Saturday, November 29, 2014

The girlfriend

"Your hands are cold " she tells me.
THAT'S BECAUSE IT IS COLD OUTSIDE. I yell in my mind.

I hate dealing with amateur hour. When you are a user of a year or more, you should at LEAST know how to hit yourself. C'mon. This girl is in the same situation that I was. When I started using, I didn't know how to properly use a needle. I was always depending on others to stick me. What is even more troubling is that, you are putting you life in their hands. You are trusting them to make sure enough is not actually TOO much. This person you rely on is both a doctor and a chemist. They have to mix up the precise dosage. Otherwise, they may kill you.

I think 22 year old girls all seemed to have learned from older guys with prison tattoos and a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He is quick, he can whip the shoelace out of his boot in less than ten seconds. He has a stab wound next to a faded cross on his muscle that is slowly softening and drying up as the days between him and his last prison term get wider and wider. He walked out the gate that day with the best of intentions. He was not going to use, only drink a little. Now, a couple weeks later he is convincing his new girlfriend that snorting that shit is a waste. He is creating a new vampire like his uncle made him. Death is better shared among lovers and friends and misery loves company. What starts out as a gift becomes a curse.

We are sitting between two cars in a parking lot. She doesn't trust me enough to take me to her apartment. She didn't say it but there is absolutely no reason we should be out in the open committing a felony through injection except she is too afraid I might steal a bottle of her Calvin Klein perfume or ten dollars from her coin jar. She doesn't trust me to come to her apartment but she trusts me to jab a fucking needle in her arm.

"Look" I tell her "Just hold still."

Her boyfriend left her with a mess. Well, he didn't actually leave. He was taken away in handcuffs. He had found himself some innocent girl he met at the bar. She was going to school for art before it got a hold of her. Her parents think she is just taking a semester off when in fact she is using their money to support both their dope habits. She loved him so she wanted to try it. A little bit here and there at first. Well he created a monster. She is strung out with no ability to care for her needs. In other words, a victim searching for a crime.

Her smooth white skin reveals little in the way of veins. I suspect he has been watering down her shit the whole time so I did the same. She brought enough for a quarter but a gave her much less than half. She is depending on me for everything. I won't disappoint her. I promised her that I would go second. But now this bitch is getting on my nerves. Have you tried to hit a no vein, whiny, underweight, entitled newcomer between two cars in the wintertime when every piece of blue is hidden underneath goosebumps?

I give up. I smile at her to let her know this fucked up situation is okay as she turns her head with dry heaves. She said she was sick. She wasn't lying.

"I am taking off your shoe" I tell her. The only warm place left on her is her foot. We have been out here far too long.

Bingo! With the speed of skillful opiate inoculation, I hit my target on the top of her foot. She winces and cries until I start rubbing her leg. I see the warmth travel up, up, up. And then she briefly grins as she falls backwards. Holy fuck. I've killed her.

Did I mention I haven't even fixed yet an I am fucking sick too. Now this fucking girl has gone too far falling fucking out in the parking lot. In a split second, I have to debate my options. Do I fix then save her? Do I save her then fix? Do I leave her? Do I fix, then leave her? Do I fix,then leave her, then call 911? Do I see is she has more money before I leave her? What the fuck. I don't even know this bitch. Her boyfriend just asked me to look out for her. And she won't even let me in her apartment. UGH.

As I bend down on two newspapers to get near her head which fell with a soft thud on to the concrete, she slowly opens her eyes and asks "Why are you on top of me? I was just meditating."

Now, I truly have heard it all. This chick just ODed on less than a half a bag and thinks she is meditating. Your boyfriend got you strung out, took all your money, took over your place, got you to drop out of school, and has been watering your stuff down so bad that you fell out on half a bag and you think you are meditating?!!!!!

I tell her "let me help you up" because I am fucking out of here. I prop her up so she can "meditate" for another minute meaning nod till her eyes cross. As I stab myself in the leg, I realize yet again that the easiest of hustles are never easy. All "free" dope comes at a high price.







4 comments:

  1. absolutely loved this one

    "a victim searching for a crime"

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    Replies
    1. Thank you for reading. This was based on a real girl. Her parents rescued her. It was sad how quickly the city ate her up

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  2. At different points in my life, I have been on both sides of this story. After reading this I am even more grateful that I have changed my life. Thanks for sharing. I really enjoy your blog.

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  3. I loved reading this one. It made me laugh a few times, as terribly mean as it sounds. But hey...when you can relate to something....sometimes you have to shake your head, laugh, and thank God you're not that "girl" anymore.

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