Mid-Life Crisis 2.

He was on the shore of a stony beach; it was overcast with dark clouds on the horizon and there laid a large canoe. He was bare footed and walked on shiny rounded stones eroded by the sea. The wind was blowing his long hair across his face. He brushed it away and spoke aloud.

       “Where are the oars for the boat?” Martin said. He knew he was speaking to the creator of worlds. Was he to take the boat into the sea and float away with the current or hold on to this rocky outcrop? This was his contemplation. The current could have him floating around in circles but he was alone and had no shelter or food. There was a cliff to his left that he could possibly climb. Or maybe he could make oars from some debris on the beach. He would be getting into a rudderless boat and trusting the current to take him somewhere. The beach was rocky and Martin made his way to the cliff. He was going to climb it to get a better view. He slowly and methodically made his way up the cliff making footholds with his hands. The cliff was mostly brown, loose dirt with some rocks poking out that he use to pull himself up. He could see there was green grass at the top. He grabbed a rock with his left hand and reached up and grabbed a fist full of green grass. He made it to the top; he pulled himself up with both arms and got a knee under him. He stood up and turned around to see the view.

        As he turned he heard a voice and he was back in the hospital bed.

       “Hi Marty.” it was his ex-girlfriend Cali, “I know it’s been a long time. You know that I still care about you. And my Mother is in love with you. If you can hear me, I miss you, every boyfriend I’ve had since you has not loved me the way you did. You ruined me.” Martin was only partially in the room. He could hear what Cali said and felt her heart and it was sore like it had been through a fight for her life. Suddenly he was back fully and tried to move his arm but couldn’t, a hemp rope was around his waist attached to the darkness. Cali was Martin’s girlfriend for two years and his first love. It was a tumultuous two years. She was valedictorian at school and gave a moving speech at graduation. Martin loved her because they were both so similar and that’s what lead to them breaking up. Martin broke it off because they were fighting too much and he knew it was time to move on. “I brought you some white roses for the purity of your heart. I love you Marty, come back to us.” She kissed him on the lips and Martin felt the warmth of her full lips and remembered when her kiss was his. He felt their love again.

       Martin met Cali in Junior High School when both were going through the awkwardness of puberty. It wasn’t love at first sight. They were enemies until High School. But there they found each other post-puberty and found the other desirable and attractive. They dated throughout High School, until just before graduation they broke up. But they were still in school together, having arranged to go to the same college, which was just down the street from their high school; it was a state college, Cal State University Northridge. She could have gone anywhere; he had a scholarship in Track and Field to Northridge. She didn’t necessarily follow him, she wanted to stay close to home, but to everyone on the outside of their little binary star it looked like it. Nobody knew what was going on inside Cali’s head. Her parents didn’t necessarily want her to move away but did want her to reach as far out as her dreams were and not let love or anything else stand in their way. Cali was on Cali time. She was laid back; good grades were a snap for her. She didn’t strain herself by taking Advanced Placement courses like all the “too smart to socialize” crowd was. She just took the classes that were asked of her and aced every one. She could have gone the AP route and got some college credits but that’s a pain in the ass. Not only do you have to pass the AP class, you have to take an AP test I that subject and pass that to get college credit. When would she have time to sell marijuana? Everyone but the school police knew that Cali had the best pot. She was smart in business, she knew how to make money, even in high school. She took to Capitalism like a duck to water.

       She told Martin that she had this world figured out, or at least America.

“The dollar is king”, she would tell Martin, “if you have it you live a happy life and if you don’t then you don’t. Well, how do you get the dollar?” She went on, “Sell people shit, drugs, clothes, houses, anything. It’s simple.”

“I think you are an entrepreneur”, Martin would tell her. But that’s when times were good. Then Cali started to complain about the tone of his voice calling him “passive aggressive”. He would tell her to stop smoking up her profits. This would piss off Cali and then all hell broke loose. Hell hath no fury like Cali’s. She would not hesitate to punch Martin, and in the face. This would make Martin laugh. Cali was 5’4” after all. Martin was 6’3”, nearly a foot taller and 80lbs. heavier. She might as well have been punching a bag of sand, but the face was only going to happen once, then Martin started catching her punches to the face.

“Stop, you’re going to leave a bruise.” Martin would say. And that poured gas on the fire. But Martin knew how to snuff out all the anger from inside Cali, it was as simple as grabbing her face and planting a kiss on those pouty lips. Then her tense body would go limp and collapse into Martin arms. His kisses made her swoon like a 13 year-old girl kissing her idol. And the feeling of her lips again nearly brought him back from a coma. Martin was shouting on the inside trying to get out, but the sea of nothingness in which he bobbed like a cork overtook him every time he took a breath to speak. When he realized what was going on he tried to break free but the rope was tied too tight.

“OK sweetie, remember, I love you. I’m going to go now.” Cali said and then opened the door that the nurses let her close for their visit, and departed. Cali would not dare say good-bye at a time like this. She rarely said that word in her everyday life. Martin shed a tear but nobody saw it. No movement in his face, only a tear down his cheek. One tear rolling over miniature hairs on his cheekbone down to his beard which was not thick but it existed. It continued to roll down the underside of his chin, down his neck and came to rest in the trough of his clavicle. It was a sign of life that Cali brought out. That love brought out. But it had been a long time.

Martin had not been in love since they broke up in college. He’d had girlfriends but never any he really cared for or that he’d move in with. He always broke it off and sometimes when things were good but Martin just realized that they were wasting each other’s time. She thinks he ruined her. He ruined both of them. He never had feelings like he had with her, he thought it was because she was the first but recently he decided that that was bullshit. It had been long enough for that to wear down. He just wasn’t open to, or didn’t know, what his heart wanted. And Cali had her eyes open. She wasn’t mindlessly walking through life. She was conscious.

Tammy worked five days a week and took care of Martin each one of those days for eight hours. He always knew it was her because she’d greet him like she would anyone.

“Hey Martin, how was your evening...not talking OK, two can play that game.” Tammy was a joker. “Don’t mind me, I’m just silly, and busy, you want something just yell...see there I go again.” she was working with more than just Martin. She had eight other patients to see. “I see you’ve been eating well,” Tammy takes a look at the bottle of tan liquid that suffices for food. “The doctor will be here today.” and she leaves the room. She would later come in and sponge-bathe Martin.

Martin sat in a boxcar rolling down the rails. He was alone and knew to put a piece of wood in the rail of the door to prevent it from closing because once it’s closed it’s not opening until someone from the outside opens it. He had a backpack that he knew he had packed but didn’t remember when he packed it. He had a block of cheese and a loaf of French bread, and a pocketknife. He was wearing warm clothes, the sun was going down into the ocean, and it would soon be dark. He saw he was on the coast but where? The boxcar was only open on one side. He was resting on a hay bale when he woke. He was wearing a pair of 10-hole oxblood Doc Martin boots that were hurting his feet because they appeared to be new. He had worn Doc Martin boots one time before that he could remember but his memory was foggy. And he knew he had to make a decision, stay on the boxcar or jump into the setting sun. He didn’t know where he was and although he had something to eat he longed for companionship, and the only way to that was the uncertainty of night.

The Dawson family asked where Martin went and the hospital told them where he was and they came to visit again.

“It’s Ben and Cyndi, we brought Abbey by to meet you, and we thought it was important.” Ben Dawson said. “Oh, it’s the Dawson family.” Cyndi elbows Ben in the ribs. “Stop it!” he said under his breath.

“We brought you more flowers, this time Abbey picked them out.” Cyndi said. “There’s sunflowers and tulips and I picked some red, white, and yellow roses, with baby’s breath of course.” Cyndi said.

