This Side Up - Chapter III

This Side Up - Chapter III

Delilah wolfed down her food like a vacuum, and I watched as I poked at my remaining onion rings with a fork. The restaurant was dimly lit, Beelz, Shotty, B and Bytez making a commotion in another booth up a small flight of stairs. Smells of all sorts of food permeated the air, and the scents were almost sickeningly thick. Delilah didn’t seem to mind though, I noticed, as she continued hoovering her fettuccine alfredo. I just smiled and enjoyed her company.
Ah, and then there was a huge commotion over at the table of freaks upstairs, they ended up being escorted out by policemen. Delilah and I wondered where they were being taken to, but we figured that it was probably nothing big. We had a deep conversation that night, which would lead to even more interesting things. As I remember it …
“So you gonna tell me what’s wrong now, or what, RJ?” Her voice would give one the idea that she was being serious, but the corners of her lips were pulled up into a small grin.
“Well,” I murmured quietly, “Where do I begin?” I played with one of my earrings -- a gift from my older sister who lived in the northern parts of NJ -- both diamonds about the size of the round bits of an iPod’s ear bud.
“What about … the last few nights,” she inquired quietly, looking around. It was near closing time, so the place was pretty much emptying out. “How’ve those been?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, “Same as usual,” I stated softly, furrowing my brows. I couldn’t look at her, simply for the fact that I knew she’d see all of my emotions in my eyes. That would be a lot of emotions to see. And there were more to come. “Mom gets drunk, tries to fight me, I hurt her without meaning to, she threatens to call the cops and passes out. Nothing new.” Something struck me as soon as I said that latter bit. “My dad sent a letter.” I looked up to find Delilah just about choking on her coffee.
“What?! I thought you hadn’t seen him since you were seven!” Her eyes widened, but then her brows furrowed. “That’s fuckin’ shady shit, man. Do you even know where the letter is from?”
“Yeah. Not for twelve years … and yeah, I do. I can show you the letter if we make a stop at my house,” I stated simply, looking down again. Even thinking about all of that made me want to cry. I could feel my lower lip trembling. Looking at her for a moment, I gave a weak smile. She looked so beautiful in the dim light of the restaurant. Especially considering she was wearing my jacket.

* * * * *

Music blared out the windows of my hatchback, and we pulled up to the small lot of the deli after having picked up some stuff at my trailer. Delilah stepped out and leaned against the passenger’s side of the car. A man, of regular height and more-than-regular weight, walked towards her after exiting his car. Oh, how that car could kick mine’s ass. It was simple, but nice: a black Escalade. They shook hands as they began to converse, and after about thirty minutes, the small talk would die down. A mumbled argument would be heard outside the car, and in the end, the man walked away, quite obviously not pleased with how the situation turned out.
“Peace, man,” Delilah called as she opened the car door, getting in and quickly closing the door. “Drive to my house,” she murmured softly, a huge grin on her face. I now realized what she’d done, smiling as well, peeled out of the parking lot and sped down the highway.
Techno blasted from the speakers as we drove but a few minutes down the road, took a few turns and ended up in one of the most beat places in Newark. The neighborhood was a real downer, all of the houses decrepit like the living dead or something close to it. I pulled in the driveway and pulled the keys form the ignition. And we sat, not saying a word to one another. I looked at her; she looked back at me. I smiled, and she gave a small grin in return.
Sitting there, I thought about what the night would be like. Something blissful and fun, like being nine years old and on a sugar high. I’d find a new meaning to that phrase when we entered the ramshackle house.
After exiting the car, I’d wait for Delilah and hold the front door open for her. She found her way to her room and I found my way to the fridge. I looked through it, finding a case of beer. Taking two, I walked over to her room and quirked a brow at what she was doing.
Recognizing her school ID from 2006, I sat down -- oblivious to what sit on the floor on top of a black box -- I made a comment about how pretty she looked. The bedroom was interesting, blackout curtains covering the one window. A couch sit on one side of the room, a chair in the corner, and a bed on the opposite side. Purple sheets covered the bed, as well as white pillowcases with orange and purple plaid patterned on them. The floor was old wood, a fluffy dark purple rug which matched the sheets sitting in the middle of the room.
And when she picked up half of a straw did I look and realize what she was doing. “Shit, girl! The fuck are you doing,” I snapped. I was bugging the fuck out. Not once in my life would I have ever thought she did more than smoke up and drink. I guess I was pretty sheltered from drugs, considering the area we lived in.
Delilah looked at me, frowning a little. “Coke,” she replied rather seriously, mimicking my statement from earlier that day.
I furrowed my brow, “Not funny.”
“It’s not as bad as you think,” she murmured quietly. Looking awfully hurt, she put the straw down and stared at her socks, shoes having been thrown across the room. I heaved a deep sigh -- I was being a real fucking buzz kill. I figured I could trust her, and at least I could keep an eye on her if I was here.
“You got any weed,” I asked with another sigh, handing her the straw back. “I don’t wanna touch this shit.” I stared at the white powder, it was like powdered sugar.
“No. But this really isn’t all that bad, RJ. Taste it, see if you want more.” She smiled, sticking her finger in the white powder and offering it to me. Opening my mouth, I quirked a brow. Feeling the gentle sensation of her finger rubbing against my gums, I felt my cheeks burning up again. Delilah pulled her finger back, wiping my spit on her pants. My tongue ran over my gums … I didn’t like the taste. And I really didn’t want more. “So?”
“Eh. It don’t taste real good,” I stated simply, grimacing.
“You get used to it. But do you want more?” She grinned a little bigger, eyebrows raising. At this point, I got what she was hinting at. I forced a small smirk.
“Nope.” And with that said and done, she’d bend down to the box’s level -- I could see lines of the bitter powder already lined up -- and snort away. After doing three simultaneous lines, she handed the straw to me. I bet I looked dumbfounded.
“You want me to?” I looked at her piously. Anything to make her happy, I supposed.
“I want you to at least try it,” Delilah would say in almost a frightened whisper. Looking down at the coke, I frowned slightly. Looking up at Delilah, I couldn’t help but smile.
“So what do I do? Just … breathe in?” I bent down, placing the straw at the end of the line. It wasn’t too thick, but it was immensely long. I’ll admit it, I was scared then. Delilah nodded in reply, so … there went nothing. I pulled up, seething. That shit hurt! I felt nothing, though. Looking at her curiously, she’d shrug.
“It takes a few minutes to work. Do four more, you’ll feel good.” So, there went four more. I’d heard all the rumors about models doing coke and speed to keep them skinny, but I never believed it actually did that. Thinking of it now … I understood it. Delilah was so thin, she was so frail … I felt a pang of hurt burst through my heart like an arrow through an apple. I’d heard of so many people overdosing on cocaine … I couldn’t imagine it happening to Delilah. I didn’t want it to. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I simply sniffed them back -- getting a good amount of a coke/snot mixture down my throat -- and coughed for about a minute straight. “You’ll be okay, it still does that to me sometimes,” she stated, looking awfully serious. Of course, she didn’t sound so serious when she was sniffling up a storm. It was kind of funny to hear, I hate to admit.
“Alright,” I replied quietly, sniffing back more tears and coughing a little more. A million thoughts raced through my mind, until I finally came to a sickening conclusion. However long Delilah had been snorting, she knew what she was doing. All I could do now was put my trust in her as she lined up another little bit of the half-filled sandwich baggie she’d bought. And I did trust her. I put the straw to the end of the line, and followed it as if it were going to be my path to happiness … and as far as I was concerned, it would have to do.

