FENTANYL
Category: Poems

tw: suicide references

FENTANYL

(Car underwater)

Disturbed, I felt a piece of myself die. A little cloud flew out of her mouth like a put-out flame and she took a hit. She put the cart down on the carpet, looking straight into my eyes. 

And I wasn’t even there.

The party had lasted for what seemed like hours. The Bronx didn’t have much space for people like us, so we moved down to Bedstock where we could get beat up without begging for it. I liked rolling with my group-- they liked to wear big shoes, laugh at Pakistani guys in Bodegas. They made me feel so safe. Kept me on my toes all the time, but I loved staying sharp. At least back then. Junior year was dead and gone. It was the last school night. We dressed up in school uniforms, and the day before, we soaked all of our shirts and sweaters in dye.

I came to class the next day, late and high as my horse, with a pink uniform. I wasn’t there.

The moment that the bell rang us free, we forgot about our senior year even existing.

Good times. I used to get faded every weekend. I saved weed for my friends and sold fake magic mushrooms to my coworkers at Jamba Juice. I made money and I spent it. I loved the cycle, too. Rode my bike everywhere.

That Thursday, when school got out, we met at Aree’s apartment, which was downtown. I don’t remember where his parents were, but it was 15 high school kids crammed into couches, and on floors and on beds. They clung to the walls like picture frames. Cloudy. He turned the lights down, too. In the dark, we had no fear. I pulled my sweater sleeves over my hands. My friends were talking around me,

“Yeah, but only Simone remembers that sh*t,” Declan peered through my soul. He looked right through me. I wasn’t even there

When I used to zone out all the time, my friends thought I was really baked. And I usually was. But I was always thinking about something else, like I was trying to remember something that went missing a long time ago. I looked up again to see three of my friends semi-circled around the wall I was on. I didn’t even remember how we got there. I looked across the room to see a girl wearing a burka and felt a pang of fear.

“They don’t even have derby in England, Declan.”

“I just feel like it’s kind of a weird sport in general,” Declan haphazardly spilt a drop of beer on the floor. Emily approached.

“Do you guys wanna smoke?” and then we did. We moved to the bedroom where a few others awaited us. Smoke scene. Hatred.

Ethan sat next to me in the huddle on the floor. I sat in front of Emily, the girl with the most beautiful curly hair the world couldn’t even grasp with its fingertips. The blunt went around and around. The circle was girl girl girl girl boy girl boy boy boy. The girls passed it gingerly, rolled all ugly and flicked with a lighter. Burning red. They consumed generously. Ethan sucked on it, then passed it to Luke, skipping me. Luke passed it to Josh and then Josh passed it to Aree. Aree started it again, made sure his lips touched the end so the girls could kiss him, even indirectly. They passed passed passed. Until it got to Ethan. Ethan skipped me. Passed it straight to Luke, like I wasn’t even there.

“Hey, Ethan,” I tapped him on the leg with my foot. “What the f*** is your problem?”

He stood up and examined the bookshelf. I wasn’t even there.

“Ethan,” I said again and walked up behind him. Everyone was laughing at their own private metaphors. “Ethan?” He got tired of the books and sat back down on the floor, next to one of the girls and started chatting her up. Laughing, giggling.

I felt like a crease. 

SO, I opened the door in the hall and stepped in the bathroom. I turned on the moldy yellow light to illuminate my shallow face, caked with dew and dribbling black makeup. 

I examined my surroundings.

I found a neon orange bottle in the cabinet labeled Fentanyl Citrate. I knew Aree’s dad used to have cancer, took painkillers to deal with his pain. I had pain, too.

I took some.