“This place is nice, the nurses care about you a lot and we met your sister, Amy. She a very beautiful person, she shines from the inside.” Ben said.

“Yeah, we like her a lot and she played with Abbey for almost a whole hour.” Cyndi adds.

“We might be going to dinner with your sister next week.” Ben continues. “If she can get more time off work. She’s staying in a motel down the street. Her husband stayed home with her daughter.”

 Martin was taken out of the boxcar by the voice of Ben Dawson before he could make a decision of what to do. He was snapped out of his deep sleep so fast it shocked him. Who were these people? What did he do that was so heroic? His sister was actually staying down the street in a motel, what? Abbey was their little girl, he understood that much, but not much else. He started trying to undo the knot in the rope but it was no use, it was tied tight.

He was getting visits from people whom weren’t in his life anymore. He hadn’t been on a track team in 15 years. His friends from the team were part of his dream and he was starting to come around but not enough to be considered “conscious” again. He didn’t know what they were talking about. They had it all wrong. Martin was more conscious than he’s ever been. His consciousness was flying free of his body, he could be in the room with the people that are visiting him or wandering his past when they are gone. The only thing he couldn’t do was look into the future. He didn’t know why, yet. He supposed it was because it hadn’t happened, yet. He saw that every moment, every step we take in the “present” is our hammer coming down on a chisel, etching in stone our personal history. He could see that it is our bodies that have “destinies”, our consciousness’s are only the electricity which give our bodies “life”, that light them up like a light bulb. One cannot exist without the other. Although in the world we see bodies walking through life acting as if their bodies weren’t filled with a soul, an inner being of light. Those bodies are walking through the darkness and we pray for and show them love, in spite of their lack of life.    

           Martin was breathing some sort of fluid. It was a comfortable orange liquid. He was swimming in the liquid that appeared to be air. He was above then below and anywhere he wanted to be. He could change locations just by thinking it. He thought this was so cool but he was not acting like it. It just was. The only thing that was unsure was Martin’s presence. Where was he? Many people wondered that very thing, including Martin when he was shocked out of a dream by an unfamiliar voice. Where was he, indeed?

      

Mid-life Crisis 1.

Martin lay on an emergency room table, bleeding profusely from a bullet wound to his lower back and going in and out of consciousness. The loss of blood was depriving his brain of oxygen and he was slowly drifting off, he just wanted the doctors to turn off the lamp above his head, he couldn’t even see through the light it was so bright. But he could hear voices.

       “He’s gone, he’s unconscious,” the nurse said.

       “Get 10 cc’s of...,” a male voice said and that’s the last thing he heard before realizing that there was no lamp above his head. This is what everyone was always talking about, he thought. The light was warm and welcoming. He could see his own bloody body on the table and wondered what happened. He was not unconscious, his consciousness just left his body, there isn’t such thing as not conscious; only unconscious behavior.

       He noticed the wind, blowing memories by his mind’s eye. There were old thoughts of his loved ones. There was nothing was new anymore, things either were or they were not. Time became a fluid in which all events were contained and it sat in a puddle before Martin. The spigot was turned off and Martin had the power to open it up again and was aware of it. He didn’t know how long he had been there but it seemed like he had always been there. He let the river of time flow by him, again, as if it mattered anymore. Time was something for the “living”. But martin had never felt more alive. His life began to pass before his eyes quickly, in slow motion. And all the moments in his life where he showed mercy were stacked against all the moments in his life were he didn’t. All the time in which he suffered with the times when he felt joy. He didn’t feel judged, but recognized, for the good and the bad.

       “Clear!” the doctor shouted and placed the paddles on Martin’s chest. They hit the button and Martin saw his limp body jump upward but he didn’t feel anything except peace.

He didn’t care if he lived or died. Most of his loved ones have already left the uncertainty of life. Although he did have a sister that he could see would need him. He could see his Mother lugging her typewriter home at night to earn more money working at home, when it was just she and Martin. He could feel her pain from raising him alone, and the solitude. He could understand what he couldn’t while living. He could feel others’ feelings and some he didn’t appreciate. Like his stepfather’s when he first met his Mother. He didn’t like Martin very much. But although Martin could feel these feelings that he didn’t like very much, he had love in his heart for him, and everything else. He had the most complete and fulfilling sense of love he had ever had.

              Then he felt himself swept away and brought into his over-indulgent 20’s. He beat himself like a dog that had just ruined the carpet, again. He saw himself obsessing over alcohol and sex, breaking the laws of the land and putting himself in harm’s way. He saw himself rub shoulders with death. He saw himself mistreating girlfriends not by cheating or beating but by lack of consideration. Then he was swept away again into his childhood, when he was a mere prisoner to his parents. He saw the abuse he endured by his stepfather and saw him having to endure the same abuse after he died. He got no gratification out of it; he only had love inside of him. He saw his Mother, lonely and loveless, until George, his stepfather came along. He felt himself slipping out of his body but wanted to hold on. He also knew, and was at peace with, having to move on from the Earthly bonds of the flesh. It was only flesh, after all.

       He felt himself, his inner self, shot out into space and was looking back on his life and it was a swirling ball in front of his eyes surrounded by the darkness of space. It wasn’t the Earth he was seeing but his world and everything he’s ever known. He could feel that he had to make a choice. Does he want back in or not? He really did. And suddenly his pulse got stronger, the doctors and nurses had worked hard to stabilize him. He had blood coming into his body, but it wasn’t his blood and he knew this. The blood had a foreign feel to it. He could feel the essence of the woman it came from and she was still happily walking the Earth. He was back in his body but in a coma. The bullet had punctured his spinal chord and he was paralyzed from the waist down. In his coma he heard doctors telling the nurse that he would never walk again. He changed his mind. He didn’t want to be back anymore. He didn’t want to live life as a paraplegic.

       His sister came and visited him in the hospital and was quite distraught.

       Through a waterfall of tears, ”Marty come back to us, this is your sister Amy, I know we moved far away and we wanted to see you more but with work and all...Goddamn it! Don’t do this, we need you...I need you!” she was pounding on his arm with her fist. “We love you very much.” and then she started crying to the point of not being able to talk. She rested her forehead on his arm, while he lay motionless. Her tears were dripping on the floor beneath his bed and Martin could hear them hit the floor like boulders from a 99^th floor window.

       Martin heard every word she said but was away in a slumber that swallowed him like a whale does plankton. He was a mere speck in a sea of nothingness. In a sinkhole with no bottom, he was freefalling and he’d never been so comfortable in life. Then he got a visit from someone he did not know,

       “I know you don’t know us but we just want to say Thank you. We hope you can hear us. What you did was heroic. Alright guys let’s go.” the voice was male but he could smell the perfume of a woman in the room. He had no idea who he was and the perfume was one he was not familiar with. And then he could feel the sensation of a tube down his throat and it irritated him. At the time Martin was single. He was an athlete and some of his buddies that were on the track team as him came by.

       “The doctor said that you can hear us, I don’t know how he knows this, he said that he’d never been in a coma. But anyway, we need you back, man. The team needs you because Josh can’t always win like you can, I mean, he does a good job trying.” Bobby said.

       “Alright, it’s my turn to talk to him, c’mon Martin, we need you to compete in your event, and we have always needed your points to win the Meet.” Thomas said

       “You guys are so insensitive,” it was Lilly, the female 100 meter hurdler who never won her event but tried her damnedest each time sometimes hitting every hurdle and falling on the last three, but she would always get up and try for the next one. “Martin, I know your Mother died and you don’t really have a Dad but,” and this part she whispered into his ear, “I have feelings for you and have never said anything because of these to lugs always being around us,” and then she stopped whispering, “ Come back Marty! I brought you some flowers.”

