Crank - 01 (18 page)

proved more problematic, unless

you went straight to the source.

Even then, things were iffy.

(Stoners aren’t the most reliable people.

Even they would have to agree.)

Fronting years of hoarded

allowances and birthday gifts

sometimes resulted

in disappointing returns.

And my bank account

was dwindling fast.

Problem Number Four: Feeling Good

The biggest problem of all.

You know how riding real fast

in a car

or a spectacular takeoff

in a jet

gives you an awesome rush of adrenaline?

You know how spotting an eagle

cruising low over

the treetops,

or watching a baby finally master

the try-try-again

of walking makes you glow all over?

You know how singing a beautiful song

with dead-on pitch,

or getting every test answer right,

including the extra credit

brainteaser,

makes you feel like you could take on the world?

You know how waking up to perfect skies,

enough sunshine to warm you, not

enough to bake you,

or watching a silent fall of quarter-sized

snowflakes

gives you delicious shivers of pleasure?

Somewhere on my stroll

with the monster,

I’d lost these things.

Feeling Good

became a matter of scale.

One to ten,

“ten” being one step shy

of shredding the time-space continuum,

“one” being ten steps shy

of dropping flat in my tracks.

Every increment

required meth or more meth.

I didn’t have to go all

the way up, but up,

I did need to go.

After a while, even high,

I could almost

make believe food

didn’t taste like cardboard,

almost float

down into REM sleep,

almost function

the next day,

almost look forward to my

almost 17
^th
birthday.

I Would Celebrate Several Ways

One      with my family. My mid-October

              birthday always meant a

trip         to San Francisco to play tourist

              on Fisherman’s Wharf, scarf

too         much seafood, shop Ghiradelli Square,

               and visit my grandma—to see just how

far          she had slipped away toward

               the underworld of dementia.

We         went down the weekend before and it

               was just as I imagined. I knew things

had         taken a turn for the worse when Grandma

               stood up in church and yelled, “I have

to go       to the bathroom!” Flying relatively high on

                the monster, I laughed like a lunatic all the way

home.      Which made Mom mad and made me wonder:

                
Does insanity swim in our gene pool?

In One of Her Better Moments

Grandma drew me aside,

put one finger to creviced

lips and whispered,

Kristina, dear, I’ve got something

here I want you to have.

One tentative hand stretched

toward mine. Grandma’s eyes

sparkled, glass under rain.

My grandmother gave this to me

on my own 17
^th
birthday.

It was a beautiful gold locket—24

karat, with an inlay of diamonds.

But the real treasure was inside.

That’s my wedding picture, there.

And my grandmother’s, there.

Both women wore ivory lace,

simplicity made lovely with a spray

of yellow roses—and my locket.

I ask only one thing. Please pass

it on to your own granddaughter?

“Of course, Grandma. Thank you!”

It felt like wealth around my neck—

a wealth of love.

Celebration Two

My birthday fell on Friday night.

After dinner Mom broke out the cake

and presents—cool velour jeans from

Leigh, matching sweater from Jake,

diamond studs from Mom and Scott.

            Hope you like them.

“I love them. Thanks, Mom.”

What wasn’t to like? I went to look

in the mirror. The stones magnified

the pale bathroom light, like my growing

guilt. Mom came in behind me.

            
I wanted you to have

            
something special.

I watched her in the mirror.

She reached out, as if to touch me,

withdrew instead. Maybe if she had

followed through, everything that

came after wouldn’t have.

            
I feel like I’ve lost

            
you, Kristina. I guess

            
it had to happen

            
sometime. It’s as much

            
my fault as yours.

It was a stunning confession.

And probably not completely accurate.

Yes, she had distanced herself through

work and stretching her affection. But

the monster was a mightier intruder.

            
Please be careful.

            
I’m worried that

            
you’ve made some

            
bad choices. Don’t

            
let them go from

            
bad to worse.

Half of Me

wanted to whine.

Wanted to rage.

Wanted to get right up

into her face and shout,

“What about
your
bad choices, Mom?

