No More No More

Painkiller

I meandered blindly down the street in the slowly falling snow.  A light powder already covered the sidewalks, roofs and grass.  An ugly slush formed against the curbs from all the traffic.

        I can't make my troubles go away completely, but at least I can keep them at bay for a while.  "What can I do ya for, miss?" the bartender asked with a wink.  He was a large, sweaty, balding man about triple my age (though he didn't act it).

        I plop myself down at a stool, folding my hands atop the greasy counter.  "Make it go away," I muttered to my hands.

        He stares at me for a minute.  "I'm sorry?"

        "The pain," I say, looking up.  "Make it go away."

        "Choose your poison," he says.  Meaning, drugs or booze?

        I nod at a cloudy glass in his hand.  Booze.  He pours me a glass.  The bartender, Pete, was one of our main suppliers (that's why he asked what poison I wanted)––for cheap, too.

        "Ey, Pete!" someone calls across the bar.  Pete was refilling my glass.  Pete set the half-filled glass in front of me and sauntered away.  He hadn't gotten the chance to mix the alcohol with anything yet.  Apparently this guy calling for him is more important than me... Oh well.  It seems like a lot of people are more important than me.  I drain the glass.

        "How we doin', sweetheart?" Pete asks, joining me again.

        "More," I mutter.

        "Are you sure, honey?"  Pete actually looks worried.  He composes himself quickly.  "This stuff ain't gonna help ya much," he mutters, setting a third glass in front of me.  I sip it as he talks.  "There's this great shit––makes it all go away."  I look up, intrigued.  Anything to make this go away.

        "How much?"

        "Well..."  Pete suddenly seems very interested in a fringe dangling off his wrist, hanging off his sleeve.  "It's pretty expensive as far as money goes... But I gotta say: once you do it, there's nothing.  It's the ultimate painkiller.  Comes at a price, though..."  Pete rolls up his long sleeve on his right arm to the middle of is bicep.  From the crease of his elbow down are four purple circles in his skin.  I stare in horror.  He rolls his sleeve back down quickly, glancing around to see if anyone was watching.

        "Is that...?"  He nods.  No way, Annie.  There's no way you're getting involved with that.  From taking prescription painkillers, people might get addicted, then end up getting into bigger and 'better' things... Like heroin.  I can't get involved with that.  It will kill you.  I don't want to die.  At least not now.

        I can't bring myself to take advice from Pete, so I get myself nice and drunk instead.  Four guys sit down next to me, ordering a drink.  The one closest to me, on my right, looks over in surprise.  "Annie!?"

        It seems like people say that a lot to me nowadays.  I focus in on his blurry face.  "Wassup?" I hiccup.

        He sighs, repeating my name in shame.  He looks at his friends.  The one right next to him is tall and blond.  The other two have similar hairstyles.  "Look who it is, guys," Joe says, lighting a cigarette.

        I laugh.  "Yeah, look who it is, guys!" I say cheerily to the people on my other side.  There's no one on my other side.

        Joe pays Pete.  "Let's go, guys," he says.  They had barely gotten to drink anything.  Joe's order was met with multiple groans.  Joe grabs me under my shoulders, holding me up from collapsing.  We go out of the warm bar into the bitterly cold wintry night.  The snow whips around in fury.  "You'll call a cab?" he asks Tom, Joey and Brad.