Chapter 16: Cocaine is a Helluva Drug

Unlike other classmates, after we broke up, I never heard from Jessica again.

Following our breakup, which I instigated, after tiring of constantly fighting with her, she demanded I return all the presents she ever gave me, including a pet lizard.

She even threatened to call the cops on me, tell them I had drugs. She was that pissed off. Around this time, I began running with a rugged crew of ruffians, thugs, and a friend of mine offered to “take care of her,” whatever that meant, I didn’t want to know, and I politely declined.

Jessica transferred to another school and wasn’t there when I showed up to return all her things, the lizard, and other gifts to her house. Her mother, who’d always been nice to me, met me at the front door and wished me well. She was a sweet lady, like her daughter.

Never have I come across her on social media or gotten any friend requests from her.

I’m not surprised, nor would I initiate any contact with her. I’m sure she reviles me, and rightfully so. I certainly hold no ill will against her. I didn’t have another steady girlfriend after her for eight years.

Later, after our breakup, she went through her “slut phase,” went on a spree, banging all sorts of dudes, freaking off with girls too.

She had a threesome with my friend Jimmy, in part, I think, as an act of revenge.

Jimmy, she, and Jimmy’s girlfriend went to prom together, at Jessica’s new school, and got frisky with one another later that night.

It didn’t bother me, them being together. I’d broken up with her, didn’t have any feelings left for her, was tired of her, fighting with her, didn’t want anything more to do with her, not that I hated or disliked her, I’d simply moved on, which is what I think bothered her most, especially as she cried on the phone during our last conversation, cursed and called me names, and I was calm and apathetic.

I’ve never heard from her or of her since.

Or of Jimmy. We’d stopped hanging out later on after I’d gotten into harder drugs, running with a tougher crowd. I’d been an asshole to him too, a few times fucking with him, teasing him. One time another guy and I throwing lit cigarettes at him while we all were tripping on acid and Jimmy getting fed up and storming off.

We even stole one of his shoes and the poor kid had to limp home, tripping on acid, with only one shoe on. Fuck, we were bastards...

I heard from a mutual friend that Jimmy tried to commit suicide later by taking tons of pills but didn’t die. His older brother, though, who I only met once, and was quite a chill dude, unfortunately, had killed himself, I’d heard. I’m not sure how or why...

Last I heard of Jimmy was from my friend Cam, who met Jimmy when Jimmy was working in a camera store, and had tried to sell Jimmy a used set of home stereo speakers and Jimmy never returned Cam’s phone calls, which pissed Cam off. I never saw or heard of Jimmy since and probably wouldn’t even recognize him if I passed him on the street.

There’s a ton of people I knew, grew up with, was friends with, who I might not know or recognize if I passed on the street. Strange how that works. I don’t know them anymore, really, anyway, I only know their past selves, their past lives. I only know their ghosts. Funny, though, how if I saw one of them, in the 2020s, and we did recognize each other, it’d probably take us back to high school, instantly, like a time machine...