Surreal Ecstasy (5 page)

Instead,
I cozied up next to him and told him I wanted to try ecstasy. He had looked up,
surprised, with a small grin on one side of his face, as if his life just got
easier (or more fun). He ordered me to wait, that he would finish this—he
gestured to his baggie—and then he'd bust out the 'good stuff.'  On his glass
coffee table, he showed me how to use credit cards to cut down the stuff to a
fine powder. Even though I didn't want to try the coke, I found it to be quite
a relaxing thing to do, and I had enjoyed it at the time, even at one point
believing I was good at it. It reminded me of cutting up vegetables, which I
had always found relaxing, even though I didn't get much of a chance to cook in
my tiny kitchen at home. I turned my face when I breathed, so as not to blow
away what I'd already prepared. I was nervous and a little bit excited, happy
that he trusted me with something that was so important to him.

He
showed me how to make lines with the powder, so I arranged it for him, just the
way he asked. He did them all very quickly so that I was almost afraid. I tried
not to overthink it or even think about it at all. He asked me to get a small
coin purse from a shelf in his closet in the bedroom, so I got up and did that.

When
I returned, he had an open can of soda sitting on the table, which he told me
to drink. I sat down and gave him the coin purse. He opened it while I drank
some of the soda, which helped ease my nerves. He told me that this particular
ecstasy was in a different form than usual—liquid. I looked at him, confused,
and saw him hold up a little vial of stuff that looked like water.

He
unscrewed the top and handed it to me, an excited grin on his face. He told me
he'd wait right there and be 'ready for my reaction.'  He said taking it would
make you feel like you were in the middle of an intense orgasm. I wanted to
back out, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach and nervous as hell, but I was
feeling more aggressive then usual, so I picked up the vial and downed the
entire thing. I slammed the vial down on the glass table and finished the rest
of my soda, glad Adim had foreseen my needing something normal to drink. The
ecstasy was disgusting. It tasted like ocean water, and I wanted the taste gone
from my mouth immediately.

Adim
began rolling on the couch with laughter, confessing that he had poured some
coke into my soda when I was in the bedroom, and that's why I was feeling so
aggressive. Furious that he'd given me coke without my knowledge or consent, I
dashed over to his dining area, picked up a chair, and threw it against the
wall near his front door—screaming at him. He fought me off, still laughing,
and began to pull my clothes and his off our bodies one by one, squirming
around until we'd come together in a strange, angry union.

It
wasn't lovemaking by any means.

Nevertheless,
I felt closer to understanding Adim's vices. A small part of me weakly
suggested that no man could blame any of his actions on anything but himself,
that there were plenty of men out there who wouldn't even try drugs, much less
do so and then consequently beat up their girlfriends. But I shut that small
voice away so I wouldn't have to listen to it anymore.

The
truth is often difficult to listen to.

I
had spent several months in this unstable manner, hyped up on ecstasy. I don't
think I ever needed it to the point where I would empty my life savings, and I
never attacked anyone or ended up in jail from being aggressive or hotheaded. I
just did a little bit here and there so I could be with Adim and enjoy what he
enjoyed. Sure, there were times when I did more ecstasy than he did, but I don't
think I ever got out of hand with it, certainly not to the extremes I'd seen in
him and in his friends, and I still stayed away from the coke, even though I
had no idea if he continued to slip it to me secretly. And since I was no
longer sneaking around to monitor his use, there was no reason for him to
become angry with me.

Or
so you'd think. Adim found himself a new addiction—gambling. He started going
to Angel of the Winds, an Indian casino in Arlington, directly after work and
would come home to sleep for two hours before going to work and then back to
the casino again. It was a pretty long drive for him, but that never stopped
him from going every single day. I had been sleeping at his place for about
three days a week, but it had reached a point where I was tired of being by
myself all the time, so I took all my belongings and went back home to
Lynnwood, leaving Adim my copy of his key on his kitchen table. I had figured
that if I had to be alone, at least it would be where I was comfortable and
could do what I wanted. Shortly after that, Adim had called me and wanted to
know why I was gone and why I left him the key. I just laughed at him because I
thought the answer was pretty obvious.

At
first he was apologetic, saying he knew he had a gambling problem but couldn't
help it, and that he wanted to make money without having to work overtime. When
that didn't draw my sympathies, he moved from apologetic to angry, saying that
I was ungrateful and he was the one bringing home the bacon and that how he
made money wasn't any of my business (never mind that I had a job and paid my
own bills). At that point, I had become tired of his crap, and told him he
could do drugs and gamble all he wanted from now on, because I was officially
done with him. Then I hung up before he could protest or say anything uglier.

I
remember waking up and going to work the next day with a smile on my face. I
felt free. I had spent my entire life being judged and watched by my family,
and though it was something I completely detested, somehow I ended up with a
man who did just that—with the added bonus of abuse and drugs. Of course, about
a week after I broke up with him, he contacted me. He didn't call me like last
time, though. He actually showed up on my doorstep, waiting for me. I was tired
that day because the idiots at work were annoying me, and I really had not been
in the mood for more bullshit. I briefly considered driving off and heading to
Alderwood Mall to catch a movie, giving Adim time to become frustrated, give
up, and go home.

But
as I said, I was tired. I was also too lazy to get back in my car and drive.
Not knowing what else to do, I faced the music and walked straight to my front
door. It was the same song and dance at first—that he knew he was scum but I
was the only one who really knew him and therefore the only person he ever
wanted to be with. This time, however, he added in something extra:  that I was
now a drug addict and that if my family ever found out, I would be even more
ostracized, if that were even possible.

