by Ari Mazur
I don’t recognize my face when I look in the mirror. I’m standing in the piss-covered bathroom of the twenty-four-hour A&W. There are about half a dozen fentanyl-addled homeless people who’ve ordered one root beer between them just outside the door. I can hear them laughing about me. Gruff French-Canadian laughs, sharp reedy cackles. They are laughing at me. My heart is racing. I’ve just crushed fifty mg of Adderall. My face doesn’t look like mine because I hate this woman looking back at me, and I don’t hate myself.
Have I ever been this drunk before? That bitch from the bar put something in my drink, I swear to God.
They’re laughing because the one in the top hat—the one I give cigarettes to on the regular, mind you—grabbed my ass on my way into the bathroom. He’s never getting another fucking smoke off me.
I have to call Sayed back. He called me four times already. He’s worried. It’s ringing.
It’s the eyes I don’t recognize. Why are they so sullen? She looks so guilty. Guilt makes people ugly. I hate ugly people.
“Hello?”
“Can you come pick me up?”
“Where are you?”
“Bathroom. I hate ugly, guilty people. Top Hat grabbed my ass. He grabbed it and I didn’t even do or say anything about it. I just took the Adderall your brother gave me.”
“What the fuck are you saying? You’re not making any sense. Cami, where are you?”
“Uh—A&W. I just said.”
“No you didn—which one?”
“I dunno. Three blocks east of mine?”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? I’m calling an Uber right now.”
“Hurry. They’re laughing at me.”
“Um, okay. Stay put. Do you want to stay on the phone?”
I hang up on Sayed. He’s so nice even though he has no personality. It’s crazy how people can go through life having no opinions on anything. Well, he has an opinion on me. He thinks he’s going to save me. I would prefer if someone else wanted to save me.
I have to get out of the bathroom. I push open the door. They don’t even notice. Top Hat is showing the others something on his phone. I sit down at the table closest to the exit and put my head down. Nobody can see me now. I’m safe in a fort made of my own arms. It’s like an igloo in here.
“Uh—excuse me. You can’t sleep here.”
The employee. He looks to be about seventeen. Pimply. His face doesn’t look guilty.
“Oh, I’m not—I’m not sleeping. I just took a bunch of Adderall. And something else before that, I think.”
He gives me a look. Like a mix of pity and not caring whether I live or die.
“Can I—”
I make a motion mimicking my arm fort.
He shrugs.
I collapse back onto the table.
I’m being shaken out of the safety of my little cave by Sayed a few minutes later.
“Did you fall asleep here, Cam? It’s not safe.”
He gestures toward the general vicinity of the homeless.
“That’s presumptuous. Just because they’re homeless doesn’t mean—”
“Oh, shut up Cam. You know what I mean.”
“The one in the top hat grabbed my ass.”
“What? Are you fucking serious?”
“It’s fine. Whatever.”
“It’s not fine. That’s fucked up.”
He looks like he’s about to do something about it.
“Don’t do anything about it. Please.”
“He can’t just do that.”
Sayed is walking over to the group and I’m suddenly—well, I’m not sure that it actually happened. The grabbing. Sometimes I make things like that up. I think I might have been dramatizing for the sake of making life a little more exciting. Top Hat is nice. He was just laughing with his friends about whatever it is that he’s always watching on his phone. I don’t think he’s ever even touched me. Sayed’s walking over there, though. I could say something.
No words are coming out.
There seems to be a verbal altercation. Some pointing in my direction. Then—there it is again—the laughing. It’s fucking incessant. Top Hat spits in Sayed’s direction and Sayed looks about ready to hit him. He won’t, though—he hasn’t got it in him. He does knock the phone out of Top Hat’s grasp, and it slides a few feet across the filthy linoleum. More than I ever thought him capable of. Sayed turns and starts walking back toward me. I see Top Hat get up.
“Sayed.” I’m trying to warn him.
But it’s too late. Before he can turn around or react, Top Hat’s shoving him onto the floor. Sayed hits his head on a chair on his way down. Top Hat picks up his phone and walks back to the group. They’re still laughing. Sayed isn’t getting up. Why isn’t he getting up?
“Is he okay?”
The employee is asking. Oh God, the employee is gonna call the cops. I’m not fit to be around cops right now.
“Uh.”
I suppose I should go and check on him. I get up from the comfort of my seat. He’s breathing, which I suppose is good.
“Sayed? Hey. Hey. Are you alive?” I’m poking him.
No response.
“Um, yeah. I think he’ll be fine,” I’m hearing myself shout to the cashier.
“Doesn’t look fine to me.”
The laughter has ceased. At some point, they became aware of the severity of the situation. They’re looking over here. Top Hat stands.
“Ah, fuck.”
He’s coming over.
“Is he fuckin’ dead?”
“No, no. Look he’s breathing. I mean—look. He’s breathing, right?”