       “I?” Bobby interjects.

       “OK, WE brought you some flowers and they’re just beautiful.” Lilly corrects herself.

       “Yeah, we all pitched in, Marty.” Thomas said. They had never called him Marty before. Only people that love him call him, Marty, but they didn’t know that.

       “There’s also some flowers from,” Lilly fumbles with the little card attached to the bouquet, “The Dawson family. Whoever that is.”

       “But are’s are bigger” Thomas said.

       “And more colorful” Bobby added.

       “We all love you and want you to come back and not just for the points at then Meet,” Lilly looks at Thomas and makes a face saying ‘you’re a jerk’. “We just want our friend back.” and she starts to sob, as Bobby puts his arm around her.

       “Don’t cry it will scare him!” Thomas said.

       “He can hear you ya’ know” Lilly says in between sobs.

       “Shhh...he’ll be alright, you know Martin, he’s a pretty tough dude.” Bobby tries to comfort Lilly. Martin heard every word they said and never knew that Lilly had feelings for him. He wanted to wake up and hold her himself but something was blocking him from coming back. It was like a string was tied to his consciousness and attached to something in the darkness. He couldn’t break free. It was like he was swimming in an ocean of awareness and he was bobbing up and down, he could hear everything that was going on, then he was pulled down into an abyss and deep sleep. And a wave came just as Bobby tried to comfort Lilly and he was sucked under into deep sleep. Bobby, Thomas and Lilly left after Lilly broke down completely and was crying uncontrollably.

       Martin was in suspended animation, he was not dead and was aware of that but he wasn’t really eager to come back and be a paraplegic, he figured that Lilly, Bobby and Thomas didn’t know that. The doctor came in briefly and checked his chart and left. He was the nurse’s responsibility, now; there was nothing that the doctors could do for him. Lost in slumber he was transferred out of the hospital to a nursing home. The nurses greeted him as if he were alive.

       “Hello, Martin? Is it? You’ll be in room 27 and Tammy will be taking care of you, today, you are at Shady Acres nursing home.” and he was wheeled away to room 27 by the ambulance drivers, lifted off the gurney and plopped down on the bed.

       “Hi Martin. I’m Tammy.” I’ll get you situated, “I know you’ve probably been ignored because you’re in a coma, but I know you can hear me. My uncle was in a coma for five months and he told me that he heard every word I said while he was asleep.” Tammy finished.

       ‘Finally!’ Martin thought, someone who actually knew what he was going through. He did hear every word she said and would have woken to thank her but this damn string was still hanging him up. Tammy smelled good and Martin didn’t usually like women’s perfume, it was too flowery. He liked the smell of woods like Sandalwood and Cedar; about the only flower that Martin liked was Jasmine.

       Tammy made him comfortable and turned on the TV which was completely unnecessary, he would have rather heard some music but he knew that she was trying and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for all the hard work that the people around him have done. And for his sister, Christine, She has always been there for him. She was his stepsister and 9 years younger than he. But Martin changed her diapers and loved her like his blood. He remembers having to get her ready, in the morning, to go to the babysitter. Putting on her little shoes and little jacket. He was in Junior High and getting her dressed was a chore, then, now it’s one of his most cherished memories. He was proud of Christine; she was growing into a fine young lady.

       Besides being on the High School Track team, Martin was an accomplished pianist. His teacher was David.

“The music studio hasn’t been the same without you. We need you to accompany singers auditioning for the talent show. Right now they’re relying on me and they need to audition with the person they’ll be playing with, you.” David was full of compliments for his prized student. But it wasn’t always like that.

“That’s arrogant of you to play Shostakovich’s Lady Macbeth. You’re good but you don’t have to flaunt it. You should be more conservative with your choice for the recital. You don’t need to blow everyone’s mind all the time!” David told Martin.

“How about Stravinsky?” Martin asked him.

“Better, but you should be trying to play a piece that you have a firm, I mean death grip, on.” David said.

“OK, chopsticks it is!” Martin liked being a smartass.

“Uggh!” David throws up his hands and walks away.

Martin played Schubert’s “Unfinished Symphony” for the recital and wowed the audience but horrified David.

“Show off!” David said to Martin as he left the stage. But really he was proud of him. He was just hard on him because if he is his prized student David was going to make sure he was the best that he could possibly be.

“We really need you back, and the nurses told me that they need the room.” to that Martin smiled and David saw it.

“He smiled! he smiled!,” stepping out into the hallway, “He smiled!” David shouted down the hall, but the only thing he got was an old man trying to sleep yelling back,

“He probably just has gas! Can it, will ya’ some of us are trying to sleep.” but it was 11 in the morning.

Chain Male acts 2 and 3

When Tim returned from the delivery the door was locked so he used his key. Upon entry he found Carmen in the bedroom taking off her clothes. She yelled,

       “Get out stranger!” Carmen liked to role-play.

       “No, you’re gonna do what I say, now get in here.” Tim said surprised and not knowing what to do he plays along. She comes out wearing red thigh high stockings, red panties and a red bra.

       “Stranger keep your hands off of me.” Woooah, Tim was stunned not only did she take his power she got him to give it willingly, but this was a reward for going to Grandma’s and leaving the package at the door because Grandma can’t hear. Tim felt his power being sucked out of him by her female ways. He was becoming weak, vulnerable; he’s never had a woman initiate sex before, he didn’t like giving up his power but at the moment it felt like a fair trade. She caught him in her web, he was stuck and mocking an escape but ultimately going nowhere. They had sex and she directed him like a child, she was going to get off, if she had to draw him a picture. If he got off it would have to be vicariously. When she climaxed she climbed off Tim and lit a cigarette. Tim was so in awe he pleasured himself looking at her. He would later analyze the situation and regret the whole thing. But Carmen gave him a couple hundred dollars and said.

       “Come and go as you please but on Grandma day, I need you here, OK?”

       “OK, I’ll be going now.” Tim gathered his clothes and left the lioness’ lair. The female energy was so dense it created a haze in the room. He got dressed in the living room while Carmen got dressed hooking her bra on her back standing in front of a closet door mirror. Tim sat on the couch putting his socks back on.

       “You OK in there!” Carmen says with a cigarette hanging from her mouth.

       “Yeah, I’m fine.” his tone changed completely. It didn’t go unnoticed.

       Tim left Carmen’s in bewildered, he wasn’t sure who won but he had a feeling it wasn’t him. He made his way to the bus stop and got to Dana’s, which was closest. He opened the door, didn’t let the cats out, the house was dark but the sun was breaking through the spaces in the vertical blinds that slowly wavered back and forth due to the disturbance of air from him opening the door. Her house always smelled like a library. He turned on the lights and slumped down on the couch debating what to do next. He went in the bathroom and searched his body for injection marks, he thought Carmen might have injected him with something in his sleep. He found none, it was just a good old fashion hood-winking by someone better at the game than him, but he couldn’t see that, yet. It was late in the day, by now and Dana should be home at any minute. He was too befuddled to watch television, is Dana had one. She dressed conservatively bus was not like that, actually. When she walked in the door Tim was on the couch with his head in his hands,

“Oh my gosh, what’s wrong?” Dana asks.

“Nothing, nothing...just tired.” Tim says raising his head up looking worked over.

“You don’t look good let me get you a drink, what would you like?” Dana asks.

“Vodka on the rocks, thanks.” Tim replies no thinking of which of his girlfriends house he was at.

“I don’t drink, remember, it’s cranberry juice or...a diet coke, I haven’t been to the store in a while, do you want to go later?” she asks.

