CHAPTER 21
The next day, Ashley calls the three guys from the bar and we head to their apartment. I’m actually impressed with it, because it doesn’t look like shit, and it’s actually well-kept, and very clean. Although, I guess that’s what you’d expect living with three gay guys. It’s about nine at night, and the moon is so big in the sky that it looks like at any minute it could stop by Germany and start taking people to visit. Which thinking about it longer, makes me depressed for some reason, because I feel like I’d get lost on the moon and then I’d be stuck up there all alone for the rest of eternity, just wandering around the cold, dark side of the moon.
There are three girls over at the apartment, one of them is American, and the other two are German. The American girl looks kind of average, and she’s pretty shy. But she’s just waiting for them to start cutting up lines on the table, and when they do, she’s not shy anymore. In fact, she does three lines at once, and then just lays back, and starts getting up to dance with one of the gay guys. Ashley is talking to one of them, and I’m sitting on the couch looking at the German girls. But then Ashley comes back and sits down beside me, and I turn to her.
“Where’s the party at?”
“Just a few blocks down. They said it’s going to be crazy though. Everyone always comes drugged up. Like they said, no drugs allowed. So you get a mix up of different people on different drugs. They said one guy came in on PCP one time and punched through the refrigerator.”
“Well, that’s kind of fucked up. I don’t want to get punched by somebody on PCP. It’s like they become the fucking hulk. I’ve seen people on that shit. It’s frightening.” I say, very seriously.
“They said no more people on PCP, so if someone comes on PCP, they get kicked out.” “How would they fucking know?”
“They can tell. You can tell, can’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess. Okay. Never mind. I was just kind of freaking out there for a second.” “Don’t worry. It’s going to be fun. They all know the guy who throws it, and they said they always have good beer and good liquor. So we’re all set to go.” One of the guys cuts up a line for her and I, and we get down on our knees and do it. It’s decent stuff, not great. Not like at the last party. Then we do another line before we go, just to make sure we’re okay.
On the walk there, Ashley gets stuck in a conversation with one of the guys, and she moves closer to him, and now I’m walking on the sidewalk beside the two blonde girls.
“So where are you two from?”
“We’re both from Berlin. Originally. We went to America for two years after we graduated university. Lived in California.”
“How did you like it?”
“It was nice. Very laid back place. At least, the place we were at was. We heard stories about Los Angeles that were kind of scary. All of the gangs, you know? But we were far away from there.” The one on the left that’s talking to me starts inching closer, and so does her friend, while Ashley’s still stuck in the conversation with the gay guy about who fucking cares.
“How do you like Americans?”
“Americans are okay. America’s government is fucked up though. We don’t really like it. You guys just kind of come and fuck up other countries that don’t need to be messed with. And then, you expect your allies to come help you.” The one on the right says, and I can see her bra through her white t-shirt, and it’s a light yellow that I couldn’t see in the apartment.
“Yeah, I don’t agree with much of what our government does either. Probably why I’m not in the army. Or the navy. Or the air force. Or armed anything.” They both laugh, and Ashley’s conversation is finally dead.
“What are you guys talking about?” She puts her arm around me.
“Just about terrible the government is. The usual American talk.”
“Oh, that sounds really exciting.” Ashley’s jealous and I can tell. I like it when she’s jealous.
We get to the house and it’s all brick, like most of Europe. We’re following the gay guys, and they disband from each other, so we don’t know which one to follow. The two girls have already vanished, and Ashley and I have latched onto the one guy she was talking to on the street, and we’re just following him around. There are a lot of beautiful girls here, probably German. They start to blend together in a sea of attractive women. All the while, Ashley’s trying to talk to the guy we’re following, but he can’t hear a goddamn thing because the music’s too loud. We go into a room that’s got a shit ton of beer and liquor, and basically every alcoholic beverage you can imagine, and I immediately start looking for the whiskey, because that’s all I really want. Ashley finds one of the beers she had in England, and drinks it pretty fast. I tell her to calm down, even though I’ve already had two shots of the bourbon, and I’m being kind of a hypocrite.
“I see you like your whiskey.” Some asshole in a Yankees hat says to me.
“Obviously.”
“What about your girlfriend? What does she like?”
