PART 16

Vortex: [Latin vortex, vortic-, variant of vertex, from vertere, to turn; see wer-2 in Indo-European roots.]
A whirling mass of water, esp. one in which a force of suction operates, as a whirlpool.
A whirling mass of air, esp. one in the form of a visible column or spiral, as a tornado.
A whirling mass of fire, flame, etc.
A state of affairs likened to a whirlpool for violent activity, irresistible force, etc.
A something regarded as drawing into its powerful current everything that surrounds it: the vortex of war.
(in Cartesian philosophy) A rapid rotatory movement of cosmic matter about a center, regarded as accounting for the origin or phenomena of bodies or systems of bodies in space.

Day 45 after the accident – Blind alley – h. 11.11 p.m.

“You know I love you, right? Shane, you know I love you”.
His voice still furred with that shit he’s so fond of.
Crack. The street name given to coke that has been processed from cocaine hydrochloride to a ready-to-use free base for smoking. Smoking this shit delivers large quantities of cocaine to the lungs, producing effects comparable to intravenous injection. These effects are felt almost immediately after smoking, are very intense, and do not last long.
Clive is totally high and I am about to throw up and I don’t know why, I feel all fuzzy.
“You know I love you, right?”, he keeps repeating in a monotone voice.
I glance behind my shoulders and then I turn again towards him.
He’s rocking back and forth, his liquid eyes staring at me.
“Yeah, yeah, come on Clive”.
“I got it, I got it”, he says.
“You don’t need to repeat everything twice. Come on, give it to me” I say, offhanded.
He exhales in a theatrical way and extracts a plastic bag from his backpack.
“What do you need it for?” he asks then, with a feeble voice, but he’s not really interested.
I know Clive.
“None of your business” I reply, grabbing the bag and putting it inside my coat.
Clive chuckles.
Aaw, Clive.
“I’m your friend, right? You always come to me when you need something”.
I roll my eyes.
“Keep your mouth shut, okay?”.
“You owe me, Shane. You know that. You owe me”.
I clench my teeth and hand him fifty bucks.
“Aren’t you asking me where I’m staying?”, he asks. “Don’t you care?”.
“No, I don’t” I say.
I turn around and, rapidly, go back to my car.