An American Baptism

“Lots of pretty women
Yeah, they can be mighty sweet
I’m so glad, I’m so glad
No woman bother me
Ya know I’ve seen everything baby
Everything but the bottom of the sea” — Muddy Waters, Bottom of The Sea

For a few months, I lived illegally under an old woman’s staircase in Queens.

I was between jobs so I was driving for a guy who did real estate, insurance, and dealt meth, coke, weed, and whatever else he could find.

In the off hours, he said I could stay there.

He had to go to Indiana, so I got Sunday off, and the old woman always spent Sundays at church, so I had the place to myself.

I made a day of it.

Big steak sandwich and plenty of fries.

Got a call she was in the hospital.

Cardiac.

Happened during the service.

The pastor was very upset.

I went down to the hospital.

There was this five year old girl with platinum hair and a Little Mermaid onezie who got excited watching Barney and accidentally pulled out her feeding tube.

It spilled all over the floor.

Interrupted the prayer circle around the old woman.

The pastor was very upset.

While they cleaned it up, I grabbed a handful of pain pills.

The real good shit.

I went home and got down.

I took a few pills, smoked, lit some incense, put on Muddy Waters loud as fuck, and sat in a hot bath.

Deep blues under the dark opium ocean.

The water was scalding hot but I couldn’t feel it.

The incense mingled weed smoke was almost spirituous.

I had a ten inch blade and five grapefruit.

I alternated between eating a grapefruit and masturbating.

I made slow cuts as I ate.

Bitter juice.

Easy strokes.

Stringy pearls.

Chicago blues in a New York bathtub.

Slow doldrums.

But apparently a big steak sandwich, plenty of fries, five grapefruit, Muddy Waters, weed, incense, masturbation, and a heroic dose of opium don’t mix well, because the first time I threw up, I was still in the tub.

I couldn’t feel it or see it clearly, but this dark stream just sort of gushed out of my belly and splashed into the water.

“Oh Jesus.”

Now I was sitting in a hot stew of puke, cum, and bathwater, with little bits of chewed steak and grapefruit pulp floating all around me.

Which wasn’t great.

Right away I started sifting through the water.

I found one of the half digested pills, washed it off, and swallowed it again.

I had to get out of there.

It was a struggle to lift myself over the lip of the tub.

My water logged noodle arms had no power and my heart was desperately fighting to keep the tempo up.

My hands slipped and the lip hit my stomach.

A second stream of vomit spilled all over the floor.

Slow blues.

“Oh God, Jesus fuck-”

I groaned hard.

Eventually I rolled out onto the floor.

I felt a stick in my side and knew instantly that I had landed on the blade.

I pulled it out and felt the wound.

Deep and wide.

I made a noise like a frightened animal.

“Fuck…Fuck…Help…Jesus…Fuck.”

So now I was naked, wet, and covered in my own blood, cum, and vomit, while crawling around in the humid dark with the blues blasting all around searching for my fucking cell phone like a blind pig.

The air was foul and thick with the putrid steam.

I felt like I was being water boarded.

My skin was burned but my body was going cold.

I was breathing harder and getting less air.

No strength.

No pain.

Fading out.

I slipped again and fell on my face into the cesspool on the bathroom floor.

My unfocused eyes lazed open.

“Fuck…Fuck…Jesus…”

I thought about the old woman.

All the Sundays she’d invited me to church.

The prayer circle at the hospital.

She was going to get better.

And come home.

And find me like this.

And the shock would kill her.

“Jesus…Christ…fuck…”

Then I saw the screen light up.

With my last bit of will, I pushed myself up, grabbed my phone, and flung myself over the toilet.

American Standard.

I’d texted Erik before going in and he hadn’t replied.

But now his bright answer was vivid on the screen.

“Im at bible stdy”

I puked again.

This time in the toilet.

Like a normal person.

I dropped the phone and passed out with my head in the bowl.

The last thing I remember was voiding my bowels.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of my phone rattling against the tile.

Another call.

Job offer.

Yes sir.

No sir.

Right this way sir.

Upstanding citizen.

White shirt neckties.

Hallelujah.

The dealer got arrested, never came back from Indiana.

The five year old girl is still choking on her feeding tube when she laughs at Barney.

The old woman died in the prayer circle next to an unopened bottle of pain pills.

The pastor was very upset.

I never cleaned up the bathroom.