“Yeah, and I’ll take the coke, with ice please.” Tim responds. Dana walks out of the kitchen and produces and glass of ice and the can of Diet Coke. Tim fills the glass and drains it as if he crossed the desert. “Why don’t you put some cold water on your face and we’ll go

to the

store.” Dana liked to take control and Tim was in no position to

argue. Tim went to the kitchen sink and splashed water on his face

while looking out at the front yard through her stucco house that was

an exact replica of the house next door. “He wanted to duck his whole

head in a vat of ice water, maybe that would wake him from this

nightmare. He started to think he was the mark but that thought was

quickly dashed by his ego, which wouldn’t allow him to believe that

someone got over on him.

“You ready?” Dana asked. She drove a Chevy Caprice, the model car that

the police used back in the 80’s. Her car was even conservative.

“You play the librarian role very good.” Tim said not realizing that

he was saying more about himself than her.

“Role?” Dana was starting to get angry.

“I’m sorry, I meant that you make librarians look sexy.” Tim quickly

and deftly covers himself.

“Well, thank you.” Dana says smiling completely falling for his cheap

cover-up. They chat about music and films both of which Tim had a weak

grasp of; this is when he appeared to listen. But his mind was

concocting the next scheme, he wanted to go back to her house and have

sex. He was attracted to her in that librarian way. In bed is where

Dana lets loose, she was a wild animal leaving scratches on him when

they first met. Then he told her she couldn’t do that. The ride was

short and they got the grocery store where Tim was just a happy

servant, running like a dog after a bone, catching it and running back

for the next toss. He let her catch him looking at her ass, which was

cute but tiny. He didn’t mention anything about wanting sex; he knew

that she got off on spontaneity. But when all the groceries were in

the house he pushed her up against the refrigerator and had his way

with her. She wasn’t raped but enjoyed the fantasy.

 “So what’s for dinner?” Tim says, “Oh, I’m sorry, you were fantastic.

As always.”

Feeling disrespected but not allowing herself to feel it because she’s

so lonely,” Oh, thank you, so were you, I can see that we’ve both read

the Kama Sutra.” Dana laughs. Tim has no idea what she’s talking about

but laughs anyway. “So, you’re hungry, well what do you want to eat?”

“Do you have corned beef?” Tim asks.

“No, no Corned beef, but I do have...” looking through a grocery bag,

“Filet Mignon.” Dana answers.

“That will be fine, thanks.” Tim knows when to be polite and how to do

it. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, no, why don’t you make us a drink.” Dana says.

“My choice?” Tim says smiling.

Sighs. ”Hell, no, pour a double of vodka into a tall glass, add some

Kahluha and bring the glass here.” Dana is certain about what she

wants.

“White Russian, good choice. I’ll have a double screwdriver. That way

at least we’ll smell the same.” Tim says and they both laugh. They

both drank a little too much. Tim drank more than Dana but prodded her

to drink more and she did. He was using Dana as a shoulder, but Tim

didn’t cry. He just needed to feel normal again, taking advantage of

people and getting away with it. He was so in denial over what he was

doing that he didn’t even know what was going on and reality shocked

him. He wanted to talk to someone about it but he had nobody to tell

that he was a fraud and a liar.

Tim stayed with Dana for a few days until he felt the tension in her

voice and saw it in her countenance; careful not to overstay his

welcome he gathered his things and told her he had a load to take to a

county 600 miles away. She offered to give him a ride to his truck but

he didn’t actually have a truck to go to he turned her down. So he

left that morning thanking Dana for having him and promised that he’d

be back. He still had three days ‘til he had to be at Carmen’s so he

went to Jill’s apartment.

Jill was surprised to see him, as they always are, but welcomed him

in, as they always do. Tim tries to stay away long enough to create a

need for companionship. Then when Tim comes over they treat him really

good. Jill was the woman that Tim has been working the longest; he had

been with her for nine months. Dana was second at six months and

Carmen he just met almost a week ago. Dana was wild in bed, Carmen was

like Caramel, soft and delicious, and then there was Jill. Jill was

had some meat on her bones and really his favorite. She was the most

aggressive of all of them and like a down pillow, comfortable as hell

to actually sleep with. Tim was a man that liked to cuddle. It was a

product of being deceptive all the time. He couldn’t sleep unless he

had someone to cuddle with. He had some money and took Jill out to eat

and a movie. Tim was alone and it was dark at high noon. His dark

cloud was so dark that there wasn’t even a memory of light. The lie

had grown into a blob that covered and got into every spot of his

existence. He was the quintessential lost soul. It was lost like a

wedding ring down the sink drain, like a lottery ticket in the washer,

like virginity on prom night. Looking back he remembered it slipping

away in a bedroom in a first floor apartment. in North Hollywood. He

was another empty human being roaming the world like zombies.

Jill was good for the couple days he needed until he had to be back at

Carmen’s. He got to her house the morning of the day she said to

return almost robotically, he didn’t think he just moved. Carmen was

cooking Huevos Rancheros and the food was ready the moment he arrived

like she was expecting him. He used his key.

“Hi, Good Morning, reporting for duty.” Tim says as he sets his bag down.

“Are you ready?” Carmen says.

“No hi how are you?” Tim asks.

“I’m sorry, but my Grandma is out of butter.” a flustered Carmen says.

“OK, OK, I’ll go but when I come back I’m coming for you. Gimme the

package. What is in there anyhow?” Tim asks.

“Just take it to her.” Carmen says and smiles big and completely fake.

Tim left the house and walked down the street trying to figure this

kitty cat out. Where does she get her power? How powerful is she? He

rounded the corner and approached the house, he opened the gate and

suddenly men in dark uniforms came out from all directions. Rifles

were pointed at his head, they yelled get down and Tim, stunned, put

his face in the pavement.

He didn’t know what was going on and the detective told him he was

carrying drugs.  He was delivering drugs to a pick up point for

narcotics officers; he was a link in the chain of kilos of cocaine

coming into the country. They wanted Carmen; they knew where she lived

because she was on parole. She was being watched constantly. She

couldn’t risk getting caught, again. And she didn’t want to pay

someone to move it for her so she recruited unwitting men who think

they are players. She usually trolls the bars for suckers but Tim came

to her trying to play her, she let him think that he had some power.

Carmen would submit to him then pull her power back creating a void in

Tim’s already empty soul. He tried to suck on the wrong breast. Tim

was playing and got played.

He was told that he was looking at 25 to life, others told him he

would only do 5 years for first offense and clean record. Being locked

in a cage for the first time gave Tim panic attacks that he never had

before and they were full blown, can’t get enough air, panic attacks.

There was no medication available. The other men were looking at him

like he was lunch. He recovered from the panic attack when his animal

instinct was rattled. He started breathing normal again and faced down

the men eyeballing him. They were all wandering around in a small

circle just waiting for someone to bump someone else. Tim needed a

cigarette.

3.   

       But Tim would not get one. What he got was a green bologna sandwich and an 8-ounce carton of warm milk. and a court date. two  days away. Since he has to be charge within 72 hours or get released, they were going to make him wait 70 hours to charge him. The holding cells were the worst. Locked up with miscellaneous hooligans in for everything from public intoxication to murder.  Tim kept his scamming mouth shut. He would not be able to talk or kiss his way out of this one. All he cared about was himself when the shit came down. When he finally saw the judge he was broken down, starting to realize how his lies led to this. He was demure in front of the judge, begging for a light sentence. He was sent to county jail to await his sentencing.

