Ballads of Suburbia

by Stephanie Kuehnert

  However, as I got more stoned, Adrian acted more sober. “Seriously, Kara,” he said, “I hope I didn’t cause this whole mess.”

  I waved his comment away with a thick cloud of smoke. “I don’t want to talk about Christian.” The alcohol-pot combination made me bold. I leaned forward, nesting my hand in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I want to be with you. Pretend he never happened.” I kissed Adrian powerfully.

  “Kara, it doesn’t work like that…” he objected, though he couldn’t help but kiss me back. I pushed him down against the bed, my fingernails scratching his stomach, pulling his shirt off. He ran his fingernails across my stomach as well and slowly lifted my shirt over my head. Then he saw the bruises across my chest and froze.

  “Jesus Christ. He did this?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I tugged my jeans past my hips. “He doesn’t exist.”

  Adrian clamped his hands over mine, stopping me from undressing. “Yes, he does, Kara.”

  I sat up. “So what? Now you don’t even want me? I thought you’d sleep with any chick with a pulse.”

  Hurt filled Adrian’s brown eyes and he rolled over, reaching for our shirts. “I do want you. I’ve wanted you for months.” He met my gaze again and said firmly, “But I’m not going to take advantage of you and hurt you worse.”

  I snatched my T-shirt from him. “No one could hurt me worse than he did or than you did the last time around.”

  “Kara…”

  “Don’t. I’m leaving.” I attempted to thrust my shaking arms through my shirt, but was sobbing so hard that I couldn’t. When Adrian tried to help, I shrieked, “I can dress myself. I’m not a goddamn child!” and pushed him away, bashing my elbow against the lamp on his nightstand in the process. “Ow! Goddammit!”

  I shoved the lamp to the floor, my lip curling in satisfaction when it broke.

  Adrian chuckled. “Did that feel good? Here.” He grabbed an empty beer bottle from his windowsill. “Throw it.” He egged me on, eyes glittering. “Trash the whole damn room if it will make you feel better. I’ll help. No one’s home to stop us.” He took another beer bottle and tossed it at the mirror above his dresser. Shards went flying everywhere. “Your turn.”

  Before long, we’d heaved his dresser onto its side, yanked his mattress off his bed, and stomped the lamp to pieces. I went to overturn his nightstand, but he stopped me. “Nah, don’t do that.”

  “Why not?” My cheeks were flushed; my whole body quivered, savoring the adrenaline rush.

  Adrian shrugged. “My drugs are in there.”

  “Oh yeah? Whatcha got?” I opened the drawer. He tried to slam it shut, but my hands were already inside. I extracted a vial filled with brown powder. “What’s this?”

  “It’s not for you.” Adrian plucked it from my fingertips and squirreled it away in his pocket.

  “Hey! What are you doing? I thought we were having fun.”

  “I’m protecting you.”

  “Where the hell were you last weekend? Or in September?” I spat. “No one was protecting me then and now there’s nothing left worth protecting.”

  Guilt washed across his face. “That’s not true-”

  “It’s heroin, isn’t it?” I reached greedily into his pocket.

  “Kara…” But he didn’t try hard enough to stop me and I got hold of the vial.

  “You’re not going to turn me down twice in one day, Adrian.” I rummaged through his nightstand, emerging with a cigar box. Along with his pot paraphernalia, it contained a razor blade and a straw. Jackpot.

  As Adrian protested, “Kara, don’t do that!” I spilled out a line and snorted, just like I’d seen him do in September. It barely burned my nose. I did another one. A rush of warmth swam through my bloodstream. Soon I felt like I was flying. Everything was beautiful and light. The world turned blue and then gold. I’d never felt so high before and I loved it.

  Adrian stroked my cheek and ran his finger down the bridge of my nose. “My girl.” He sighed and murmured sadly, “I shouldn’t have let you do this.”

  Shaking off his remorse, he cut three lines for himself and did them in quick succession, like he did the shots at Shelly’s the night of our first kiss. He hefted the mattress back onto the bed frame and we collapsed onto it. Adrian’s eyes closed slowly and reopened, glazed.

  “Wow, heroin…” I said.

  “Heroin for my heroine.”

