There was this gigantic drug dealer. There were no traces of a little kid in that guy, like there sometimes are when people are still fat. Gina invited him into her apartment. She lived in a basement studio on 20th Street and 8th Avenue, which was random for an NYU student. But we loved it. We loved that place.
Oh, and Alden was there. Alden is always there.
There were bugs everywhere, a swarm like a small balloon floating around the room, passing each of us as we passed the large, beautiful Georgie’s handle of vodka around like it was a newborn. There were fights when things spilled, so we were careful.
He offered us cocaine and I don’t remember.
But I know that Gina’s friend was on her way over there, and looked in the basement apartment window to wave, but left when she saw what we were doing. I don’t remember what we were doing, but she definitely left.
The next morning Gina was really excited about going on a date. I peed in her bed unfortunately, and I felt terrible about it until she gave me a couple of Blue Moons so I would stop apologizing.
Her date was at noon. There were still ten Blue Moons so she finished them. She never made it to the date, because she got very sad. I was never really sure what made her so sad, but I kept opening bottles for her because I was her best friend.
When she started lobbing the empty bottles at her wall, they missed the window.
After each bottle shattered, little pieces of glass bounced off of the window, and sounded like baby pieces of hail. We sat and watched, listening to the reign fall, coating her floors in shiny snow. Shiny, brown snow.
Alden turned and looked me deep in the eyes, and I knew that it was because we were witnessing something extraordinary; Gina had finally quite literally fallen to pieces, and somehow we were invited to the ceremony. And we loved them. We loved those ceremonies.
I had a breakdown and left Gina before she left me, Alden continues to find people that can make him feel better, and we are all still careful not to spill.