Lines - Ch. 1 - Offspring

Offspring1

"Do a fingerprint and then take the cap."2

-Brody 'Blue Eyes' Bellingham3

I remember when I thought Boston was beautiful. I can't imagine how long ago that was...4

The Commons - Boston's feeble response to Central Park - is awake by the time I get off my train. Crackheads huddle by the subway doors, taking in the jets of heated air that escape each time they open. Joggers speed by, iPods connected to running shoes connected to heartbeat monitors. Starbucks doors jingle and excrete yawning college students, across the street from a Dunkin' Donuts and around the corner from a J.P. Licks'. 5

Starbucks' The Way I See It #95:6

Forget heroin, coffee is the most addictive narcotic
Around today. Why else would people pay $4.50
For shitty syrup poured into luke-warm water?
-Dexter Jacobs, Associate Attorney with
Cassidy, Howard, and Sloan. Amateur
Cocaine addict.7

I spit in the direction of the early-bird Green Peace volunteers, standing in a small phalanx outside Boylston Inbound. Extended clipboards harass each exiting commuter. I light up a Marlboro Red and make sure to exhale towards them. A young, spiky haired girl glares at me, I wink back. She bites her lips and looks away. 8

I look at my watch. 5:45. I stumble to the nearest park bench and sit, enjoying the few minutes I had left before I had to join the mindless zombies in the march to clock in. 9

I doze off a little, forgetting my cigarette until it drops unto my crotch. I will my aching body to wake and take a drag.10

One of the crackheads stirs a little, as an overly enthusiastic volunteer ventures a little too close to his sleeping spot. He hacks a little and sits up, looking over in my direction. The volunteers seem a little surprised as he walks over to join me, sitting on the opposite end of my bench. I don't blame them - young worker bees in Boston generally aren't on friendly terms with the bums. 11

"Sup Dex?"12

I shrug, exerting what little energy I have to extend my cigarette pack in his direction. He takes one.13

"How you feelin' man?"14

I pinch my leg in hopes of distracting my stomach from its nausea before answering. "Shitty. You straight?"15

He smiles, revealing his rotted, filthy teeth and frosted gums. "For you man? You know I always got ya."16

"Yeah, when all of Boston's goin' skiing. You dry up when the supply dries up..." I mutter, grabbing some cash from my pocket. I toss it in his cup, then throw the rest of the spare change I dug out of my pocket in as well. Bump, my companion - so-called as a result of his habit for snorting quick ones off an old key he carries everywhere - laughs at the gesture. "White boy buys an eight ball then buys the middle nigga a cup of coffee. Tha's class, man..." Bump trails off a little bit, looking unsure of his surroundings. Bump doesn't sleep much during the winter months.17

I get up off the bench and stroll through the cemetery - surrounded by centuries old war casualties. Boston loves to constantly remind itself of its contribution to our nations revolution, adding to its general air of arrogance. If I sound harsh, I'm just jaded. 18

Boston's not all that bad.19

I just chafe at being stationary -- and believe me, I've been here for a long time.20

I grab a coffee from a college cafe before crossing Tremont. I check the watch one more time - 6:05. Work in ten minutes. I've entered an interesting bubble of Boston - a block incorporating Chinatown, Downtown, the Commons, colleges, businesses...dealers and tranny hookers at night, scaring the midwestern freshman away from 7-11s. I see my guy across the block, a big, swaggering dude swathed in puffy jackets, a scarf, and a Pats hat. I sidle up beside him and give him a nod. 21

"Sup Eight Ball," I sip my coffee as he sizes me up, sleek, expensive business suit and all. 22

"White boy comin' round again. Funny...I never tell white boys my name." He postures a little bit. Eight Ball - so-called because that's the lowest quantity he'll sell - likes to play tough.23

"Yeah, well, I know it. You know I'm good man. How often I been around here? You want to watch me blow it?" 24

"Nah man, don't take no, what you call it -- visual confirmation necessary to know where that shits goin'. You addicted, white boy." My blood runs cold at his words and I shoot back a look at him. He's smiling, triumphant, as if my reaction confirms his accusation. "Yeah, you addicted. You may not look the part, with that suit, with those shoes...but anybody who's ever put this shit up their nose knows that just lookin' at you."25

