she was 28. wonderful. she gets in. i ask her how shes doing and she says fine with a sigh
so i look at waze and say, you have 16 minutes. lets hear it.
pisces. alcoholic, almost always bad relationships. so sweet. good clothes. way into fentanyl.
what kind of high is it?
she couldnt say.
for the first year, i got sick. every time.
why would you do something for a year that made you sick? i asked.
she couldnt say.
picked her up in encino. we were going to universal. i coulda taken the freeway but ventura blvd was just as slow, so i kept on it thinking about how there used to be a tower outlet over there, moby disc over there…
tell me about your first time doing it, i said.
my boyfriend blew it into my face. i barely inhaled. i was scared. but after a while i let it in.
what was it like?
it was good then it was bad. then i got sick. but it was like, i had been dope sick, like i had been taking it for years.
i asked, isnt it scary because you could OD over the smallest amount?
she said, i have six cans of narcan at all times because one time i blacked out and my boyfriend used two cans of narcan on me but it didn’t bring me back to life. he freaked out, tearing the apartment apart looking for another can and finally found one.
he said my lips were losing color. the third one worked.
did you see a light at the end of the tunnel? did you see god? heaven?
i saw nothing, she said.
so when you come back from death, how do you feel?
she said, the problem with narcan and fentanyl is that narcan blocks all the nice parts of opiates, so you’re immediately withdrawing and fentanyl withdrawals ARE THE WORST.
i have kicked everything. ive been doing this for 10 years. fent withdrawls, you want to rip off your own skin.
i asked, so should people duct tape a joint to their narcan to help ease the come down?
you know that might be a good idea. or a beer.
or she said
a hug.