Have you ever once stopped to consider

how they not only created me,

but helped mold me

into the not-so-fine,

not-so-upstanding,

old-beyond-her-years,

not-exactly-a-lady

standing in front of you?”

The other half

told me to shut up,

told me to smile,

told me to find a hint

of contrition and agree,

“You’re right, Mom, some of my choices

haven’t been the best lately.

I promise to try harder to do the right

things, and make you proud of me.”

Considering I had made plans

with Chase for celebration number three,

plans that might very well test

just how bad my choices had become,

guess which half won.

Let’s Just Say I Got to Go

Chase picked me up for my Big Day.

He actually knocked, went
mano a

mano with
Mom and Scott.

Evening. So nice to finally meet

you. Kristina has told me so

many good things a bout you.

Oh, that boy was a player! Scott

shook his hand, invited him inside

and Mom thawed her frozen glare.

Don’t worry about a thing. The

concert may run late, but we’ll be

back before we turn into pumpkins!

We didn’t have a concert in mind,

of course. Chase’s mom was out of town.

He had a special party planned.

I got the E. It’s critical—pure MDMA,

the real deal. But you don’t have to try

it if you don’t want to.

Speed, with a hint of psychedelia?

Going primeval, no fear, no pain?

“I want to do everything with you.”

Cool. ’Cause I want you to go

all the way to heaven.

And I want to take you there.

We got to his house hours before the

others would arrive. (Parents gone?

Stoner grapevine buzzes overtime.)

Let’s drop the E right now.

I want you to peak while it’s

just you and me.

I had no idea what to expect.

It took an hour to come

on and discover a new universe.

Ecstasy Is Hard to Describe

Chase Was Right There

riveted to my side

as I laughed,

as I cried.

Finally, he kissed me,

and it was just as fine

as any kiss

could ever be.

Tender.

Blossoming.

Passionate.

Intense.

Only on E, it was more.

It was like opening

myself up as wide as

I could go, inviting him inside.

He crawled right in, filled me

with love so close to perfect,

I asked him to pick me up,

carry me off into his bed.

He did.

Chase Wagner,

the most beautiful man

in the whole wide world

(despite what the rest of the world

could see),

showed me exactly how

making love should be.

I Was Aglow

at the first knock.

Soon the house filled

with friends,

with acquaintances,

with complete strangers.

I wanted to get to know

each and every one.

I wanted them all to know

everything about me:

my intellect,

my beauty,

my righteousness.

Maybe you have to have been

there (or to a rave) to relate.

I had accessed my innermost

recesses. I needed

to explore,

to expand,

to excavate.

The most incredible place I’d

ever been was right inside of me.

If I left, I might never find

it again, and so I refused

to sink down,

to close the door,

to rebuild the wall.

When someone offered a second dose

of birthday E, I said, “Absolutely.”

And when someone broke

out the crank, I was ready

to snort up,

to smoke up,

to shoot up.

I should have been scared to death.

But ecstasy dissolves all fear.

Unforgettable Birthdays

aren’t easy to come by.

Do you remember

your 4
^th
? Your 12
^th
?

To my 90
^th
birthday,

I will never forget my 17
^th
.

If you
do
remember

them, why?

It was a day of firsts: giving

myself willingly to ecstasy.

To a man. A needle.

Presents? Surprises?

Firsts?

It didn’t hurt, not at all.

The sting was rather

pleasant, like excising

an ingrown toenail.

Or did pain define

those memorable days?

Now take the rush of

snorting, multiply by

100, you get smoking.

To find mainlining, you

approach infinity.

Have you ever once in your life

reached out to touch infinity?

Elevation

Oh, but a whole lot more. They say people

who die from ecstasy die from overheating.

Adding speed to the mix accelerates the process

because it makes you want to dance until the sun comes up.

The music made me dance. It entered my brain,

firing spark plugs and pistons. It revved me to my feet.

The crank was jet fuel, pumping through my veins, propulsion.

I shifted into overdrive, motor heating steadily.

I danced with guys, I danced with girls, hotter, closer,

melting together like candles in a south-facing window.