THE OTHER SIDE

‘Mon in.’

Ronnie leads us through a pitch-black corridor that seems tae stretch fur miles. The first thing that strikes me is the acidic and mouldy stench that seems tae huv contaminated the air. When we reach the living room, Ronnie flicks a switch, and a single, seventy-five-watt bulb casts a sickly glow over the room. No that there’s much tae see. A lonely brown couch that had been ripped tae shreds, and tae the left, two windaes covered wae auld newspapers, only tiny glints of daylight escaping through. Two yellowish mattresses ur sprawled ower the floor next tae takeaway cartons, empty fag packets, and beer cans. A mound ae teabags seems tae huv its own designated corner up the back. Ah could picture it awready, Ronnie, walking in wae a cuppa, a couple of quick stirs, noticing the ever-growing teabag mountain, and just flicking it over wae a swift ripple of the wrist. Aye, there wis no going back now, Ah wis in the company of some proper scruffy cunts here. Ah had tried pretty much every casual drug goin, but this scene pretty much confirmed it; shooting wis crossing a huge line.

‘Youse got the bizzy’s?’

Ah glance at Sammie as she produces the cash. Three ugly tenners, wrinkled and creased fae the brief stint they had spent crushed in her pocket, probably dreaming of the luxurious life they had spent in her maw’s purse afore bein nicked this morning.

Ronnie walks tae the sink n puts the money away in a red lockbox, before returnin to scan me n Sammie up and doon.

‘Yi’s sure yir ready for this,’ he asks, sniffing loudly. As we sit doon on the floor, Ah look intae the black of his eyes as Ah nod slowly.

‘If yi say so bold yin, if yi say so,’ he sings, reaching intae a Safeway bag next tae him. Ronnie doesny look well. His skin, sagged and yellow, reminds me of the old paint fae the school canteen. He couldn’t huv always looked this way. It wis well known he threw away a promising fitbaw career. Apparently, a highflyer in Dumbarton’s reserves at fifteen. A tricky winger, gifted wae a wand of a left foot. He had been blessed fae the higher powers. People struggled tae defend against a left foot. The case ae Ronnie wis one of the most depressing facts about this sad, sick world. Talent doesn’t get tae choose a person, and a person doesn’t get tae choose a talent. It’s a total crapshoot, a lottery that we’re aw forced tae enter. Few things on earth are as rewarding, or as destructive, or as infinitely varied as the friction generated between the purity of divine inspiration and pollution of its human host. Sometimes those independent forces are in perfect sync wae one another, and you get the Beatles. Other times you get Ronnie. Ah had only heard all the stories passed doon about Ronnie, things he wid moan when he wis oot his nut, stuck reliving his own misery. ‘What Ah could Ah been,’ or ‘the talent Ah wisted’. That sort of pish talk. Ah hated that patter. You are wit you are, and you were wit you were. But in the cold, harsh face of it, folk canny accept that. Luckily, that’s where the drugs step in.

Ah gasp as the strap draws tight against ma arm, and Ah feel like a fish that has just been caught by a hook. Throw me back in the ocean, ya cunt. But naw. The blue and purple of ma veins bulge upon ma skin, suffocating inside ma body, desperate tae get out.

This is a step too far, Andrew, ya fanny, you can put ah stop tae this.

‘Nice, healthy veins you’ve got here, Buchanan. No fir much longer though, eh,’ Ronnie lecherously laughs, producing a slender needle wae his spare hand.

*He’s gave yi an escape there… *

‘Right, virgin skin here, gently does it…’

Think ae gran.

The needle pierces the skin on ma wrist, producing a tiny dollop of blood. Ah turn tae Sammie, who’s lookin hypnotically at the procedure as it unfolds. Ronnie stops for a second, kisses ma hand, and looks at me, the way Ah imagin a father wid look at his child about tae play in the snow for the first time.

‘This is the moment yir alwis gonny be chasin. Remember that.’ Wae that wee piece ae wisdom, Ronnie pushes the dirty contents of the needle intae ma bo—

Ah fuck ah naw naw naw naw naw wit huv A fuckin done.

Ma breath gets caught, stuck in ma chest, as Ah feel the drawback. In joint panic n regret, Ah start tae pull raggedly at the boarded-up window in a desperate effort tae get some fresh air. Then Ah feel it; the slow tappling taeward the floor. Ma balance seems tae go haywire like a car on ice. Ah feel no pain as ma head crashes aff the ground. There are people all aroun me now. Ah hear their canned laughter and mild concern, but it seems like light years away.