  I moved my heavy limbs against his dark blue sheets; it felt like I was floating peacefully in a cool river. Adrian and I started to kiss, then forgot about it. He laughed and said something, but I couldn’t hear him. My head emptied of all thoughts. I couldn’t even remember Christian’s face. Heroin hadn’t just paused the movie that had been repeating in my brain since New Year’s, it took it off the reel and burned it. All that was left was the blank screen. White noise drowned out everything. My eyes were open, but I couldn’t see. It felt so good not to see.

  Some time later, Quentin pushed open Adrian’s bedroom door and quickly shut it behind him. He didn’t seem to notice the mess and the overturned furniture, his eyes locked on me, lying on the floor next to Adrian.

  “Kara,” he whispered, kneeling beside me.

  My head lolled toward his voice. “Quentin.”

  Adrian propped himself up on his elbows. “Want a line?” He indicated the half-empty vial that sat atop the cigar box near our feet.

  Quentin pocketed it, reprimanding, “You shouldn’t have done this with her.” He glanced over his shoulder, pale blue eyes filled with panic. “This does not look good.”

  “You saw what happened with Christian at that party. If she needs to escape, I’m gonna let her. She’s-”

  Pounding on the door and an angry voice: “Is my sister in there with him or what?”

  Liam.

  I sat up straight, gripping my head with both hands. “Oh shit!”

  “They waited for you at Shelly’s. When you didn’t come back they asked me to bring them here,” Quentin explained, wringing his hands.

  “Who’s ‘they’?” Adrian demanded.

  Before Quentin could answer, Liam shoved the door open. Maya stood behind him. I craned my neck, looking for Christian, but fortunately he wasn’t there. That was the only good thing about the situation.

  Liam stalked into the room. His gaze flitted across the mess but lingered longest on Adrian, then the cigar box, then me. “It’s all true,” he murmured. “Adrian. Heroin.” He glared into my eyes, though I had a hard time focusing on his.

  Adrian stumbled to his feet. “Dude, don’t get the wrong idea.”

  Liam gritted his teeth. “Don’t fucking talk to me.”

  Maya stepped between them, hands on her hips. “You need to leave the room,” she instructed Adrian, her voice low and cold. Nodding in Quentin’s direction, she added, “You, too. This is between the three of us.”

  Diminutive as she was, Maya commanded respect. “Okay,” Quentin agreed quickly, grabbing Adrian by the arm.

  “If you upset her,” Adrian warned, jabbing his finger in my brother’s face.

  Liam snorted. “If I upset her?” He approached the spot where I sat, kicking things out of his path. Looming over me, arms crossed, he asked Maya, “It’s all true, isn’t it? Everything Christian told us at Denny’s after she left.”

  I struggled to stand, fiercely shaking my head. “No! Are you going to listen to my side of the story or are you going to ignore me like Maya did?”

  “I wanted to hear your side of the story, Kara!” Liam shouted. “I didn’t believe Christian at first. I made them go to Shelly’s to look for you. Then there you were, wasted, fondling Harlan…”

  My head still bobbed from when I’d been shaking no the first time. “I was not!”

  “And you flash your damn hickeys at Christian.”

  “They aren’t hickeys!” My fingers fluttered to the neckline of my shirt, but Liam slapped his hand over mine to stop me.

  “I don’t want to see. Just li
ke I didn’t want to see you kiss Adrian from the porch.”

  “You saw that? I was looking for you.”

  Liam tugged at his spiked hair. “You obviously didn’t look too hard. I just went outside for some air and you walked right past me. You left without me again.” His body twitched violently like he was going into a seizure. I tried to touch his arm, but he swatted me away. “First you ditch me at Denny’s without any explanation. Then you don’t even bother to try to talk to me before you run off with Adrian.”

  “Liam, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking-”

  “Damn right you weren’t! You never think of me. You’re so goddamn selfish!” He stopped and took a deep breath. His tone grew calm and even. “When I saw you kiss Adrian, everything Christian said seemed true. But I still wanted to believe in you. Christian tried to convince me to leave after you did. He said, ‘She’s going to do heroin with him, Liam. She’s not coming back for you.’ But I was convinced you wouldn’t ditch me. So, instead of comforting my best friend, I waited at Shelly’s for you for two hours.”

  Tears streamed down my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Liam. I just…I lost track of time.”

