I park across the street and cut the engine,but I don’t get out of the car right away. I need to mentallyprepare myself for what’s inside. I’ve never known a full-fledgeddrug addict. I’ve known people who do drugs, but this here, is on awhole nother level.
I can’t stop myself from picturing Ryan,sitting alone in a concrete jail cell with his entire future on theline while Sean roams around free; insolent and blameless.
It’s eating me alive.
I finally get out of the car wishing I wasarmed with a fully loaded semi as I walk up to the decaying house,climb the front steps then knock on the door; timidly at first,then a little harder. I wait, and then knock again, the dried paintcrumbling under my knuckles. Finally, the door cracks open and Icatch a glimpse of a man with a thick beard and grungy clothes.
“What?” he croaks.
“I’m looking for Sean Pierce,” I say with ashaky voice.
“Who?”
“Sean Pierce,” I enunciate.
The strung out guy eyes me over, “You lookingto score?”
My heartbeat ceases to exist.
“Yes, a friend told me where I could findhim.”
There are so many pretenses in thatsentence.
The door swings open, and I hesitate for asplit second before I walk in. I’m so jittery I must have convincedhim I needed a fix.
The inside of the house is disgusting;garbage is littered all over the floor, dingy people are lying ondirty blankets and filthy pillows, and it smells like burnt hair.As I walk cautiously through the living room, everyone gawks at mewith vacant eyes; phantom beings who look like the life has beenwrung right out of them. I wrap my arms around myself as I followgrungy beard guy through the house. He stops in a doorway adjacentto the kitchen. “He’s all yours,” he says, then shuffles away.
This whole experience seems surreal; aghostly dream stemming from a deep dark reality.
I walk through the entryway and nearly pukefrom what I find. Sean is passed out on a soiled mattress. His faceis sucked out and his body is thin. He looks almost dead. I inchslowly into the ice cold room and stand over him. I don’tunderstand it. Addiction. The pull or the control, the want or theneed. I don’t understand how this beautiful boy can be laying thereso far gone and still look as innocent as a child. Staring at Sean,I think about what he said at Culture, how he’s afraid Ryan willend up like him. An addict? Or just hopeless and alone. Seeing himnow, I’m sure I’d die before I let Ryan, or anyone else I loved,end up like this.
I also realize Sean’s not insolent orblameless, he’s trapped. And it whisks a welter of emotions insideme.
I don’t know how long I wait; minutes, hours,days maybe for Sean to wake up, and just when I can no longer takethe frigid temperature or the heartrending scene in front of me, hestirs. He moans softly as he shifts and moves, like he’s trying toremember how to use his limbs. I just stand there statically,watching him come back to life. Finally, he opens his eyes andtakes in a deep breath. He looks around a little disoriented, likehe’s not sure where he is, then his eyes fall on me. They’rebloodshot and hollow and have purple rings around them.
“Alana?” he croaks, staring at me vacantly,trying to decipher if I’m a mirage or truly flesh and blood.
“Sean?” I answer. My body goes numb, and ithas nothing to do with the temperature in the room. He looks like ablood starved vampire.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks,the question rippling with so many emotions; fear, concern, terror,dread.
“You need to come with me,” I tell him, notwasting any time with small talk.
“For what?” He gets to his feet andstraightens his sweatshirt, pulls up his baggy pants, then yankshis hood over his head.
“Don’t play dumb. Ryan’s in jail, theyrejected his deal.”
Sean paces the small room like a caged cat.Back and forth and back and forth, agitated and uptight. “I can’tAlana, I’m sorry.”
I step towards him cautiously, “Sean, listento me. Ryan needs you-”
“No, Alana,” he snaps his head up and I seeso much sorrow in his eyes.
“Sean, don’t abandon him,” I plead earnestly;careful not to spook him, “he’s already given up his future foryou, now you’re asking him to give up his life.”
Sean takes one, slow, tentative step towardsthe door. “I’m so sorry, Alana,” he says with such intense grief,it strikes my chest like lightening, shattering my heart.
“Sean-” I say trembling, circling aroundhim.