Gloria, the Patti Smith version, was blaring from the sound system, and Glen was in the middle of the room, dancing like a dervish. The old fashioned cupboard on the far wall took on a cartoonish face and began to grimace and shuffle. The acid was kicking in. In front of the fireplace, on the beat up old couch, its back to the door in a vain attempt to block the wind that found it's way through the two inch gap between door and floor, Kevin;s lanky form was draped, with Lisa spread across its length, her head on his lap. I was in my usual spot, a collapsing old armchair drawn as close to the fire as was possible without setting fire to my jeans. Dec , industrious even when stoned and tripping, was sat at the small side table that acted as our dining board, rolling a supply of joints,
Suddenly Kevin emitted a sound somewhere between a groan and a bulls roar. He jumped to his feet, all but knocking Lisa into the fireplace, and grasped his head in both hands.
"You're ripping me apart" he roared. Then he sank to his knees, still gripping his head. It was as if the curtain of air in the room had been torn. On the other side Patti Smith was still chanting
but all of us had stopped, frozen, studies in indecision.
"You're tearing me apart, you're tearing me apart" Kevin whimpered.
Dec was first to recover. "Its ok, Man" he said kneeling down beside him, "no one's trying to hurt you"
Kevin raised his head and looked at him, his eyes wide and baffled. "I'm lost", he groaned. "I'm lost, I don't ..., I can't..."
Dec signaled to Glen to help him, and they both helped Kevin back onto the couch. Dec took his hand and stroked it, muttering soothing noises. I knocked Patti Smith off the sound system, and shuffled through the albums for something more soothing, eventually settling on Ravel's Bolero. It didn't seem to soothe Kevin, who continued to moan and wave his head from side to side, trying to dislodge the pain. But it worked for me, the swirling, circular melodies like Celtic carvings on a cross, looping back and swallowing their own tails. When it finished, I put it on again, over and over, and no one noticed, or at least complained.
Three hours passed, with no improvement. Any time Kevin's groaning diminished, One of us would ask him if he was feeling better, but he would simply shake his head and groan, "I'm lost."
Dec drew Glen and I into a huddle in the corner of the room.
"I think we may have to take him, to hospital."
"What? But ... How...?" we sputtered. The thought of going out into the street, wading through the soup thick air, negotiating buses and normal people, was terrifying. And what would we tell them at the hospital? Would we be in danger of arrest?
"Okay, okay, lemme think, lemme think, lemme think." He took out his phone and had a hushed conversation with someone.
"Vitamin C." he proclaimed. "Do we have any oranges?" We looked at him in stupefaction. The only thing in the freezing, damp kitchen was a jumbo sized box of Weetabix and a carton of milk. This served as breakfast and tea. Dinner was taken in the middle of the day, whatever the college cafeteria had on.
"Okay, okay" he muttered, and resumed his conversation with whoever was on the other side of the line. Eventually, they came to some conclusion, and he terminated the call.
"That was Donal." Donal was his dealer. "He says vitamin C is the trick to bring him down. He's going to bring over some oranges."
About twenty minutes later there was a banging on the front door and Dec ushered in a young, thickset man in an expensive leather jacket, holding a net of mandarin oranges. He looked around the room in disgust. "Jeesus, how can you live here?"
"Students, man, Dec replied, as if that was all that needed to be said, Dec worked in the civil service, but he liked to hang around with us. I think he would have liked to have gone to college, but his father, a police sergeant martinet, has issued him an ultimatum - either get a job and start paying for his keep, or find some place else to live, So he spent his free time with us, smoking joints, listening to music, and talking literature. He was a smart guy, he had money, and was generous with it, so we were happy.
For the next two to three hours Dec fed Kevin segments of mandarin, all the while muttering soothing words, while I rotated Ravel and stole some of the oranges. Eventually I fell into an exhausted sleep.
When I awoke the winter dawn was seeping into the room. I was alone and freezing. I stumbled to the room I shared with Glen. He was in bed, snoring slightly, I turned around and peeked into Kevin's room. He was also asleep, Lisa wrapped around him. I went out into the street. Everything was so ordinary. I went into the corner shop and bought a carton of milk. No one looked at me strangely. But I was different. A door had opened into an alternate universe, and I had stepped through. I would never be fully in the quotidian again, And neither would Kevin.