       County jail is hell, if you’re going to be locked up. Any con will tell you that they would rather be at a state institution than be in county jail. You get no privileges, there is not a yard to go out on. And you rarely see the sun or any natural light for that matter. It’s noisy at all times of the day or night. And you better join a gang or else risk get messed with by everyone. Tim deserved to get messed with, he was messing with people behind their backs for years and yet this is the first time he’s been to jail. Even through running with his crew as a kid, he never got caught. He never got caught scamming people. It is quite ironic for him to go to prison for being scammed himself.

       His sentencing date came up after one month in county. He didn’t care what the sentence was, he just wanted to get out of there. He got 5 to life, eligible for parole after two and a half years. He would spend two and a half years, for sure. And maybe more if catches any more charges in prison. He got to prison on a bus chained to a strand that linked all the prisoners together. And his hands were chained to his waist and he had leg shackles on. It was incredibly humbling for Tim and he was beginning to admit to himself what he was doing and it shot Tim in the gut. His stomach burned with remorse and disgust. He slept on that feeling and it was very uncomfortable. In the morning over breakfast he decided what he had to do to be able to sleep right again. He had to write Jill and Dana letters telling them the truth. Everything. Put his cards on the table. He had cards that they didn’t know that he had. He held their hearts in his hands and he was going to break them, their emotional health but hopefully not their spirit,

       Tim started studying Buddhism in the library and became more aware of himself and his actions. He was procrastinating writing the letters. But eventually his gathered his courage and embarked on a soul revealing letter like he’s never written before.

Jill,

Baby, you know that I love you. As you can see from the return

address, in prison, I got set up by a person playing a game that I’ve

been playing better than me. The reason for this letter is to tell you

that I’m not who I say I am. I don’t own a car much less a truck and I

used you because I saw you as an easy mark. I don’t feel good about

what I’ve done and don’t expect a letter in return and if it makes you

feel any better the person who beat me at my own game took away five

years of my life. I still have real feelings for you Jill.

Tim

        Tim wrote a similar letter to Dana, except he tried to be more

proper. To his surprise he got a letter back from Jill, not Dana. He

hoped that Jill would respond. She said that, after much thought she

forgave him and she and he started writing sexually explicit love

letters. They were writing back and forth for months when Jill said

she wanted to drive the 600 miles to the prison to come visit. On the

much-anticipated day Tim awoke early, not being able to sleep. Made

his bed to military specifications. He had clothes ironed for him just

for this day. He got dressed and waited, biting his nails, impatiently

constantly talking about her to his cellmate. He heard the call from

the guard to go to Visitation and eagerly walk down the tier. All the

time thinking about Jill and now she was going to be in front of him,

he could hardly believe it. Some of the guys were giving him

high-fives, knowing his story. He got down and they opened the door

and to his utter disbelief it was Carmen. They stood and looked into

each other’s eyes and she said,

“Prisoner, keep your hands off me!”

 

Chain Male (tentative title) a new short story

Timothy Allen Johnston was a conman, not a very respectable career and not one he chose, it happened out of necessity. He was thrown out of his house when he was 15 and had to learn how to fend for himself. He was on the streets because none of his friends were in any position to help. He listened to punk rock music and had a bad attitude, he didn’t ask for help because he didn’t want it. His parents threw him out. Now, every adult was in support of them, in his eyes. He hit streets running, full of spite, anger and eventually found other kids like him and with the same attitude.

 They hustled people all day for food and other necessities. Panhandling only really pays when you’re disabled or are a veteran. So they got creative and got a broken radio out of the trash. One of them would carry it down the street like it was together bump into the back of someone, throw the radio down and claim they broke it. If the hustle didn’t work and the mark wasn’t going to pony up the cash the others would slowly surround them carrying chains and knives. They worked like a pride of lions, precise and quick. If they had to surround them they usually gave up their whole wallet in fear. They called their crew the Punk Rock Alley Kids. P-R-A-K. And they were taggers.

They would descend on a spot as a group and they would leave behind a street mural, put up clandestinely with spray paint. Most crews just put up their blocks but six feet tall. P-R-A-K wasn’t enough for these kids they had one guy they called Bezerk who could really paint with shadow and light and used relevant subject matter to the neighborhood. They picked spots that would be seen so they could get “fame” but not so open that they get busted. P-R-A-K heard of a old tagger who now didn’t tag his name but put up murals of the Virgin Mary. At train stations, bus stops, always city or county property never on private property. PRAK operated under the same rules. But there were tagging crews who tag-banged, it’s when they go after other crews and shoot at them or want to fight. That’s when Tim first fired a gun. The crew had to protect themselves and while Bezerk worked his magic with paint, Tim had his back with a .38.

But that was kids stuff and eventually they outgrew the street life. Bezerk moved in with his Grandma. And Tim had nowhere to go so he grew into a predator. He would befriend total strangers from the library or the park. He would make up some kind of story like his girlfriend left him and they were on vacation or he can’t go home because his roommate has a drug problem, some kind of story usually tailored for the mark. He only approach soft marks, easily taken advantage of. 

He would win over their trust and get in their house. He would decide how long he would stay and what, if anything, that he wanted to take. Then in the morning he’d either weasel his way into their hearts, if possible, but at least their homes or work them over for some money at least and hopefully some clothes, if he was leaving. He usually found women, the men who invited him home always wanted something else. Usually middle-aged women whom have been around the block with a husband they are divorced from. Lonely, needy and thinking that they are too smart to be taken, Tim moves in.

Tim has always been alone, he has no friends and nobody really knows him. He’s never had a job or a place of his own. He’s never been honest with anyone and now he has keys to three different residences of three different women. He’s 27 years old and playing his game. He’s never thought someone else would be playing, too.

First there’s Lindsay, a pale chubby white woman whom he has wrapped around his finger and who doesn’t expect much in return. A little sex goes a long way. She has an apartment on the west side among neighborhoods of million dollar homes, it was quite out of place. It sat next door to the only market around, where drivers passing through would stop for coffee on the way to work and the wealthy alcoholics would buy booze, thinking that if they shopped their, that nobody would know. He told her that he was a long haul trucker and he pulled his truck into a nearby town and he would hitchhike to her neighborhood and go to her apartment when he came to town. She had been married before to some degenerate who put hands on her whenever she didn’t obey. For Tim, she never had to obey, when they were together, it was whatever she wanted to do. Timothy knew how to treat a woman, to get what he wanted. And he poured it on.

“You look beautiful, Jill, why don’t we go out tonight.” Tim said.

“Oh, Thank you,” Jill says shyly, “Where do you want to go?” Jill asked.

“Your choice, my dear, and cost is not an issue, I just dropped off a load, I got some money.” Tim would say, completely fabricating the story. He didn’t drop off a load but came from another woman’s house.

“Thank you, you always treat me so well.” an oblivious Jill responds.

“That’s because I love you.” Tim said not even knowing what the word means much less what it implies to a woman. He was bullshitting her to the Nth degree as she was lapping it up like a starving dog. That wasn’t far from the truth, she was starving, for attention, and those women were like sitting ducks for Tim. Tim would take her out for a nice dinner and actually listen to her talk about girlfriends she used to have. Now she has none, since she moved into this apartment. It was out of her neighborhood but she wanted to get out of there. She grew up in and lived there all her life, but she had a possessive boyfriend who made fun of her because she needed someone to take care of her. Well, she was showing him, all of them, that she could take care of herself. Her parents had both died 10 years ago in a car accident. She bailed one day after she found the apartment that she told no one about. She just up and left never to come back, in her mind, at least. She had something to prove to the neighborhood but to herself also. She was still in morning from her parent’s death, she had a problem letting go, and latching on to comfort due to it. She had had a boyfriend a year since their death. She showed signs of Clinical Depression but was never diagnosed.

