My Big Fat Gay Life (46 page)

I dabbed at the blood gushing down my leg, smearing my hand with it. Then I lashed out at the ringleader, hoping to scare them off as I tried to stand.

“Fuck!” he screamed, emphasising the word with a boot to my stomach. Pain flooded my abdomen and I curled up into a ball. Then the frenzy started: all three were kicking me at once, viciously and brutally.

The last thing I remember before passing out is spitting out some of my teeth.

Narratives from:

I cracked my eyes open slightly, feeling the dried gunk from sleep peel apart around my eyelids, and looked around. I was in my own room. Good! I glanced around the room and at the space next to me in my bed. I was alone. Good!

My bladder felt like it was going to explode. I needed to piss so badly that it was painful. There were other, more immediate, needs however. I reached across to my bedside table and picked up the glass pipe, tapped some crystal meth into it, lit a lighter beneath it, and inhaled deeply.

What a great start to the day! The meth flooded my system, helping me feel more alive, more normal. After so many months of abusing drugs, they no longer gave me a high. I now needed them just to climb desperately up to normal.

Just as I put the pipe down, my alarm clock shrilled. I glanced at it and saw a note taped to its face:
Squash with Justin!
I had to go this morning. I’d stood him up too may times lately, and I needed to get back into my regular routine before anyone realised the depth of my addiction.

Groaning as I rolled painfully out of bed and stood up, I took a cigarette from a packet and lit up, then headed to the bathroom to shower and shave. I knew I was no longer a social smoker nor social drug user. I was an addict.

* * *

A few E’s and a balancing spliff later, I was ready to face Justin. I thought I’d found the right concoction of drugs to level out my mood to its usual state.

“Nice of you to join me!” Justin exclaimed as I walked into the squash court. “You look like shit,” he said, appraising me with a critical eye.

“Thank you,” I replied sarcastically, attempting a grin. “I feel like shit too. I would hate to feel like this and look good! It’d be a waste of a good look.”

“Everything OK?” Justin asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Just couldn’t sleep. You look great! What’s your secret?” He did look great. His eyes gleamed with an inner glow of happiness, and the corners of his mouth were constantly turned up in a slight smile. Even his skin glowed.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I lost my job at the Rape Crisis Centre. Things are tough financially. But I have a great wife and daughter, and life is good.”

“Stop,” I said, “you’re making me sick.” I feigned a gagging sound in my throat, which threatened to become real. “Let’s play!”

For the next forty-five minutes, Justin ran my arse off. I’d done so little exercise lately that I gasped for breath, had a constant stitch in my side, and alternated between hot and cold sweats. My hands trembled, and sweat blurred my vision. I craved a hit and a fag, desperately.

“Enough,” I said, coming to a stop. I bent over, putting my hands on my knees and gasping for breath. “Mercy!”

“See what happens when you don’t keep up your exercise,” Justin admonished me, still smiling. He gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek, then left for the showers.

* * *

The next item scheduled for my day was lunch with Kento. I dreaded it, as it would require far more talking than squash with Justin. Hopefully I could launch Kento into a monologue and barely be required to participate in the conversation myself.

After squash I’d gone home, smoked a couple of meth pipes, snorted a few lines of coke, and had another spliff. After I felt more human, I showered again. Then I left to meet Kento at the sushi bar.

“Sebastian!” Kento called out as I entered the sushi bar; standing up so I could see which table he was seated at. I chuckled at the sight of the hulking black man, standing, waving and calling out effeminately, like a queenager. I walked over; we kissed, and sat down.

“I’m so sorry I missed your Mother’s funeral,” I said softly, looking and feeling ashamed. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
I was off my face and couldn’t remember what decade it was, yet alone if I had anything on my schedule!

“It’s OK,” he replied. “I understand. It was a beautiful service, and she would’ve really enjoyed the wake!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “So what’s new? Anything exciting?”

“Well actually,” he responded, “there’s something I need to tell you. I don’t know how to say it, so I’ll just say it. I’m moving to Glasgow with Ian!”

“Wow,” I said, after a few seconds of silence. “When? Why?”

“Next weekend, on Sunday,” he answered. “I need a change, and now that Mum has gone there’s nothing holding me here. I want to be with Ian!”

“That’s great,” I said, unenthusiastically. “I hope it’s everything you dream it will be. Excuse me for a moment, will you?”

I stood up and left the restaurant, found an ashtray attached to a wall, and lit up a cigarette. Why did I feel so sad at the prospect of Kento leaving Manchester? It’s not like I spent any huge amount of time with him lately: I was too engrossed in my new habits. As I sucked on the fag, I pondered my reaction. Nothing holding him here? What about me?
ME!
Change. I didn’t want things to change. My life’s in such a state of flux at the moment, that the thought of any further changes almost crippled me emotionally. I needed some meth. NOW! I suppressed the desire and went back into the restaurant.

“When the fuck did you start smoking?!” Kento exclaimed as I sat down. His eyes were wide, a combination of shock and anger.

“A few months ago,” I replied calmly. “It started out as a social smoke with friends when I started to hit the clubs a bit more, but I guess I’m hooked now.”

“You stupid bastard!” Kento exclaimed, his anger flaring brighter. “You have to stop!”

Something snapped inside me, and I saw red. “What gives you the right to tell me what to do? Did I ask for your opinion? No, I didn’t.”

I stood up, anger flashing in my eyes. Regardless of the fact that he was absolutely correct, I felt incensed. I turned and left the sushi bar without a backward glance.

There was a knock at the door, so I wiped away my tears and put on a smile. I didn’t know where the tears were coming from, and I wished they’d stop.

“Rory!” I exclaimed as I opened the door. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Hi Sis,” he said as he entered the apartment and kissed me on the cheek. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by like this.”

“Of course not!” I said enthusiastically, and I actually meant it. “Come on in.”

Kyra was awake and contentedly chewing on a rattle, so I asked Rory if he’d like to hold her. After he was settled on the couch with Kyra on his knee, I went into the kitchen to make some coffee. When I returned, Rory was bouncing Kyra lightly on his knee and making goo-goo noises. I smiled at how a baby can reduce even the most adult and mature person to a blubbering idiot.