The Bitter Taste of Dying: A Memoir by Jason Smith

Author:Jason Smith [Smith, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Thought Catalog Books
Published: 2015-07-06T06:00:00+00:00

8

How to Say “I’m Fucked” in French

After the final camp was finished, I settled into the apartment that ITI was providing to enjoy my paid vacation. I made plans to spend the two weeks with an English girl named Kristina, a teacher from one of the camps that summer.

My relationship with Kristina was interesting. It wasn’t romantic, but was at times sexual. Kristina was a fantastic teacher, someone whom the kids took to immediately and naturally. I was attracted less to her physical features – don’t get me wrong, she was beautiful – and more to her excitement at teaching children and making a difference. At one point, I too possessed that excitement, that “fuck the odds, let’s change the world” mentality. But the drug abuse destroyed that thing inside of me, whatever it was. Even clean, I couldn’t seem to get it back.

Our plan was to hole-up in my small apartment and just enjoy the ocean for a few weeks. After a few days, Kristina started growing restless and wanted to take a day-trip to Nice, France. A change of scenery for a day sounded harmless so I agreed to tag along.

In Europe, they charge you to use the beaches. Beaches are divided by different colored umbrellas and beach chairs, each equally overpriced and overcrowded with typical European flair. Of course, there is always the “free beach,” usually a sliver of rocks and insects, tucked underneath a cliff, sitting between the for-pay beaches. But Kristina hated the free beach, meaning I was going to pay to occupy a section of sand. Just as we sat down, Kristina started writhing in pain, holding her head.

“Jason,” she said. “I think I’m getting a migraine.”

“Ok… what do you want to do?” I replied.

“Can we go see if I can get something from the Pharmacy?”

At this point, I avoided pharmacies. I didn’t even like walking by them. Inside I could actually smell the pills, that powder-like scent that triggered something from inside me that I wanted to forget. That I came to Europe to outrun. If I just pretended that I left that monster behind in California, then maybe — just maybe — it would go away.

“You can go,” I said in a way that sounded much more dick-ish than I intended. “I think I’ll stay here.”

This would have been a superb time to confess to Kristina my past, but confession meant recollection, and recollection meant acknowledgement, and that wasn’t going to happen.

“For fuck’s sake, Jason, can you come with me? I can barely see.” She pushed her hand against her left eye, obviously in extreme pain.

“Yeah… I can come.”

We walked into the first building with a green cross outside that we could find, a small pharmacy tucked behind a cafe and a store that smelled of overpriced sunscreen and beach towels.

The moment we walked in, it hit me. That smell. God, that smell.

“Bonjour, umm… medicine?” as I pointed to Kristina whose migraine was intensifying by the second. “Migraine,” I said, hoping the word in French was similar to English.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.