I look around at the barely conscious tide of people milling about the street. I wonder which of them can see my addiction. Eight Ball scratches his balls.26

"Yeah, well...my business is keepin' people like you in business, so...here you go, Dexter Jacobs of Chester, Mass., attorney at law. You go snort that shit in yo' firms bathroom. You pay me with the corporate card, Dexter?"27

I don't know if it was withdrawal sickness, or the sudden shock of being made by my dealer to my fried out, paranoid brain, but I jump over to the nearest trash can just in time to unload my wife's breakfast. I get a couple looks from passerbys. Mostly just indifference. Eight Ball laughs as he walks away, leaving the little bag for me behind a bit of trash on the sidewalk. I grab it and rush off to work.28

*********************29

Let me tell you something.30

The first fix of the day? When you cure the sickness that has been eating at your stomach, at your body, at your soul? 31

It's a fucking sacrament.32

And you might say, 'So what? That's what you would expect.'33

But you will never understand the feeling of getting straight. Because for that one instant, where nose meets line, vein meets needle, whatever... it's everything you need it to be. It's every time you've ever done it, all rolled up into one, giant ball of happy. 34

It's the first time you ever done it all over again. And you can recall that feeling, that moment of total bliss. That first time, the best time, the time when nothing was polluting your veins and stood between you and perfect happiness.35

And that's enough - just enough.36

I lock the door behind me as I enter a stall in the men's bathroom. Clients thought it would be amusing to call me all day, never giving me a chance to sneak off until now. As if depositions are my priority right now.37

I spill some of the beautiful white stuff out on a small mirror, split it into lines, and blow them quickly.38

The worst part? 39

Every time you clear the lines, all that's left underneath is a mirror.40

Who wants to give themselves a good look in the eye?41

**********************42

With that delicious, teeth-numbing first blow of the day worming its way through my sinuses, I grab a quick cup of coffee before going back to my office. 43

My job is only slightly less emasculating than my wife. Dexter Jacobs: associate attorney with Cassidy, Howard and Sloan.44

You might say, 'And what's so emasculating about that?'45

And then I'd introduce you to my boss, John Howard III. My father in law.46

The old bastard stumbles out of his office around noon, stinking of gin and failure. He likes to keep up his office here, but he stays away from the important stuff. He's the only dinosaur who stuck around -- Cassidy and Sloan had both retired to Aruba long ago.47

The firm pretty much considers him a joke. A mostly harmless, necessary inconvenience. 48

He wanders over to my office and stands in its door for a few moments, collecting himself.49

"Good morning Dexter. Little Molly still sick?" His eyes are bloodshot. If not for sake of decorum I'd offer him a shot of whiskey to soothe his hangover.50

"Molly's your daughter, John. My wife. My daughter is Jessica, and she hasn't been little for about a decade..." He drops his sagging flesh onto my couch and lights a cigar.51

"I knew that. Don't be a smart ass. Wasn't she sick?"52

"Not that I knew of, but what would I know? I'm only the father."53

"Yeah, well, that's the way it goes when they're teenagers, isn't it? When my Molly was 15, she told us she was spending the summer in Aspen with a friend from boarding school... I found her three months later, living in an apartment in Providence with her 21 year old boyfriend and his 4 year old son. We don't know shit."54

I always liked the old guy. He's got a certain charm. He takes a swig out of a flask from inside his jacket before standing up and exiting. 55

"See you tonight at dinner." 56

I close the door behind him. As I sink back into my chair, savoring the slow nasal drip working in the back of my throat, the buzzer on my desk sounds.57

"Mr. Jacobs? I have a 'Moses' on the line? He didn't say what it was regarding..."58

"That's okay, send it through, Karen." She does. I grab the receiver.59

"Yo, Dex! The REAL shit has landed, my man --"60

"What did I tell you, Moses? Don't ever call me. I call you. Say it."61

"Alright, alright, Mr. Incognito. I won't fuckin' call you. But ears wide baby boy, we just got some incredible Molly. I knew you'd be interested..."62

