Know Exceptions

Tara Cass

It's not like I planned to do it! I always said yes to anything out of the norm. I mean, who didn't at sixteen, right? It's not like heroin is something that became a habit in my life. I didn't even go looking for it, it came to me. How could I say no after I already said yes.

It was an average school night in the Cass household. I was hanging out with two of my friends in my bedroom. Every night people were coming in and out of our house, I swear my father thought I was dealing drugs. Who cares if I was, but having my father know would be out of the question. So we were hanging out and I had just finished rolling a joint. I toweled the door and lit my Nag Champa incense in my ritualistic manner. Falling back into my seat, I blew gently at the bright red sparkle at the end of the stick. The minute of last thought before the journey begins.

Every night it was the same thing, either at my house or Pete's. We both had the same type of father; happy go lucky Irishmen after crazy divorces. Pete's mother, a drug addict, and mine a lesbian left our fathers drained and oblivious for most of our adolescence. As long as we did well in school and didn't get arrested it was smooth sailing. I also think that my father was just happy to know where his daughter was at all times. Of course, we were the popular ones in our little Catholic school. You could hang out, get fucked up, and get your homework done. It was a Catholic student's wet dream.

The night in particular was an average night. My friend Jill, her boyfriend, and I began to smoke the joint that I took pride in. Sometimes I would get a little cocky because it was my house and I supplied the herb. I guess it was that bad ass city image I was trying to portray to these out of towners. I lit the joint and as it was circling around this trio, Josh asked me if I would ever try heroin.

"Yeah man, why not? I would do heroin," I replied with my invincible attitude, "What are you some kind of junkie or something?" laughing, handing the joint to Jill who was rolling her eyes at Josh.

"No, I've never done it, but I've always wanted to try it. There is nobody that I knew who would have the guts to do it with me." He replied, looking a little deeper into my half opened eyes.

"Well, if you ever get your hands on it, you know where you can come."

I never actually thought that Josh Russman would get his hands on a drug like that. He was the all American high school kid. We finished smoking the joint and Jill and I made some small talk about the papers that were due the next day. She hadn't started hers yet, and I told her that I didn't either. That was my game at the time, I always said that I never did my homework, but when class came I had my paper finished or received perfect grades on a test. When you are trying to be bad ass the homework gets done after dinner before anyone comes over. That way, I left everyone wondering how I did it. Jill had to get home so the two walked off leaving me high and alone.

I want to say it was an hour later, but I could be wrong. I had just put on my Santana record and lit a cigarette when Josh's Geo Tracker pulled back into my driveway. I quickly scanned the room hoping to find a left over hat or book, but couldn't find anything. My hands began to sweat realizing that I had gotten myself into something that would change the course of my life forever. Don't get me wrong, I had always wanted to try heroin. It could have been that fact that my mother's lover was always shooting up in the eighties. Even though I saw what it had done to her, I was always fascinated by the trance it set in her.

I ran around my room in a frenzy until I heard the knock on my bedroom window. My heart rose into my throat and my stomach tied into a knot until I thought I was going to puke. O.K. Tara, grab a hold of yourself, you can just say no. Yeah, well Nancy Reagan wasn't here to back me up so I was pretty much up shit's creek. The one thing I learned in the world is not backing down. You say you're going to do something, you better do it. Otherwise NARC is written across your forehead.

"Hey Josh, what's up? Did you forget something or did you come back to hang out?" I asked with a trembling voice.

I watched intensely as Josh took the black pouch from his backpack. Jesus Christ, I thought he just wanted to try it, but he had a whole fucking kit. As he slowly unzipped the leather pouch, his mouth began to water. I again saw addiction close to me. He was saying something, but I already surrendered my senses to him. At this point, anything goes. I guess it was the elastic band tightly being wrapped around my arm that snapped me back to my room.

"Calm down Tara, I know it's your first time. I'll go easy on you." This is what this messenger from hell had to say to me.

"I'm not nervous, but this goddamn elastic is going to stop the circulation in my arms." I slip my finger between the band and my arm. Maybe in some way I was separating myself from the reality of my actions.

But no, Tara, you're not nervous. Your voice sounds like a prepubescent boy and you're

about to shoot up heroin. Where the fuck is my life going? It's not too late to say no. It might have been the fact that I grew up around it. I never actually understood why she had to escape all the time. Was it because it was hip in the eighties or because she was gay? Now, I am aware that it was both. I watch as he prepares the heroin to be shot into my lifeline. Slowly, most carefully, Josh places the rock on the spoon. Light melts the brown crystal powder into liquid. A bead of sweat forms under Josh's hairline while mine forms everywhere. I can hear it boiling as he slowly fills the spoon, licking his lips. The one smart thing I did all evening was make sure it was a new needle. Drugs are one thing; AIDS kills.

