missing | gilinsky

51

Heard you're back in town. Sick party down at 87 Lake Street. Free beer and weed, come anytime.

Something in me clicks as I reread every word. Heard you're back in town...party...beer and weed. As much as I hate to admit it, that's exactly what I could use right now. I haven't went to a party or been invited to one ever since I spiraled out of control and lost all my friends besides Sam.

If I went to this who knows, maybe I could get my old life back. I missed drinking and the buzzed feeling, and I really missed getting high. Most of all I missed all my old buddies who made me feel like I was a king.

Back in New York Justin never let any of us go near the drugs that were being passed around unless we were paying customers, he always talked about how it was for the consumers, not the dealers or recruiters. I have no idea what I even was to them. I dealt a couple times but that was it.

Anyway, I haven't smoked anything or drank anything since the last party I went to, and that was forever ago. Taking only a few minutes to make my decision, I text the number back to say I'll be there.

I quickly write out a note saying that I'm meeting up with some old friends and not to worry, posting it on the fridge before walking out of the house. I look for my old bike, finding it propped up against the garage, then start peddling the fastest I've ever went. I couldn't wait to get to this party.

I needed an out and this was it.

    I hear music playing before I even pull my bike into the driveway. Cars are parked all around the block, some even on the front yard. Throwing my bike down on the pavement, I cautiously walk toward the front door.

All of the sudden I start to feel nervous. I have no idea who the hell is going to be at this party or who's even throwing it, and since it's an early one I have no idea what it's going to be like. The only parties I've ever been to have been at night, when it was dark out.

Wiping my sweaty hands on my black basketball shorts I finally make it to the front door. I push it open easily, not surprised it's unlocked. Music instantly floods all around me, it's loud enough to make me wonder how anyone in there still has their hearing.

People are everywhere, red solo cups in hand, cans and bottles as well. A few people have joints between their fingers, sucking and puffing. I take a deep breath, letting the atmosphere consume me.

"Well lookey here. I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't seeing it with my own two eyes," someone says from beside me. I turn to the left to see my old friend Mike, a flood of memories washing over me.

"I should be saying the same to you," I say back, taking him in. He's gotten taller, and buffer. It looks like he hasn't had a haircut in years, and he's got a new tattoo on his shoulder.

He shakes his head, sizing me up like I did to him. "Long time no see, Blondie. How've you been?"

"I've been good, what about you? What've you been up to?"

"Just hanging out, ya'know? Community college and all that jazz."

I nod, eyeing the cup in his hand. "Where can I get a drink?"

"You waste no time." He laughs and motions me to follow him.

I trail close behind as he pushes through people to get to the kitchen. Some look at me, curious, other's don't even notice I'm there.

"Here you go, man," he resounds over the music, handing me a beer can. The speaker is on top of the fridge, making where we are impossible to have a normal conversation.