Postcards From the Edge (9 page)

I wonder if Suzanne realizes … She must miss me. Well, we’ll see each other again. Wait till I submit this script. She’ll come in and read for it and say, “Have I met you somewhere?” Yeah, I’ll surprise her. I’ll surprise everybody.

I shouldn’t have done so much blow. Why did I get this much? There’s so much left … The script. ‘Cause I’m writing a script. I can’t

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POSTCARDS from the EDGE

write in a yellow room. Look at this bedspread … just lie down, put your head down and breathe. That’s right. Breathe, breathe. Everything’s all right.You have friends, you had a girlfriend-she was a bitch but you had a relationship-you have a life, you’re goodlooking, you have a pretty good body … Breathe out, that’s it … You have parents, you’re a writer …

Aah, I feel a little bit better. Maybe I should get into an activity. I’ll chop the rest of the cocaine. I don’t want to do any more of these rocks. That’s probably why I don’t feel well … Maybe just one more hit…

“(sniff) (sniff)”

It’s so light in here, it’s too fucking light. There’s no window in the bathroom. I’ll chop it in there. But I can’t sit in a dark bathroom. I’ll seem insane. Well, who’s gonna see me? I’ll take a bath in the dark. I’ll chop a couple of lines for right after my bath. I’ll have a relaxing hot bath …

There, there, there. My bath is running, I’ve got it going. All right, this is good. This is good. I’ve got a good idea for a script, I’m young, my life is in front of me. Let’s go. All right, we’re chopping it up now, here we go. All right, yeah. Jesus, it’s a lot of blow …

“What? Who is it? No, I don’t want it! I don’t want the bed changed! Don’t! Don’t come in here! Get out of my room!”

I spilled the cocaine! I spilled the cocaine in the tub! I spilled all the blow in the bath!

“Get out!!! Get out! I’m gonna sue this hotel! My watch! I gave away my two-thousand-dollar watch for … Get out! Get the fuck out of my room!!!”

What am I doing?! Get it out of the water! Oh my God, oh my God, the blow’s in the water! ! What do I do? … I’m hysterical. Calm down and shut up. Get a lamp! Dry out the rest that’s in the bag. I’ve got to save it! Three thousand dollars or whatever it cost … Okay. God, turn off the water. What have I done? Okay, okay, be cool. Oh my God, oh my God. The maid! This isn’t happening, this is not true. This could not happen to me … Put the wet coke on the towel, I can dry it under a light. Oh, oh, oh, I’m having a

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heart attack. Oh my God, I’m seeing stars. I’m dead … Put your head down …

“Uhhhh, uhhhhh . . :’

Oh my God, I’ve gotta call a doctor … What do I do? They’ll call the police, the maid’ll call the police ‘cause I yelled so much … I don’t know what to do. I’ve gotta be a man …

I have that gram at home. If I had another couple of hits I could decide what to do … I can’t focus on this, it’s too unreal … They’ll call the police … My parents wouldn’t still be there. I’ll go get that gram … This is a nightmare … Maybe I can get my money back because the cocaine spilled. It wasn’t my fault. I wish they insured drugs … All right, all right, I’m leaving. I’m gonna be calm … Get your shirt on, here we go …

Okay, cool, no maids. Okay, here’s the elevator. Fuck, there’s people on it. Okay, keep your head down and breathe. They’re laughing at me. Oh my God. How did this happen to me?

“What do you mean, `How’s the weather in Miami?’ I don’t know anything about Miami:’

How could they talk to me? Look at them, all perfect and dressed and going to jobs. I’ll never have a life. I’m an animal. I’m an animal. 1 have a drug problem. Maybe I … Oh, no. Oh, no. I can’t get off the elevator. They’re like the New Christy Minstrels and I’m this devil from outer space. I’m nothing … Oh, Jesus, Jesus, I’ve got to go back to my room and think. I’m in trouble. This is big trouble now … I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t have any kind of a grasp … What am I doing? It’s like I’m killing myself …

I’ve gotta call someone. My nose is bleeding. I’ve gotta get someone … What am I doing here? What have I been doing? I got half an ounce of cocaine and checked into a hotel. What am I thinking? … My arm is numb … I have no taste in my mouth … I’m sick, I’m sick … I can’t call Stan. I can’t let him know … Know what? …

So maybe I can’t … I can’t do drugs. I did too many drugs, I hurt my face with drugs … I’ll call Julie, she was always nice. She was too nice, but she was nice. Maybe I could talk her into not telling anyone about this. I’m so embarrassed … What do I say? Help me,