I thought I had seen Sayed breathe before but now I wasn’t too sure. Top Hat kneels by Sayed.
“Yeah. He’s breathing, thank fuck. He’s knocked out pretty good, though. You should call an ambulance.”
“Um. I don’t think that’s really—”
“I already called one.”
The cashier called an ambulance. Since when did kids get so responsible? Fuck.
I don’t want to be here when the paramedics come. I don’t want to go with him to the hospital and watch his face light up when he sees that I’m by his side. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever known. I stand.
“Where you goin’?”
Top Hat looks to me for a response.
“I have to—get some air.”
I stagger out into the cold night. I hardly process that I’m wearing nothing more than a thin hoodie until I start shivering. I stand outside and watch people gather around Sayed. He’s woken up, it seems. Top Hat is giving him water from a cup. The cashier looks bored. He’s watching TikToks, picking at his acne, and barely registering the situation. I hear the sirens then. It looks like Sayed might be protesting their arrival—he’s waving his arms and getting up. He’s looking around the restaurant—for me, presumably.
I walk away. I’m walking home, I think. Sometimes I just walk until my legs get tired but it’s particularly cold tonight. I’m walking home. I hear the door of the A&W slam open and a shout.
It’s Sayed.
“Cam? Cami?”
I walk faster. Oh, God. I’m going to throw up. I can feel it. The cocktail of substances isn’t meshing well. I grab ahold of the wall nearest to me and next thing I know I’m on my knees throwing up on someone’s Christmas lawn ornaments. Little snowmen getting absolutely massacred. I hear footsteps behind me. Sayed. Fuck.
“Cami, Cami, oh my God, are you okay?”
I’m throwing up so I can’t answer.
“God, that was so fucked up in there. I can’t believe how hard I hit my head.”
I’m still throwing up.
“Did you see they called the paramedics? I thought that was, like, unnecessary. Like—I’m fine. But you don’t seem fine. It’s more than just Adderall. What did you take before?”
I’ve momentarily stopped throwing up.
“I stole something from Ada’s purse at the bar earlier.”
I throw up some more.
“Okay, um, Cam? I actually think you might need to go to the hospital.”
“I’m FINE.”
How can one person throw up this much? I try and swallow it back so that Sayed thinks I’m done vomiting, but it comes back up twice as strong. Putrid.
“Cami. Stay right here, okay? I’ll go get the paramedics.”
I need to lie down for a second, then I’ll keep walking home. I just need to settle in this little patch of snow at the corner right here and close my eyes for a second. Then I’ll run home as fast as possible.
Two strong men are lifting me up while Sayed explains the situation. It’s like he’s excited by this. If he were a dog his tail would be wagging.
“Yeah, for sure Adderall, alcohol, probably some benzos, and I’m not sure what else.”
There is nothing else, I want to say. But I’m so comfortable not speaking while they carry me. It’s so lovely floating like a cloud away from the vomit-covered snowmen I’ve grown so used to. Goodbye, little snowmen.
“I should probably come in the ambulance with her, no? I mean, it was called for me, wasn’t it?”
He chortles. This turn of events amuses Sayed.
“And she really doesn’t have anyone else…”
The paramedics grunt back in response. Apparently, a grunt of acquiescence because in the next instant, I’m strapped into a gurney by a female paramedic while Sayed fusses over me.
This paramedic is nice. I think of her as a mother. She calls me sweetie.
“Cami, is it?”
I nod.
“Camille.”
Sayed is answering for me now apparently.
“Okay, Camille, honey, can you tell me what you’ve taken tonight? We’re gonna run some tests on you in a second but anything you can remember will help.”
Sayed starts to answer for me again but she cuts him off.
“Look, I know you’re worried for your girlfriend, but I need to hear this information from her.”
I like her. I have to say something.
“Not his girlfriend.”
I mumble.
“What was that, sweetie?”
“I’m not his girlfriend.”
Sayed scoffs.
“Well, we’re not labelling it but it’s pretty much as confirmed as it can be. I mean, we do all the couple things together. Like, we’re in love and shit.”
“Okay, well whatever you are to each other, I need Camille to answer some questions without your help.”
He sighs.
“Okay, yeah. Whatever.”
“Now, hun, tell me what you remember.”
“Well… I remember Sayed hitting his head. On that chair. And I was really worried. I felt so sad.”
“That’s natural, honey. I’m sure it was scary to see that happen. But I need you to tell me what you remember taking.”
“No, I mean. I was so sad because. Because I was hoping he’d hit his head way harder, and that he wouldn’t wake up. But then he was breathing, and he’s fine now. That made me so sad.”
Ari Mazur is a recent graduate of Concordia University’s creative writing program. She finds joy in writing, walking around, and apartment hunting. She hopes to continue pursuing these hobbies for a long time.
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