“She doesn’t like to be asked stupid fucking questions.” I take another shot of whiskey and then hold her hand, and she looks at me very confused, but smiling, and for some reason, being here is making me very paranoid and uncomfortable.
“You probably shouldn’t be such a dick, bud. Otherwise, you might end up on the streets with a couple of broken bones.” The guy says to me, with three of his friends behind him.
“I’ll take that in mind.” We walk out of the room and into the hallway, but not before I grab the bottle of whiskey and laugh at them.
“What was that about?” Ashley asks.
“That guy was just being a dick. Where are we going?”
“I’m not sure. I lost the guy we were following. I don’t know where anyone is.”
Walking around the house, we see a bunch of empty rooms, and then a couple of rooms where there are people sitting around in circles, talking very quietly, with lava lamps going on around them. We choose the room with the least amount of lava lamps, and we see one of the guys we were with before.
“Hey, thought we lost you there for a second.” The guy says. We sit down in the circle, and everyone’s quiet until we’re seated.
“Okay, continue. I apologize.” The gay guy says, and then some other guy with long hair and a beard starts talking.
“As I was saying, I think life is so perfect. You know? Like, every little thing in life makes it perfect. The trees have their leaves, the ocean has its waves, and we people have our brains. It’s just so amazing to me.”
“Yeah, I know, right? It’s like, we’re all in the Garden of Eden, but we just don’t know it. We never really got kicked out. It’s all perfect, but God wants us to think it’s not. Because God’s a sadist.” A girl with armpit hair says, and I don’t look at her while she’s talking.
“What are your thoughts on the subject?” A guy sitting on a couch that I can’t really make out in the light says to me and Ashley. Luckily, Ashley speaks up.
“I don’t know if where we live is perfect. I mean, there’s a lot of bad shit happening all over the place. But it’s pretty nice.” She turns and looks at me, and the gay guy is nodding his head.
“But aren’t we like, not in that shit hole? Aren’t we completely protected from it? Like, all of the stuff that happens in the Middle East happens there, and here, we don’t have that. We don’t have car bombs, and we don’t have children being roped into prostitution rings. We’re free of that shit.” The guy with the long hair and beard says and I start to think how much he would look like Jesus if he ever combed his fucking hair.
“That doesn’t mean it’s still not there. Are you saying that just because we’re living in a peaceful society that we’re in a perfect world? What about the people in the Middle East? What are they living in?” Ashley says.
“They’re living in minding their own fucking business.” Everyone except me and Ashley laughs at the joke, and it’s kind of awkward for us, but we sit there and listen to other people talk about how great their lives are, and their lives are only great because they’re high as fuck right now, and when they come off of it, they’re going to realize that their lives are shit.
“Where are you guys from anyway?” One of the guys sitting around the circle says.
“We’re from mind your own fucking business.” I say, and we get up and walk to another room.
The room we walk into is also pretty quiet, but the people aren’t sitting around in a circle, high as fuck. The people in this room are just drunk, and it seems better fitting. It’s like there’s a room for every poison you’ve taken. In this room there are about ten people, and there’s a TV on and it’s playing pornography, but nobody’s really watching it. It’s from the seventies, and there’s hair everywhere and it’s not attractive, and me and Ashley find a seat on the couch and sit down.
I’m looking around the room, trying to see if any of the guys are there that we came with, but none of them are, and I start to get kind of nervous, and paranoid again.
“Maybe we should choose a different room.” I whisper to Ashley.
“Why? What’s wrong with this one?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t like it.” I feel around in my pocket for my bag of Xanax, and take two out and chew them up and wait to not feel anxious anymore, but then I feel a tight grab at my arm, and it’s Ashley, and I look at her and she looks petrified.
“What’s wrong?” She leans down and whispers something that I can’t hear.
“What?”
“Look in the corner.” I lift my head up and in the corner sitting by himself on the couch is the guy we were following. The guy we met at the first party we went to. The creepy fucking guy who doesn’t know anyone there, but just observes. I wonder if he sees us, or saw us come in, but he doesn’t seem to notice, as he’s not looking in our direction and he’s only looking at a couple who are making out on the couch in front of him.
“I guess we found him. Without following him mind you.” I say to her.
