Something had shifted. Everything all at once had dispersed and now I was staring exclusively at the diamond of pain I hadn’t even realized had been within me all along. The diamond wasn’t cut or clear; it was opaque, unevenly yellowed, asymmetrical, roughly surfaced, jagged … violent. I wasn’t a diamond cutter. How was I going to create beauty out of something so ugly? Yet, I could no more live without this diamond within my being than I could live without my heart beating. Unlike my heart, I had no idea where this diamond existed. It was just there, a part of me that I could feel that somehow managed to exist without being in a place.
As I poured myself a glass of orange juice in the kitchen, shivering from standing naked in the kitchen, I had little idea of what to do about this unwanted presence. I walked to the window in the kitchen, looked out at the gray morning, the apartments across the way, and the street below. I took a drink and swallowed. The pain of this diamond resembled its shape and color. As I watched a woman effortlessly cycle by with her gray scarf fluttering behind her and a car buzz past in a herky-jerky motion, clearly looking for a parking spot, I realized managing this pain was going to require nimbleness. If my body and mind were maneuverable then I would need to move as responsively as a cyclist rather than awkwardly lurching like the driver of an automobile. I could never maneuver around the dangers of this diamond in a beastly motorized vehicle designed to be ridden through smooth simplicity; no, a cycle designed to fuse with me in motion was necessary.
I finished the juice and walked to the shower. As I slipped under the hot water and lathered my body with soap, I recognized I needed to honor the pain, harsh and immobile as it was. If I was going to learn how to cycle around its jagged edges, avoid the jutting spikes, and find the hidden passageways then I would have to become more intimate with it and respect it in the same way I respected a tram crossing my path. I didn’t need new wounds; I needed to learn my pain so I understood it well enough to be able to see and feel changes in shape and color. The pressure condensing that diamond hadn’t been alleviated so its form—wherever it existed—wasn’t fixed. A different sort of mindset would be required, a viewpoint that could see diamonds as malleable rather than static.
I closed my eyes and shampooed my hair, the stubble that was slowly growing on my scalp. I had to learn to see in the dark, in the places where diamonds formed, to acknowledge that my perspective had been fixed to the surface of the world as if that was all there was, a perspective that had been distorted through a belief in my culture’s worldview, its ways of seeing, its projections of the only way things could be. I stood still in the shower rinsing then gradually turned in a circle allowing water to cascade over the whole of my body. I shut off the shower, grabbed a towel, and dried off. I walked into the bedroom and dressed before walking back to the living room to have a cigarette. I opened the window and looked out onto the street. There was a cool mist in the air. I took a drag off my cigarette and blew a smoke ring that died quickly in the dampness.
I laughed, at the ring and at myself. My environment dictated what could or could not be. I had oscillated outward at an ever-increasing pace, stretching my being apart in such a way that made it much bigger, but also more porous, more vulnerable. That was good; without doing so I wouldn’t have been able to perceive the cancers of pain as inflexible as diamonds. They couldn’t expand and contract like I could; pain as a diamond, as a cancer, is unaffected by the in-and-out of breathing. The tissue expanding and contracting around it or near it might be, getting jabbed and cut as it moved in and out, up and down, side to side. That was why I had to learn the geography of my pain; I didn’t want it to do any more damage than it had done.
I closed the window after my cigarette and moved to the middle of the living room to lightly stretch. How would I learn this geography? Should I put more pressure on areas that were rough, try to mold the pain into a perfect symmetry? How could I? The pain took shape over time so to change it would require time as well—or so I thought. That might not be true; my analogy might be flawed. Flawed like a diamond? Being attentive was probably the best way or at least the best way to start. Insights I’d had on this visit, complexities like The Loop, provided applicable benefits. In a way, I was using those discoveries without consciously being aware that I was: Perspective, perception, attentiveness, preferences. They were always in play.
