Category : Books-Non-Fiction
Sub Category : Biography
In the parking lot of my apartment complex, I kept my weighted eyes fixated on the two fading silhouettes inside the moving Honda. As the sun cloaked itself with the deepening shades of a flame on its final descent out of sight, the two figures became one with the filmy surface of the rear window. It wasn’t the darkness of night that brought a sense of unease, for I knew the sun would return.
What shook my nerves was far worse than living in an eternity of darkness. I’d already been a resident of that shadowy hell. But now, my darkened existence, I must suffer alone.
Mickey had entered my life once again. My exploited hospitality welcomed him, only to abandon me in the deepest we’d ever dug ourselves. Yet, I couldn’t blame him for leaving with his worried mother who had just driven across half the state to take her drug addict son home. I also couldn’t blame her for getting sick of his drug-addicted antics of bolting from her sight to hop on a train for dope.
“Your vacation’s over now, ya hear?” she’d said before ducking his head and nudging him inside the car.
The look on her face had scared me silent. It was a face nobody wants aimed them, but a face I’d been familiar with and knew it was out of pure, unconditional love. Just a Mama Bear that drove across half the state of Texas looking for her cub.
Shit, my own Mom would have done the same thing, but she wouldn’t have left the one standing there like a dip-shit in one piece. She certainly wouldn’t have turned to him, like Mickey’s mom had, and said, “Thanks for keeping him alive.”
I was speechless. Her son and I had been on a two-month’s long drug binge before she showed up with no warning I had known of, and instead of laying one across my ghostly face, she thanked me?
If only the shock had been short-lived, I would have told her the truth. That she was the one saving him. But knowing how I am while under that hex from hell, it’s a good thing she left as quickly as she had. Back inside my apartment, the icy feeling of loneliness began to melt from the heated rage that quickly grew within.
It was the one and only syllable I could make out of the muttering in between violent fits of projectile tears and choking on an invisible ball lodged in my throat;until my noises began coming together properly.
“You bitch! Why did you take him from me? What am I supposed to do?!”
Then, somewhere in the mess, my anger had switched over to him.
“Asshole! You fuckin’ walk into my house and get me back on dope and then you fuckin’ leave me?! Just abandon me, like that bitch-whore!”(Obviously this goes somewhere. Just a revised excerpt from a memoir in the works.)