I don't remember when the point broke my skin, but my head suddenly felt heavy and fell back with an unexplainable force. I entered a cocoon and felt my body wed. When I opened my eyes I watched Josh shoot his load; addiction. He made love to his needle. I stand only with difficulty. Black Magic Women is in the distance with all previous sounds. Now, tape recorder fuzz fills silence in my head. Does Jill know that her boyfriend is a junkie? What if my father hears me? Screw my father, I bet if he knew what we were doing he'd be in here too, I suppose. Yeah, and I would tell him what we were doing and feel proud. Mmm, it's racing its course through my body, warm and comfortable.

"She's trying to make a devil out of me..." Carlos sneaks into me, moving me. God knows, I can't move myself anymore. I shuffle around like an elderly person with bad arthritis. My vision is no longer what it used to be. This is how I will be forever. Warm shooting around in my body, leaks into my brain. I feel nauseous, but excited. I have no more feeling in my legs and collapse into my chair that I have had since my room became my hang out. I got it at Good Will so I'm sure that drugs were done here before me. I'm living some kind of legacy.

I never thought I would drool unless I was asleep. I'm not asleep. My body tingles weak, but I think in speeds that speed up and slow down. Allowing for full understanding of my thoughts, my illusion, and myself. Who the fuck cares if people notice me change, they only want me to be just like everybody else. I know their pain. Dress us in our plaids and polo, pay for us, expect from us, then we can be replicas of them and everyone is happy? Not me, I walk the other path. I will say what I feel and believe what I say. I will be in my own stupor; they can't make anyone be shit. I am free. Remember to thank Josh when I can find my voice again.

Josh waddles over in slow motion. His deep giggle makes me want to laugh, but he understands. He wipes the drool that has been dripping down the side of my face for God knows how long. I thank him with a nod. My seat begins to swallow my whole existence. I am now one with my seat. I am being swallowed and I don't think I am coming out. We make it outside with help from the changing walls and each other. How the stars in the sky are bright, I think I can fly to them. I hope I didn't wake my father up. Wait, I don't care if I woke him up. I could probably hold a decent, civilized conversation if I had to. We walk to the back of the house and sit in the damp grass. I am wet everywhere now. Wetness has engulfed my being and there is no escaping it. Lying down can give a whole new perspective on my spinning world, our spinning world. The grass swallows me into the depths of my sub conscience or is it someone else's? Quickly, I fall into the dark whole and enter a complete mind, body, and soul orgasm. Nothing I have ever felt before controlling my movement, my ecstasy. I feel energy in my veins that I could no longer store. Orgasms are controlling me, Help, I can't control anything. I am going to die.

Oh my God, my stomach is turning into knots. Knots, knots, and more knots bring me into the fetal position. I'm curled into a ball to control bodily functions. I feel Josh rubbing my back, I feet disgusting. I am scared and wet everywhere. Liquid forms in my mouth at an uncontrollable speed. I can't control, but I keep swallowing, it's all about swallowing. Life is about swallowing. If you do you are considered weak, but if you don't you are considered a social outcast. I need to be weak. I feel weak. I can't stop shaking. Vomit is coming out at a rate I can't control. In my fucking backyard. My dad is asleep and he can't see me like this, I told Josh to get the fuck out of my house and he left.

I made it into the house and now I sit with my head in the toilet bowl, dry heaving. There is nothing left in my stomach, but green and yellow bile. I keep puking. What am I going to do? Tears drip into the water, splashing mist into the air as I pray for one more chance.

I hear a knock at the door

"Tara, what the hell is wrong with you, were you drinking?'

"No dad, I think I have the flu, just leave me alone."

"Well, you're going to school tomorrow. No more of this bullshit with people coming over on a school night. Do you know what time it is?" He hollers behind the wood.

"It's three in the morning and you better be up for school tomorrow."

"Dad I don't think I can, I really feel..." more puke.

After a long time I feel abdominal cramps, and now I need to use the bathroom. I have

moved the garbage in front of me so that I can puke at the same time. I have shit coming out of both ends and I fade from dark to light.

I dream that someone is banging on my hollow head and makes me come to. My father needs to use the bathroom. He expresses general concern for my condition as he coaxes me out of the bathroom. It could have been the guilt in my eyes or the clothes from the previous night that switched the look of concern to disgust when I left the bathroom.

"You better be at school today." Is all he said.

I went into my bedroom and looked around my room. Everything was left the same. Nothing was changed except for me. I heard my father leave after an hour and I went into the bathroom. I stepped back into the shower and the wet came back. This time it was hot and I felt itchy all over. I lathered lotion all over my body and let it air dry.

I hear Lisa's horn beeping to come to pick me up for school. I grab my book bag and a freshly rolled joint. I look into the mirror one last time. I see my curly hair, freshly washed, and hairsprayed. No makeup, but I feel the heaviness of cover-up. My baggy blue polo shirt untucked over my maroon plaid uniform kilt which is hemmed just below my thighs. I take one long look and realize my eyes. The image of an Irish Catholic school girl, the image of a bad ass ghetto kid, the image of a good daughter, good student, popular, happy, well rounded, happy, and I swallow the lump in my throat. Who are you? I ask as I run to the bathroom one more time.