My mind was tiring. I wasn’t going to figure this out in a day and I sure as hell wasn’t going to waste all my time examining sources and shapes of pain. I needed to eat, index, and check email. I ate a bowl of cereal, opened my email, and saw nothing new. I opened the PDF for the psychology textbook and spent most of the day working on it, pausing only for lunch, stretching, smoking pot, and reading a bit of Kafka on the Shore. I checked email on and off as well. By five I was finished indexing. I still needed to go through the document to edit it, but then I would be able to send it to the publisher and bill for it.
I turned on some tunes, a glam rock station—how long had it been since I had listened to glam rock? All well and good while making a vegetable stew. While it slowly cooked I refilled my dugout and saw that I would need to get more buds soon. I placed the dugout next to my keys so I would remember to take it with me if Eliene emailed. I took a couple puffs from my pipe then had a cigarette while switching the station. I suppose I could wait another five or ten years before listening to glam again. I settled on jazz, Thelonious Monk. Ba-da-da-du-du ba-du-da-daa ba-du-da-daa …
I checked my email and saw a new message from Eliene. “Come over in a couple hours?” I replied, “Yeah, I would love to. I’ll see you soon.” I showered in the morning, but I didn’t know exactly what to expect so I showered again. I got dressed and took out my backpack. Better to be prepared so I threw in a change of clothes and a few other things. I took a hit from my pipe, put my dugout in my inside jacket pocket, and grabbed my keys.
I left the apartment, unlocked my bike, and started to ride. I had checked out the route I needed to take and made my way. I forgot how long the trek was as I passed through Vondelpark and out onto Overtoom. Fortunately, there was no rain or even mist; no wind, either. It felt good going for a long ride and I was starting to like this area of the city. It was a nice getaway from the center.
My thoughts about pain and loss receded as I rode. Excitement and anticipation replaced them. I tried to temper expectations, but it was hard not to think about Eliene’s sensuality, her body, her personality. As I neared the apartment, I felt intoxicated, blissfully drunk. Nothing salves pain more than pleasure. Well, that was my experience. The negative judgments and interpretations of pleasure-seeking and hedonism were lost on me. I couldn’t fathom how anyone could be dour about feelings of warmth and satisfaction. I thought of Sterre briefly, probably because she had introduced me to Auriana and Eliene. I was surprised how much I had let go of her. Glad, but surprised.
Life seemed to be a march through different faces, personalities, bodies, beings. Intellectually, there was no reason to be attached to any one person or even a group; there were always more people to meet, new connections to be made. It wasn’t that simple, though. It seemed so here in Amsterdam, but elsewhere that hadn’t been my experience. As I parked my bike outside the building I realized that didn’t matter a bit at this moment. I shook my body as if that would scatter such thoughts onto the ground around me. I could see worry squirming on the right, slowly dying without me as its host. On my left was fear, screaming to be felt. Behind me I sensed analysis unable to operate. I stepped over aching pain and rang the buzzer.
Eliene’s voice crackled at me and I said, “It’s me.” The door buzzed and I walked up the flights of stairs and knocked. The door opened and Eliene stood smiling at me wearing black tights with holes ripped on the thighs and calves, the fabric covering her feet as well. Sheer as they were, the tights resembled pantyhose more than anything else. She wore a long, baggy pink sweatshirt with a screen-printed design centered above Dutch phrasing. Her hair was a little shorter than when I had last seen her or maybe just styled differently. It was still full, a bit unruly in a sexy devil-may-care way.
She invited me inside and I removed my backpack and coat, placing them against the wall next to the door as I removed my shoes. “You want a drink?” I stood up and said yes as she walked to the kitchen. There was a pitcher filled with reddish liquid, ice, and sliced fruit on the top. Sangria. She poured a glass for me and topped off her own. She walked back and handed it to me before walking to the living room. I followed as she sat on the couch, pulling her legs up next to her, side-sitting in a way. I sat next to her, but not too close, tilting in her direction to face her. She extended her glass and I clinked mine against hers. We drank. Eliene looked at me, giving me a once over.
