Running From the Sun - Part 3

Not knowing the answer I was about to give would lay the groundwork for the rest of my life I dug deep for the strength and courage to fight against the desire to say yes. When I finally made the decision to say what I felt I bit my lip and poured my very last breath of hope into it and said, “No, I will not kill myself, this is not what I’m supposed to be. This is not what I am meant to be doing with my life. God has another purpose for me.” As noble and valiant as this sounded at the time, It realistically boils down to me being an utter coward. Fearful of my life and fearful of ending it had all become one in the same. Things didn’t change much. She continued to bare her body for cash at the club and I continued to run the streets of Detroit getting the drugs needed to continue our masquerade. Now that we had burned our bridges everywhere else, our oasis was spending our last week on the street in this filth trap and we had run completely out of options. The insanity became gripping and quick to drown out all of the ignorant decisions we had made up until this point. The champagne glass pyramid was toppling and my fantasy was fading into black.

The end of the week had come and the rent for another week was due. The only possessions we had left were our ID’s, a few pair of clothes in a duffle bag salvaged from the trash, a few toiletries, a bicycle given to us by a friend (that had a flat tire inside of a week) and a few dollars left for something to eat. Need I mention we had one packet of dope left to split between the both of us that wouldn’t help either of us feel better whether we split it or not. The remainder of it barely even provided the mental comfort of “fixing,” which is what motivated me to use anyway. We made our way to the Coney Island for some coffee and whatever food we could afford. There was absolutely nothing left for us to do. Our schemes had run adrift onto dry land and we were a few tricks shy of manipulating anyone into helping us. Getting sicker by the moment and feeling completely useless we thought long and hard about what to do. Trust this, there were not many other options to think on, and we didn’t think much about anything positive or creative. The influx of money we enjoyed from Staycie’s moonlighting had run dry, and she had managed to get herself fired from that position and they would not allow her back.

We quickly wore out our welcome and the coffee refills were not making things any easier. If anything, the caffeine was diligently working against the affects of the dope and we wanted to avoid that at all costs. Sadly, we shuffled across the diner and out the door. I chained the dysfunctional bicycle to the bus sign and we walked to the local Alano club where recovering individuals met for fellowship and meetings. This was the only light left in a sea of desperation, and frightfully enough the only place where we could have any solace. This rest would prove to be temporary, and even in the midst of all the chaos, this was as peaceful as it would be for quite some time to come. Things were going to change very dramatically, very quickly.