Intervention at School.

On the bus ride home from school my dad calls me and tells me, “don’t go anywhere, when you get home, stay home.” He didn’t seem angry but he seemed serious. I had a bad feeling. As soon as I get off the bus I rush home and go into his office looking for clues. I find a stack of copies of the checks I’ve been forging. There were like 15 checks from the past month, there’s no way I can explain this. Fuck. I call my boy Kevin immediately for one last hurrah, I knew after tonight they were going to send me somewhere. They’ve been trying to catch me and now they had the proof, it was all about to come crashing down.

Kevin and Stoop were my only friends. Me and Stoop were in the middle of a falling out because I had robbed someone he specifically told me not to. Stoop is a short kid, white, redneck, with a lifted truck, 25 years old, living with his parents, strung out on pills like me. He has a script that he fills every third Thursday on the dot. Me and him were always together, robbing people, getting high, ripping off our parents, sometimes we even ripped off each other. He was still pissed at me, so I called Kevin. Kevin Miller was a few years older than me, I think 19 or 20 at the time. He was my boy too—like I said, Kevin and Stoop were my only friends, we used each other but to a certain degree. We would pay each other back and when one person was sick we would front them pills or some money. I didn’t have a car so Kevin and Stoop always come get me. I didn’t have a job either, so really all I brought to the table was that I had a connect for anything and everything and I would always, always be down to rip someone off. Kevin wasn’t really into robbing people, he was a nice kid with a job and a hot girlfriend. Another white kid with a baby face and baby haircut, all the girls liked him. Me and Kevin would get pills, drive around, listening to old Eminem freestyles, reciting every single Eminem song word for word… “ I murder a rhyme, one word at a time, you never heard of mind as perverted as mine, get rid of that nine, it ain’t gunna help, what good’s it gunna do against a man that strangles himself.”

Haha… We had fun for a while… but once I walked into my dad’s office I knew it was over, there was no way to explain that much money missing, besides everyone knew I was getting high, they just needed proof and now they had it… honestly, I can’t believe it took them this long.

I called Kevin, and he told me he was still working for a couple hours. I called Crackhead Amy and she said she would come get me. I put on this grandpa looking jacket I had, it was a brown polo jacket and walked out the door of my parent’s house and started to slow jog, I didn’t want my mom or dad to come home and see me, after all my dad did just tell me “not to go anywhere!”, I hoped a fence and some bushes and made it over to this to this park by my house, it used to be a dump but now it’s pretty nice.

I sat outside the entrance and smoked a cigarette, waiting for Amy. I was starting to withdrawl. My hands were starting to sweat, my stomach was hurting like I was about to shit and my legs were aching. Amy pulled up in her gray G35, even though it was the old body style it was still nice, had half the front bumper hanging off though. I had one more check left, I wrote out a check to Amy and deposited it into her account through the ATM. I wrote out a check for $160, through the ATM $100 is available immediately, I took out the hundred and told Amy she can have the 60 when the check cleared. We had done this before. She sold me an Oxy 40, she only had one on her. I gave her $15 for it. Oxys have a time-release coating, I licked the coating and rubbed it off with my shirt, opened her glove compartment where she kept a mini clipboard (I gifted it to her a while back, it’s the best to snort pills off). I put a dollar bill over the pill and crushed it with the end of my lighter, getting it down to powder, no bumps, no crumbs. I snorted the pill in one line, licked the residue and asked Amy for a cigarette. She looked at me annoyed, “you have cigarettes.”

I looked back at her, “I have broncos, I want a menthol”. Reluctantly she gave me the cigarette, “I heard you robbed Syd Vicious. Are you fucking crazy, that nig is gunna find your ass one day, you’re dumb as fuck.” I looked back at her, “it wasn’t my idea, stoop was driving and set the whole the thing up.” She started to get pissed, “yo fuck stoop, you’re a fucking piece of shit for hanging out with him after he robbed my boyfriend.” I lit the cigarette and changed the subject, just wait till she finds out that I was with stoop when we robbed him…

That’s how it went, me and stoop always playing good cop/bad cop.

When we got to a red light I looked over at her, she was such a wreck. Old Dunkin donuts coffee cups in the back seat, ashes everywhere, college school books thrown around. She was pale with her ribs showing, slurring her words from all the Xanax she eats. She used to play tennis and be really popular in high school. She was 3 years older than me, lying to her parents about being in college, doing pills with her boyfriend, always trying to wean off with suboxone. We’ve known each other a long time, my mom was friends with her mom. She always thought she was better than me, just cause she had her shit together and her parents didn’t know what was going on. When she gets strung out and skinny she tells them it’s the bulimia. We’ve been calling her crackhead Amy even before she was on drugs cause she just always looked cracked out, but she’s just a puker.

Amy dropped me off at a gas station and I waited for Kevin to pick me up. I sat on the curb smoking another cigarette, feeling a lot better from just that one OC 40, not as sick anymore... I looked down at my phone, my mom was calling, I turned off the ringer. Kevin pulled up in his Honda Civic, I told him about my Dad finding the fake checks. “Damn dude, that fucking sucks, so are you like gunna go to rehab now or some shit.” I got a Newport from him and I turned up the music, some of The Carter 3 had leaked, I wanted to hear it—lil Wayne blaring. I smoked my cigarette and tried not to think about getting sent away.