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I’m a … Oh, Jesus, it’s hard. I don’t feel well, though. I’ve gotta … I’ll just disguise my voice and say I’m a friend of … No, no, I’ll just … Oh, fuck, I’ll just tell them to come and get me. This’ll be what it’s like if I don’t. I’ll be in rooms like this all my life, with drugs that go down the drain and yellow walls and hamburgers that move …

I’ve gotta go where somebody can take care of me. All right, just call. I can go back and they’ll take care of me and then I’ll be okay. Calm down, you’ll be okay … I’m so scared … Just call …

“Uh, yeah, is Julie Marsden there? Uh, hi, Lucille. It’s Alex. No, no, I’m all right. Could, um, could I talk to Julie? Oh. Well, do you have her number? It’s important. Yeah, it’s … Okay, thanks:”

Four-seven-six-two-nine-four-five. Four-seven-six-two-nine-fourfive. Four-seven-six-two-nine-four-five. Okay. Okay …

“Hello, is this Julie? This is Alex. No, I’m okay … No, I’m … I’m in a hotel. I … God, could you? Could you come and get … Yeah, I hate to be a … Okay. Yeah, it’s the Ramada Inn in Burbank. Room 823. Okay, I’m here. Yeah. No, I’m here:”

Okay, just sit, just hold your knees tight. Okay, rock … Oh, God, oh my God … Okay, okay, she’s coming. Somebody’s coming. It’ll be okay … Just hold yourself, hold yourself … It’s gonna be okay … Somebody’s coming …

DAY TWENTY-SIX

Alex is back. The story is that he checked into a hotel in the valley with a pound of cocaine. He had done quite a bit of it when he thought he heard someone breaking into his room and he freaked out and spilled all the rest in a bathtub full of water. Something like that. Bart told me, and he tends to exaggerate a little. Anyway, then he got in the elevator to go get more coke (!?!) and there were these people who laughed at him and said something to him about Florida, so Alex freaked out and went back to his room and called Julie.

Of course, this being the top story of the day in rehab world,

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CAR R I E F I s HER

everyone is scrambling for details. Wanda was in the nurses’ station when Julie brought Alex in. She said he looked frightening, nose bleeding and everything, gripping Julie’s arm with his head down like someone on trial getting past the press. We all pumped Wanda for more, since she’s the only one of us who saw him, but that’s all she had.

This just in!

Carl overheard Julie telling Stan that when she got to Alex’s room it was about 11 A.M. Alex let her in and embraced her like a long-lost relative. He was sweating and crying, totally panicked. “I’m so glad you’re here, thank you for coming,” he kept repeating. While he was talking, a huge rock of cocaine fell out of his nose and landed on the carpet. Without missing a beat Alex bent down, licked his finger, picked up the coke rock, and put it in his mouth. He then offered Julie a Long Island iced tea and asked her if she had to tell his parents about this.

If World War III broke out now we’d still talk about Alex.

… Christ, I feel dead …

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN

They brought in three people to speak at the hospital tonight at our own AA meeting. The first guy told us he was known as the Blackout King. He used to come out of blackouts speeding down the freeway and not know if he was chasing someone or being chased. He once came to in the middle of a huge fight and didn’t know whose side he was on. He said that in the end he could only get high by tying himself off and calling the paramedics and telling them there was an overdose at his address. Then he would hang up and wait until he heard the ambulance siren, and then he’d shoot up, knowing they would save his life. So almost dying became the biggest high of all.

The second guy told this long tale of cocaine dealing and prison. At one point he was talking about being at this party in

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POSTCARDS from the EDGE

San Francisco. There was this girl there and he said, “I wanted to go out with her and she didn’t have the time of day for me. Then she went off to New York and became this big star, and today that girl is in this room. Now we’re in the same club.”

I got this cold feeling inside, because I suddenly realized he was talking about me. He was bragging that I once thought I was too good for him, but now I’m not so bloody fucking too good for him. They say around here that some are sicker than others. Well, I decided that somebody was sicker than somebody in this situation, and I didn’t care if I had to be sicker than him, just as long as I wasn’t in his category. I never heard the third speaker, because I walked out of the meeting.

On the way back to my room, I stopped to see how Alex was. He was in bed and Lucille was taking his blood pressure. He looked like those pictures of kidnap victims that they send to the families with the ransom notes. He was pretending to be asleep, so I didn’t say anything.

