My alarm clock goes off.
I roll out of bed and check my stash – an old Crown Royal bag from long ago, now full of needles, a spoon, Q-tips, and – if i’m lucky – heroin. i find 3 bags rubber banded together. I managed to save some for the next day… it’s a fucking miracle. I debate myself whether to shower first. fuck it, the high won’t last long enough to matter and i’m gonna get more in an hour anyway.
I open and dump the bags into my spoon, add some water from a glass on my nightstand, mix them together and then suck them up into the syringe. There’s an area of my arm along a vein that isn’t red or raw, so I slide the needle in. Pull the plunger back to register but no blood enters my rig. I missed. I pull out the needle and watch the blood spill out of my arm. That just pisses me off. I try a different spot a little lower. This time my blood swirls in a delicate red spiral through the water full of dope. I sit watching for a second or two, then push it into my vein. It only takes three or four seconds until my eyes begin to roll back into my head and my lids get heavy.
I clean my needle and put everything back in the bag, then slowly get off my bed and walk across the room to hide the bag behind my dresser up against the wall. Grab a cigarette and my lighter and sit at the table out back. I don’t usually nod out, not unless i do a lot or get some really terrific shit – some fire dope. Three bags just doesn’t cut it though, and just as soon as my smoke is done, so is the last bit of euphoria that I got from this fix.
I shower and dress for work. I don’t need to look inside my wallet cuz I know exactly how much is in there. It’s the same every week. The couple days after payday are the good days; later in the week shit starts to run thin. It’s a good thing that I’m tight with this dealer – he will serve me at 7:00 in the morning. Shit, who am I kidding, we aren’t tight… he just knows if he wakes up everyday long enough to meet me outside he’ll be several hundred dollars richer by Friday. Today I’ve got $70, maybe he’ll give me eight bags. Maybe nine if he needs a ride somewhere. I’ll drive him somewhere for a better deal, so long as I can still make it to work CLOSE to the time I’m supposed to be there.
Before I leave the driveway I check the fusebox under my steering wheel. I have a few new needles and a few Q-tips. I’ve also got a bottle of water, so I’m all set. Half way there I call…. no answer. Not good. I wait 5 minutes and call again. Not good at all. I wait an agonizing 2 more minutes… still no answer. I start calling over and over, I’m getting close to the spot. I just shot up, so I won’t get sick for over twelve hours but I start to sweat and my stomach does somersaults. My palms get clammy and the wheel gets wet in my hand. As soon as I give up and toss my phone on the passenger seat it rings. I can swing through.
I pick him up at the spot, he serves me, and then I drop him off a few blocks down. Takes about 2 minutes if we chit chat a little bit. Then I pull over into a shopping center parking lot and mix up a 5-bag shot in the cap of the water bottle. I pull up the sleeves that I’m still wearing way too far into Spring and decide to use the same spot I used earlier this morning. The vein is tough and thick with scar tissue, but i shove it through anyway and hear an audible ‘POP’ then watch as the blood flows up into the syringe to tell me I’ve got the right spot and then it disappears again as I push off. Instead of a warm feeling like a blanket being draped over me I feel the slightest of flutters at the back of my head. I shift into drive and take my foot off the brake. Either this dope sucks or I just won’t get high twice in such a short amount of time. Oh well, it will hold me over – keep me from feeling sick, make me feel normal enough to work today – which at the time seems to me about as good as I can ask for.