“So, you wanted to see me again, huh?” I smiled, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, I did.” Eliene took another drink. “Did you have a purpose in mind?” Damn, for a young woman she was direct, confident, and coy. I had to remind myself that I was in a culture that fostered sexual maturity at younger ages. She came across as a woman in her thirties, at least from my American experiences. Without thinking, I blurted out, “I like being in your presence. I become more vulnerable and I like being open with you. It’s not always possible for me to do that with others. I’m not sure if you draw it out of me or if I'm just eager to be that way with you because it feels so fucking good.” As I spoke I realized I extended myself, expanded outward while with her, enlarging my being enough to feel her, to allow her to enter my interior space. I felt less alone, connected. It wasn’t possible to feel lonely when I was with her. I could be that way and she accepted it.
However, I saw in her face that she was a bit taken aback, a little flush. She shifted in her seat, adopting a more protective posture. “Sorry, Ellie, I didn’t mean to burst like that all at once. It just came out.” She nodded, but remained silent, her face suggesting that she was thinking, processing, but also disconcerted. She finally smiled a little and spoke, not quite nonchalantly, enough life in her voice to suggest she was both surprised and amused. “I just thought you wanted sex.” I laughed. “Well, yeah, there's that, but the 'why' isn't as predictable as you might have imagined.” I took a drink of the sangria and commented on how good it tasted. I also thanked her for inviting me over.
Eliene took a drink then said, “We'll see about the sex. I don't know yet.” A black cat jumped onto the couch as she finished talking. It caught me by surprise and I nearly spilled my drink. “Whoa. I didn’t know you had a cat. I don’t remember seeing it last week.” El picked up the cat and held it in her arms as she stroked the back of its head and neck. “She wasn’t here last week. A neighbor watched her for us for a few days during the party. Her name is Chatte.” The way she pronounced it sounded French. "What does the name mean? In English?" Eliene smiled and said, “Pussy.” Of course. I laughed. “Does Pussy like strangers?” Ellie rolled her eyes. “Here, hold her. Let’s find out.” She handed the cat to me and I placed her on my lap. Chatte arched her back and dug her claws into my thighs then settled down to rest. She purred, but I could still feel the claws. I didn’t want to move her or say anything, though, so I suffered silently.
“I guess she likes you.” If digging her claws into the flesh near my groin counted as liking me then I imagined she did. I changed the subject. “Why did you invite me over tonight, Ellie?” That caught her off-guard. She stuttered a few times then laughed at herself. I said, “Hey, you asked me so it seems fair for me to ask you.” A smile. “Okay. Um, hmmm. I hate it when Auriana goes out of town and I didn’t want to be alone.” Interesting. “Weren’t you alone last night?” El’s eyebrows rose. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened then closed without a sound. Her lips pursed as she opened her eyes. “No.” Oh. I waited for more, but nothing was offered voluntarily. “You said you had other plans so … what?” She shook her head at me and I shrugged. “What? Too personal?”
Eliene finished her drink and set it down on the coffee table. “No, not too personal. I went out to meet some women. We were out all night together.” And? “What’s wrong with that?” I finished my drink as El said, “Nothing, but I tend to get myself into trouble when I’m on my own.” Huh. “Is that what happened last night?” She nodded then got off the couch. She grabbed the glasses and walked back to the kitchen. I removed Chatte from my lap, grimacing as she tried to dig her claws in deeper, and rose to follow Eliene into the kitchen. While she refilled our glasses I asked her what could have possibly been so bad. Without looking up she said, “I go wild, really, really wild. Last night was okay, though. I had sex with a lot of women at parties around the city. I always knew where I was. That's good." She took a drink from her glass then continued. "In the past, I went out and woke up in other cities, a few times in different countries." Hello! "Before Auriana I woke in parks or abandoned buildings alone or with people I didn’t know."
