Right now I’m experiencing a low-lying fear that makes my right knee bounce uncontrollably.

A swallow hard, scratch your head kind of fear that makes me pace and chainsmoke and make long distance calls with other people’s calling cards.

I can’t eat without feeling like I’m going to choke. I have to chew each bite of food a million times. As a result, I’m always the last person to finish lunch.

It’s England, fucking England that unnerves me. The sounds, the light, the smells. The sound of the telephone ring, the fan blades in the kitchen windows that never quit turning.

Something happened to me here, that much I’ve known.

Yesterday, I had an anxiety attack in Selfridges and ended up spraying on tons of CK ONE all over my clothes. Now my denim jacket reeks of the smell, which embarrassingly enough, was the “scent” that I wore during the year I was at Oxford.

I had the notion that smelling it would help me remember.

I want so badly for it all to come back to me.

I want to burn through the black outs and fit together the pieces of all the hours I lost.

My body’s freaking out, all the joints are jammed up, swollen with arthritis and stress.

I’m lying low again, in the attic with my DVDs and frayed nerves.

Jules came in from the clubs and caught me watching Vanilla Sky.

She sighed.

“How many times have you watched this?” she said, lighting a cigarette.

“Twice. This time and when I was on acid.”

“That’s when you freaked out a bit. I don’t think you should watch it again.”

“I want to see exactly where I lost it.”

“That’s stupid. You’ll flashback, you know?”

I picked up a roach from the flat, ceramic ashtray.

“The thing is,” I said, feeling around on the couch for a lighter. “And believe me, I know it sounds like bullshit, but I think that after that last time with the mushrooms, it’s possible that I haven’t stopped tripping.”

“Give me a break,” Jules undid the strap on her shoes and kicked them off in the direction of the closet. She was a towering figure, even without her heels.

“It’s not constant. No. It comes and goes, but yeah, I think I never fully stopped tripping.”

I watched her undress, peeling her tights off like she was a stripper. I got a little turned on by the blank, yet somehow expectant expression that was on her face as she took off the silver hoop earrings I’d given her.

It’s an expression similar to the one she gets when she’s putting on her lipstick.

“I think you’re losing your edge, darling,” she announced, slurring her words a tiny bit.

“Oh, come on,” I said, pulling up the blankets for her to slide in.

She came behind me, her large hands covering my hips. She had that vibe she gets when she’s made a lot of money.

When the DJ knew which beats were which and the crowd was happening and all eyes were on her when she got up to dance and there’s no doubt she’s looking good.

That’s when I like her best, too, when she’s super-confident.

“Let’s go out,” she said, pressing against me.

“Now?” I said, already breathless.

“Yeah, just you and I. We’ll get drinks.”

“I don’t want any drinks,” I said, my voice forlorn.

“Don’t whine,” she said, biting on my ear.

I undid my pants and rolled over on my stomach.

The bulge of her cock slipped back and forth on my nylon underwear.

She placed her hands over mine at the head of the bed.

“Wait a second,” I said. I could hear Tom Cruise screaming, “Tech Support! Tech Support!” I knew he was running down an empty hallway of an office in a skyscraper.

“This is the part, this is where I started freaking out when I was on acid.”

Jules wouldn’t let me get up.

“Just tell me what happens, instead,” she said, grinding down on me.

“No,” I whispered.

“Please?” she asked. She sat up a bit and gently pulled down my underwear.

“They’re going up,” I said, closing my eyes as the pillow pressed against my face.

“Who?”

“Tom Cruise and the tech support guy. In a glass elevator.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said.

“Way up,” I said, “Up, up, up, up, like Twin Towers high.”

“Yes?”

“They were heading for the roof so Tom Cruise could have his moment of choice.”

“Then what?”

“I felt like I was going with them.”

“To the roof?”

“All the way.”

“All the way?”

“All the way to the top.”

“What was it like, peach fuzz?”

“I don’t know, let me get up, let me see.”

“There must have been sunshine,” she said, pressing gently down upon me.

“I just remember the Hollywood lights, the blue computer glow.”



tonypierce