As Fate Would Have It

by Michael Louis Calvillo

  But what was missing then?

  And what would happen once she conquered this freaking demon that she had unleashed upon her and Henry?

  And why did she feel so damn unsatisfied?

  Life was what it was, she had to find a way to accept that, but an egocentric strain thrashed restless in the pit of her stomach and begged for more. It worried Ashley to think that this unease wouldn’t let her quit no matter how badly she wanted to. Or, worse, it would drive her to seek another addiction to simulate purpose.

  Regardless, first things first, she had to beat the vicious drugs back and reclaim her life. Only then would she be able to get a clear picture and institute any necessary changes.

  Withdrawals were going to be hell. She hoped two days were enough. There were a number of times when she and Henry ran out and started to feel the sting, but they had always managed to score before things got too bad. She had heard stories though. She had seen Trainspotting and watched in horror as Ewan McGregor’s character imagined dead babies and gritted his teeth and writhed and thrashed in an ocean of sweat. She had seen Requiem for a Dream and the depths of depravity possible.

  Of course these were movies and the real-life stories she heard were more about pathetic relapses than hallucinatory hells. It was simply an issue of mind over matter. Like working out or dieting. There was pain and the temptation to quit, but you just had to stick to your guns.

  For the time being, Ashley chose to enjoy her second to last high. There was a small dose waiting for her this evening and then that was it. She and Henry were in for a long night, but if they could make it till the next morning without breaking down she believed they would make it.

  CHAOS opened at eleven, but didn’t see much business till about three or four. Ashley enjoyed the first part of her shift. She unlocked the store, deactivated the alarm and then got everything ready for the day. This took her about twenty minutes. The rest of the early afternoon was pretty much hers to listen to what she liked, to thumb through magazines, to nod off a bit, to add some new designs to her sketch book. Floating on heroin made everything that much more enjoyable. Work was going to be worlds different when she returned after two days of detoxification.

  Stop.

  She had to stop dwelling. There would be plenty of time for that later when she was locked in the throes of withdrawal.

  Picking up the phone she dialed Heather’s cell. It went directly to voicemail. Ashley left a message, the fourth in two days. The last time she talked to her they got in a dumb fight about some dumb guy she was going on a dumb date with.

  Sometimes Heather could be such an idiot. This cold shoulder crap wasn’t like her though. Usually when they fought it lasted a few hours at the most – especially if one of them just had a date. Ashley fully expected Heather to call her yesterday morning, ignoring their spat like the nothing argument it was, with all of the juicy details. Maybe she was taking their dumb fight a bit more seriously. Ashley might have been a little meaner than she intended to be. Whatever. Heather would come around eventually, she always did.

  To Ashley’s credit she was only trying to look out for her friend. She wasn’t jealous like Heather countered, just concerned.

  Who was this guy exactly?

  You don’t just bump into random guys at the mall and go out with them after a brief phone conversation.

  Ashley was only trying to explain to Heather that she should make this guy work a little harder. He had to earn a date with her and prove his worth. At least a few deeper telephone conversations. The way Heather described it was he called up, stammered a bit and then nervously blurted out a date proposal. Heather said she thought he was cute and his awkward phone manner endearing. Regardless, she knew nothing else about him. He could be a weirdo. A psycho even.

  He was probably harmless and their date probably went fine, but if Heather wanted a lasting, meaningful relationship (she did and talked Ashley’s ear off about it incessantly) she had to play things a little cooler. She had to build interest and mystery. The art of seduction, or rather developing something deeper, the art of establishing a solid bond, required reserve paired with tact and resolve. If Heather jumped in feet first with no regard for laying a solid foundation things were bound to fall apart.

  Like the last time.

  And the time before that.

  And–

  This time might be different.

  Despite the shit talking and cautioning, Ashley truly hoped Heather would find what she was looking for.

  Whether her date was a success or not would be revealed shortly. Heather started work at two today and after a few moments of icy bitchiness, Ashley would have their fight patched up and then two days worth of stories to tell between the two of them.

  Throughout their entire friendship they hadn’t spent too much time apart, a day here or there or the occasional family obligation, but little else. They worked together at CHAOS and Heather hung out with her and Henry everyday after work and then even on her days off. Maybe Ashley got a little bent out of shape about her date because she was so used to Heather being all hers. It wasn’t fair. Ashley had Henry and she couldn’t expect Heather to hang around forever – she had a life to explore and build as well. But it was still a hard notion to swallow. Ashley had been looking out for her since they were kids. True, they were the same age, but it was Ashley who made the decisions and guided their fates. Heather seemed content to be steered along, but lately there was a bit of a rift growing between them. It was inevitable, Ashley supposed, but that didn’t make it feel anymore right.

  Their relationship tended to strain all other relationships in their lives. Rather than acknowledge this and do something to correct it they simply trudged forward.

  Much to Henry’s chagrin.

  Much to Heather’s periodic boyfriends’ chagrin.

  Much to Heather’s family’s chagrin.