How to respond? No judgment. “Okay. Makes sense. Does Auriana know you have this trouble?” Ellie handed my glass to me and I took a drink. “She knows.” Eliene took a drink. “Was she worried about you before she left town?” El walked back to the living room and I followed. As she sat down she said, “Yeah, but she was happy you emailed. She told me to invite you over. She thinks you are good for me.” Wow. I laughingly asked her if I was supposed to be a babysitter. Eliene shrugged and took a drink. “Are you serious?” She put a hand on my thigh. “No. And yes. If you are here I won’t go out. I don’t like being alone.” Maybe I was crazy, but that made sense to me. I was like that in Chicago--that was also when I used to wake up in different parts of the city without knowing how I had gotten there, sometimes alone and sometimes with people I didn't know. That made me wonder about Ellie, if she had experienced neglect, abuse, or painfully crippling losses. I felt my own wounds opening up to hers. Maybe we were babysitting each other.
I took a drink as Eliene said, “Auriana is my owner.” Oh, for fuck’s sake. “She is! I’m like a dog when she’s here. I’m happy when she comes home, we play together, I love her.” She took a drink and continued, “But when she’s gone I’m a cat. I feel restless, I go out, I find trouble.” Huh. “Auriana’s my owner; I’m her pet.” I was curious. “Like a dominant-submissive relationship?” She shook her head. “No, just … I can’t explain it.” The minds of other human beings. We're far more bizarre than we ever imagine. “Were you like a stray that Auriana brought in from the cold?” El laughed. “No! More like a stray who forced herself into her home and refused to leave!” What a fucking trip. “You are a weird one, Ellie.”
Eliene took a drink then got off the couch, walking out of the room. I drank most of the sangria in my glass before she came back. I was sucking on a slice of a blood orange when she returned. She sat back down on the couch. In one hand was a clear glass pipe and in her other was a Zippo. “Really?” She looked up at me as if to say “What?” Instead she said, “Just because you’re babysitting doesn’t mean I can’t have fun.” She lit up and I saw the smoke swirling in the fat glass bottom of the beaker before she sucked it into her mouth. She handed me the pipe. I had smoked coke off of aluminum foil, but never from a pipe. First time for everything—Eliene and Auriana were the source of a lot of firsts for me. Funny getting schooled by a twenty-year-old … or twenty-three-year-old. Before I lit up I asked Eliene how old she was. “Why?” I lit up and sucked the smoke into my mouth. I answered as I exhaled, “Because I’m curious.”
Oh, Christ, the smoke hit fast. Sweet, sweet euphoria. I looked dreamily at Ellie and said, “Never mind. Oh my god, I feel good.” She laughed and said, “I’m twenty-one. You’re funny when you’re high.” Oh … my … gawwwd. Ellie loaded more into the glass bowl and lit up. I forgot everything and simply looked around the apartment. Was it like this before? As in, was it here before? It didn’t seem like it, but there it was. There was furniture and hardwood floors and everything was black and white. Eliene handed me the pipe and, without thinking, I lit up and inhaled. Fucking fuck. I handed it back to her and lost track of everything except my drink which I pounded, sucking a few slivers of ice into my mouth, chewing on them.
I got up off the couch. “We need music, Ellie.” She put down the pipe, drank the rest of her sangria, and got up. “Yes we do.” She turned on the stereo and suddenly the room was filled with trance. Finally, a rhythm to move my body. I had been twitching and jerking without rhyme or reason, but now my body was throbbing with the bass, the bleeps were moving my feet, and my arms were swimming through the liquid electronics. My eyes found the white of the ceiling and I blissfully disappeared into it. I didn’t come back until I felt El’s body against mind. My eyes found their way down to her. Her hips were gyrating and her head was flopping back and forth, her hair whipping against my face, her torso slithering all over mine and down into my crotch. I forgot how much shorter she was than me. Petite, too.
