Ivory Rain

A teen herion addict is found by her heart throb in a hurricane.

 The cold sea foam crawled silently up the beach and nipped at my bare toes. Small pieces of cocoa weeds found themselves floating reluctantly up with the tide. For a moment, my submersed feet shivered on their own, until finally, as if pulled back by invisible strings, the sheet of sea along the beach receded. The velvet sand underneath me was moist, and as I struggled to stand, I could feel the salty water through the seat of my jeans. Sighing, I dusted my sand-cloaked palms on my thighs and stretched up toward the misty, ashen sky.
    Once again in the brick stronghold of high school, I removed my coat and quivered against the chilled atmosphere, folding my arms tightly against my chest. For the next unwanted duration of time I was forced to spend in this building, the words spoken by the person at the front of the room who apparently knew what they were talking about drifted easily past my mind. My heavy textbook remained as shut as ever, although attempts to get me to open it had been thrown my way once or twice in the past few moments. Slumping back into the Chinese plastic, my head ached and throbbed, beating my temples from the inside. The bell rang out an unpleasant note, and I quickly slipped out of the room, down the musty stairwell, out to the street.
    Cars passed noisily, taking away from the beautiful silence I had worked well to find. The crosswalk was worn down to the black tar, with no hope of a new layer to be administered any time soon. I stuffed my hands deep into the pockets of my coat, feeling the crumpled paper that had sneaked it's way in. With spindly fingers, I fished it out and neatly uncreased it. The numbers of the sale were written out weakly, nearly illegible now. Had I really spent two-hundred and fifty dollars in less than five minutes? Replacing the receipt, my other hand dove into the front pocket of my jeans, dried sand flaking off my upper leg, and I retrieved my remaining wherewithal. I quickly took note of how my funds were holding up, and rounded the next corner, heading without haste toward my destination.
    The rickety metal staircase had never been a pleasure to ascend, with the rusted handrails and missing bolts. The patterned steel, with the Frontier Apartments logo centered on each step, creaked uneasily. Kendal cracked the door upon hearing the stairs, an anxious look across his face.
    "It's only me," I said with a blank smile and a half-hearted wave.
    "Oh, Ivory, come on in girl."
    The apartment was cluttered with frosted plastic boxes and numerous papers. Kendal had always been a little uptight about being in the narcotics market, but he agreed as well as anyone that the money was incredible and he enjoyed the relationship he had with his buyers. Like me, many others came to Kendal as their prime supplier of all sorts of substances from pain killers to serious narcotics. Overlooking the small areas of Ataxia-like disarray, the apartment was rather homely. The paste colored walls with pastel-blue trim and matching furniture was nearly a misnomer for the business that took place behind the door.
    "How have you been, Ive?" He asked enthusiastically while locating a certain container.
    "Ehh, you know.... high school, life... I guess you could say I've been alright." The need grew with every word, but to snap at him was the last thing I wanted.
    "Alright, how many hits do you want?" He asked, gathering up a few syringes in his right hand and plucking a plastic bag from a dispenser on his left.
    "I've got four hundred to spend right now, but I will be getting paid over the next few nights... can I fill out an IOU?" I asked with a slight laugh.
    "Sorry, girl, can't do that much for you. But here's five," he said, handing over a handful of vials.
    "Thanks," I hesitated a bit before handing over my salary, "I heard you were leaving us. What's going on?"
    He took the money and jammed it rapidly into his back pocket, closing the bin he turned to me. "Ivory, the only reason I would go anywhere is because people are talking. Look around girl," he gestured, "You get a couple cops in here, and I'm screwed. From what I've heard, they are getting suspicious."
    "I do wish you wouldn't leave, but, you have a point," I said disheartened.
    "I might have to. But, hey, you know...it won't be the end of the world."
    I started for the door, tying the top of the bag into a loose knot, "Ya, I know." The stairs crepitated on my way down, the grey sky overhead had darkened and it looked like it had a right mind to begin to storm. Hunching my shoulders, I headed home along the speckled sidewalk, drops coming upon my head.