And then there was Dana. Tim didn’t know what nationality she was but she had olive skin and green eyes and that’s all he really saw. He was bowled over by her obvious belief that she knew men. She was a clerk at a bookstore and was introverted and a bookworm. She would work all day stocking shelves full of everything from The Book of Virtues to For Whom the Bell Tolls then come home and read tawdry romance novels. They were like television to her, she didn’t own one of those, and she needed her nightly fix. And that’s what they were, a fix for the hole that her ex-husband left. He left when she wouldn’t perform certain sexual acts that he knew she didn’t like before they were married. Did he really think marriage would change that? Well, it didn’t so after a long and loud fight, their first, he called her prude and took off. She cried but recovered quickly, that’s when she realized she was in a marriage without love. That scared her. She didn’t know how she let herself go through with the whole planning and executing a wedding without loving the man, or not knowing that she did not love him. She promised herself she would be more careful next time. Tim had to work on her, so he  started frequenting the bookstore. He’d show her how much she knew about men. He got to know her by prying open that broken heart by dropping his scant literary knowledge at just the right time in the conversation for him to be complimenting her and making himself look intelligent. It took a lot of patience, but Tim developed that long ago. After getting closer to her, enough to read her, he knew that she went home at night and read. She eventually told him that she read romance novels, that’s when he knew that she had a weak spot, that she was lonely and probably only had cats to comfort her. And they did a good job, but the thing about people, Tim learned, is that they almost always want human companionship unless they’re on drugs. And when he got in Dana home he found that she wanted it but put up a wall so people wouldn’t get in. But Tim found the secret door that even Dana didn’t know she had. When he came along, the romance novels stopped and Tim knew just want all of his marks wanted.

“Dana, want to go for a walk?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, sure, let me just grab my keys,” Dana says as she reaches over a stack of reference books on the dining room table, “where do you wanna go?”

“Down to the park and back, how’s that?” Tim asks knowing the answer.

“That would be nice.” Dana says smiling, in her leatard. Dana  was only 5’2” and almost looked like a little girl but she didn’t carry herself like a little girl but all that confidence she appears to have is all a lie. And she didn’t act like she knew all about men around Tim.

And last, but most certainly not least, there was Carmen she was a petite little Latina he met at a coffee house while in line for his double espresso machiato, she was getting a cup a chamomile tea.  They bumped into each other then began chatting, they took a table and talked more and then Tim got to the point.

“Hey, listen, I’d really like to talk to you more, is your place close?” Tim asks a question and imposes himself with one sentence.

“Sure, it’s just around the corner, do you want to come over?” Carmen asks. Tim was blown away, he’s never been invited into someone’s home. They finished their drinks then Carmen offered to drive, as if Tim had a car, and he accepted. She drove a red sports car, one that Tim didn’t know the name of. She had a condo that she paid for by herself. She said that she worked in a bank, before Tim could get any stupid ideas, she offered him a drink,

“Sure, Vodka on the rocks, thanks.” Tim said.

“So, do you like music,” Carmen was already on her way to the stereo.

“She put some Jimi Hendrix, the song “Angel” and started grooving with the music. She lit incense when Manic Depression came on. “Tell the truth Jimi!” she says as if he’s in the corner playing the blues. Tim was in awe of this petite little Latina he saw as a weak little flower, she was not. He could still manipulate her but it would take methods that he would have to develop on the fly. And he didn’t know what he wanted from her whether it be monitary or otherwise, but he did know that he was genuinely attracted to her. She drew him in, it was magical, he was at her mercy and didn’t even know it, yet. They sat and drank late into the night. He didn’t have to pry to get to know her , she was very upfront. Tim sensed that she needed a friend and he was, of course, willing. But he was getting a little drunk and didn’t notice that Carmen was.

“You sure hold your liquor good, I mean, for a woman.” Tim said not realizing what sexist was nor that he just stepped right in it’s rose bed. Carmen did and she was holding her liquor so well because she wasn’t actually drinking. She was drinking 7 up saying it was a gin and tonic.

“Yeah, well,” ignoring the sexist remark, “for a woman, I drink by myself a lot.” Carmen lies like a cheap rug. Just what Tim thought, she needed a friend.

 “I couldn’t possibly walk home right now, nor can you drive with all that alcohol on your breath, do you mind if I sleep on your couch just for the night?” Tim was such a good conman he could do it drunk, actually he was a little too aggressive when drunk and has messed up a couple times and slept at the bus station because of it.

“Yeah sure, we can’t have you getting arrested.” Carmen said with a smirk that Tim didn’t catch and wouldn’t understand if he did. Carmen went and took a shower leaving him alone in her house, he could have stole the TV and everything else, although the TV looked dusty like it had never been used. Tim surmised that she did not spend a lot of time at home. He sat on the couch and watched his world slightly spin in front of him. He didn’t worry about hangovers, he had a bag of cross-top pills. They are like speed and they put that hangover to rest immediately, the headache might linger a bit but the physical nastiness and inability to get off your ass go in about 30 minutes. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on head pads attached to the brown courduroy couch when Carmen came out of the hallway, white Cashere robe, hair up in terry cloth towel, face devoid of make up and still looked beautiful. ‘Holy shit’ Tim thought this woman takes care of herself. Not the usual mark he picks. He thought that maybe she would take care of him.

“Can you do a favor for me? Could you walk a package over to my Grandma’s house for me, she needs groceries but can’t leave the house so I bring her groceries once a week, but I can’t walk that far right now.” Carmen explains.

“Sure, I guess, it’s not a bomb or something, right.” Tim says with a chuckle. Carmen goes to the kitchen for a moment and comes up with a package wrapped in brown paper. Tim isn’t paying attention.

“OK, c’mere,” she hands him the package and he starts to walk away with it, “Oh, here.” She tosses him a key to the condo. “And do not make copies, I know every locksmith and they know me, if you know what I mean.” Tim didn’t know what she meant, but replied.

“Yeah, sure, no worries, but can my girlfriend come over if we don’t have sex.”

“Hele Keller could tell you haven’t been laid in a long time, don’t try to bullshit me.” Carmen replied holding herself back.  Tim turned red and felt powerless for once. A woman took his power away. She thought she had him figured out. He felt the need to conquer this one.

Next time they talked Tim tried to control her feelings with conversation about certain things like family love, sex. He felt powerful when he felt that he was controlling where peoples minds went. But with this the independent ones it’s a rush, Tim didn’t know why he got off on this but he did. Carmen was a little spit-fire, he thought, she was going to be fun to play with and fun to look at. He never pursued sex with women. They always found that attractive, he didn’t look at them like a piece of meat. What they didn’t realize is that he was looking at them like an ATM and a warm bed.  http:www.booksie.com/michaelkedik

sample chapter from upcoming story

In the morning of the next day she was in a van on her way to a recovery center. It was not like the celebrity rehab on television, this was real people with problems other than having enablers all around. These were people who fought, bled and served time behind drug use. Leslie was in a familiar place, if she didn’t know it yet. Upon arrival she was searched and all her belongings were gone through. She was thankful it was a woman who did this.

       “C’mon, a girl like you should have more stuff than this.” the young lady says.

       “And what is that supposed to mean?” Leslie is very touchy but it backed up by Carol

       “That’s OK, I’ll get her acquainted.” she says. And the young lady walks off. “You’re a pretty girl, the other girls will hate on you but I’m sure you’re used to that.” but Leslie was not, she was used to the world where respect is given because everyone knew that they could be bought, or sold. Leslie was so far removed from the regular world that she forgot how to relate to people. She didn’t hate other girls; she felt a common bond, being subservient to men.