  Unfortunately it was impossible to let go. They had too much history. It was clear, however, that Heather wanted (needed) a break and Ashley could feel her discontent growing. She had been talking about the future a lot lately, as if she finally began to look around her and take stock of their nothing lives. Ashley didn’t want to hold her back, Heather deserved better than hanging out with junkies and failing musicians, but she was afraid. And selfish. And worried that her life would feel even emptier than it already did minus Heather. So she kept her friend in check. Like they were thirteen all over again. The sad thing was, save for the stupid fight over her date, Heather tended to give in and go along with whatever Ashley wanted.

  It was time to grow some balls and tackle the realities facing them. Ashley had to toughen up and do what was best for Heather. She had to cut her loose for a while, let her find her own way. Maybe she would push their current fight and use it as an excuse to give her the cold shoulder. If she wanted to, Ashley could really piss Heather off by playing up how wonderful heroin was, bragging that she was going to do it forever and Heather could never try it because if she even thought about it she was going to fuck her up. This had always been a sore spot between them. Ashley absolutely forbade Heather from trying the shit. Proof of her power over Heather resided in the fact that she obeyed and stayed away from the drug.

  If Ashley rubbed it in her face and told Heather that she and Henry were pledging their eternal allegiance to H, it might anger her enough to avoid them for a while. In the meantime, Ashley and Henry could get clean and then revisit the Heather situation fresh and unclouded. Future talk could resume; College, or trade school, or whatever. Maybe during their little break Heather would come up with a kick ass plan.

  Ashley was going to miss bossing her around, but she cared about Heather too much to continue on with such an unhealthy arrangement. Time, patience and focus would make for a world of difference.

  After restocking magazines and straightening the CD racks, Ashley sat behind the counter and nodded off a bit. She dreamed of business suits and vanilla lattes. When she awoke she felt like sh
e had just had a bad dream, but as unsettled as she was she couldn’t recall anything all that disturbing.

  Weird.

  The heroin was waning. In a few hours, the clock currently read 2:33PM, she and Henry would do their last bit and then it was cold turk–

  2:33PM?

  Heather was scheduled to come in at two and for the three and a half years they each worked at CHAOS she had never missed a shift. Never. Ashley had called in sick or ditched out a handful of times each year, often getting Heather to cover for her, but Heather never, ever, ever missed.

  Ashley called her cell again and again it went directly to voicemail. She left a cold, professional sounding message about being late for work and then hung up.

  What was going on here?

  She dialed Heather’s home phone, got the family answering machine and hung up without leaving a message. Heather was super-embarrassed that she still lived at home. Ashley wasn’t ever supposed to call her home number unless there was some sort of emergency, she wasn’t even supposed to mention Heather’s living situation to anyone unless there was a pressing, life or death circumstance at hand. Besides, for reasons still unclear, Heather’s mom was a total bitch and didn’t much like Ashley. The cell phone then, was her primary method of contact and Ashley promised to never tell anyone otherwise. In this case however, the call was justified. Heather’s absence from work qualified as a mini-emergency, not so crazy that Ashley had to leave a message on her parents’ machine, but definitely serious enough to warrant an exploratory call home.

  Where was she?

  Did she hit it off with this new guy?

  Ashley knew Heather was probably still mad at her, but it didn’t excuse her from at least calling in. Friends or not, this was still a job and there was still a bit of protocol to be followed. She blustered with heat when she imagined Heather taking advantage, milking their fight, developing a relationship with some stranger, and blowing off work like it was nothing. It further infuriated her to think that Heather was banking on her to be cool and cover and to not tell Errol, their boss. She had half a mind to call Errol up this instant and let him know that his star employee was now forty-three minutes late. Ashley was sooo pissed that the temptation had her dialing a few digits before she slammed the phone down in frustration.

  She couldn’t rat.

  She wouldn’t rat.

  She may not like it, but she was stuck, and if Heather didn’t make it in by six pm, Ashley would have to stick around and finish out the little asshole’s shift.

  Opening and closing. Ugh.

  Fucking bitch.

  Heather had better have a good excuse for this shit. She better be getting laid or engaged or married or something pretty damn monumental.

  The day grinded on.

  Ashley helped an old guy find a copy of the soundtrack for The Buena Vista Social Club and talked Ry Cooder for a good thirty minutes. Old men loved to chat and Ashley rather enjoyed their company. Much nicer than most of the idiots she encountered. After the old man left it remained slow and around four-thirty she called Henry to let him know her stupid bitch ass friend stuck her with a double shift and that she would be home a little after nine.

  “That sucks,” came his scholarly reply.

  “Indeed. So, how’s the new material coming?” Henry and his band were due in the studio to begin recording their new album. This was his first album on a decent record label with decent distribution, a decent advance and the promise of a decent career. They were even going to shoot a video (probably to be played on MTV2 – fingers crossed). He had been stressed out some, because this time around there was the potential for a lucrative career, a real shot, but he had to produce an albums worth of quality songwriting and lately, he hadn’t been feeling too inspired. Ashley knew he could do it though. He was an incredible songwriter and she believed in his artistry one-hundred and fifty percent.

  Henry simply grunted and sighed.

  “That good, huh?”

  “I’m trying to add a new bridge to Decadent.”

