Once, in my high school years, I was at a friend's house to work on some music. While I was there, another guy came in with some other people I didn’t know. With them came a bag of cocaine. They cleared the table and laid out some lines and they all started snorting. I was invited to share. I refused. It wasn’t my style.
The guy with the cocaine was like a sun and the other people were like planets, circling around him, pulled in by his gravity. He was all smiles. He was a good looking guy with deep blue eyes that kind of glowed in a way, and the girls liked him. He had on expensive clothes. He was a very likable person. A bright personality. He laughed easy and he seemed happy.
He tried again to talk me into having a hit, but I wasn’t going to do it. I can’t say I wasn’t curious but, for me, it was over the line. In my heart of hearts it seemed idiotic. It still does. And fake. Happy happy smile smile, all while dying inside.
I asked my friend how Mr. Blue Eyes had the money to buy the stuff and give it out to people like that. He said the guy was dealing the drugs so he was able to get it wholesale. They were all very impressed with this. One of the other guys who was there was talking to him about how he could get into dealing. I went into the living room to watch MTV, waiting for them all to clear out, and they did before too long. Places to go, people to see.
Fast forward around 15 years.
I was driving down the road in an area where there were no houses, just businesses and warehouses. As I was driving, I passed a guy walking on the side of the road. It was a little odd to see someone walking in that area because there were no houses or retail stores. I looked at him as I passed, curious but not, seeing his face. It happened really fast, but as I passed, I thought I knew the guy. Maybe. Not for sure. And I just kept driving. It didn’t seem important. But his face was stuck in my minds eye and, as the day went on, I kept trying to remember who he was until, finally, it dawned on me: it was the guy with the cocaine, Mr. Blue Eyes.
He’d been hard to recognize because he looked like an old man. He was, I don’t know exactly how to describe it, but he was kind of disheveled. From head to toe. His clothes were filthy, his face was covered with dirt, but out of that dirty face, those blue eyes stared at the ground while he shambled forward. I think that’s what made me remember. You couldn’t miss those eyes. It made me wish I had stopped, but it didn’t cross my mind in the moment. It was just a guy walking down the road. No big deal.
I’m guessing he’s dead now. I hope not. But that’s how it goes.
Peace to you.
© LW Publishing 2010