  “How did you lose track of time and forget about me?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I know.” Liam’s voice was cold and he shook his head in disgust. “You’re on heroin. Everything Christian said about you was true.”

  “No, not everything is true. Let’s talk about New Year’s Eve…” I trailed off, desperate to organize my thoughts. Despite the grave situation, I was having a hard time staying awake. I fought to keep my droopy lids from closing.

  Liam grabbed my face and forced my eyelids open with two fingers, screeching, “You’re on heroin!” He released me and stomped over to Adrian’s cigar box. The razor blade and straw still sat on top of it along with a thin dusting of brown powder. Liam held it out in front of me. “You think I don’t know what this is? Stop lying!”

  “Okay,” I sobbed. “I snorted heroin. But only for the first time. Only because of what Christian did…”

  Pure hatred filled Liam’s eyes and he launched the cigar box across the room. It crashed into a wall, contents spilling everywhere, mixing with the rest of the rubble. “Liar! I won’t listen to your selfish crap anymore. Fuckin’ junkie,” he spat, and stormed out of the room.

  I collapsed to the floor, crying and rocking myself, mumbling, “Just once. One mistake. Because of Christian.”

  Momentarily, the room was silent except for the sound of my sobs. When feet crunched through the mess I looked up, expecting Adrian. But it was Maya. I’d completely forgotten about her. She’d let my brother have his say and now it was her turn.

  She squatted beside me, crying as hard as I was, her face a mess of black eye makeup. “I wanted to believe you. I mean, I couldn’t believe Christian would hurt you like that,” she stammered. “But I thought maybe there was a misunderstanding. Maybe since you were wasted, you got confused and thought Christian was trying to hurt you when he was really trying to help you.”

  I wiped my nose on the back of my hand and told her, “I’m not confused.”

  “No, you’re not.” Maya sniffed and dabbed her eyes. She got to her feet, towering over me. “You’re using heroin and you’ll say anything to cover it up.”

  She headed for the door. I pushed myself onto my hands and knees, trying to go after her. Not able to move fast enough, I shouted, “Why are you listening to Christian instead of me?”

  Maya turned back. She bit her lip and whispered, “I don’t have to listen to anyone. All I have to do is look at you. Sober up, Kara. So that someday your brother and I can forgive you.”

  “No!” I screamed as she shut the door. “You didn’t believe me and I will never forgive you!”

  Adrian reentered his room moments after Maya left. I was curled in a ball on his bed beneath his comforter. He peeled the blanket back and asked, “What can I do?”

  “Let me sleep,” I insisted.

  Adrian did as instructed and I fell into a dreamless slumber while he and Quentin rummaged around, recovering the contents of the cigar box.

  I awoke just before dawn. Blinking in the bleak gray light that crept in through the crack in Adrian’s dark blue drapes, I needed a moment to realize where I was. Adrian slept on his back beside me. Quentin slept huddled in a sheet on the floor near the bed. I spotted the cigar box on Adrian’s nightstand and carefully climbed over Adrian to reach it. Tucking the box under my arm, I sidestepped Quentin and tiptoed to the center of the room, to the spot where I’d been when I screamed at Maya that I would never forgive her.

  I should’ve woken Adrian and asked him to take me home to see my brother. I should’ve apologized to Liam and forced him to listen to my side of the story.

  Or I should’ve woken Quentin and asked him to take me to Cass. I should’ve begged her forgiveness for the incident in the locker room, told her she was right about Christian, and asked her to talk to Maya with me.

  But six days before, I’d awoken bruised and hungover and I’d buried all of my feelings in an attempt to do the right thing, to protect Liam and Maya, to hold our fragile group together. I’d failed and I didn’t have the strength to try again.

  I opened the cigar box and took out the razor blade. I studied my arm, the bruises that had started to fade near my wrist. I could cut over those or I could cut higher up where my skin was unmarred aside from old scars. I remembered the rush that cutting provided, but I also thought about the way my arm ached afterward. Hadn’t I felt enough pain?

  Heroin, on the other hand, had been completely painless and it obliterated every thought, every memory. Maya’s plea to get sober rang in my ears, but I couldn’t. Last weekend, I’d fought demons for them. I’d lost. Now I needed relief.

