Chapter 35 Needle
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Needle
It was already ten o’clock when José drove down the narrow street, wondering why Milo’s Chevelle was missing from its usual spot.
But it was a good sign because it meant that Tristan had finally mustered the courage to get behind the wheel and drive somewhere.
The only hope was that it wasn’t off a cliff or into a wall.
The next surprise came when the visitor’s parking lot in front of Leaf’s cabin was occupied.
Isn’t that Nathan’s car?
Oh no.
José parked in the next available spot and walked back to the cabin.
It was eerily quiet as he climbed down the wooden walkway into the woods next to Nathan’s car.
Perhaps it was because there was no wind.
Without the rustling of leaves, the forest felt dead.
It was also strangely silent on a Friday night—no chatter or music could be heard at all.
José climbed the stairs to the balcony and glanced at the small wooden table. Two empty glasses sat beside a full ashtray.
“Leaf? Are you there?” José asked, pushing open the door, which was only slightly ajar.
A heavy, sour smell hung in the air. José knew what it meant and entered the dimly lit and smoky apartment.
The kitchen was piled with dirty dishes, the trash overflowing, and empty bottles littered everywhere—whether beer or hard liquor.
In the living room, Nathan was peacefully asleep on the bench by the window, clutching a pillow as he snored.
Leaf lay completely passed out on the couch.
Motionless. Almost too motionless. José approached him and shook his shoulder.
“Leaf. Wake up.”
But Leaf didn’t stir. In the kitchen, José searched for a glass under all the clutter and filled it with water.
“This is gross! Can’t you see that?” he exclaimed, returning to the living room. He poured the cold water onto Leaf’s face without hesitation. The desired effect didn’t occur, leaving José momentarily paralyzed.
Panic gripped him all of a sudden as he scanned the table, finding only a few burned candles, several narcotics, glasses, bottles, powder, spoons, and a syringe.
Mierda …
It wasn’t the first time he had found Leaf in this state. So far, luck had been on his—or rather, Leaf’s—side. The ambulance had always managed to bring him back. But until they arrived up here …
“Wake up, damn it!” José shook him harder. Grabbing his jaw, he turned his head in his direction. It was barely visible in the dim light, but José was sure that Leaf was pale, and his lips were gradually turning blue. “Cono, Leaf!”
“José,” Nathan mumbled behind him. “What are you doing here, man?”
“What? … Dammit, Nate! Did you give him this crap?”
Nathan replied with some unintelligible words.
“Leaf, damn it! Snap out of it!” Not even a slap helped.
“Did he overdose?” Nathan mumbled.
José’s heart was racing, and beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. “I’m calling an ambulance.” With trembling hands, he took out his phone.
“Wait,” Nathan said, now kneeling beside Leaf on the floor, assessing him.
“What?” José exclaimed impatiently.
“I have naloxone in the glove compartment. It takes too long for the ambulance to get up here.”
“Cono! What are you waiting for! Go get it! Hurry!”
Nathan stumbled past him and limped out of the cabin. Every second José spent alone with Leaf felt like an eternity. He kept trying to wake Leaf, but he seemed more dead than alive.
When Nathan returned, José wanted to snatch the emergency kit from him, but he had no idea how it worked. Nathan tore open the package, revealing a plastic device.
“What’s that?”
José had expected a syringe and a vial of some substance, but this looked like …
“Nasal spray,” Nathan answered, turning to Leaf.
“Since the government lost control of Skid Row and fentanyl is on the rise, they’re handing out this stuff everywhere.
” He slid a hand under Leaf’s head and lifted him slightly.
With careful precision, he applied the spray and pumped the dose into his nose.
José held his breath for a few seconds, and then, without warning, Leaf suddenly jerked, made some noises, and rolled onto his shoulder.
“Welcome back, dude,” Nathan said.
José quickly realized that Leaf was far from well. He pushed Nathan aside, lifted Leaf up by his arms, and hoisted him off the ground. Though Leaf wasn’t fully conscious yet, his body began to shake, as if trying to rid itself of the poison he had ingested as fast as possible.
José led him to the bathroom, helped him kneel in front of the toilet, and smoothed his hair. Leaf clung to the bowl and retched, but couldn’t manage to throw up. José stuck his finger down Leaf’s throat, causing his body to convulse, and he vomited.
“How is he?” Nathan asked from the door.
As Leaf continued to hang over the toilet, José sprang up, grabbed Nathan by the collar, and shoved him against the wall. “What kind of friend are you, not noticing what’s going on? He’s dying next to you, and you don’t even realize it?”
“Chill, man! Everything turned out okay in the end.”