       “No, I’m not used to that. Is that something I’ll have to get used to?” Leslie asked exhausted from crying.

       “No, of course not, but don’t be surprised if it happens.” Carol says.

       “Thanks for the heads up.” Leslie says sarcastically.

         “Hey, remember, I’m your friend.” Carol says

       “You can’t have perfume, because of the alcohol, you can’t have your Xanax, we’ll be giving you medicine for the withdrawal symptoms.” Carol informs Leslie of the rules that most people have a problem with. The people from the rehab caught her at just the right moment because the day after she arrived she just wanted to run. Get high and get away from the feeling of loss she had a stubborn case of. She knew that it wasn’t right but it felt right and that’s all he cared about, she didn’t have anyone to call or come visit. She hated visiting day. It was just another reminder of how alone she was. Papa was gone and she had a brother who was estranged from the family and lived 600 miles away. He couldn’t give a shit if Daddy died. But Papa didn’t raise him. He had a family and children of his own last time she heard.

       Now, it was a couple weeks in and she hadn’t slept, yet, nor ate or stopped throwing up. She just wanted to be on something and all she could get was a 5-milligram Valium, which didn’t take the edge off like the rehab nurse told her it would. She was angry with everyone and didn’t know why. It wasn’t just the dope like they were telling her; it was her Father. She didn’t necessarily believe in a god, or figured at least, that he or she had better people to work with. She felt far too troubled for any help to reach. And cannot see that going away. It wasn’t the drugs that were the problem, it was she, and she knew it. She was lost on the inside and would hope someone will notice her falling through the cracks inside her mind and outside in her reality. She felt delirium coming on from sleep deprivation. She didn’t mind it; she felt, in some strange way, closer to her Papa. Eventually she started eating but only vegetables, no ‘meat’ patties; fresh, raw vegetables. After a week of eating well and long meditation sessions that were guided by a facilitator, she started to feel some semblance of herself again. Not that she even really knew who that person was, anymore.

        The other patients at the rehab were trying to get to know Leslie but she wasn’t having it. She might be feeling better but she was still was tore up on the inside and the others could see it. She told a couple girls a little of what was going on inside, but only a little. The rehab was kind enough to have a therapist talk to her about her grief. She had one hour a week to talk to an intern, so she just basically sat there while Leslie dumped her crap all over her, but that’s what she was there for. At lunch Leslie sat with one other girl named Jessica. Jessica used to do the same kind of work that she did. They got along well, but Jessica had a little girl and Leslie did not. The Mothers with children were housed in another part of the rehab so Leslie had to sleep with little bitches at the rehab on summer vacation. Well, more likely so their parents can have a vacation.  There was no private room. These were the bad girls in high school; the ones who can’t sit still, that have ADHD and are completely annoying. One little girl claimed to shoot Meth. Leslie asked her who showed her how to shoot up. The little girl claimed not to remember. You never forget the good soul whom shows you how to slam dope. That’s just ridiculous. Leslie could tell that she was living with little girls who have drug problems that their parents cannot handle anymore, not them. They’re just playing in the shark-infested waters of drug addiction; they’ve no clue what they’re doing or how easily they can be turned out. Her and Jessica used to have fun mocking them, once she learned to laugh again, that to some prodding by Jessica, telling her raunchy jokes and doing bad impersonations of the staff. They were girlfriends after a month, but each was suspicious of the other until one day when trouble came down the pike and both were implicated. Jessica was brought before the director of the rehab.

       “Tell me who has the dope.” he says.

       “I told you, I don’t know, it wasn’t me or Leslie.” Jessica says.

       “Bullshit, it was one of you and I’m going to find out.” he says. “Get her out of here.” and Jessica went back to the lunch tables where Leslie was.

       “Holy shit! What an asshole.” Jessica says.

       “What happened?” Leslie says as she takes a bite of Broccoli.

       “He tried to get me to say something, and I don’t know anything about any dope! Do you?” Jessica asks.

       “If I wanted to get high, which I do, I would just leave. Nothing’s keeping me here except a promise I made.” Leslie says.

       “Leslie!” she gets her call to the director’s office.

       “Alright, I know you’re her voluntarily, but some of these guys aren’t,” he says not realizing how sexist sounds, “and we don’t need you bringing in dope!”

       “You can test me for dope, I know Jessica is court ordered and I would gladly take the fall for her but I want you to know that you have got the wrong girl and I don’t mean that she did it. Look, if I want to get high I know where to go for that, I obviously don’t.” Leslie says and then gets cut off.

       “OK, OK, you are backing each other up and I find that admirable amongst women but if I so much as hear that either of you has anything to do with dope you will go down for your friend.” The sexist asshole says.

       Neither of them knew what the other said but they did know that they could have given the other up, not that Leslie was trying to protect her freedom like Jessica was. But they trusted each other after that day. That would lay the groundwork for a good friendship and one that each of them need. Leslie needed a friend like the desert needs water and Jessica needed a female friend. The men at the rehab thought they were so cool, they looked like idiots with the same problem, they didn’t get enough attention as little boys. They were posturing against each other, thinking that the girls even gave a shit, which some of them did. Some girls were on the hunt for another get high partner, or really someone to do all the dirty work. And they paid for it in bed; Leslie and Jessica found them disgusting. Both of them wanted nothing to do with scheming dope fiends anymore. Leslie was working out a promise and Jessica was trying to keep herself out of jail and her daughter with a Mother. The men at the rehab were attention seeking 9 year olds or sick old dope fiends who can’t stay out of jail. They were about equally divided. The young ones were posturing to get women’s attention, most of which couldn’t care less and weren’t even seeing them. Except some of the girls who were oblivious to the non-verbal signals that they were broadcasting. Leslie and Jessica laughed and wondered where they used to get high. These were grown women whom acted like they were at a fashion show. Getting pretty with makeshift cosmetics. The old dope fiends looked on, licking their chops, but the staff, whom had been down this road, put out the fire before it got started by reminding the men that sexual conduct or suggestion will not be permitted. They were lucky they were allowed to look. At other rehabs, a man is not even allowed to look at a woman, unless they are staff. One particular guy had his eye on Leslie and Jessica wouldn’t let her forget it.

       “Oh, shit, there’s Jim, duck your head!” Jessica would joke.

       “I will not, he should duck his head, he wouldn’t be able to handle me.” Leslie stated

       “Oh, it’s like that, then.” Jessica is taken back by the confident Leslie and kind of likes to see it. Jessica listened to Leslie go on about her Papa and how she wasn’t sure she could go it alone. “That’s it, you go girl! You’re getting better.”

       “What do you mean?” Leslie has no clue how far she’s come in only 90 days.

       “Just last month you were talking about how you couldn’t do it by yourself, that right there did not sound like woman unsure of herself.” Jessica reinforces her newfound pal.

       “I guess I have got some of my confidence back, but I’m serious, that boy wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like me.” Leslie is sounding big again. Letting her little light shine from behind that wall which was still just as high as before. Letting a friend in doesn’t mean that the wall is down; it just means that she built a, one time only, door.