                              

~     My feet scuffed along the walkway carpet, leaving trails of dirt just inside the door.     "Where were you today Ivory?" my mother called, obviously unconcerned, from the kitchen, "the school called."     "Out," I mumbled. Like she cared, ever since she found out about my addiction, she gave less and less care about my life, telling me I had the choice to ruin everything for myself if I wanted to. After my father left, she had only cared about her money and her boyfriends. Things between her and I had fallen into a deeper and deeper oblivion everyday which pleased me greatly; I didn't need or want her to look into my personal life, so if she found it in herself to hate me, I wasn't going to stop that.     I didn't even bother taking my shoes off as I absconded up the stairs.     My door clicked shut, the light stuttered and then went on. I threw the bag onto my bed and pulled off my coat and shirt. The wet pile of material accumulated as I shifted out of my shoes and socks and jeans. I pulled on a silky nighty that my mother referred to as "risque", and it felt nice against my skin. I closed my eyes and took a breath of the dense air, choked and fell into a fit of coughing. My head still ached, I could hear the thin beating beneath my skull. With a twitch, I turned back to where the bag lay, still and harmless.      Regret swept through the deepest reaches of my mind, and I bit my lip hard, feeling the insatiable need for a fix churning inside me. I had told myself I was going to quit before high school, then, halfway through the next year, I told myself I would quit before my sophomore year. I kept putting it off, and kept putting it off over and over, fearing that upon that first attempt I would fall into a deeper despair and be tugged farther back into the cave my life had ventured into. Sighing, I reached for the bag, and slowly, thoughtfully, untied the knot. My eyes trailed across the thin hands in front of me which could never have belonged to that person I once had been. Time slowed, and I thought back painfully to how it had begun.      The interminable fights, the beating, the battering of frail bodies. I clenched the bag tighter in my fists, hate filling me from the inside out. Hate for myself, this selfish, arrogant, filthy thing I had become. And hate for what I had done to myself. I had been the honor student, I had been the girl who had a book in her face everywhere she went, I was the one everyone wanted to befriend. For the longest time I had thought that the drugs wouldn't change anything, and I kept on like things would stay how they had once been. Losing my friends one by one made me realize just how much I had really sunk lower into the hole I had been digging for myself. None of it mattered anymore. Nothing but the high mattered anymore, that feeling that most everything was perfect with the world and no one was in it to hurt me. None of anything I was forced to shove into my head mattered, I didn't want to learn, I didn't want to be with people like myself. Alone in the world, grey, cold and wet and stuffy was how I liked it. And silent.     I peered down into the bag, knowing that the world I was supposed to be in was just minutes away. I sat down heavily as I removed a single syringe. Shaking my head in self disapproval, fingers that weren't under my control removed the cap and threw it to the floor. The crook of my elbow pulsated rhythmically, anticipating the prick. The Fingers angled the glinting point toward the swelled vein, indigo under the film of pale skin. I sucked a breath into my stomach, and holding it captive, I took the hit. A pinprick shattered my life once again, and the repulsive poison I needed to badly coursed into my blood. A second that seemed to be forever flew past, and I removed the needle swiftly from inside me. My stomach relaxed, my pulse returned to an original tempo, and the world lay still. A small pool of blood formed on the inside of my arm, ruby against marble flesh. I recapped the syringe and placed it into the bag once again. I breathed a few times in and out, the feelings wiped out of my mind and replaced with comfort. Then the trembling ensued, beginning with a few violent cerebral twitches, accompanied by my fingers. I moved down from the bed onto the carpeting, my bare legs sinking into the plush acrylic cotton. My chest heaved forward dramatically, and I clasped my hands to keep them from their epileptic state. The ceiling began to dance above my eyes, and fogged into a meshed blur of absolute chaos. I shouted out loudly, and lay back limply on the floor. A few joyous moments of utterly uncontrollable laughter lead to a subtle unconsciousness that lasted through the beautiful silence of night.                                                                     ~     Saturday. The one lay-in-bed-all-morning-doing-nothing-in-particular day of the week. I could see the sunlight through my heavy eyelids pouring into the far corner of my room as if it was unaware that I was allowed to sleep in late today. The velvet comforter had slid of the foot of my bed and now lay softly crumpled on the floor. I was sprawled diagonally across the mattress, the two bottom corners of my sheets tangled in the middle of the bed. I licked my chapped lips, and opened my dry eyes to the blinding light. My stomach growled to me as I swung my legs over the edge and onto the floor. Upon standing, my head spun wildly, and I nearly passed out once again. My entire figure swayed violently forward, and my hands smashed against the wall to avoid collapsing to the floor. I leaned forward onto it, and raised one hand to my forehead, my feet slipping on the carpet away from me, sending me down nonetheless.     I moaned, my face laying on the cold floor. A knock at my door rammed into my peaceful silence.     "Ivory," my mother said impatiently, "phone."     "Who is it?" I yelled back halfheartedly. Those who called me regularly avoided my mother at all costs, as I did, knowing that the business they needed with me didn't need her input.     "Casten."     I brought my head up in sudden shock. Casten Rogers, the most beautiful human being alive, nearly the only person who could get through my silence and bring me to a level in which I desired reasonable conversation, was just steps away. I was paces away from the one person in this broken world I wanted to talk to, but I lay here, flat on the dirty floor, hungover.     "Put him on my line," I attempted to command.     "Alright," she finished, annoyed.     I propped myself up on my elbows, and strained to pick the phone up from the rickety table. I flipped over on to my back, looking at the blank ceiling that had been swimming just hours before.     "Hello?"     "Hey, Casten," I brushed the hair out of my face, and played with the ends, formulating the many things he might be calling about.     "Um...hi," he ventured awkwardly, "you left school early, I wanted to make sure you knew what the homework was."     Of course. Casten, being the high honors, musical, artsy, sporty, theatrical, involved guy at school, finally made my day, even with this simple call but then rammed it to the dirt with this statement.     "Oh. Thanks."     "You don't sound like yourself Ivory."     "Oh? I'm sorry," I strained the droopiness from my voice and tried to smile.     "Ya. You alright?"     "Fine."     "Hey, tell you what, meet me in the library on Monday. After third period."     I bit my lip, two things raced into my head. One, excitement that Casten Rogers wanted to spend time with me at all, and two, nervousness. What if I needed a fix while we were together and I snapped at him?     "Ok?" he asked after a little while of my silence.     "Oh, uh, right... ya, sure, thanks," I fumbled.     "Ok, bye."     "Bye Casten."     The line clicked off. I rolled up to my feet, and stood shakily. Inside me, hazy butterflies fluttered, each holding down the same sick giddy feeling I was. With a thin smile, I opened my creaky door, and stepped into the real world.     The couch slumped under my weight, creating a small pocket conformed to only me for only that time, to be freed when I arose. A balding man with an upturned nose and vexatious articulation seemed a little too enthusiastic about the European death toll in Afghanistan on BBC. The remote became sweaty in my palm as I pushed the scanner. Two men examined a string of neon lights, with "a twenty year warranty, with a 6-19 light bulb, the most common in the country..." I flicked to the next, popping a chunk of honey toast into my dry mouth. Some guy chopped a jalapeno pepper into a guacamole, peeling a ripe mango and cutting the flesh from both sides of the pit. It was beginning to disgust me and I lost my appetite for breakfast as I scanned again. Mice were now benefiting from some sort of brain treatment effecting the migration of their cells. I forced the last swallow of toast down my throat, switching off the television.     The kitchen was empty, smelling of onions and egg. Nearly spiritless, I cracked the fridge. The internal light flickered, and I quickly and uninterestedly slammed it back. The phone tintinnabulated, causing the temple-drumming to return harshly.     "Hello?" I said, thumping the opposite side of my head with my fist in attempts to remove the pain.     "Hey, Ivory?" It was Casten.     "Ya." I felt a pang of strange awkwardness revolt through me. Why was it so hard to talk to him? I bit my lip in anticipation.     "I know I said I would study with you on Monday, but," he trailed off, and I help back tears.     "It's ok," I choked, "I understand."     "No, no, oh Ivory, I'm sorry....I wanted to ask you if you wanted to study today." I could hear his perfect smile. "I can pick you up."     "Thanks Casten. That might be what I need. Just, you know, to get out of the house... thanks," I repeated.     "Sure. I'll see you in just a few?"     "Ok."     "Ok," the tone of his stunning voice was blotted out by the blank tone signaling the end of the line. I fished my tongue around my teeth, suddenly realizing how unprepared I was, and hurried up the stairs.     I pulled off my night clothes, and wriggled into a pair of velvet lined chinos and a grey Hollister sweater. I draped a black scarf around my neck as I made a mess of the toothpaste. A small car pulled into the drive, so I dropped the brush, threw a Tick-Tack into my mouth and chased my shadow down the stairs again. I sprinted for the door, and then spun back around, knowing that Casten really would want to study, I snapped my backpack up onto my shoulders. Through the window I saw him wave at me, so I pasted the most believable smile I could on my face in my stressful hustle. I locked the door on my way out, and trotted to his car.     He wedged open the passenger door, and I crouched in, setting my bag on my lap.     "Now, I do realize this is kind of short notice, but, I want to talk to you," I wasn't exactly sure why he was telling me this, but I went along with it, only wanted more of his golden voice.     "It's fine. I think it might be nice to have someone to talk with," I smiled at him. With that, he shifted quietly into reverse, and impelled onto the pavement and we flew.                                                                 ~     His pied-a-terre resembled Kendal's somewhat. Minus the various containers of drugs and the faded blue trim. The walls were a vibrant shade of green, like grass enveloped in a new mornings dew, with Apache style furniture and the floating scent of rosewood. The small coffee table in the center of the room was laden with papers, books, schedules and college registration forms that I was sure were to some of the most prestigious out of state schools. He strode in, nonchalantly, and offered me a seat.     "Do you want tea, coffee or something?" How had he gone from barely noticing me at school, to welcoming me into his home?     "Not now, thanks. You wanted to study, right?" I shrugged.     "Well, I really just wanted to make sure you are alright," he halfway smiled, but looked down, "I mean, last year, you were a great student and I really admired how seriously you took schooling, you wanted to be an artist right? Well, lately you have missed a lot of classes and are flunking most of them. If you don't mind, I want to know what happened."     I crossed my arms, I was not going to cry in from of Casten Rogers, but he was so right. Since my first hit, I had been changing, a lot. And for the worst.     "Hmmm," I started, afraid of bursting out in childish tears, "I guess I just got in with the wrong people."     "Why? You had great friends already, what else were you looking for?" His words, no matter how kind he was trying to get them out, stung.     "I guess I wanted to get back at my mom... she and dad split up when I didn't want them to, so, maybe I was just trying to do things she wouldn't like." It sounded valid, but he could tell that wasn't the only reason.     "Ivory," he took my hands and my heart bursted with sick butterflies, "please trust me."     His eyes were beautiful, deep pockets of ever burning light, I wanted to sink into them and hide from the troubling world outside.     "What was really going on that changed you this much?"     I hesitated, knowing that the only true reason, was only inches away. "I wanted more than anything to get your attention. You had so many goody-two-shoes friends already, all those scholarly book-addicts. I was fed up of trying to weasel my way into your circle by being another one of 'them'," The words spilled out without my consent. I fell back and covered my face, knowing that the tears would well up any minute. "And now, even when I have your attention, it's impossible to quit. I'm just a washed up, miserable, choked out, drugged, w***e."      