Brooklyn Baby - The Beginning of Lana Del Rey

Part 17 - How To Disappear

I woke up surrounded by unwashed clothes, empty takeout boxes, and broken beer bottles. It had been a week since I had left my room, aside from a trip to the liquor store. My uncle and aunt had left me alone to wallow in my sadness, but I think they just didn't want to be burdened with triggering an emotional breakdown. They didn't know about my relapse.

My phone rang, piercing my throbbing head. Arthur's name filled the screen. I hit decline.

He had called multiple times since the show at The Living Room, but I had never answered. It's not that I was angry, I was confused, sad. A little betrayed. He was doing drugs because our relationship didn't make him happy enough, or at least that's how I interpreted it.

I didn't know what I would even say if I hit the accept button. But the truth is, I missed him. I missed the smell of his leather jacket, and how I would wear it. I missed holding on for dear life as I rode on the back of his motorcycle over the Brooklyn Bridge. I missed the warmth I felt around him, but now fall was coming. The temperature had gone below 60 for the first time and the trees were losing leaves.

My phone rang again, I pressed decline again without thinking about it.

Maybe I could help him in ways Chuck couldn't help her old boyfriend. To force him to quit, I would have to be around him 24/7. I couldn't do that, it would be too much to handle. But I couldn't just leave him like this, for some reason I felt responsible. I had to at least try.

I pulled up to the trailer park and walked up to my trailer. His trailer, I corrected myself. It was mine, then ours, then his. I held up my knuckles to knock on the door but then hesitated, my hand frozen in the air. In a flash, the door swung open. Arthur stumbled back in surprise. 

"Liz!" he yelped with wide eyes. Sorry, um I was just uh taking out the trash." He lifted a clear garbage bag. I could easily point out a few syringes and empty heroin bags through the sheer material.

"Let me," I said with an empathetic smile. "I'm here to help."

I tidied up the rooms while I made Arthur shower and shave. In the kitchen cupboard, I found his stash. I tossed it in the park dumpster, making sure he could never find it again. When he was all washed up, I helped him fall asleep on the sofa with a Hepburn movie on in the background.

It was night soon and he woke up a few times with drug cravings. I forced water down his throat and made him fall back to sleep.

****

Soon a week had gone by and I hadn't left his side. At night he would wake up vomiting and shaking, but I remained quiet, holding up a bucket. We didn't know how long it would last because it depended on how long one had been using. 

I had gone to the grocery store one afternoon, just to pick up a few grocery essentials. I drove home and thought about my situation. My dreams were gone. Since no one had shown up to the studio, our record label let us go. I didn't even talk to the rest of the members about it, I just accepted the outcome. You can't rely on others to make your own dreams come true. The only person who knew how much I wanted this was me. It sounded so pessimistic, but I wasn't basically telling myself: Trust no one.

When I was back at the trailer, I walked in and put the groceries on the counter. Arthur wasn't in the main room. Maybe he was in the back room.

"Arthur!" I called walking to the back of the trailer. "Hello?"

I saw the light on under the bathroom door, so I tested the doorknob to see if it was locked. It opened right up, the yellow light illuminated the body on the floor. It was Arthur, half-conscious with a needle in his arm. I screamed his name. 

"What're you..." he slurred. "Wait, you're not supposed to see this."

I attempted to pull him up by the side with my arm under his shoulder, but he was too heavy.

"You have to stand okay? You have to try."

Somehow we managed to make it into the car. I stuffed his limp body in the passenger door, searching my pockets for my keys. I didn't know how long he had, I didn't know enough about the effects.

Racing down the crowded streets of New York, I finally circled into the nearest hospital. A nurse aide came racing to our car as I called for help. She helped him into a wheelchair and rolled into the building. I didn't know if I should go inside. 

Without thinking, I got in the car and drove back to my Uncle's house. I ran inside stuffed all of my things into a bag and ran back downstairs. He walked out of the kitchen as I zoomed past him.

"Lizzy? Is that you?" he yelled. I skidded on my heels, turned around, dropping my things, and ran into him with a crushing hug.

"I'm so sorry. I love you. I'll see you soon. Goodbye." I said and ran out before he had a chance to respond.

I got in the car with all of my belongings and drove onto the coastal highway. I didn't know where I was going, or what I was going to do. I believed my whole life that everything would work out, but in this moment, I didn't find that truthful anymore. So with my head to the sun and my inhibitions lost, I stepped on the gas. I didn't want to think, I didn't want to feel. I just wanted to ride.