       “I can see from the outside, and you sister, are on the upswing and I will not let you backslide.” Jessica is being as supportive a she would want Leslie to be for her. The both of them were junkies but didn’t look it. Even through their addiction they took good care of themselves, they had to if they wanted to work. Neither of them shot in their arms or anywhere that was visible. They shot in their Femoral artery, which was very dangerous, if you go all the way through with the needle, you could bleed to death. And both of them had been shooting dope for the same amount of time, 3 years. But they smoked heroin long before that. They both had a boyfriend, who said that he loved them but then showed them how to shoot dope. He might as well put a bullet in a gun and handed it to them. They both despised the men. Jessica would be at the rehab one month longer than Leslie. Jessica had already been at the rehab for 8 months and had 4 more to satisfy court. Leslie had 3 more months to complete her program. Besides the child and the dead Father, Jessica and Leslie had very similar stories and probably every other woman in the rehab. Stories were very similar in rehab. For the men and the women, gay or straight.

 The majority of the patients were abused, or had been in the past. Jessica had been abused by boyfriends and was making a habit of it. Her man-picker was malfunctioning. Stuck on degenerate mode. Her daughter had seen her getting hit by a boyfriend and she was determined not to let that happen again. Leslie suggested that they move in together. Jessica wasn’t sure because she had a daughter and a child changes the whole house, but Leslie assured her that she could handle it. Leslie liked the idea of a little kid around the house, she kind of wished she had one, but didn’t know how she would support it. Being an escort is not the profession of a Mother. They spent a lot of time sitting on the back patio where Jessica was allowed to smoke. It didn’t bother Leslie, although Leslie was big on informing people about lung cancer and did Jessica.

“You know those things give you lung cancer, right, and that lung cancer is a horrible way to go.” says Leslie.

“Yeah, I know Les but I got a bit of a habit, if you know what I mean.” Jessica says.

“I understand what a habit is, smartass!” Leslie laughs. Jessica laughs and then picks up Megan, her daughter. “C’mere sweetheart, oh, look at you, you’re a mess.”

“No she’s not, she’s just playing, right Megan?” Leslie said to the toe-headed child with sky blue eyes. Megan gazed up at Leslie and smiled. Megan was 5 years old. Leslie didn’t use baby talk but instead talked to Megan like she was a grown woman. “Tell your Mom that you can take care of it.”

“No, not yet, you’re not a teen-ager. And even then I will not have her talking to me like that.” Jessica covers her daughter’s ears. “What are you telling my little girl?”

“She’s gonna be everything you are, only better. I couldn’t take care of a baby.” Leslie says.

“That’s what I thought but I didn’t really have a chance, I will not have a baby conceived willingly, aborted. You never know what you can do until you need to do it. She changed my life and for the better. He Daddy is in Sweden and not coming back, so I had to do it only with the help of my family. Financially is the hardest part. Changing diapers, picking up after her and making meals for her was really a joy, because I love these chubby cheeks.” Jessica pinches Megan’s cheek and she turns her head away into her Mother’s armpit. “When you have a child something changes inside you, literally and figuratively. She became the one thing I could focus on, just one thing to do right. And the one thing that I will kill for. I had a boyfriend once, well actually fiancé, who all of a sudden started raising his hand toward Megan. He spanked her once when my back was turned and that was it, he was gone.” in a child’s voice, “Nobody touches my flesh and blood.” and she pets Megan’s head.

“I don’t know, I can’t really take care of myself.” Leslie admits.

“When you have a child you take better care of yourself, too.” Jessica adds.

“OK, OK, you sound like you’re trying to sell me a child.” says Leslie just as Jim walks in front of her and stares.

“Hello ladies.” Jim says as he passes.

“Yeah, thanks but no-thanks!” Leslie spouts.

“Easy, he’s kind of cute.” Jessica says.

“Yeah, in that lost puppy dog way. He would be pussy-whipped in no time.” Leslie is putting down a guy she knows absolutely nothing about.

“Are you a man hater?” Jessica asks nonchalantly while setting Megan back down. “Go play, honey, but stay close by.”

“No, I just have standards that no man will never be able to meet. It’s something I’m working on.” Leslie is somber.

“That’s alright, I think all addicts want to much out of all people around them. I am the same way. The guy has to be financially stable, emotionally secure and spiritually pure. How’s that.” Jessica says proudly.

“I doubt you’ll find an addict with two of those qualities, much less, all three.” Leslie says.

“Les, I don’t want an addict as a partner, shit, hell no! One of us has to be sane.” Jessica is joking but serious.

“Yeah, me either, we can’t both be broken.” Leslie adds. “How long did you work? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Five miserable years of disgusting men slobbering all over me and being too damn eager for me to get any pleasure.” Jessica admits something that nobody else knows about her.

“Did you have somebody set up your dates?” Leslie asks.

“You mean a pimp? Yeah, I had a pimp but I only did that because walking the streets is fucking dangerous.” Jessica adds. “What about you, I can’t see you walking the streets.”

“Yeah, I had a pimp but he was gay so he didn’t want to set up his friends or do any weird shit, he was alright to work for, he would cop for me and that was almost worth it by itself. I fucking hate having to cop dope on my own.” Leslie says.

“Yeah, I know dealers are scumbags even when you are a regular. They think that they have power just because they have drugs that people want.” Jessica says. “I guess they do have power, over a bunch of junkies and freaks!”

“Oh, shit we better not mention dope at all or maybe someone walking by,” she stares down Jim as he walks by again, “might overhear us as misconstrue the conversation.” Leslie says tracking Jim with her eyes until he is gone. “That boy is biting off way more than he can chew and I think I’m gonna give him a taste. Hey, Jim, is it?” Jim comes waking toward them proudly so his friends can see.

“Yes, it is, how can I help you ladies?” Jim says with a smile.

“I noticed you looking at us like you wanted something from over here,” Leslie begins, “you see something you want?”

“Well, umm..” Jim is dumbfounded with how forward Leslie is.

“Yes, or no, it’s not that hard. Listen, do you give good head?” Leslie is making a fool of him in front of his buddies.

“Well, I, what?” Jim stumbles.

“Can you eat pussy?” Leslie says loudly because she just doesn’t care. She’s tired of the gaulking. Jim’s friends look over and try to hold their laughter but can’t. People are staring. She made her point. “You couldn’t handle it if I gave it to you, now get out of here and go play with your friends.” Leslie says like a lady and crosses her legs as if to say ‘this barn is closed’, there will be no rolling in the hay with me. She plants her beige eyes on a squirrel in a tree. Jim walks away looking like the little boy that he still was at 23 years old.

“Wow, that was so fucking cool, I wish we had it on video!” Jessica says excitedly. “He did look cute but you just made him look like a school boy, you must have been fun to work with.”

“Work with, you worked with other girls?” Leslie wasn’t new or anything but she had never been asked to do a three way.

“What, you’ve never done a three way? You’ve never been with a girl?” Jessica asks curiously.

“No, I haven’t, I was always the star attraction, I don’t know how I would feel about splitting the pay.” Leslie is honest.

“We charge double, silly, we would make a hell of a team.” Jessica says to Leslie then bites her bottom lip and makes pronounce eye contact with her. Leslie felt the vibe already but turned red anyway. “Shit, I’m I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, no, not at all” Leslie fans herself with her hand and blinks her eyes hard. “I feel you, I feel you, holy crap, I feel you.”

“Is that a good thing?” Jessica asks hopeful.

“Yeah, I just haven’t felt that since my...well, you know.” Leslie says.

“Yeah, I know, baby it’s OK.” Jessica tries to ease Leslie’s mind, again being the friend that she would want Leslie to be.   

 “Shit, we better go, it’s time for another lecture.” Leslie says.

       “C’mere sweetheart, come to Mommy, we gotta go now. Jessica says. And they go inside to listen to another addict share their story with the hope that it gives them inspiration to stay clean. Neither of the two needed any more inspiration than they already had but hearing their stories reminds them that they aren’t the only ones who did ugly things behind dope. And some of the time they hear someone who was worse than them.