“When I was twelve. I smoked my first blunt and my first cigarette in the same day with my older cousin. I just wanted to be like him.”
“Where’s your cousin now?”
“He works in the City, got a wife who’s a model and twins on the way. Turns out I was the bad influence. What about you?”
“Fourteen, I think. I was in Central Park walking home from school and bummed it off a Japanese businessman. I smoked it too quickly and promptly threw up in a bush. I promised myself never again.”
“Yeah, I’m familiar with that tune. Never again, never again…”
Avery smiled sadly. She was telling herself that right now.
“You know a joke my sponsor told me?” Charlie asked. “An alcoholic will steal your wallet, but an addict will steal it and help you look for it. That’s how I know I’m definitely an addict as well, because I swear to god, I’ve fucking done that. I’ve lied so much I didn’t even know I was lying anymore.”
Honesty? What did Avery know about honesty? She leaned her head against the window frame. A warm breeze paraded in.
“Now would probably not be a great time to tell you I’m married,” she said.
“I know,” he said.
She looked over at him in surprise.
“To a woman,” she added.
“I know,” he said.
“How?”
“I looked you up too. You had a wedding registry. Your wife has a really beautiful name. I can’t remember it now.”
“Chitrita,” said Avery softly. “I could be divorced.”
Charlie nodded.
“You could.”
“But I’m not.”
“Okay.”
“And it doesn’t matter to you either way?”
“Monogamy, fidelity, heterosexuality…These aren’t words I put a lot of store in.”
“Right,” nodded Avery. “Because you’re an amoral egoist.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, that’s convenient for you, but, sadly, those words do mean something to me.”
Charlie shifted so he was facing her in the window.
“The truth is, I’m not trying to get into anything heavy right now. You seem like a smart, cool person who’s going through some shit. If you want to use me to feel better in the moment, I’ve got no complaints. I’ve been with men. I’ve been with women. Married, not married…I’m just not going to feel bad about something because someone else told me I should. I decide what feels good for me.”
“Because you’re free,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“Well, thank you for letting me use you.”
Charlie grinned.
“Anytime. You’re cool, you know? You’re real.”
“You’re real too.” She smiled self-consciously. “Whatever that means.”
He glanced around his bedroom.
“Now all I need is my own flat and a bigger bed.”
Avery laughed and looked out the window at the parched lawn of the garden below. A dilapidated football net stood at one end, a beautiful bush of frothy-headed hydrangea at the other. Somewhere through an open window she could hear an audience laughing on TV.
“You know what I think really makes me an addict?” she asked. “It’s not how many drugs I took or how much I drank. It’s not even the lying.”
“What?”
She inhaled so deeply that her lungs burned.
“I find what gives me pleasure and I do it until it gives me pain,” she said. “Every time.”