*Then A’m alone; alone in the blank space of ma heed, unable tae tell if this is unconsciousness or darkness or death. Then Ah see it…a junky den. The junky den. The one they all talked about in school. A’m there now, but Ah A’m no me as Ah am now, naw, A’m a frightened wee boy, lurking hesitantly at the edge. A’m shouting for her, but no one’s comin out. *

‘Ma?’

Ma voice hus slight echo. It’s dark, but no moon or clouds are next tae the stars. Ah stop for a moment, waiting for enough light tae come in and keep me oan the right path, before feeling marsh beneath ma feet, a slow suck on ma soles and fluid in between ma toes as Ah continue around the path. Ah stumble, bumping intae a wall in the dark: a low flat building wae no windows. The signs blurry. It takes a moment tae become clear…. shooting gallery. Ma vision doubles for a moment. She wis in there; Ah wis sure of it. Ah tiptoe in slowly. Ah have tae feel ma way inside through the wavering dark. Then Ah turn a corner and am inside something. It’s a single pitch-black room…it smells of cabbage and rotten eggs and pish. Ah can see the silhouettes now. Scumbags wae needles hanging out their arms. The groaning. The euphoria. It's hard tae displace one fae the other. Then Ah see her…lying in the corner of the room like a crumpled old sweater…she’s there…crusted lips…yellow stain around her mooth…she’s deid…she’s fuckin deid.

SHE’S FUCKIN DEID.

Am sitting next tae her now, her dead, lifeless body, her eyes still open, but Ah don’t care, A’m cooking up a shot and putting the needle in ma arm and injecting it intae ma vein, and suddenly she wakes up and screams at me…

‘—A’m sorry ma…A’m fuckin sorry,’ Ah shout, awaking wae a shudder.
Ma heart is thrashing in ma chest wae panic, and A’m desperately scanning the room, trying tae find her but the first thing ma eyes lock ontae is that clatty mountain ae teabags. Ah take a minute tae realise Ah’m bein shaken and slapped. Ah didn’t know who by…perhaps some invisible force of goodwill. Then Ah hear Sammie’s sweet, angelic voice. She looks tense and pale as she towers above me, ma head resting on her lap. Ah smell, then see, the sick on ma chest. Ah try tae speak but A’m stopped by the acrid burn of vomit in ma throat and instead nod tae a glass of water by Sammie’s side. Ah sip, almost choking, but eventually Ah feel it glide slowly and smoothly down ma throat.

‘Wit the fuck…wit happened?’

‘Look who’s back fae the dead! Aw Andy, you scared us there,’ she says, stroking ma hair contentedly. Ah try tae sit up, but naw; such a movement is impossible. Ah flop back down tae the floor, feeling dizzy fae the heat. Ma skin feels like it’s oan fire, but it’s nice, like it makes me powerful, like some sorta junky superhero, and Ah’m a tiny bit gutted as ah look down at ma body tae see that A’m no on fire, instead there’s sweat pouring in rivulets down ma arms, coursing across ma hands.

Ronnie doesny seem scared. His snout has gone missing. ‘Where’s ma fuckin snout,’ he roars, chucking pillows and blankets fae the couch. Are they stolen, are they missing, or are they smoked? Ah don’t know. Ah didn’t know anything apart fae the fact that there wis no trust here. Drug users are no your mates the same way that work colleagues are no your mates. There wis a reason words such as acquaintances were invented. When will people fuckin learn? You shouldn’t take drugs wae mates for the same reasons you shouldn’t shag mates…complications.

‘A swear tae fuck,’ Ronnie continues, now pulling out dust and old pennies fae under the couch. ‘If Ah find out somecunt’s smoked ma fuckin snout…’ his voice menacingly tails aff and Ah close ma eyes once more, only this time A’m laughing.

Ronnie’s above me now, snout in mouth, twisted smile over his face.

‘Bold yin. Welcome tae the other side.’ He gives ma cheek a couple ah gentle slaps, as if tae check am actually alive.

‘Good shit this, eh.’ Is that a question? Ah dont know. Or care. Ah can’t answer. Ah close ma eyes and drift back intae the darkness, ready tae search for ma mum all over again.