OVER THE EDGE OF REASON
Bella is pacing around her loft. She wants to see Julius; she’s left him five messages just today. She hasn’t seen him in at least a week, since he accepted a couple hundred dollars from her. She’s been drinking and doing blow all day. She’s so wired she’s taken a Xanax to come down, but all that has done is make her nauseous and queasy.
She goes to the bathroom and splashes some water on her face. She looks like a mess—pale and wan, her eyes bloodshot, and she can’t seem to get her hair under control. After smearing some lipstick on her mouth she flings on a coat and shoves her cell, a wad of cash, and her cigarettes into her pocket and careens out of her apartment, onto the street. She’s so obviously fucked up when she gets to Madame X that if the doorman didn’t know she’s a regular and rich, he’d never have let her in.
Bella brushes by him and stumbles down the stairs into the dark lounge. She makes her way toward the bar, where the band is setting up. When she looks at the banquette reserved for guests of the band, there is a skinny blond girl sitting there. Bella stops short, then finds a seat by the bar. The wheels in her head are spinning slowly, but they’re still spinning.
She looks around for Julius, spotting him at the end of the bar near the stage ordering a drink. Forgetting where she is, Bella pulls out her cigarettes and as she’s about to light one, Julius walks from the bar to the banquette, putting the drink on the table in front of the blonde. He then leans over and gives her a long, passionate kiss.
Forgetting about her cigarette, Bella gets up so suddenly that she knocks her chair backward. Julius looks over and sees Bella heading his way, her face red and her eyes wild. He can tell she’s fucked up, and he’s not sure what she’s going to do. He tries to cut her off before she gets to the booth but she pulls out of his grasp and stops in front of the blonde.
“Who the hell are you?” she slurs.
The girl looks at Bella. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m his girlfriend!” Bella yells, pointing to Julius.
“Not according to him,” the blonde smirks.
“Listen, you bitch, whose money do you think he’s been taking you out with?”
“If you’re stupid enough to give him your money, then it’s your problem, not mine.”
“Oh is it?” Bella says, grabbing for the girl, but Julius holds her back.
“C’mon, Bell, you’re fucked up—go home.”
She pulls out of his grasp and swings to face him. “Yes, I’m fucked up on the drugs you supply me with, that I pay you for.” She pushes him. “Yes, I’m fucked up because you’re a lying, using piece of shit.” She pushes him again and he stumbles against the stage and into the drum set.
They are now the center of attention and a bouncer is heading over to their table. Bella turns around to see the blonde trying to get out of the booth; she grabs the drink off the table and tosses it at her. “Here’s your drink, you ho—I hope it tastes good.” As she reaches across the table to pummel the girl, the bouncer grabs Bella; she kicks and screams in his grasp.
“He’s all yours, bitch. Now you know what you’re getting.” The bouncer wrestles her to the door and up the stairs, pushing her outside, where she falls down and cuts her knee.
“You son of a bitch, look at what you did. What’s your name? I’m gonna sue your ass. You just wait.”
“Go home and sleep it off, or I’m gonna call the cops.” He growls back.
Bella’s managed to get up and is now half sitting, half leaning against a car. She’s a mess: Her hair is wild, her leg is bleeding, and her dress is ripped. The Xanax takes this inopportune moment to kick in. That combined with the alcohol is sending her very quickly over the edge of reason.
Bella is pointing at the bouncer and slurring her words.
“Call the poleesh, I’m not going anyhair. That girlsh got a beat-down coming—you too, you put choor ham hocksh on me again.” She drops her cigarettes; when she picks them up she drops her cell. When she picks that up it rings, and she opens it.
“Yellooo.”
“Bell, is that you?”
“Whoosh this?”
“It’s Precious. You sound wrecked. Tell me you’re at home.”
“Preshus, I’m sho glad you called. Willchu call the poleesh for me?”
“Bella, where are you?”
“I’m right cheer, where else would Ibee?” Bella shakes her head.
“Where is that, Bell?”
“I’m cheer, Adam Vex. I’m at Adam Vex.” Precious hears someone in the background yelling:
“She’s at Madame X. You better come and get her, or she’s gonna end up in jail.”
“Shut upchu—don’t talk to my phone, you shtupid ham hockshhead.”
Precious hangs up, flings on her coat, and runs out of her apartment. Luckily Madame X isn’t too far; she can hop in a cab and be there in two minutes. She hopes Bella can stay out of trouble for that long.
When the cab pulls up to the curb, Bella is not only still yelling at the bouncer, now she’s also throwing things at him—first her cigarettes, then her lighter, then her shoes. When Precious gets out, Bella’s standing in front of the bar barefoot, bleeding, and about to hurl her cell phone at the bouncer, who is standing there smirking. A small crowd of gawkers has gathered; they’re staring and laughing. Precious runs up and snatches the phone out of Bella’s hand.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Preshus, thank gawd yer here. I want to go back inshide. That broosher won’t let me. Julius has a beat-down coming and that byatch he’s got whid him.”