“This is weird. I feel kind of uncomfortable now. Like we should really go to a different room. But then he’ll see us, and he might follow us. Like we were following him.” Ashley says, and she’s paranoid now.
“We’ll just stay here, and not look over at him.” When I finish the sentence, one of the gay guys comes into the room and sits down beside Ashley and starts talking loudly. She tries to tell him to be quieter, but he doesn’t give a shit, because he’s drunk as fuck.
“Okay, so I just got hit on by this guy who was drunk, and he offered to give me a hand job for my number. How fucking bizarre.” I look up, and the guy in the corner’s attention is now drawn to us. It’s now drawn to the gay guy talking about hand jobs, and for a second, I don’t think he recognizes me, but then a smile glosses over his face, and he gets up and approaches me.
“Funny finding you here.” He says, holding out his hand for me to shake, and I shake it, and his grip is firm, but not overbearing, and he asks if he can have a seat. There’s an empty space to my right, because for some reason we had to choose the longest fucking couch in the room.
“Sure, go right ahead. Nobody’s sitting there that I know of.”
“They aren’t.” He says, and he turns and smiles at me, and I look to Ashley, but she’s still talking to the gay guy, trying as hard as she can to keep the conversation going so she can avoid any conversations with the guy to my right.
“How have you been? It’s been awhile since we last saw you.” He looks at me, and ignores the question.
“I see you found your girlfriend at the party.”
“Yeah, she was really just throwing up. Should’ve believed her. Those drugs will make you do funny things.”
“We had this conversation before. Those funny things are things we wanted to do all along.”
“I remember. And I said that sometimes they are. I’d rather not repeat myself.” The Xanax is kicking in again, and I feel an odd sort of confidence.
“Sometimes, conversations need repeating. Because opinions change, mindsets change, people change. The conversation can become new at the drop of a hat.”
“See, but I haven’t changed. Neither has my opinion or my mindset. So, as much as I’d love to have this conversation with you a second time...”
He’s dressed in the same thing he was wearing last time. Dark suit, dark pants, dark shoes, and it fits him so well…his personality. He has no facial hair, but his hair is slicked back with gel, and I’m beginning to get a little freaked out, but I can’t turn to Ashley and have her save me from this conversation, because dragging her into this conversation would only make it awkward.
The gay guy gets up and walks away, and Ashley keeps looking at the door he just left.
“Very nice to see you again, Ashley is it?” He holds his hand out for her to shake.
“Yes. Nice to see you again too.” She’s nervous, and I can feel her nails digging into my arms.
“How grand! To have all three of us back together again.” “I never got your name.” Ashley says to him.
“Daniel.”
“Nice to meet you, Daniel.” I look at Ashley.
“How about a toast? To meeting old friends in new places.” He gets up and picks up three glasses that were sitting beside the couch he was at when we walked in and hands one to each of us.
“I wouldn’t necessarily call us friends, Daniel.” I say, holding the drink down.
“Why not? Why, we’ve been together for the better part of two days. On the plane, and then in the city. I know when I’m being followed.”
“We were just joking around. Playing private detective.”
“How adorable. Cheers!” He holds his glass over to ours and we clink them together, and that clink is the most awkward noise I’ve heard.
I drink the drink and it tastes sweet. Like vanilla, with no taste of alcohol at all.
“What is this?”
“Cream soda. Do you not like it?” He seems genuinely concerned.
“No, it’s not that. It’s just. I thought it would be alcohol. Given that we’re at a party.” I look over at Ashley’s cup and hers is empty and so is mine.
“No, no. Remember, like I said last time, I only enjoy observing people make fools of themselves, to bring back old memories. Drinking cream soda reminds me of my childhood, so I guess you can say that I’m still bringing back old memories even with these drinks.” I start feeling a little tipsy, and think that maybe the three shots of bourbon are kicking in, seeing as I ate a light lunch.
“Cream soda is okay by me, Daniel.” Ashley says, and her head starts drifting to the arm rest.
“What about root beer?” I say, just trying to make conversation, and at this point, just trying to keep my eyes awake.
“Root beer has bad memories. My father used to drink root beer. My mother and I would drink cream soda.”
“What’s so bad about root beer if your father drinks it?”
“My father was a fucking swine.”
I black out.