On To the Next City

KNOCK KNOCK

The loud noise at my door startled me. My eyes shot open. The golden light of the setting sun came through my window and washed my room. I look over at the clock on my night stand.

“5:47pm. Damn, how long have I been asleep? I need to get my shit together.” I think to myself as I grab the bottle of whiskey on my night stand, the one I was working on this morning, and swig.

KNOCK KNOCK

Shit, I forgot there was someone at my door. I put on my bath robe.

“Coming!” I yell as I tied the belt around my waist.

KNOCK KNOCK

“Are you fuckin’ deaf? I said I’m coming!” I yell. I remove the chain lock and twisted all three deadbolts.

“What-” I started in a harsh voice, but my anger turned to confusion in an instant. Nobody was at the door.

“-The fuck?” I murmured to myself. I turn around confused and begun to shut the door but a hand stopped it

“Boo!” I turn around faster than I ever thought I could. Standing there, holding in laughter, humongous grin on her face, was Georgina, my best friend. She’s holding a 30 pack of cheap beer, and a bag with two bottles. whiskey for me, and vodka for her.

“I almost killed you, fucker.”

“Bullshit, Jay, you should’ve seen the little bitch face you had on. You gonna let me in?”

I look at her with an annoyed face and turn around, the cheer on her face became less and less hidden. she walks in and kicks the door closed.

"Deadbolts, please!" I shout from the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of whiskey. Another bottle, one that I keep on top of the fridge. I have a bottle of whiskey in every room. Its just easier that way.

“Jay, you don’t need a glass, I’ve seen you swig so many bottles, you’re not fooling anyone.”

“I want to take it slow; I have a headache.”

“It’s called a hangover, stupid.” She chuckles a little

I sit down on my couch with my glass of whiskey, wide spread, everything hanging out. I sleep in the nude (but still with socks on). I haven’t changed yet. Georgina has seen my cock so many times, at this point it doesn’t matter. We dated. Three years, and when she left me to go fuck my brother, I didn’t really care. Yeah, it hurt but what can you do? Its not my life. It wasn’t my choice. I didn’t say “Hey! You know what would be a gut buster? A real fuckin’ knee-slapper? If you go shag my brother! HA! What a jolly good joke! Don’t we just have a time?”

“You can’t put on clothes?” Georgina asks

“What? You date my brother and get scared of my dick?” I respond mockingly.

“Really, James?” She sounds annoyed.

“I’ll be back… I thought it was funny.” I remark standing up. She made a face as if she was mocking my laugh.

As I begin to walk to my room to change, and swig the bottle that’s in there, I noticed her ring finger. There was a ring on there, an engagement ring. What the fuck. Why didn’t Brandon tell me? Is this why she was here? I mean she shows up randomly, a lot, especially since she doesn’t work, but now I’m starting to think this wasn’t just a hangout day. I walked into my room.

I hear her in the kitchen putting the beer away, then opening one. Then silence.

“Cupboard above the fridge!” I shout.

“Oh shit, thank you!... Why did you change the spot?”

“Boredom.”

She grabs a glass, and begins to pour herself lukewarm Sprite. We both hate cold soft drinks. We both also love to taste the alcohol. Nice and warm. Like a hug going down your throat. Nothing like some good ol’ bottled love. We never chilled anything except our beer. I hear the crack of the brand-new bottle of vodka open, and I hear the heavy pour sludge into the Sprite.

“You know you left your other bottle here, right? Its top right, next to the bread.” I shout.

“Shit, I thought you would’ve drinken it by now.” She answered.

“Drunken” I correct her, “and you know I hate vodka, why the fuck would I want to drink hand sanitizer?”

“Must you always correct me? I hate your stupid writers’ brain.” She groans.

I had finally finished getting dressed. Torn skinny jeans, a very oversized Joy Division long sleeve shirt, socks, and shoes. I can’t be dressed without shoes. And I’ll be dammed if I never have socks. Nobody ever sees my feet. Georgina must’ve seen them twice, I think. Even out of the shower the first thing I do is dry my feet and put on socks. Feet disgust me.

We both walk out into the living room at the same time. With a bottle of beer and a glass of vodka sprite in hand, she looks at my shirt, puts her finger on my chest.