“That’s enough, Bella. This is ridiculous. You’re bleeding.” She looks at the bouncer. “What the hell happened?”
“She assaulted a customer inside, threw a drink on her, and beat up one of the band members. I almost called the cops. I had to practically wrestle her outside—look, she scratched me.” He shows Precious a small mark on his arm.
“Theresh more where that came frum,” Bella yells at him.
“That’s it.” Precious drags Bella to the cab and pushes her inside, where she falls across the seat. Precious then goes back out and collects Bella’s shoes. She leaves the cigarettes and lighter where Bella tossed them. Then she gets back into the cab and gives the driver Bella’s address.
After half dragging her into her apartment, Precious lugs Bella to her couch and throws her onto it.
“Bella, what’s gotten into you?”
Bella is trying to sit up on the couch, but she’s having a hard time. When she finally gets upright, she flops over, almost hitting her head on the metal edge of the table.
“You’re ridiculous,” Precious says, stomping into the bathroom to get peroxide, cotton swabs, and Band-Aids.
“Bella, you’re thirty-four—aren’t you getting a little old for this kind of nonsense?” Precious pushes her back up against the couch, then pours a healthy dose of peroxide on the gash on her knee.
“Ouwwchh, shtop it you’re killeee me,” Bella moans, swatting at Precious’s hands.
“You’d be lucky to die by peroxide. At the rate you’re going one of your Molotov drug cocktails will be the end of you. I know you’ve been drinking, because you’re always drinking, and I know you’ve been doing blow because you’re always doing blow. But what’s the mystery prescription drug? Let’s see, you’re almost unconscious so—what, Valium? Klonopin? Xanax?”
“Thanax.”
“Nice, why don’t you just put a loaded gun in your mouth and pull the trigger?” Precious finishes, slapping the Band-Aid on the cut.
“Ouwwchh. Shtop, pleash. I’m misherable enough.”
“Now that I have you trapped I’m gonna finally tell you exactly how I feel about that slimeball.”
“No, mershy pleash, my head hurtsh.”
“How many times does Julius have to abuse you before you wise up? He takes your money; he’s gotten you hooked on blow, which he sells to you—are you seeing a connection here?” she doesn’t wait for an answer. “He pops up when it’s convenient for him and then disappears when he’s gotten enough money.”
When Bella tries to crawl off the couch Precious grabs her and shakes her. “He’s completely irredeemable.”
“Ugh shtop shaking me. I’m gonna throw. . . .” Bella throws up all over herself and Precious.
“Oh, great. Thanks, Bella. This is just perfect.”
“I told you to shtop shaking me,” Bella whimpers.
Precious stands up, pulls off her top, then drops it on the floor. “I’m glad it’s your shirt,” she says, then goes into the kitchen, washes her hands, and grabs some paper towels. When she goes back into the living room Bella isn’t on the couch, and the front door is open. When Precious runs out the door, Bella is stumbling down the hall to the elevator.
“Are you insane? What are you doing?”
“I’m gonna go break upsh wich Junius,” Bella mumbles as Precious grabs her and pulls her back into the apartment.
“You’re gonna break up with Julius. If that were true I’d be happy, but you were never actually his girlfriend. He’s been using you, Bella. You’ve known him—what, four years? But you’ve never met his friends, or his family. You never go out on dates; he either comes here to crash or you sneak off to his gigs and do blow with him.”
By now Precious has wrestled Bella back onto the couch, but she’s once again covered in vomit. “It would be great for you to stop seeing him,” she says, yanking off Bella’s top. “But you’ll make a big deal out of it and then you’ll let him skulk back in here and you’ll lie to us about it. Next thing we know you’re spending all day drinking and doing drugs. Don’t you get bored doing that? Shopping and lunch can distract you only so much.” She yanks Bella’s skirt down and tosses it on top of the pile of dirty clothes on the floor. Snatching off Bella’s boots, Precious swings her up onto the couch and slips a cushion under her head.
Precious grabs the dirty clothes, marches into the bedroom, and tosses them into the hamper. Then she pulls a top out of the closet and puts it on over her camisole. Grabbing the duvet off the bed, she goes back to the living room and tosses it onto Bella’s prone form.
“Don’t you want a reason to get up in the morning, aside from drugs or alcohol? You need to stop seeing Julius, maybe even get a job, or at least a hobby. I don’t have time anymore to be your personal cleanup crew, and honestly I’m tired of it. I should be in bed right now so I can get up early tomorrow to go to work; instead I’m here cleaning up your vomit. You need to go to rehab; you need to get some help, and you need to get yourself together.”
Precious stands up and looks around Bella’s fabulous apartment and for the first time, she wouldn’t want her life. Then she whispers, “I love you, Bell, but I don’t want to see you until you make some real changes.” Then she turns off the lights and shuts the door.
When Bella hears the door slam, she whispers, “I’m . . . shorry Preshus.”