He Told Me To Walk This Way

Breakthrough

The next morning I went back to my mother’s house, with Steven, and packed up the things I’d need at his apartment. I brought the clothes I wore most often and a few of my favorite things. My mother had been very apologetic and even tried to make up with Steven. I knew that she was only being so polite because she wanted me to change my mind about moving in with Steven.

Two months of living with Steven passed before we had a single argument. We were happy and spent a lot of time together, despite Steven’s busy career. But, really, I should have seen it coming because of how messed up I was letting myself get on the drugs Steven brought into our apartment. There were things I’d never heard of like ecstasy, tuinals and Quaaludes. When he brought heroine to me I was shocked. “Homeless people and hookers shoot up heroine!” I remember saying. But somehow, through all of the money that was spent on drugs, all the time that was spent taking them, I never thought things would go downhill so quickly and abruptly. But they did. I had only spoken to Angela once since she and Joe went out that night. I hadn’t spoken to my mother at all and I went to Aerosmith rehearsals and shows less and less. Days faded into nights without me realizing that I was staying awake for days on end. I was pretty much a zombie.

I woke up on a Saturday morning, afternoon I should say, with a hangover. My head felt like it was about to explode and I could barely open my eyes. The sunlight that poured in through the black curtains shot a wave of pain through my already aching head. I tried to get out of the bed; when I stood up it took all of my strength not to fall down. But finally, I made it to the bathroom, where I spent the next ten minutes puking. When I was done, I turned around to see Steven standing in the doorway. He looked like he was in just as much pain as I had been in. “You sick?” He mumbled.

“Yeah” I said, surprised that I was capable of speaking.

He walked in after I stood up and looked in the mirror. I had watery eyes with dark circles under them and my cheeks were sunken in. My skin tone was a sickly gray and I felt clammy. “You look like hell.” Steven said, his words sounding a little more normal.

“Thank you.”

“Not my fault.” He said, leaving the room.

I went to the bedroom to get dressed. The room was littered with empty beer bottles, a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels, and cigarette butts. A needle still sat on the nightstand from when Steven had shot up last night, the mirror I used for the cocaine next to it. After I dressed I went into the kitchen where Steven was looking in the refrigerator; he got a carton of milk and started drinking it. “Hungry?” He asked.

“Not really. My stomach’s all messed up.” I said.

He put the carton on the countertop. “Yeah, mine too.” The rest of the day went on like this, kind of in slow motion, boring. Until three o’clock.

“Gin! Where’s the pills?” I heard Steven yelling from the bathroom, followed by a crash. He had most likely just shoved everything out of the medicine cabinet. I was sitting on the couch watching a rerun of Wheel of Fortune.

“I don’t know! You had ‘em!” I replied, annoyed by his sudden interruption.

He came storming into the living room and turned off the TV. “You had them last night. Where the fuck are they?”

“I don’t remember shit from last night, but I did not have them. Go look in your fuckin’ room.” I said, turning the TV back on.

“I already looked in my fuckin’ room!”

“Well leave me the hell alone. Go cop some more motherfuckin’ pills if you want ‘em so god damn bad. Go cop ‘em yourself instead of makin’ me go out and get ‘em for your ass every day. Why don’t you do that?” I shouted.