“Joy Division” she says mockingly with a grin, looking me in the eyes. She swipes her finger off my chest and turns to continue to my lazy boy. It was an inside joke. We got it from a movie, ‘Lords of Chaos’. After Varg introduced himself to Euronymous, Euronymous pointed to a patch on Vargs jean jacket, and says “Scorpions” mockingly. We’ve been doing it ever since. She loves Joy Division, just as much as I do.

“How have you been?” I ask her, seeing if she’ll say anything about the ring.

“Good” she responds, getting comfortable in my lazy boy. That was- still is- her favorite chair. At least, I think it is. Its seems like it whenever she comes over. This one time I as about to sit in it when she came over and stopped me. Kicked me out of my own lazy boy recliner! What a cunt.

“That’s good.” I take a sip of whiskey after I sit on my couch, adjacent to her. The seats are set up in like in a “L” shape, if that makes sense.

There was a long silence.

“It’s too quiet in here.” I mumble, standing up and walking over to my record collection. After browsing my forty-plus records I finally find a good one.

“David Bowie”

I put Mr. Stardust on my vinyl player and let him spin. I then walk over to the kitchen, grab a cup, and a beer, sit back down on the couch, and make myself a mixture of beer and whisky in the glass.

“So foul.” Georgina says, watching me with disgust as I slam it like there was a wish at the bottom. My wish would’ve been to restart, and no matter how much it pains me, not to meet her.

“You drink plastic-contained vodka and sprite, whatreya, fourteen?” I say after I finish my gulp. She smirks, looks off into nothing and begins to bob her head and sing along to Bowie. I watch her, it felt like time slowed down. Then I realize I’m being creepy, so I get up, went to my room to grab my cigarettes. She already knew where I was going.

I walk through the La Dispute flag that hangs in my doorway, doubling as my door.

“Bring me one!” she shouts from the living room. I put a ciggie in my mouth, and I begin to look for a lighter.

“Where the fuck is my light?” I say softly.

I open my nightstand drawer, thinking at least one would be in there, and then instantly remember why that drawer stays closed. The last picture we took together was staring me in my face. “December 27th, 2020” was written on the bottom of the polaroid. Looking at it now; you can see the melancholy on Georgina’s face. You can also so the blissful ignorance on mine. Fuck, how could I be so stupid.

“I have a lighter!” she yells. I snap out of my lugubrious trance, close the drawer and walk into the living room with my pack.

“Ladies first” she says handing me the light, smiling

“Don’t mind if I do” I say as I grab it from her. She smiled more. Bigger; I love her smile.

The first puff of a cigarette is always the best. It opens your pores and passageways. The instant Nicotine in your system is the most calming thing you’ll ever experience. It makes booze one thousand times better. I lay back onto my couch after the first puff. Her phone begins to ring. It was Brandon. I already knew to cut the music, so I stand up and turn off the player. I walk to the kitchen to get my half-drunken Mickey out of the fridge.

“Hey babe” she says

“Hey babe” I mock. She looks at me menacingly. She wasn’t too happy with that. If looks could kill.

“Yeah, I’m at work, why what’s up?” “Nah, not really, we’ve been getting less and less customers.” “It’ll be fine, I’m sure it’s just seasonal.” “Okay, I’ll try my best. I love you too.”

Her voice. Her fucking voice. Full of cheer and wonder. Excitement and joy. Why can’t I feel that? Why can’t I find the one that makes me sound like that? Fuck. I did, and she’s sitting in my living room, about to marry my brother.

“When are you gonna tell Brandon you lost your job? And speaking of exchanges of goods and services, whatchu got on you?”

She put her hand in her pocket, and digs around, as if it’s Marry Poppin’s briefcase.

“I don’t know… But you better not say shit to him!”

“It's none of my business to tell.” I puff once more, grab my Mickey, and threw myself on my couch.

“I wish I was as neutral towards life as you.”

She throws three bags on the coffee table that separated us. One with cocaine, one with what looks like heroin, and one with pills. A mixture of them, Molly, Xanax, Percocet, Oxy, name it, it’s in there. Pretty sure I saw a fucking Tylenol in there. I get up to go to my room to grab some cash, I come back and hand her a stack of two thousand dollars.

“It's not that fun, everything is dull and grey,” I tell her, “Thank you for your business.”

“Anytime.” She responds, smirking.

