Gathering 'round the yule log, a massive erection caused by 16 hours without a fix, my boyfriend and I laid on the bed. We were reaching that magical place where the sickness made it nearly impossible to hustle, yet hustling was the only thing that could end the sickness.
"Can you call your mom?" he asked.
"Negative," I told him "She already sent me a card with some cash in it. Remember that $60?"
I had taken out $40 to fix before he got home that day. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
I sneezed in rapid succession. I know deep down he wanted to fuck. I had been awhile since his dick had gotten anywhere near functional. The very last thing I wanted was someone hunching on me. The thought of anything pushing again my stomach was "...Fucking ridiculous"
"What babe?" I asked him. I was laying on the bed in a pair of his boxer shorts. My body was starting to ache from all the hits and misses from the bottom of my feet to the small veins in my tits.
"This is fucking ridiculous", he told me. He rolled over to face me. For a moment, I could see a reflection hope of my in his eyes. Maybe we could kick this time. Maybe we could ride it out. Maybe we could get little jobs, get married like he promised. We could have a kid someday. We could be just like normal people...
"I'm going to go get a date", he told me.
He pushed himself off the bed. He pulled on his pants. He glanced at himself in the mirror above the sink. I saw him turn sideways, out of the corner of my eye. I was pretending that I wasn't happy about this. I hated the fact that I was- happy it was him and not me. He looked at himself in the mirror, getting his head in the game. We always lied to each other. No, we would say, I really didn't have to do anything with him. The truth was much more brutal. I didn't know what he did with the men. I never felt the need to push him. I just was glad it wasn't me this time. Merry Christmas. He was going to ho, ho, ho he joked.
As I laid back on the bed, I asked him if he wanted me to walk with him. I already knew the answer was "no". It would go faster if I wasn't there, he assured me. I knew this was also true. As I kissed him goodbye, I wondered how our lives had come to this place. Both his parents had been junkies. He had been raised to believe there was no other way. I knew something different, yet I was drowning here. I turned off the lights. I laid in the bed alone hot tears on the pillow. I wasn't sure if I was crying because I was sick or crying because I was detached enough to let him to let him go alone.