  I rifled through the cigar box again for that little vial. It was nearly empty, but there was enough for two lines. I poured the powder out on top of the box, cut the lines as precisely as I would if I were carving them into my own skin, and snorted.

  I deserved this oblivion, this total numbness. At least for a little while. Once I felt strong again, I’d stop and get Maya and Liam back.

  CHORUS

  JANUARY-JUNE 1995

  [SECOND SEMESTER OF JUNIOR YEAR]

  “Why can’t we not be sober? I just want to start this over.”

  —Tool

  1.

  THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY, I WOKE UP late for school as usual and found a note taped to the kitchen counter that read: “Liam and Kara—You’re having dinner at your father’s house Saturday night at six. No buts…Love, Mom.”

  It was the end of finals week. They’d announced the divorce right after finals in June. What would the big news be this time? My first instinct was to ask Liam what he thought, but of course he hadn’t spoken to me all week.

  So after I took my last test, I trekked to Adrian’s. I’d gone to his house every day after school that week. His parents were on a cruise, so Adrian, Quentin, and I had the place to ourselves to snort lines and write the “Stories of Suburbia” screenplay. I’d been surprised to discover that though they’d continued to gather newspaper articles, work on the script had ceased when I stopped hanging out with them.

  “You were the best screenwriter out of the four of us,” Adrian told me with a grin. “Cass is pretty good, but not as good as you.”

  I’d been nervous about running into Cass because I hadn’t seen her since our fight, but she never showed at Adrian’s. When I asked Quentin about her, he said, “She’s studying. She’s taking the school thing really seriously lately.”

  Adrian, on the other hand, had stopped going to school again. He’d decided it was pointless since he wasn’t going to graduate with his class at the end of the year. When I got to his house at noon, he answered the door groggily.

  “Time to wake up and listen to me complain about my life,” I announced, pushing through the door and heading for his bedroom.

  Our r
elationship was different this time around because my attitude had changed so much after what happened with Christian. I could take Adrian or leave him and he knew it, so instead of being elusive like before, he offered himself for the taking.

  I plopped down on Adrian’s bed. Covered with rumpled blue sheets, naked pillows whose pillowcases were stuck between the mattress and the wall, and a gray comforter splotched with ink stains, it was still the neatest spot in the room. He’d never bothered to pick up after our ransacking. A new layer of crumpled notebook paper, scattered newspapers, and dirty clothing covered the things we’d smashed on the floor.

  Adrian stood in the center of the room, rubbing his tattooed arms. He took off the Dead Kennedys shirt he’d been wearing for the past three days and switched it out for a Naked Raygun shirt, revealing his defined torso for a split second. I felt a twinge of desire, but it was nothing like my swooning moments of the past, even though he still looked as good. Better even. He was a little leaner, his cheekbones slightly more prominent. His hair and the stubble on his face were scragglier than usual. Maybe this was evidence of increased drug use, but if so, he wore it well.

  Adrian grabbed his cigarettes and an ashtray off the windowsill and joined me in bed. I chain-smoked my way through three cigarettes, ranting about the note, ending with “So what do you think it means? I bet they’re getting back together before the divorce is finalized. They were so horrible together. God, they’re stupid.”

  Adrian plucked my cigarette from my hand before the smoldering filter could burn me. “Yeah, parents suck,” he agreed, offering me another smoke and lighting it for me. Then something happened that had never happened before: Adrian opened up to me without me asking. “Want to know what mine did last fall?”

  Realizing that he meant the period of time right after I left him, when he disappeared for a month, curiosity overwhelmed me. “Yeah.”

  “Remember how the one time I brought you here, my dad came barging in and said I couldn’t be here unless I followed their rules?”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah, well, I was fine with that. I had friends’ couches to crash on. I had a car to sleep in when I wore out my welcome. Then, the morning I woke up and found you gone, I found my car gone, too. I walked home and didn’t see it in the driveway, so I looked in the garage. My dad had cleaned it out just so he could lock up my car. Needless to say, I was pissed. So I put my fist through one of the windows.” Adrian mimicked a sharp jab, then his left hand cascaded down his right arm, illustrating “Blood. Lots of it. My parents came running out and I stood there like a crazed beast, screaming, ‘Gimme my fucking car!’ And my mom cried about how bad I was bleeding.