I’m on my way to pick up a Western Union I manipulated my grandmother into sending me. The same woman that put her life on hold every summer to look after my brother and I. The same woman that already raised three children of her own. The same woman that made sure my clothes were clean, my stomach was full, my life was good. I lied to her. I basically stole from her. I used her. She is an absolute angel, and I took advantage of her. I needed the money though. I needed to get dope. I needed to get a bottle. I needed to get cocaine and crack. I never once considered that she needed to buy herself food. That she needed medicine. That she needed to pay bills.
On my way to get the money my heart races. My palms sweat. It’s almost like the overwhelming illness I was suffering from moments before calling her was gone. Almost. But then I get the money. The woman behind the counter looks me up and down. My clothes are dirty. My sleeves stained with dried blood. My lip blistered. Fingernails caked with ashes. She asks me for my ID. I give it to her, corners torn, heroin and cocaine residue wedged in between the layers. I sign the 3 spots she tells me to, 2 on the front and the check itself and I’m out. I run to my car. The only white person in sight. I stick out like a sore thumb. I travel 6 blocks and park. I hop out in an area anyone with any sense would never travel through and if they did, they would most certainly lock their doors. I bop up the street behind an abandoned row of houses and cop my shit.
I don’t travel far before I pull over and mix it up. The anticipation is powerful. It’s like the world stopped spinning. The noise from the traffic is silenced. The streets are empty. I can barely hold my hands steady from the excitement. Nothing, absolutely nothing else in this world matters besides me getting it in. I no longer care about my family, my safety, my freedom, my health…nothing else matters. I can only concentrate on my drugs.
I push the plunger down and feel that relief.
Today, when I left work I had some traffic to fight. I also had to get a haircut and buy some shorts and shirts for my 9 year old. My 4 month old needed gear as well. I needed to get myself some pants and at least one new work shirt. The thing is, I wasn’t willing to go out of my way to get myself clothes because it would’ve taken too long. So I went to TJ Max or Ross, whatever it was and got my kids some gear and looked briefly for something for myself, which I couldn’t find. I spent a decent amount of cash on their stuff and rolled out. Quickly got a hair cut…
…and felt that same anticipation I had when I was on my way to get that money and those drugs. It was like I had blinders on again. Only I wasn’t focused on anything bad. I was just as excited to get to my two sons. I noticed how similar the feeling was to getting high when I was sick. It was the most important thing in the world. And when I kissed my oldest son, and hugged him…and when I picked up my baby and carried him…it was comparable to pushing down that plunger. Only way more rewarding. And trust me, that’s saying a lot. I felt how soft my baby’s hair was as it brushed up against my chin. I kissed his forehead and he giggled. And the world stopped. I heard nothing but that giggle. I filled up with love. Unless you’re a parent you can never understand this feeling. It is without a doubt the greatest feeling I have experienced to date.
The work day was over with. My “problems” were non existent. Nothing else mattered except those two little boys. My life today is something I never thought I would have. I am so fucking grateful.