Drug Dealer

At 4pm, I found myself standing in front of a random apartment. Now you’re probably wondering. Did Sam already forget where he lived? Does Sam have the memory span of a goldfish? Is Sam fucking retarded? And the answer to all of these questions is no. Sam was here on purpose. Sam was here because his scheduling notebook told him to be here. And as to why he was here at 4pm of all times, that was because his average workday apparently ends at 3pm. Just for him though. Not for the other losers at work. They have to work till 10.

So where was I? Right. I was standing in front of a random apartment that was marked in my scheduling book. I wasn’t sure what to expect, considering all the book had about this place was the address, and nothing about my surroundings gave any indication on what this was supposed to be either. It was just some quiet, rural neighborhood. Sure, it didn’t look as great as the neighborhood I lived in, but at least it looked decent enough that I wouldn’t expect to get mugged.

I knocked on the door, waiting anxiously for someone to answer. A wide range of possibilities of who to expect filled my head. Maybe this was an old friend. Maybe this was where my parents lived. Or maybe this was just my drug dealer. Instead, when the door opened, I found myself staring face to face with a teenage girl.

“You’re late.” The girl said, crossing her arms. “I was hoping you wouldn’t show up.”

“The schedule book said I was supposed to be here at 4pm.”

“Yeah. And it’s 4:15. What took you so long anyways? Doesn’t it only take like half an hour for you to get here from work?”

The truth was I was late because I didn’t know I got to leave work early. In fact, it was only at half past three when someone asked me what I was still doing at the office that I learnt about my special privilege. But she didn’t need to know about that.

“Traffic.” I lied again. “I took a cab.”

“Don’t you usually take the subway?”

“Can a man take a cab for a day and not get questioned about it every time he brings it up?”

“Yeah, whatever. Just come in. Let’s get this fucking thing over with.”

I stepped into the living room. The place looked like a typical family household, with stacks of books, a TV, and a surprisingly expensive looking piano. A primary school graduation certificate hanging next to a bunch of family photos on the wall told me that this girl’s name was apparently Alice, but again, nothing about that name reminded me of anything.

“So … about the thing you told me to do…” Alice suddenly said, breaking my train of thought. “I didn’t do it.”

The two of us stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds.

“What?” Alice demanded when I didn’t say anything. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was talking about the homework you gave me.” She replied. “What the fuck did you think I was talking about?”

“That you killed someone and forgot to hide the body?”

“Are you fucking retarded?”

“No Alice. Look, why didn’t you do the homework I gave you?” I said, trying to put on my best stern teacher voice. “Don’t you know it’s very important or something?”

“Because I have better things to do than all the stupid bullshit you assign me every week! And not only that, but the shit you give me is hard! Who has time to learn all that?”

“... Students? … I mean it’s kinda your only responsibility, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s fucking stupid, smartass.” She replied. “And I hate it.”

“Can I at least see the homework I gave you? Did you at least make any progress on it?”

“I did. Just… ugh fine. Take it.”

I grabbed the half-crumpled sheet of paper Alice gave me and had a read through it. It was a piece of math homework. Other than the first question, Alice didn’t seem to have managed to solve the rest of the problems, though I could tell she at least tried, as there were some crossed out math workings on the side of the sheet. It was only until I actually started reading through the questions when I realized that the homework was hard. How old was she? Like 14? How was she supposed to know how to solve advanced calculus?

“See, I wanted to solve for the maximum in this part here.” Alice said with an uncharacteristically sheepish tone, pointing at the second question. “But then I realized there was more than one maximum given the function, and then I got kinda stuck …”

I stared even harder at the question. This was going to be a problem. Not only because Alice didn’t know how to answer the question, but because I didn’t know how to answer it either.

“Listen.” I said, trying to change the subject. “Why don’t we try something different today?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Isn’t this usually the time when you start calling me stupid or something?”

Wow. Past me sounded like a bit of a dick.

“Well, I’m not doing that.” I replied. “I feel like changing my approach as a teacher today. Clearly my past methods haven’t been working so far.”

I didn’t know that, but it sounded convincing enough of a lie.

“What do you mean ‘change your approach’?” Alice asked suspiciously.

“Well, maybe you’ll be better at learning if I get to know you better on a personal level. It would help me think of better ways of teaching you.”

“Is this some shit you and Marianne came up with?”

“No, this is just something I - wait, you know Marianne?”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘you know Marianne’? Of course I fucking know Marianne. She’s the only reason why you’ve been my tutor in the first place!”

“And you know Marianne because … ?”

“Because she’s my aunt, dipshit. Are you okay? Why are you acting extra weird and stupid today?”

I paused for a few seconds, staring at her, processing the information that I’d just been given.

“What?” Alice demanded. “Why are you staring at me all weird again?”

“I’m just thinking… If Marianne is your aunt, and I’m your uncle, wouldn’t that make me… Uncle Sam?”

“...”

“...”

“You are fucking retarded.” Alice said.

“No Alice, I am not.”

“Either that, or you’re on drugs. Pick one.”

“Funny story. I actually thought I was on my way to get drugs when I showed up here.”

“What? Why the fuck would you think that? And since when did you start doing drugs? Is this something I should tell Marianne… ?”

By the end of the hour, I managed to convince Alice that it was just a joke and I in fact, have not been doing drugs. Or maybe I have been. Honestly, I wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t put it past “past me” to have done something like that, but I could at least promise that I wouldn’t do drugs in the near future. Not because I didn’t want to, because drugs are cool, but because I didn’t know where to get any.

Just kidding. Don’t do drugs kids. Go to school. Get a job. Start a family. Die surrounded by loved ones. Go do all of that instead. … Or don’t. Who the fuck am I to tell you what to do anyways?

In the end, Alice still decided that I was being too weird and decided to end the lesson early. That was completely fine by me, considering I didn’t even have anything to teach. I left, promising not to tell her parents that she didn’t finish her homework as I started to make my way back home.

…

…