“What the hell is going on here? Haven’t you caused enough trouble already? Why are you even here?”
“What do you mean?”
“What was going on with Diego?”
“What the fuck! What are you accusing me of?” Nathan pushed José aside and stood tall in front of him.
“I had nothing to do with that! Get a grip! That was between Leaf and Diego. I’m not dumb enough to get mixed up in their shit.
I stay out of Diego’s business. I don't know what kind of drama they've got going on.”
Leaf slumped beside the toilet, and José helped him back up.
“Leaf! Can you hear me?”
Leaf pressed a hand to his forehead and groaned as if suffering from a severe headache. He appeared visibly dizzy, with sweat streaming from every pore.
“Withdrawal symptoms,” Nathan reassured José with a nod in response to his concerned look. “The naloxone is working.”
José stuck his arm out. “Come on, get up.”
Together, they helped Leaf to his feet and guided him to bed. Every movement seemed to cause him pain. Once his head was on the pillow, he curled his legs up to his body. His lips trembled, and his hands shook as he clutched the sheets.
José hurried back to the bathroom, dipped a cloth in water, and returned to Leaf. He gently wiped his forehead with it.
“He’ll be okay,” Nathan reassured.
“Stop it! I don’t want to talk to you. Why are you here?”
“I was at the studio, and he called. He wanted to celebrate.”
“Celebrate?” José glared at Nathan. “We have a gig tomorrow. Damn it! Andrej is just waiting for him to mess up! What’s wrong with you guys?”
Nathan lit a cigarette and exhaled smoke. “Am I the only one who still believes in him? I have no doubt he’ll be great tomorrow. And Tris too. They’ll handle it.”
“He almost died just now! And you didn’t even notice!” José exclaimed, throwing his hands up in disbelief. “Andrej is not wrong. Both of them are just shadows of their former selves.”
“Maybe, but they steal the show on stage.”
“Get out! I don’t want to see you anymore today!”
Nathan raised an eyebrow in annoyance and mocked him. “You better keep an eye on him. You can’t be sure if the naloxone neutralizes everything. See you tomorrow.”
José fetched a chair from the living room and positioned it next to Leaf’s bed. The light from the bathroom cast a dim glow over the bedroom. He sat quietly for a moment, surveying the scene.
Books lay strewn beneath the splintered remnants of a chair and a shattered shelf. Clothes were scattered across the room, creating a minefield-like obstacle.
José sighed. It was evident that someone had gone berserk in the room, and he knew from experience how much it took for Leaf to lose his temper and take it out on the furniture.
Leaf was as white as a sheet, staring at him with a glazed look. His body had calmed down somewhat by now. “What happened?” he asked in a raspy voice.
“You OD’d,” José said, wiping the sweat from his forehead and cooling his neck. The heat was already unbearable. California was eagerly awaiting relief from the ongoing heatwave. “Damn it, Leaf. That was close.”
Disoriented and frightened, Leaf scanned his surroundings. He probably wanted to get up and dive back into the haze right away, but he was far too weak to do anything. “Fuck … It was so easy.” Tears welled up in his eyes.
Sympathetically, José softly stroked his head. “What was easy?”
“To die,” Leaf whispered, sniffling as he buried his face in the pillow.
“I thought I’d come here and see how you’re doing,” José said. “I figured we’d hang out on the balcony and just talk about random stuff like usual. And then, out of nowhere, what happened?”
As José set the cloth aside and leaned back in his chair.
“I screwed up,” Leaf mumbled.
“You can still make it right.”
“I can’t go on like this.”
“Then tell me what I should do.”
Leaf covered his eyes with his arm.
“You’ve got to figure this out,” José urged.
“Andrej is just waiting for you to slip up and give him a reason to boot you. Carol’s in on it too.
They’re already pushing Iggy to rehearse the songs.
They’re serious, Leaf. If you care at all about your life, the band, and Tristan, get it together.
This isn’t just talk anymore, Leaf. Please. ”
Leaf swallowed and lowered his arm. “You can’t help me,” his voice hoarse, as if he’d been screaming his soul out.
“You’re right. I can’t help you. You won’t let me. Anyone. And once you’re out of the band, we both know how it’ll end.”
“I didn’t want to kill myself, if that’s what you mean,” Leaf mumbled. “I just didn’t want to feel anything anymore. I didn’t know the stuff was so potent. The mixture hit hard.”
“And Tristan?”
Leaf stroked his face. “I should’ve done something … I mean … If it weren’t for me … If Diego hadn’t …”
“Stop it. That won’t change anything. It was a long day for everyone.”
“No. It wasn’t,” Leaf whispered, placing both arms over his face.
No. It wasn’t.
At least not for Milo.