I bust open the bag of cocaine. She takes off her jacket, pulls out a razor. I go turn the music back on, then sit back down.

I point at the other bag

“Heroin?”

“Yup” she says then goes in for a line.

“Cool” I go in for a line.

A couple hours passed. Booze and coke, coke and booze, cigarettes, David Bowie, Janis Joplin, Moss Icon. We ripped through the beers; I finished my bottle of whisky I had in my room. The blow was gone, and so was Georgina, mentally at least. Now is my opportunity.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re going to marry my brother? Why didn’t he tell me he was going to propose?” She looks at me with shocked eyes. I just drag my cigarette; I didn’t want to look at her. I stare at the vinyl spinning. I saw her look down at her finger.

“Mother fucker.” She says under her breath.

“Mother Fucker is right, Georgie. What’s the big deal, huh? Scared it was gonna hurt me? I would’ve figured it out. I am his brother; I would end up being the best man.” I say, staying calm, still looking at the vinyl.

“Jay-”

“Don’t ‘Jay’ me. Just tell me the truth. It’s been bugging me.”

“We thought it would be best if you didn’t know. We thought because what happened between us that it would be better to not say anything.” She gets up and sat next to me on the couch.

“Jay-”

“Don’t fucking ‘Jay’ me, Georgina. When is the wedding?”

She stays quiet.

“Hello? Did you already forget the date? It's it all the cocaine in you no-”

“It was last month” she says, interrupting me. I look at her, saying nothing. A mixture of anger and sadness and betrayal, it all washed over me. I can feel my body shaking. I feel my hands clench into a ball. I begin to breathe loudly. I begin to hold back tears, but it wasn’t working. They begin to flow, well, a couple at least. In my shaking voice I ask

“Was my mother there?”

“Yes.”

I grab the empty bottle of whiskey in a rage, stand up and throw it against the wall, it shattered, and the neck of the bottle flew and hit my record player. I heard the needle scratch, then there was no music.

“FUCK!”

“Jay! Jay please!” I can hear she is terrified. It snapped me out of my rage.

She begins to tear up a little

“Jay, come sit down. Let’s talk” she says.

“Get out” I say, still with my back towards her, still in the same spot I threw the bottle from.

“What?”

“Georgina, get the fuck out of my apartment. I love you. I love you so fucking much, you know this. But to cheat on me, with my brother, then go and marry him, without my knowledge? And my only other living family, my mother was there, and I wasn’t? What is your malfunction? What is Brandon’s malfunction?”

I look over at my phone

“Jay please don’t”

“I’m not Jay. My fucking name James.”

I keep looking at it. But I didn’t want to call Brandon. I didn’t want to ruin his happiness. They are both happy together. I wasn’t going to snitch her out asking why they didn’t say shit, saying she's here instead of working because she’s a drug dealer now, and not some nail artist or whateverthefuck. I guess someone in life has to bite the bullet and be unhappy. I guess that person just has to be me. What’s Ying without Yang, ya know?

She looks so scared. I can see her in the corner of my eye, both knees on the floor, her hand cut up, glass must’ve hit it. Her bloody hand is on my coffee table. All this pushed me. Pushed me too far. I know I can’t blame her, or Brandon. I know it wasn’t my fault that she cheated. Or maybe it was. I don’t even want to be with me, why would anyone else want to be? I feel like the bad guy, to show her this side. I never did in the three years; I had all the patience in the world for her. I guess that’s why she betrayed me so hard. I guess that’s why they all did.

“Get out Georgina.” I say calmly

She sniffles, gets up off her knees, and leaves, she left me standing there in an empty, quiet, glass filled room. And I sobbed. Uncontrollably.

“At least I have shoes on.” I think to myself

I delete both hers and Brandon’s numbers shortly after I regained motor function, even though I have both of them memorized, just in case I landed in jail. I grab the unopened bottle of whiskey she brought me.

“A good parting gift, I guess. I’ll keep this bottle next to the picture of us.” I say as I take the first swig. I put Joy Division to play off my laptop speaker. I check the time: 5:44am. I open up an apartment finder. I’ve always wanted to move to Silverton, Colorado, so I begin to look for apartments or rentable housing there.

“On to the next city.” I say to myself, not realizing I slashed my face with glass when a shard flew at me. I only noticed when a drop of blood hit my keyboard. I don’t care. I hope it never stops bleeding.