We danced ceaselessly through a mix of songs, each one seemingly more upbeat and energetic than the last. I was sweating and starting to feel lightheaded, the energy draining from me. I needed the music to stop so I could slow down. Eliene looked up at me and must have seen how spent I was because she stopped dancing and turned down the music. I was panting and so was she. Her hair, whether shorter or differently styled, was still long enough to be plastered all over her face. She was perspiring as well, a couple streaks of sweat running down her cheek. She looked hot--and hot!--but I was dying of thirst. I walked to the kitchen and stuck my head under the faucet to drink. I heard El laugh.
“Here, here.” I pulled my head out and stood up. She handed me a glass of water she had poured from a pitcher in the fridge. How many glass pitchers did they have? I expected the Kool-Aid Man to burst through a wall any minute. “You know, as much as I want to smoke more coke I need to come down.” I walked over to my jacket and pulled the dugout from the inside pocket. Eliene said, “No, no, don’t smoke that. We have a bong.” Sounded good to me. She finished drinking a glass of water then went to the living room and climbed the stairs. I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. After drying off I walked back into the living room and sat on the couch. El came downstairs with the bong and a bag of weed. Ah, yes, I remembered that bong. It suddenly seemed like a year ago since I had been in this apartment.
We smoked a few bowls, more than enough to come down, more than enough to get us snoggered. It helped my heart stop beating so fast, but I was fucking stoned. I usually only smoked enough to feel good, stopping short of smoking myself into cement. I had to admit, it felt good to be this baked. In some recess of my mind, I acknowledged that Amsterdam had been a series of ups and downs, ins and outs, and all arounds. Whenever I thought I might get a handle on living in the city I turned another corner and found something I never expected. A whole life could be lived this way. It might not be a long life, but it certainly would be full. I felt like I was living a year per week. If the pace continued I would have another decade under my belt by the time I returned to the States.
I briefly came out of my haze and saw the bong on the table. I forgot Eliene was on the couch with me. I had even forgotten we'd smoked together! I looked at her and she was slumped against the back of the couch, her eyes half open, her hair dangling down over them. I leaned over and brushed the hair out of her eyes. With a lazy smile she mouthed, “Bedankt.” I kissed her gently on the lips and then slumped against the back of the couch, too. I wondered, absent-mindedly, what time it was. It couldn’t be that late, probably not even midnight. I made myself get up and walk to the kitchen. The sangria was mostly gone, just melted ice and fruit slices. Still, I poured a glass and drank from it. Natural sugar water. Mmm, good. I filled a glass of water and took it to Ellie, shaking her awake. She sat up and took the glass, meekly uttering, “Thanks,” before drinking half of it.
“Ellie, if you’re going to crash maybe I should walk you upstairs to bed.” She nodded her head. As she stood up she almost fell into the coffee table. I caught her before she did. She said, “Bathroom,” so I walked her there. She seemed to regain some composure as she shut the door. I went back to the couch and took a drink of the water I brought for her. When she came out of the bathroom I took my turn. By the time I walked back into the living room she was splayed out on the couch. I shook her gently, but she didn’t move so I scooped her into my arms and carried her up the stairs. She woke up as we entered the bedroom and she wiggled out of my arms onto the ground. She pulled back the bed spread and the sheet before disrobing.
I said, “Do you want me to stay, Ellie?” Eliene tossed her sweatshirt on the ground. “Yeah, you can’t go. I need you." She looked at me through slits and said, "Besides, you're too fucking high to go anywhere.” That was true; it felt like we were taking turns babysitting one another. El unzipped my pants then started pulling my shirt over my head. I took over and finished undressing. She was naked except for her skimpy pink panties and I was down to boxers when she pulled me by the hand into bed with her. She turned her back to me, but pulled my arm over her, using her hand to cup mine against her breast. She snuggled her back and butt into my body. She felt so good next to me. Cozy, comfy, cocooned. If I hadn't been so stoned and tired I would have been aroused, but cuddling with her in my state was a different type of heaven. She sighed just loud enough for me to hear her, "You always call me 'Ellie.' Is so sweet." I cradled her in my arms and pleasantly sighed myself to sleep.
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