Thankfully, I had worked on an Emergency Medical Services team during my college summers. I quickly checked various cardio-pulmonary functions, pulse 35, breathing shallow but regular, estimated BP 90/50. My own pulse slowly edged down from something well over 150 as I concluded that he had passed out and not overdosed. My hands shook with the adrenaline that had flooded my system. The moment Gordon fell was the most terrifying in my life. As he lay there prostrate with me kneeling above him, he reminded me of my father passed out from drinking on his work bench in the basement. The Word of Wisdom, our text prohibiting alcohol and drugs, never seemed wiser than right now. I vowed that Gordon was not going to die on my watch, that I would do everything in my power to make him change. I silently prayed to God for help with this. For some reason, thoughts of Alice's offer rushed to mind, so I told God I would resist this temptation if only he would help me with Gordon. Then I felt like this implied I otherwise wouldn't, that I was offering some kind of quid pro quo , so I asked Him just to help me be good, to direct me in accordance with his will. Though no definite plan came to mind, after about a minute I felt better and got up.

         I turned toward Alice and the camera light and my still-dilated pupils painfully shrunk. 'You filmed all that?' I asked accusingly.

         'Uh, yeah? How was I supposed to know he was going down? I assume he's okay?'

         'Yeah, he's just passed out. Sorry I snapped at you.'

         'Don't even think about it.... This might not be the right time, but that whole sequence, his passing out and whatever you were doing there, that was some truly kick ass footage.'

         'Well that's good, I guess,' I said sadly.

          I went through Gordon's pockets and found his keys. Alice and I carried him up the flight of narrow stairs and into his one-bedroom apartment, resting him on his clothes-covered bed. The apartment was cold and I felt rotten. I told Alice that I was sorry, but that I had to stay with him. She said she understood. We kissed quickly on the lips, and she walked out of the room without a backward glance. She had long since grown weary of Gordon's antics and their tendency to suck me in.

         I pulled an ancient, rust-orange acrylic easy chair into his bedroom and sat down. After checking his vitals one more time, I washed my face and found a blanket for the dirty green couch in the living room. Everything reeked of tobacco, but that was certainly the least of my problems. I was so angry at myself for swallowing his line about drugs not being any worse than alcohol. I mean, it was true in that they were both denials of God's will, but certainly not in their physical effects. Gordon had assured me that sniffing heroin wasn't that dangerous. And I had never seen an overdose from sniffing during my days as an EMT. Still, what I fool I'd been, I thought, and only much later drifted off.

         The next morning Gordon emerged around nine. I sat at his small wooden breakfast table reading the Times and eating a bagel I'd bought at the deli next door. Sleep had done little to restore his sin-thickened facial features to their original, finely wrought state; his pores gaped. He was wearing a yellow-sleeved baseball shirt, boxer shorts, and gray socks. He passed silently by me and made a pot of coffee, keeping his back to me while it brewed. Cup in hand, he joined me at the table. After a few sips and a suspicious glance at the beverage, he spoke, 'Ach, so you're still fucking here...

         'Yes, of course. What happened last night?'

         'You were there last night, bro. But I'll tell you....' Here his narration was interrupted by a quick, pinkish, all-liquid vomit in a nearby, unbagged, forest-green plastic garbage bucket, before continuing, 'will you get my pants? They're on the bed or something.'

         'Were you up during the night? Is that when you took off your pants? 'Cause I didn't notice anything.'

         He responded with a look of supreme impatience. I retrieved the garment. 'Here you are. What do you need them for?'

          'There's a couple bags of dope in there, I'm gonna shoot up. It's the only answer, I feel like my neurotransmitters have turned to sludge.'

         'No. Gordon, please don't. Please, I mean, I'll take you to a detox right now. I know a Resident at St.Vincent's from college and I can definitely get you in. You don't have to do this to yourself.'