"Molly. That's my wife's name."63

"That's sweet, or whatever. You want this shit or not?"64

Molly. High quality MDMA. Why does he even have to ask?65

"You got it. I'll meet you at the usual place. I got a bail hearing across town at 6." I hang up the receiver and buzz my secretary. "Karen? I'll need a car ready downstairs at 5 o'clock."66

"Yes, Mr. Jacobs. Will you be returning to work after you are done?"67

"I don't know what you mean, Karen. Why wouldn't I?"68

"It's nothing sir. I just noticed every time you get these calls, you don't return afterwards..."69

In an entire firm of well-educated, super-powered UberAttorneys, it's Karen, the poor Latin girl from Eastie who's suspicious of me.70

I'm fucked.71

***************************72

January 10, 200873

I.B. English74

Mr. Pervy Hands' Period 275

Middle Of Fucking Nowhere High School76

Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary Fuck Madame Bovary ..............................77

......I HATE THIS FUCKING BOOK. Fuck you Mr. Kotch, and fuck Emma Bovary, right in her tight French ass. 78

There is nothing worse than growing up in Massachusetts.79

Fuck this high school, and this state, and everything about this picture-perfect suburban town.80

Fuck my mother, the uptight bitch. All she fucking cares about is her stupid PTA meetings and her book clubs and her yoga class...the perfect trophy wife. I wonder if she even remembers how to fuck Dad. 81

They're sad. The both of them live out their stupid, small-town lives happy for the privilege of the routine...82

I hate it here. I slide a note to my best friend Sarah, one seat behind me.83

-Sarah, is there anything going on tonight?84

Woah bitch! Are these supposed to be your notes? Aren't you even going to pretend to pay attention?85

-Who can concentrate with Mr. Kotch teaching? All I can do is daydream about him taking me roughly in the teacher's lounge...86

Ugh! I don't think his dick has seen action since 'Nam. We're going to the Spot tonight, and guess who's gonna be there?87

-Who?88

Brady.89

-Cool.90

Don't be cute, you slut. You've wanted him since, like, pre-school. You are so getting ass tonight.91

-Whatever. I think he's dating someone. Do you hear those hags in the locker room? They call him Blue Eyes. How melodramatic.92

Yeah, well, while they're dyking out at some cheerleading thing tonight, you'll be getting your cunt licked by Blue Eyes. Let them talk about that.93

************************94

I don't know why I came here. I'm so nervous. What if he doesn't like me? Why would he...look at Jennie Collins, she's wearing nothing but a skirt and a bra. Look at her stick her tits in his face... fucking slut!95

She hands me the bong... I forgot I was next in the circle. Don't fucking smile at me, bitch! ...He's sitting right next to me. I hand him the bong and he takes it from me and his hand brushes mine and he looks at me and he moves over closer to me and he --96

"Thanks Jess." 97

Brady Bellingham. Oh my god, he's so hot...98

But I can't fucking be here! Mom's going to kill me. I have to be home for dinner with my boring Grandpa.99

Why can't he just die already...100

"Hey Jess, come over here." Brady gets up and smiles at me, and I feel flushed and hot already. He starts to walk over to another room in the cleverly named "Spot", an old shack in the town woods. He climbs over a heap of passed out stoned kids on the floor and takes my hand to lead me.101

I swear I'd go down on him tonight. I don't even care if the whole school found out...102

We get to the room and he shuts the door behind us.103

"Check this out," he grins at me as he takes out a baggie from his pocket. Small, yellow crystals are at the bottom, along with some capsules.104

"What is it?"105

"Molly." 106

"Molly. That's my mom's name..."107

"Its like Ex. It'll make you roll harder... You ever rolled?"108

"Um, once. It was mixed in some lines me and Cassie did, but I don't really remember much from that night... Do you like it?"109

"It's the best feeling in the world. It's like everything is right and warm and gooey in the world, and its all for you. Everything for you."110

I take the baggie out of his hand, and bring it up to my face, careful to drag it over my tits as I do. 111

