Generation Loss by Elizabeth Hand

Author:Elizabeth Hand
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Photography, General, Literary, Thrillers, Fiction
ISBN: 9780156031349
Publisher: Mariner Books
Published: 2006-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

15

We walked back most of the way without talking. We were both pretty loaded; it took most of our energy just to keep our footing in the icy mist. I had a nice shiny feeling from the Adderall, and after a few minutes I popped a second to boost it.

But something kept gnawing at the glow: the memory of Mackenzie Libby's white face in the headlights.

She was looking for you. She said you were going to give her a ride.

Wishful thinking, but why not? I was probably the first person she'd ever seen who might have heard of Marquee Moon. I thought of Patti Smith's “Piss Factory,” sixteen and time to pay off. Leave home, sleep in the gutter, find yourself a city to live in.

I should have picked her up. Though then, of course, the locals would be coming after me with pitchforks.

"Be careful,” Gryffin warned as the path narrowed. “It's slippery—"

I felt impervious to anything short of a bullet to the head. When we came to the final stretch leading to the house I began to run. I tripped and fell, hard.

"Hey.” Gryffin hurried to my side. “I said be careful! Are you okay?"

He crouched beside me. I pushed him away, but he grabbed my hand and trained the flashlight on it.

"Jesus,” he said. “Doesn't that—"

"Hurt? Yes.” My palm was slick with blood. “Shit."

I staggered to my feet, got the Jack Daniel's and took a swig. Gryffin watched me with a kind of intrigued disgust. I laughed.

"What?” he demanded.

I couldn't speak, just kept laughing as I wiped my bloodied hand on my jeans. Gryffin turned and walked on. I ran after him, an amphetamine surge knuckling behind my eyeballs so that the darkness splintered into sparks.

"Aw, don't go away mad,” I yelled, but he ignored me.

* * * *

"I'm going to bed,” Gryffin said when we got inside. He hung up his jacket and started for the kitchen. “You and my mother can sit up doing Jell-O shots if you want."

"Wait,” I said.

I leaned forward, grabbed his chin and kissed him. He didn't pull away. His cheek was unshaven, his mouth tasted of Calvados. I let my hand trail down his neck, my fingers resting for a moment in the hollow beneath his windpipe. I felt his pulse, then drew my mouth down to his throat and kissed it.

"Gryffin,” I whispered. “What kind of a name is Gryffin?"

He pulled away and left the room. When he was gone I started laughing uncontrollably.

The Adderall had kicked into high gear. I love speed, that black light you see alone at three am, when bottles shimmer like cut glass and everything reminds you of a song you once loved. This is when everything comes into focus for me, when what's inside my head and what's outside of it become the same thing.

What can I say? Bleak is beautiful. I stared at my reflection in a darkened window, pressed my palm against the cold glass. I thought of my camera in the spare room.

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