… I’m so humiliated. What am I gonna say to everybody? What must they think? God, I’m exhausted. At least they didn’t make me see my parents. That I’m not quite ready for …

I feel awful, awful. I’m just glad I didn’t get arrested or anything. I hope everyone doesn’t stare at me like I’m some kind of animal. Maybe I went a little out of control. I did, I went out of control. I’m somebody who went out of control, which means I’m somebody who could go out of control again. I don’t know, maybe I haven’t been completely realistic with myself.

I still think I should write this script, though. I still think that’s a good idea. What if at the end the guy finally sees he’s an addict? He leaves the clinic and goes out and does a bunch of drugs to write this script about himself, and in the process he realizes he’s an addict. I don’t want it to be a corny ending where the guy gets really gung ho and starts going to meetings and applauding the people who make the coffee. I mean, he doesn’t become one of those Q-Tip heads who come up to you at airports and say, “I have

a gift for you:’ This is a cool guy anybody can identify with. An Everyman. With a drug problem, though. I bet my agent could get me an actual meeting with Barry Diller for an idea like this. It’s current, I haven’t seen it done before …

Maybe I should take it easy for a while, and not write it right away. I feel like such a moron. I’m so ashamed. Here I am way out in the middle of my life and I feel like this. It’s like I’ve got wind blowing through my chest or something …

Maybe if I talk to some of these people they can help with some of these feelings. I don’t have to like them, I just have to learn how to not do drugs from them. Not Stan, certainly, but I could probably do all right working with Julie …

What the fuck? I’ll try it their way for a while. I haven’t got too much to lose, I guess. I’m still not gonna use that Jacuzzi, though …

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT

I can’t quite believe I’m actually going home in two days. I’m not completely leaving, though. They said I could continue coming during the day for all of next week. I’ll be an out-patient. Bart is going to do that, too. So now I’ll get the best of both worlds. It’s hard to imagine a day without Carl talking too much in it. I wonder if he’d do my answering machine message for me.

Today was Mark’s twentieth birthday. His favorite gift was the Big Mac that Stan brought him.

… Okay, okay, I’m an alcoholic. I can’t get loaded anymore. If I do, I could die. Or worse. I remember Stan saying once-I loathe that sucker-but he said the worst thing is not dying, it’s living like that. That would be bad, to spend my whole life in Ramada Inns with pockmarked dealers. Certainly the cocaine never enhanced his looks for me. It doesn’t ever really do a lot, but that first hit … Well, I shouldn’t get off on a rant about dope.

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I think what I can do now is throw myself into my work, my writing. And I’ll go to these meetings-at least then my parents will stay off my back-but I’m never ever going to an AA dance. It seems so tragic to stand around with a lot of people who don’t-no, not even don’t-can’t take dope anymore and do the twist or something, like twitching at the end of some pathetic line in the river without any fish. Oooh, that’s a good analogy. I think this script is going to go well.

Julie said I can rejoin the group, so I’ll start gathering data. And I heard Suzanne’s leaving tomorrow. I’ve gotta talk to her, or else it’s like I made all this shit up. I don’t want to have to think I’m deluding myself that we have any kind of connection. She’s the one person here I really feel a connection with.

I have to admit, though, that maybe my attitude was bad. I guess now these people have to be my friends or something. This is like a joke. If there is a God, he’s like Shecky Greene, throwing me in a Ramada Inn with a bag of cocaine and then putting me back here again. Well, at least it’s a very dramatic story, and I’ve got some good characters to work with here. And this is my version of a breakthrough, so I don’t want the clouds to open and God to drop me a note. I don’t want to be religious. Something in between what Julie is and what I usually am is probably the way to go.

I mean, I would like to have some friends, but I want to have the cool people in AA as my friends. No smiling jerks, no zealous, crazed Republicans. I don’t want to be a Republican. It’s so uncool to be what some of these people are, and I hope they don’t expect … Okay, I won’t take dope again, but I’m not gonna become a Jesus freak. That’s it. You have to draw the line somewhere. I won’t do drugs, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna replace them with hearts and flowers. Forget it.

I’ve got to talk to Suzanne before she leaves. There’s a park outing in the morning, and I’m gonna go up to her and … It’s no big deal. I shouldn’t make a big deal or I’ll get all pressured and freaked out. But if I don’t talk to her I’ll beat myself up for the rest of the time