"So Mister Blue Eyes... what do you say?"112

"Do a fingerprint and then take the cap."113

"What's a...fingerprint?"114

He reaches into the bag, coats two fingers with the crystals, and then sticks them under his tongue. He then pops a capsule and swallows.115

"So Jessica Jacobs...you ever fuck while you rolled?"116

I take the baggie and follow his lead. I then toss the remains on a broken crate and push him onto the mattress the punk kids snuck in here.117

"I'm about to."118

*********************119

I wake up and Brady's on top of me, pushing into me, burning my skin off. I'm on fire, and my mind's racing, and something's burning, something's burning...120

Somethings on fire in my brain and it hurts and I don't know what's going on.121

I'm losing time and I don't know what's going on, why is he inside me?122

Why did I let him do that? 123

Everything's spinning, and I don't know what's going on, and everything is so fast. Someone please tell me why its so fast I just want it to stop want it to slow down. And my skin is on fire and he's on top of me.124

He's on top of me and it's still going and I can't remember when we started and I can't remember where we are.125

It feels like its been hours and he's still going126

Grabbing my hair127

My tits.128

He's moaning and shivering and his eyes are cloudy. His Blue Eyes are cloudy. He's saying my name but I wish he would stop. This isn't me. This isn't my body, and he isn't fucking me. He's fucking a stranger, why does he keep saying my name?129

And he cums hard in the stranger but I feel it, and my skin's on fire.130

He lays down hard on me and its so hot but I can't push him off. He's breathing really hard. I can't remember if I've been breathing.131

He gets off me. I can't move. He's kissing my neck, I wish he would stop it.132

"Damn baby, it's only 7:30...we've got a lot of partying left to do."133

It's 7:30 and I need to be home for dinner. I have to drive home. I have to talk to my family and I'm rolling. Fuck, fuck, fuck.134

******************135

The sickly, bitter taste of Molly dissolves on my tongue as I open the door to my home, receiving a sickly, bitter kiss from my wife, Molly. She's dressed in a matching pink jogging suit, and looks sweaty. I wonder to myself if its from the run, or if she and her personal trainer had a different workout scheduled for today...I look at my wife as she turns away, wondering when I started doubting her faithfulness. 136

A better question would be: 'When did I stop caring whether or not she was faithful?'137

The old guy is already here, smoking a cigar in my favorite chair and drinking my beer. Who am I to complain, though, he's the one that signs my checks...138

"Where's Jessie?" My wife shrugs and makes no further response, dissapearing deeper into the kitchen. I turn to her father. "Do you at least know where my daughter is?"139

"She's in the kitchen. Get me a beer..."140

"That's your daughter, you deaf, withering lump..." I pace, feeling itchy and nervous. I start to sweat a little. Molly takes a little while to kick in. I can feel it working its way through my system.141

Let me tell you something else about addicts.142

Well, maybe I can't speak for the whole cross-section, actually... but for myself, at least. You may worry when you're out with all the normal people, worried if they can tell who you are and what you do. 143

But you're not worried by the people closest to you. Your family.144

And these people, you'd think they would be able to tell. But they can't. They want to believe your mask, your fake self. They need that falsehood. It supports the very foundation of who they perceive themselves to be. Maybe they have an inkling, a shadow of a doubt...but they wont tug at that thread.145

Because if they do, they fall.146

And so even though I've been quietly committing suicide by inches for the past few years, my family drudges on, leaving it unnoticed.147

Or is it I simply haven't noticed them?148

I silently pray that my daughter is still naive. That she still doesn't know who Daddy really is, and she still loves me. The latter is predicated upon the former.149

I love my child. I wish I was a better father, a better person for her. 150

But then again, I've never been all that great of a person.151

"I'm home!" Jessica shrieks, slamming our front door behind her. "I feel sick! I'm going to bed!" she yells to no one in particular, not even noticing me as she starts up the staircase to her bedroom.152

"Honey? You okay?"153

"Yeah Daddy, I'm fine. Women problems," she turns on her heel and continues up the staircase. I watch my little girl as she scampers away, wondering where the fuck I was when she grew up.154

"Dexter! Come carve the turkey!"155

Yes honey...156