Drinking with a 15 year old
Ordinarily, I would not condone such behavior. However, most of my friends have left town, and I have spent a lot of my time since then by myself, either at the coffee shop reading, walking around, or staring into the abyss while listening to La Bouche. EXHILARATING. Last night at the coffee shop, 15 asked me if I'd buy him a 40. I thought back to when I was 15. I hotboxed during lunch break. I bought dirtweed on the East Side from guys named Shoebox and Ruby. I went to warehouses and sucked down balloons. A 40? Of course I'll buy you a 40. When I was 15, I drank two at a time.
"You should get one too," he said.
"Hmmm..." I looked at him. He didn't look terribly 15. And what did I have going on? The abyss? "Yeah, I'll get something small, I guess." So off we went. He with a 40. Me with a 24. Us with a pack of Pall Malls and eight years between us.
We went back to the coffee shop first so that 15 could share a swig with a friend. We sat in the bathroom and drank. Then 15 said we should go to the top of the parking structure. Ah, to be 15 again, with bad ideas and worse intentions.
Once there we finished our drinks, milled around for a while, smoked cigarettes, exchanged scar stories, looked in peoples' windows. He told me about some sort of fog that happens down south, and how people die because they get lost and don't know where they are. Then his phone rang.
"I have to go," he said "My mom is coming to pick me up now."
Ah, to be 15 again.
"You should get one too," he said.
"Hmmm..." I looked at him. He didn't look terribly 15. And what did I have going on? The abyss? "Yeah, I'll get something small, I guess." So off we went. He with a 40. Me with a 24. Us with a pack of Pall Malls and eight years between us.
We went back to the coffee shop first so that 15 could share a swig with a friend. We sat in the bathroom and drank. Then 15 said we should go to the top of the parking structure. Ah, to be 15 again, with bad ideas and worse intentions.
Once there we finished our drinks, milled around for a while, smoked cigarettes, exchanged scar stories, looked in peoples' windows. He told me about some sort of fog that happens down south, and how people die because they get lost and don't know where they are. Then his phone rang.
"I have to go," he said "My mom is coming to pick me up now."
Ah, to be 15 again.