I switched my phone to silent, dragged myself up from the bathroom floor, dried my tears and marched straight into the bedroom, where I immediately started packing all of my clothes (both clean and those in need of a good wash) in a scattered frenzy – compressing them as tightly as I could in to my overnight bag, and somehow also managing to squeeze my laptop and phone charger in amongst it all.
Just as I was finishing, I heard the all too familiar sound of the key turning in the front door of the flat. My heart sunk. The inevitable had happened. Nick was home.
“Hey,” I said, trying my best to sound as confident as I could muster. “What’s up?”
“Just done a drop off in Bounds Green,” he said. “You wouldn’t mind popping to Muswell Hill would you to deliver some more gear for me? I’m knackered!”
“Um,” – naturally I was hesitant. “When exactly?”
“I’m waiting on a call off the guy to confirm the order so anytime in the next few hours,” he replied.
“Sure,” I said. “But I’ve actually got a client to see tonight, at 9.”
“When did you arrange that? That’s the first I’ve heard of it,” he said, resentment rising in his voice.
“While you were gone,” I replied, timidly.
“And what if I need you here? To sell for me?”
“I should only be gone a couple of hours at most,” I explained. “He doesn’t live that far from here. I’ve met with him before. He pays well.”
“I see,” he said, looking me up and down begrudgingly.
I could tell that he wasn’t happy, and could read the frustration in his face. But I could also see that he himself was visibly strung out and exhausted, so I was fairly confident things weren’t going to erupt into an argument.
“Whatever,” he said eventually, and plonked himself on his side of the bed where he sat rolling a joint and puffing away on it slowly.
“What about the drop off you wanted me to do… in Muswell Hill?” I asked reluctantly, when the weed had began to take effect on him.
“Fuck it,” he slurred. “If they want the shit that badly they can travel to me here.”
It was music to my ears, I’d been let off the hook!
“Go about your business,” he said. “Just make sure you put in a good word for me.”
“You know I always do,” I replied, forcing a smile.
I checked the time. It was approaching nine o’clock and there was somewhere I desperately needed to be. I grabbed my bag discreetly (not that it would’ve made much difference if I hadn’t, he was far too out of it to notice), and made my exit.
“Bye Nick,” I said, as he drifted off into a stoned slumber.
“Yeah… see ya later.”
I shut the front door behind me and breathed a deep sigh of relief.
That was the last time we ever spent in each others company. The last time we ever spoke face to face. I later learned that the following day his flat had been broken in to by a gang of armed robbers, who’d threatened him at gunpoint in to unlocking and handing over the contents of his safe. If only I’d have stayed a day longer, what might’ve happened to me in that situation? I dread to think…
But it seemed like things were looking up, and though there were still battles ahead, I felt like finally I was moving out of the darkness, and into the light.
Jordan had the most magnificent home – it was tucked away on a quiet suburban street in Highgate and you could quite easily walk past it and think nothing of it, or even fail to notice it existed if you hadn’t been there before and were unfamiliar – but once you’d made your way through the rustic front gate and trotted up the cobble stoned driveway, gazing up at it from the ground level it truly resembled a mini palace….
If you’d been given a grand tour of the place you’d have seen for yourself the warm and inviting cottage-like exterior, a homely ‘old-fashioned but with a contemporary-twist style’ kitchen, a chic grand bathroom with dark marble covered walls complete with it’s own hot tub which lay surrounded by full length mirrors, plus, what must have been a near half-acre garden of land. He was still living with his parents of course (who were both well paid workers in the medical field, so naturally had enough money to pay for the place itself), but in the days I spent there before saying goodbye to London for good, it was just the two of us.
In the early days when Christos and I were dating, we’d frequently invite Jordan out alongside us to go for drinks in Soho. I could never keep up with either of them and I’d often end up far more smashed than was socially acceptable, and have to be bundled in to a taxi – with the two of them giving the driver directions on how to get me back to the flat. I’d stagger home and be found the next morning having fallen to sleep in the most unusual of places, with little recollection of the previous night, and a head that felt like it’d been hit with a sledgehammer. It’s fair to say that Jordan had seen me in some pretty fucked up states, but never this bad…
Even he couldn’t hide the wave of pure shock that washed over him as he opened the front door to greet me.
“Jesus!” he exclaimed. “You certainly look like you’ve been through the wars!”
“I feel a bit like I have,” I said. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude but… can we just get inside?”
He didn’t answer but nodded sympathetically and gestured for me to follow him indoors. When I took off my coat and he saw for the first time the bruises and track marks that lined both my right and left arms, his face was aghast.
I took a quick shower and changed into some fresh clothes, and then we sat in the kitchen drinking Earl Grey tea – a luxury as far as I was concerned, and reminiscing on days gone by. Jordan was trying his best to keep the atmosphere as light-hearted and calm as possible, but even in the comfort of his swish family home I still found myself riddled with anxiety.
As exhausted as I was, trying to sleep that night seemed next to impossible when my thoughts were so clouded with fear and doubt, insecurity and shame. I’d drift off for an hour or so, only to wake up in a cold sweat from the most vivid of nightmarish dreams – usually ones where Nick had somehow found out where I was hiding out and come kicking down the bedroom door, baying for my blood.
Though I knew all drugs came with a ‘high’ followed by a ‘crash’, I hadn’t fully anticipated, or prepared myself for the comedown that was to follow what had essentially been a month long binge.
I’d gone from taking copious amounts of drugs to going cold turkey, and my body was struggling to deal with the shock of such a sudden detox. I sat up in bed, shaking and sobbing quietly to myself.
Jordan had done more than enough for me already and I didn’t wish to wake him or trouble him any further, but he’d obviously heard my weeping. There came a quiet tapping at the door…
“Joey,” he said. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
He gave me a friendly cuddle and then perched himself on the side of the bed.
“What are we gonna do with you?” he said, in his typical cheeky manner of speaking.
“I don’t know,” I sniffled. “I want you to know that I appreciate all you’re doing to help me. We both know you don’t have to. It’s just… there’s so much going on in my head right now. I’m struggling to cope, Jord!”
There was silence for a moment
“Plus, now your bed sheets are all covered in sweat and I feel guilty.”
He laughed, and reached out his hand to me.