It
was blackmail without officially being blackmail. I knew what he meant without
him having to draw a diagram. If I leave him out in the cold, war would
officially be declared between us, and nothing would be sacred. It didn't
matter that I was only using the ecstasy to attain that happy, fulfilled
feeling that I could only dream about, or that I had only ingested coke because
he put it in my soda. He had me then, and he knew it. He knew how my family's
absence tore a hole in my soul, and the asshole used it as leverage against me.
I told him that I was tired and only wanted to sleep. He moved aside so I could
get in my front door. As soon I got in, I closed and locked it.

Of
course, however, I ended up calling him the next day, and he had become my
boyfriend once more. I tried to tell myself that it wasn't the blackmail that
led me back to him, that it was my undying love for him that lingered on and
wanted to make things better. Part of me had believed that these different
tactics were a sort of trial-and-error process, and that with each attempt that
failed, I was that much closer to the supreme answer that always evaded me.

While
we were no longer clashing about drugs and the violence eased to a minimum, his
VIP status at Angel of the Winds presented more tribulations. It didn't change
when we got back together—not even in the beginning. I supposed that since he
was (for all intents and purposes) blackmailing me, he didn't see a reason to
kiss my ass. He already had a way to keep me where he wanted me.

My
point of view was a little more complicated than that. When someone knows so
much crap about you—and vice versa—it starts to make you feel like you're stuck
with them. Seriously, who had the energy to begin a new life, or the patience
to deal with the inevitable headaches that ensued with such change? I knew that
if I ever really tried to leave Adim, he would do everything in his power to
make my life a true nightmare. And it wasn't really just the fear that kept me
with him. This combined with all the exhaustive effort I put in this
relationship just seemed to add up to me staying with him indefinitely.

And
so, with him I stayed, my spirit's inner light dimming a little.

For
a good five of months or so, I pretended that I didn't have a care in the
world, even though I thought about Adim with everything I did, from my crappy
job to watching the Mariners play on TV and yes, even while I had quickies with
men in public bathrooms. I thought piling on the ecstasy and getting hot and
sweaty with strangers would be a magical solution for everything, and when I
did all these things with no improvement, I decided to try for a change with
Adim one last time.

I
opted to become his dictator, which was somewhat of a relief, because I had
always been more or less meek with him. I told him one morning that he will go
to Angel of the Winds for only two hours a week, and that if he stayed longer
than that, I would leave again, this time for good, blackmail be damned. I did
still secretly hope he wouldn't tell my family about my drug use, but at the
time, my relationship with Adim was more important than my fictitious
relationship with my family. Not to mention that he would be giving away his
own secret by telling mine, and I seriously doubted he wanted to do that.
Basically, I called his bluff, and used it back on him.

Karma's
a bitch.

I
also told him that he was no longer to use drugs. I did not ask him, but
ordered him to do these things, thinking that if he became angry at me for
talking to him this way, I'd have an easy out and he'd break up with me. I
seriously doubted that would happen, but it created a kind of safety net for
me, and I'd really needed it at the time.

Surprisingly,
he accepted my orders easily, and in the beginning, I honestly believed he
tried to adhere to them. However, it soon became an impossibility. Angel of the
Winds remained as Adim's mistress, and after yet another night of sleeping
alone in Edmonds, I packed up again and left him his key on the table again. I
acted braver than I actually felt—or perhaps I had acted without using my
emotions to slow me down. Either way, I was out of there quickly. Practice
really did make perfect, I suppose.

In
the weeks that followed, Adim did not contact me. This was new to me, and it
was at this point that I began breaking down. That annoying, logical part of my
brain said quietly that I wasn't the only one to try a new tactic, and I was
getting my ass kicked with the irony of it. I admit that I was expecting him to
show up at my doorstep again, perhaps with flowers or—heaven forbid—a diamond
ring. What I never expected him to do was to give me the cold shoulder in
return.

Last
Friday evening, my self-pity outstayed its welcome, and I could no longer lie
hour after hour on my bed, eyes to the ceiling, recounting every moment Adim
and I had together, trying to figure out who the wrong one was and what should
be done next. It seemed that every theory I had was a dead end, and the mental
anguish was too overpowering. Emotionally exhausted, I got dressed in the hopes
of finding somewhere to go and someone to go there with. I had picked up my
cell phone and looked through the contacts, but it was a worthless attempt. I'd
stayed home instead, drinking tequila straight from the bottle and finishing
off Adim's ecstasy pills that I still had in my jeans pocket from the last
time. Then, to complete my night of emptiness and sin, I cut my wrists like a
desperate whore and ended up in the hospital.

Something
had to be learned from all this:  I would not resolve my situation until I
faced it head-on.

I
had to figure out my life, or die trying.

Chapter 4

His hands were huge and rough, but
on my body they slid like satin. The rain on my windows and our heavy breathing
were the only sounds to fill our ears. He stopped moving for only a moment to
regard my face, and I knew then that he believed I was the most beautiful,
special, and adored woman on the planet.

He tore at my pants, frantically
trying to remove them as if he were near death and the only means of survival
was hiding under there. Too anxious to practice patience, he pulled my light
pink panties to the side and planted a quick kiss on me. I sighed, both because
that simple kiss made me quiver and also because it made me thirsty for much
more, thirsty to feel his warm skin covering mine, thirsty to feel him inside
me.

He sat back, smiled at me
cunningly, and leaned forward again, this time giving me a deeper kiss between
my legs. His warm and slippery tongue licked me deeply and throbbed inside me,
and an uncontrollable moan escaped my lips. Everything was perfect. His touch
was perfect. His mouth was perfect. I began making a mental list of endless
erotic activities I wanted to share with him, a list that would take weeks for
the two of us to complete. I was so close to losing control, but I didn't want
it to be over, not yet, not when there was so much to experience.