The one time I wanted him to break the horrible silence that had accumulated in the air, one of the only times I didn't want my joyful silence, he was speechless. He had lost his words, and I had begun to cry.     "Ivory," he finally managed, "you are not a w***e." Then, he shifted across to where I sat and took me into an embrace. I rested my heavy, tired head against his chest and listened to his lulling heartbeat.     "I'm sorry," I stammered weakly.     "Please don't be. It's already hard enough for you." He was right, again.     We sat entwined for a moment, he rubbed my back in long strokes. The tears dried up, the hurt finally released. Now he knew the truth, and what he chose to do with it was entirely out of my control.     "You didn't need to do this," he stated happily, looking into my eyes, his flicking back and forth between mine, "you had my attention from the start. Even if it didn't always show, I think I remember telling you once that I would always be here if you needed me."     Now I was speechless, my limp arms fell to my sides and he stroked my shoulders.      "Did you want to study?" he asked after a bit.     "It might have been worthwhile, but I really should get home...I... well, yeah, I should go," I said quickly, shaking the need out of my head. My veins throbbed hungrily as I stood. I wanted more than anything for him to hug me again, I wanted badly to stay with him, have him tell me not to worry, but my needs muffled my desires, and I headed for the door.     "Ivory," he said standing, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm always here, for you." His eyes glittered kindly.     "Thank you," a moment of awkwardness passed before I turned and headed out into the chilly, dry air.                                                              ~     My fingers were shoved deep into my pockets, my shoulders hunched against the beach breeze. I slowly kicked a speckled pebble along the white sand with the toe of my shoe, shivering in a sudden gust. Noisily, a single page of newsprint rustled past me, curling and rolling on the coast. The front page of the Weekly Sentinel. I dashed to retrieve it, almost subconsciously, snatching it up to read the headline "Wells Drug Dealer Faces Charges". Kendal. I ripped the article unevenly from the page, shoving it into my pocket as I sprinted up the beach. My footprints were swallowed by the rising tide, the sky began to darken over with clouds.     The Frontier Apartments front office was closed for the weekend. The stairs were battered beneath my rushing feet, swaying and cracking as I hastened my way up. The roughly painted door opened to a bare room. My jaw shot open, and I let out a short sigh of disbelief and panic. The door closed soundlessly, and I stood on the stairs in utter shock. My eyes stared out over the beach, the sun bobbing low in the water. So that was it, everything was over, Kendal was gone and I was alone.     The sky cried as I did, in sobs of heavy tears. The sidewalk collected little pools and directed them down into the drains. My shoes were soaked through, and my feet shivered. I could feel the world lose it's color, all the blue from the sky, all the light in the air... everything was falling apart into a monotony of grey.     My mother wasn't at home, I like it that way. I shuffled, depressed, up to my room. The bag lay there still with my crumpled blanket, so I took the plastic into my hands without realizing it, and started again out the door. My body was no longer in charge, my brain had been emptied and now only my feelings controlled my actions. Step by meager step, I made my desolate walk back to Kendal's. My eyes were heavy, sullen. Closing the door behind me, I walked to the center of the room. It all seemed so much larger now. The floor was cold and hard, my knees ached as I knelt onto them. The Fingers removed all four remaining hits from the bag, uncapping each one singly, and one by one painlessly injecting. I didn't even have time to shake before I was happily unconscious, curled up on the wood of the floor, numb and alone.     The rain pattered on the roof, falling like pebbles thrown down by some angry force. The wind picked up, blowing through the open window, reaching its strangling fingers in sharply to whip at my face. The sea protested, infuriated, and battered the sides of the buildings on the coast. Kendal's door swung open in the wild wind, flapping against the outside wall. A familiar creaking of stairs rang out in the wind, as Casten forced his way up.     "I knew I would find you here," he yelled over the din. With my neck rested over one arm, and my knees bent over the other, he made his way down the narrow steps and onto the road. My tangled hair whipped across his chest, flipping in the forceful wind. Four syringes rolled and bounced their way down the metal staircase as well as an article from the front page, crumpled. Casten hurriedly put together what had happened, taking one quick glance at the crook of my middle arm to verify.     "Ivory!" he yelled over the screaming wind.     I laid very still on the road, wet and cold, my eyes closed restfully. He brought me back into his arms again, and it felt nice next to his euthermic body. The rain beat down in sheets now, making visibility near impossible. Casten's knees were consumed by freezing rainwater, struggling to take each step. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead by the time we entered the hospital lobby.                                                          ~     Sunday. I wanted to be in my own bed at home. I wanted honey toast and tea.     An IV was plunged into my vein, the itchy covers of the hospital bed tucked tightly beside me. I licked the inside of my dry mouth, an outrageously disgusting piquancy engulfed every surface. My head lifted from the pillow slightly.     "Casten?" I murmured.     His bright eyes looked into mine the way they had the day before. "I'm here."     Of course he was here. I wanted to grasp his hand and know that he would never leave, but my arms felt of steel and every inch of muscle ached.     "What happened?" was all I could manage.     He backed up, and sat into a loafy brown chair. "Ivory, you overdosed in an abandoned apartment right before a serious storm. Do you remember?"     I couldn't say as I did. The walls around me blinked with small black dots. I moaned and closed my eyes.     "You're alright now," he said reassuringly.     "Thank you," I smiled.     For that moment, I let myself believe that everything was fine. It was all just a dream, and Kendal would be home tomorrow and none of this would have happened. I wanted to just let myself dream, but a stout nurse with rolled up cuffs perambulated into the peaceful room with a smile. After seeing Casten and I exchange subtle looks, she quit grinning and just left the breakfast menu on the table, and strode out.     "Ivory," he said after a while, "you scared me last night. I was beginning to think that you were gone." His face radiated utmost concern, and I hated to see him fret over me.     "Sorry," I squeaked.     He could see I wasn't much for conversation so he took my hand softly and stroked it. I kept my eyes closed, but could feel that he was looking at me. I smiled.     Laying there, with Casten's hand in mine, I began to realize how much he meant to me. No only had he always been there for academics, but also in life. My problems, and feelings, he took such care of, knowing that I needed him. The energy that he radiated, everyday, always, was what I wanted to badly. The interminable spirit and love and admiration of life that he possessed had always amazed me. Somehow, I began to think it was a good thing that I had gone back to Kendal's last night, or maybe Casten wouldn't have come looking for me. What I hoped we had seemed so right, so perfect. I wanted to tell him all of this, but my body forbade me at the moment. His fingers wove into mine, and he squeezed them gently. In the beginning, when I had though all was worthless, meaningless and dull, things were. When I was in the mindset of loneliness, I was lonely. When I thought about how hurt I was, I felt hurt. The color had been drained from my world because that was how I saw it. Casten saw his world much differently, vibrant with life. I wanted to be a part of that, to live everyday seeing the good in things. He released his fingers, and ran his warm palm up and down my arm.   For a moment I opened my eyes, seeing the bright sunlight emanating into the small room. There were flowers of pink and golden yellow in a rainbow vase surrounded by cards and messages of "get well soon". I felt like crying, this time though, I was more than happy. His hand ventured once again into mine as the ceiling fan spun round and round, the string with a hummingbird at the end wiggling slightly. Life was like a ferris wheel, I thought, you start off not quite knowing where you are going, sometimes you are up and sometimes you are down, there are low points when you have to work your way up to the top, but once you get there, the things you see and do amaze you. His hand now reached up to my face, and stroked it softly.     "Casten?" I asked.     "Yes?"     "Do you love me?"     "Yes, Ivory. I do."

Author's Note

Is is too cheesy in the end.... I couldnt think of another way to end it properly.