A New Life (River Phoenix)

1992

"Alright, who orgasmed in here?" River yells over Guns And Roses.

We've finally reached the last day of 1991, and of course, we plan to go out with a bang.

The front desk of the apartment complex is filled with people being sent to the room of "Earl Grey", also known as River Phoenix.

Our living room, as well as bathroom and bedroom, are full to the brim with people diving head first into the New Year.

"I'm serious," River says again, entering the living room with a slight laugh. "Who orgasmed in my room?"

The guests laugh hysterically; completely submerged in feelings accompanied by drugs and booze.

"How do you know anyone was in there?" Matt, a friend of River's, asks.

"Because I can smell that orgasm smell." River explains as he joins me on the couch. Then, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wrapper. "And I don't use condoms."

I take the final sip of my beer and look at him.

"How would you know what that smells like?" I slur.

The room fills with 'oo's and gasps of laughter as River raises his eyebrows to me.

"Oh, good one." He mocks, clearly unamused at my humor.

"That was raw." A random guy laughs.

I send River a sort of drunken smirk as I readjust myself. Then, turn my attention to Erin as she approaches me.

"I'm really hungry." She says, her eyes smaller than usual.

I laugh at her.

"I'm guessing you've never been high before." I say.

She shakes her head and chuckles, holding her face.

"Nope."

From the corner of my eye I see River jump up.

"Let's go eat!" He screams, catching everyone's attention.

"Ah, yeah. That sounds great." Matt says as he picks himself up off the floor.

One by one people rise to their feet and head to the door, stumbling on their way.

"Where to?" A girl asks.

We all ponder the closest restaurant and soon decide on one that was a block or so away, though none of us could remember the name.

-

Our crowd of 20 walk along the street in a drunken huddle.

We keep River secure in the middle to avoid any attention, though I was sure that no one would know it was him even if they were to see him; he hadn't looked the same lately.

Upon arriving to the 24-hour business, we notice that a line stretches through the door and slightly onto the street.

"This must be where everyone goes on New Years." Dirk says, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.

River and I lead the group, hand in hand, to the front desk.

"How many?" The woman asks.

River glances back at our group.

"20." He says.