I had $75 dollars in my sock. I owed Kevin $30, and so I paid him the $30, which is the only reason he picked me up in the first place. I had $45 dollars left over, just enough to get four blues and a pack of cigarettes. The OC 40 was in me but another 4 blues and I should be pretty banged up. My nose was clogged, I pulled out my Afrin, this stuff they sell at CVS to unclog your nose. I took a big whiff through both nostrils and lit up another Newport, lowered the music “nigga, this is it. this is the last time I go do this shit with you.” He looked at me with that familiar junkie “yea right, you can’t stop look.” I took a big drag of my cigarette and looked out the window, driving on 595, getting off the 441 exit, thinking about all the times we’ve taken this drive. He dropped me off at the gas station like he always did, we were going to meet up with Sydney.

Sydney “Sid Vicious” was the man, we’ve been getting crack and blues off him for a few years now, but since I robbed Sydney with Stoop a few months back, Kevin had to get the drugs for us and pick me up after. Even though I fucked Syd over I still had a lot of respect for him, he always helped me out, hooked me up, fronted me shit, he was the best dope dealer I ever had. I met his whole family a few times. I remember when he first started serving me up he was just this dorky fat hoodlum who had no idea what he was doing. He had moved up in 3 years, driving the Porsche SUV, had two kids, his own crib, he was getting pretty big time.

I sat on the curb of yet another gas station, hugging myself in my jacket, smoking another cigarette. A few minutes later Kevin pulled up and I jumped in the car, I took my four pills and crushed them up in his pill crusher, stuck my straw in and snorted all of them at once. Kevin looked at me laughing, “I can’t even get down like that anymore, you’re wilding out.” I just did an Oxy 40 and 4 Roxys, the white M boxes, my second favorite. I should be high right now, but I see on my phone that I had 4 missed calls from my Dad. It was probably around 8pm, I looked out the window of his car and I felt so alone, I wanted to die, I couldn’t believe this was the end, the drugs had stopped working, I still felt like shit, I fought back the urge to cry. Kevin dropped me off down the street, he never picked me up or dropped me off at my house, always down the street. My parents hated him, even though I was always the one who was way more fucked up than he was. As I walked to my house I passed by a sewer drain and threw out my Afrin, straw, lighter and even my cigarettes. I walked in through the front door, my dad and mom had been waiting up for me. My dad took one look at me and I could tell he could tell I was high, I told him I was at the mall and my phone died. He walked up closer to me and said “you need help man” and he hugged me. I wanted to hug him but I didn’t really know how, my hands just hung by my side…and I don’t really remember the rest.

I woke up the next day wanting a fucking cigarette and withdrawing. I got in the car with my mom and dad and we went to my school for some kind of “parent, teacher, counselor meeting.” I walked into my school counselor’s office. Sitting there was another counselor and my out-patient counselor. I was in an out-patient program, faking my drug tests and just going to school everyday holding up this mask of “I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m not dead, not on drugs.” This fucking thousand pound mask of lies and bullshit. My dad went into his “satchel” I guess, my dad always wore a satchel since I could remember, a satchel or a fanny pack, but it’s not a regular fanny pack or satchel it’s like some fancy-ass $1200 dollar one. My dad is a big man, a large Colombian man. My mom is a little Mexican woman, very Christian, reserved and quiet, but extremely nice. Both my parents are nice people, it makes me feel like shit, a part of me wishes they were terrible parents so I could use that as an excuse to use, but I can’t even lie about it, they’re good parents, they really are…. So my dad pulls out copies of the forged checks and ask me to explain, I can’t breath out of nose, there’s acne on my back, I haven’t showered in a while, my skin is so clammy, I have all this anxiety, I think about running, but I’m too tired, I keep picking at my face. I don’t say anything though. My counselor tells me that my drug tests are clean and asks if maybe I’m doing over the counter drugs, I can’t believe this dumb bitch thinks I’m doing over the counter drugs, like maybe I’m drinking too much redline, she has no idea, no one here does. I try to talk, but I start crying, I can’t get a word out, I cry and snot starts coming out my nose, I sit in the chair and try to breathe and then I finally mumble, “I’m addicted to opiates.”

I start crying uncontrollably, I can’t believe I just said that.

Snot is running down my whole face. One of the counselor looks at me and asks if I’m withdrawing, I start getting angry, “no shit, yeah I’m withdrawing.” She looks at my parents, my dad can’t believe I just cursed. She leans closer, “Bryan are you withdrawing right now?”, I look at her in total disbelief, “yes.. I’m fucking withdrawing hard as fuck right now.” I can’t believe this is actually happening, fuck I just admitted to it. She explains to my parents exactly what is going on and that I need to be detoxed at a hospital. My dad looks angry but I can tell he’s also worried, my mom—she has no expression, she just sits there trying to be strong. Some phone calls are made and they find me a bed, my parents want to get lunch…

I can –not- fucking -believe them.

Here I am on the verge on fucking dying and we go to a fucking Mexican restaurant. It’s sort of in the hood, we sit down and there’s fucking hats, lights and all this bullshit, I ask my mom for money to buy cigarettes next door. She gives me $5 and I buy a pack of Newports with my fake ID. I smoke 3 before I go back inside, withdrawing, I tell my mom I’m not hungry but she orders me a quesadilla anyways. I can’t believe I’m going to detox and I’m not even high, not only am I not high but I’m withdrawing, I always thought when I got clean I would get fucking retarded high and slide in to detox feeling nice. Everything inside me wants to ask them if they can take me to meet Sydney one last time but I can’t even fucking buy drugs from him cause I fucked him over. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, I’m going to detox with a fucking quesadilla in a to-go box.

I have to get high one more time.

Prev Page

Next Page