* * * * *

Her bed was comfortable. My legs bounced up and down, and I watched them anxiously. “So is this how I’m supposed to feel,” I asked quickly, sniffling what I hoped would be the last bit of that disgusting powder back down my throat. Looking at her, my eyebrows raised a little in confusion.
Delilah quirked a brow. She lay down next to where I sat, scribbling away in a sketchbook. “If you feel good, yes. If you feel shitty, no,” she said, laughing. And I noticed as she smiled -- maybe it was just a mixture of me being high and a hopeless romantic -- that there was something more to it. I wondered, perhaps, if I had that same look when I smiled at her.
“I feel … I dunno. I feel madd hyper,” I laughed, “I feel like I just smoked anti-weed. Instead of making me a fat, lazy fucker, I’m so …” I shook my head furiously, grinning. Delilah laughed, those green eyes set intently on me, then on the notebook.
“You know, I lied.” My heart dropped. What did she lie about? Was I going to overdose or something? Oh please God, I thought, please, no. Holding back screams of anger and pleas for my life, I simply frowned a little as she reached behind her pillow. She’d give a wide grin, producing a small baggie with white playboy bunnies all over it. My jaw dropped a little, and I shot her a playfully angered look.
“Nice one, fuck ass,” I lay down, my legs still bouncing.
“You got a piece, RJ?”
I shook my head, “Naw, girly. I ain’t got shit on me.” She chewed on her bottom lip for a little while, then left the room for a few minutes.
It was so weird, I couldn’t believe what was going on. It was like I was in a dream or something, it was just absolutely nuts. The night was not nearly over as Delilah came back in with a makeshift piece: a pill bottle with foil with slits in it in the top hole, a cross cut into the side to put the base of a ballpoint pen in, all taped up to come up with a makeshift bowl. I smiled at her; I remembered showing her that trick. She gave me the “bowl” to pack the sticky in, then handed me a lighter.
“Happy smoking.”
“Hella happy,” I chuckled, lighting up. Oh shit, after three hits of that shit I was gone. Delilah and I smoked the whole gram though, and by the end of it …

* * * * *

“Holy shit, I’m madd fuckin’ stoned …” I laughed, “I feel like a brick is going through my fucking head … I’ve never felt so good in my life.” I plopped down on the bed next to Delilah, staring up at the top bunk. She simply smiled, turning on her side to look at me, chin in palm.
“I told you it wouldn’t be beat,” she mused, curling up even closer. She simply … looked at me. I knew what she wanted. I scooted a bit closer, and she rest her head on my chest, an arm wrapped around my upper body. My one arm wrapped around her waist. Delilah smiled, closing her eyes. I let my hand wander upwards to play with her hair, and we began to talk a little.
“You know, I want to re-dye my hair black,” she slurred ever-so-quietly. I could feel her breath going through the thin fabric of my still damp shirt. And I bet she could’ve heard my heartbeat going a million miles per hour.
“I think it would look nice,” I replied softly, letting my lips brush along her forehead and then rest there. I felt her mouth contort into a smile against me.
“You’re madd comfy,” she yawned as I gently ran my fingers through those long locks of hair.
“Am I really, now?” I laughed a little, eyes opening to look down at her. Not another word came out of her mouth for the next … I don’t know how long, but I was just laying there, watching the beauty sleep until I passed out as well.