Pilar Malo

20K and a Little Black Notebook

I woke up with blood dripping down my face in what looked like my 19meter square apartment. The head ached, the lip was swollen and the vision- blurry. The memories were barely there and the only reason why I thought I was actually in my own apartment was because if I was kidnapped or hostage, I can only assume I would be tied to something and I wouldn’t have a bag with money in my hand. Wait, what? There is a bag with money in my hand? Not only that but inside the bag, there is also a little black notebook. I go through it. “Weed $30, cocaine $80, MD $120” these are drugs. This is drug money, this is blood money. If I could move I would panic, but anyone that ever has had a hangover knows time goes really slow and really fast simultaneously, so one is stuck in a quantum realm where you should be able to get an Oscar for the best performance just by being able to stand up. And yet, is it a hangover? I am shaking a lot that’s for sure. I have never given birth but I can only assume this is how women feel afterwards. Worried about their child, relief something is over and your body is just in a shock-state; again, I wasn’t pregnant tho so I guess I am hangover. I look at the pillow and there is only blood, maybe I gave birth to this bag of drug money? I stand up and go to the toilet, an automatic motion makes my hand grab my toothbrush which puts me at ease, this IS my apartment. And yet, why do I live like this? There are books and clothes on the floor, wrappings of food everywhere and the toilet looks like the swamp where a Disney villain character would live in- this is disgusting. Let's list the stuff we know. Right, I can’t have given birth because I have a girlfriend, I am gay, maybe we wanted to have children? I don´t know. When is it a right time to have children? How old am I? I pee and then I look for my computer-nada. Phone? Great-all the names in it are code names. “Sweetie bear” “Blue eyes white dragon” “Don Quijote”. No message history, no apps, no nada. Is this my phone? Might as well come with the bag of drugs. I don’t do drugs, this is not my money, this is not my phone, this is my apartment, this is my face. WOW. My face. Whatever age I am I look 30 years older, I am wrecked, if I saw myself on the street I would stay away from me. I am beyond the point of getting help. I must… mmmm…. shower? Yes, a shower sounds nice. Up next, the shower thought of the day- do I leave the drug things or take them with me on the search of my identity and probably breakfast? Should a nice MA student who pays her bills go walk around with 20K worth of drugs in her bag? Or better yet, leave them in her apartment? Mmmmm… Mcdonald's sounds nice. I think I will go with Mcdonald's for breakfast. I dress up and take the money, I couldn’t find a wallet so it becomes a no-brainer, I need money for breakfast so I will walk into Mcdonalds with 20K in my bag. I leave the apartment looking like a clown- makeup can’t hide a swollen eye. Right, I live in Stoke Newington- London. Where am I going? What should I do? Of course MacDonalds but first, where does one head when you don’t know who you are? Police? Police sound good, I am a good civilian that pays her taxes and studies a master's degree. In what? I don’t remember. Nice, money well spent. I go to the corner shop and ask for a police station. Who even does that? I would have gotten less judgy looks by just buying a burner phone and calling an emergency number. Funnily enough, the guy says is right around the corner and a adds a kind “Are you alright? Do you need to call somebody?” I reply with- “I don’t know who to call darling, but if I don’t find my way, I´ll come back here and take your word on it. Thanks” He doesn’t look relieved, but kinda does. I walk to the police station, which is literally 2 blocks away when suddenly, I see her! My girlfriend! Steph! I shout her name! “STEPH!” She finds me! She comes rushing to me! I am so excited! It feels like I am a child at Christmas! Weird, she is raising her hand as she comes rushing to me? BANG, I am on the floor, again. “I told you never come to my apartment again! You made a copy key didn’t you? You fucking asshole you’re even wearing my clothes- who are you hiding from now?” For what it's worth, the floor is nice, the floor is cold. I get up. What do you mean? Aren't we together anymore?. No. Obviously not. These are crazy people's questions. And yet, she is still my only shot… “Steph, I am so sorry, I will leave you alone but you have to tell me what happened since we broke up, I woke up in your apartment and I can’t remember anything but, but you really!” She took a look at me like I am an animal, a sucking vampire coming to suck from her life again, she looked up and down at me the same way that you look at a picture of a toxic ex, with no sympathy, hurt, and too frustrated to even speak. I might be a good civilian who has a masters degree who pays taxes but I clearly fucked with her life. And yet… “We used to live in that apartment when we were both doing our masters, you and I were together for 4 years until you got into drug dealing. You used to be amazing, very active, and fun, it's worth noting you got into drug dealing because you needed the money, but then you started smoking, snorting, and what's worse, you got ambitious about it. I haven’t seen you in 3 years, but with that lifestyle of yours and that look on your face, I am not surprise you don’t remember any of it and quite frankly, even if I wanted to help you I don’t know who you are, what do you do or where do you live. I don’t pity you, so don’t come near me ever again. You’re on your own.” And just like that, she leaves me on the street. I am trying to understand everything she just said. It made sense, the guy from the corner shop didn’t recognize me which is just not natural for anyone that lives above one. Gross, that was not my toothbrush. Shame, I actually don’t know where I left her keys. This IS my phone and most importantly, this IS my money. My money. My little black notebook. Mine. I can go anywhere, it's my money, I can buy anything, all mine. Ha! Fuck taxes. I am good. Sundown is on the horizon, the cellphone starts pinging. All I gotta do is find a hotel to take a nap. Then? back to work.