  “I like it the way it is.” Decadent was shaping up to be their first single. Ashley thought it was perfect. Henry couldn’t let it alone. Regardless, a decision had to be made for the video and time was running out.

  “It needs something.”

  “Did Heather call?”

  “No.”

  Ashley let out a sigh, “All right, I’ll see you after nine then. We have enough for tonight?”

  “Yep. Burrito was going to score some mor–”

  “What?” Anger brimming.

  Henry seemed to realize his mistake and began to backpedal, “Um, for himself. He was just asking if we wanted mor–”

  “And you said?”

  “No. No.”

  She knew he was lying, but she also knew once they hung up he would call Burrito and correct the problem. They had tried to quit before and slipped – not this time.

  “Whatever Henry. Whatever. Just remember, what we have left after tonight I’m flushing. We have to do it this time. We have to.”

  No response.

  “Henry?”

  Despondent, “Yeah, I’m here. Can you bring tacos for dinner?”

  Driving out of El Taco Hut, Ashley felt the pull. The H was wearing down big time. Little pulses of need throbbed in her stomach and her mouth was as dry as sandpaper. A light bead of sweat sheeted her entire skin.

  How were they going to pull this off?

  It was a really tough thing to wrap her brain around, especially now with need ramping up each passing second. It was going to hurt. Hurt. Hurt. Hurt.

  She shouted, “Motherfucker!” at the top of her lungs and banged her hand on the steering wheel. A torrent of tears followed and she gripped the wheel with both hands to keep control.

  The heroin was bending her mind and putting her emotions through the wringer. The anger she felt towards Heather for not calling in to work or for not returning her voicemails or for just being an all round bitch reached crescendo.

  They were like freaking sisters and she was ready to cast her off after the first winning date she had in how long?

  Fucking bitch.

  Fucking, prissy, stupid ass bitch.

  Just wait until she finally called back. Ashley was going to rip her a new one. Her brain, feasting on ire, harnessing ill will and sour need, began concocting put downs - evil, malicious shit, horrible friendship smashing turns of phrase, low blows, mama jokes, self esteem deflators and on and on.

  Stop.

  The drugs.

  The comedown was starting to hollow her out. It was going to get tons worse and she had to prepare herself.

  The anger that twisted and fed inside her like a blood parasite that destroyed Heather’s good name, shifted, softened and trembled.

  What if something was really wrong?

  Like really, really wrong, like death or kidnapping or an accident?

  It wasn’t like Heather to cut off communications when she was angry; that was generally Ashley’s game.

  At the next stop light Ashley fished her cell phone from her purse and tried Heather. Again her cell went directly to voicemail. Despite Heather’s avowed insecurities and decrees not to call anything but her cell phone, despite her mom’s aversions, Ashley dialed up her parents’ house for the second time today. The phone rang only once before Heather’s mom answered. Her voice was tinged with urgency and when she said “Hello,” it came out more like “-O.”

  “Um, hi, Mrs. Palmer?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “It’s Ash, I was just won–”

  “Ashley? Where are you?” More urgency. Something was definitely wrong.

  “I’m driving home.”

  “Where’s Heather?”

  “I–”

  “She hasn’t been home in two days.” The poor woman began sobbing and Ashley didn’t know what to do. Her stomach, her head, her physiology, all crying for a fix, couldn’t seem to properly respond or muster the ability to
comfort, especially given their rocky history. Just getting out a question was proving to be extremely difficult. After a few awkward seconds of sniffling, Ashley managed, “I haven’t seen her, I was just wondering where- Um, can you please tell her I called?”

  Heather’s mom stammered and tried to keep her from hanging up, but this was obviously a bad situation and Ashley couldn’t deal with it at the moment. She had to have her evening fix first. It was a mistake to think she could distract herself so easily.

  A fix, then Heather (a fix, then never again).

  All systems were engaged in revolt. Her stomach cramped and turned in on itself. Her nose ran. Sweat ran. Teeth ground. Her skin felt like it was on fire. Usually during a work day she had a little something to pick her up. Her afternoon break found her in the bathroom fixing. Because today was the day they were going to quit, Ashley decided to forgo the afternoon dose. Besides, she was supposed to be home three hours ago (fucking Heather!).

  Never mind now, what about tonight, late, after their evening share began to wear off?

  When they were done, no more, finito, what then?

  Ashley felt like complete hell, driving the car a near impossible chore, the smell of tacos making her nauseous (and she loved the smell of tacos) and she was only an hour or so into the comedown from this morning’s blast. What happened during the second, the third, the fourth hour?

  A shudder tore through the discomfort.

  Thought went. Ideas, plans, worries to vapor. She became one with the road, the car, the drive home.

  Almost, looped eternal while her insides fought the beast.

  If she had to sit down and think back on the moment she hung up with Heather’s mom right up until that inevitable, blissful explosion of peace, needle in place, ichor intermingling with her bloodstream, Ashley would have been at a loss. All she could manage were muddled streaks of color, street lights blurring by, the brain searing the white and pink of their ugly bathroom, the intense focus and then, at long last, the plunger plunging home.