrugged his backpack to the ground while I tore into the taut plastic wrap. Dark tar stuck beneath my unclipped fingernails, and I ran them along the edge of my teeth to clear off the bitter bits. Mike handed me some foil and a straw.
I plopped the igneous rock of medicine on the aluminum and reached into my pocket for the lighter. Champagne-pink. The color had receded even further. Fuck it. The lighter still sparked. Smoke still curled. I inhaled and held it in, waiting for the goosebumps. Relief. Mike fiddled with the loose wires on our stereo system as I sunk to the floor. Music glitched on and off, filling the room and before whooshing away again. Eventually, it stuck and hushed vocals hummed throughout the apartment.
The litebrite's now black and white
Cause you took apart a picture that wasn't right
Pitch burning on a shining sheet
The only maker that you want to meet
The lyrics struck. They dug deep into my head, threatening to dredge up forgotten memories and painful realities. I responded with another long drag of smoke. My only counter-measure. It dammed the thoughts back up—if only momentarily—isolating them to some forgotten corner of my mind.
“Can we get something to eat?” I asked, wishing to escape the song and the looming threats it brought.
The unabashed sunlight cast long shadows down the street. It was packed, more than I had ever seen before. Cars lined alongside us, waiting for the streetlight to turn: a Honda-Something missing tail light, a blue sedan being eaten inside-out by rust, motorcycles chugging on their emissions, and a minivan bouncing on its axle. This must have been what I heard earlier. Where was everyone going?
A child hung their hand through an open window of the minivan. On their wrist, a gold bracelet clinked against the metal frame, catching the sunlight and casting flecked patterns between Mike and I. The specs of light worked their way into my subconscious.
They broke the levee.
All the terror from last night flooded back: the rush of gold, the harvest, the long stinger that had drained away my soul through my stomach. All my submerged nightmares spilled out into the world, revealing it for what it was. The end of days. Here we were, on the precipice, looking for food while everyone else was trying to escape.
We passed under the failing Trinity Market sign and into the store. A digital chime announced our arrival, but no one looked up. They were too busy stuffing their arms full of Gatorades and Pringles. The shelves were swiss cheese, emptying out by the minute. Everyone for themselves. I considered carefully before grabbing the last Snickers bar—the final meal. Whatever happened after the world ends, there probably wouldn’t be food.
The clerk didn’t look up from his crossword puzzle as he typed the price into the register. After I swiped my card and the receipt printed, he told me to sign it. A receipt for two dollars and fifty cents. Why? To sign my soul away? Technically, it had already been taken from me, siphoned through my stomach by some demon host. I guess the Devil just needed formal consent. The ink bled into the sales slip—my soul for one point eighty-six ounces of chocolate and caramel.
By the time Mike and I made it back to the apartment, the sun had completely dipped below the horizon. The streets were close to barren, and except for the hum from the rusted stereo, the late evening brought a pregnant silence. I sat on the floor smoothing out a roll of tinfoil.
“Is there anything you want?” Mike dug through his backpack as he spoke.
“What?” I asked.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he continued to rummage through his bag. I stuck another dab of narcotic to the foil and lit it until it bubbled into a dried out shell.
A rope of saliva clung around the corner of my mouth, drooling against the fitted sheet of my mattress. The room was gray. Monochrome. My fingers crept around the mattress, feeling for a pipe, tinfoil, baggies, anything, even a cigarette. All they found was the empty BIC lighter. White as bone. My stomach roiled and I clenched my knuckles around it.
“Mike?” I called. “You out there?”
I needed a hit, but he didn’t respond. Pulling myself to my knees and eventually my feet, I made it to the living room. His stuff was there, still laid out against the couch, but he was gone. “Mike?” I called again. The stereo crackled. A soft acoustic guitar slithered through, playing the same untuned notes in perpetual melody. Everything else was silent.
What happened last night?
Rain drizzled against the window. I stumbled over and pressed my forehead to the foggy glass. Water collected in the street, streaming down the curb and sweeping up small pieces of forgotten trash as it went. From five stories up, the gray grid of city streets presented itself. Naked and bare. A single car drove past, splashing garbage onto the sidewalk, and someone stumbled along beneath the narrow coverage of a building. Everyone else was gone.
My stomach growled and rearranged itself, bringing me to my knees. I needed that hit. The carpet scratched against my knees as I crawled over to Mike’s belongings. There had to be something left. I searched through loose pieces of tin foil for anything that had yet to be burnt away. A streak of gloss-brown finally caught the light. Without hesitation, I flicked the faded lighter on and inhaled.
The goosebumps came, but clarity didn’t. Sordid thoughts continued to pour freely through my head. Congratulations, you’re alone. You finally did it. Everyone you’ve ever loved is gone. I found another glob of narcotic hidden beneath a book. You know, this is no one’s fault but your own. The smoke crawled into the lining of my lungs and was routed into my blood stream. And…it’s the end of the road. No second chances. This is eternity.
Aluminum piled at my knees. One after the other. It was no use. My thoughts had full control. I couldn’t dam them away anymore. I was alone, stuck in this nightmare I built myself. Nothing could save me. Even the drugs had stopped working. I sparked the ghost-white lighter and picked up the next piece of foil anyway.
The End.
Nice work, Matt. I love the repetition of "A rope of saliva clung..." and the fading lighter. I love the pang that last line leaves. Had a really good time reading this series. Thanks for sharing. Write on!