Just as the sun cracked open the Eastern sky, Jim drove to a park near the center of town. When he arrived, he sat languidly in his truck and smoked his first cigarette of the day. He let his lighter burn awhile in the dim light of dawn and then, with a satisfied grunt, branded the inside of his arm with the metal tip. When up rolled Skunk on his bicycle, Jim gestured for him to get into the truck.
“Ok, dude. Caught my first wave today! Are you ready for this?”
“I’m ready for my fucking pill, not another song and dance like last night!”
Skunk awkwardly yanked the pill bottle free from his hip pocket and shook it in the air triumphantly with a proud yawp. Bulldog snatched it from Skunk’s hands in a flash. Skunk started screaming and clawing at Bulldog, but he was already opening the truck door and hopping out, shouting at Skunk as he went.
“Be cool! Skunk! Listen! Be cool, bro!”
“You fucker, you motherfucker, I’ll…” Skunk had also gotten out and they circled the truck up and down and back and forth a couple of times like the monkey and weasel until finally facing off across the hood.
“Dude, I’m not stealing them! I swear!” Bulldog held out his hands, showing the bottle for Skunk to see as though it were a weapon. Skunk crumbled over the hood of the truck and began weeping, whining and begging for them back.
“Shut the fuck up, you little worm. I’m trying to do you a favor, if you’ll just listen.” Skunk sniffed and looked like he might calm down for a moment but started cursing again instead.
“Look! Listen! I’m out of the truck. I’m not going anywhere. I will give them back after you hear me out, if that’s what you want, alright?”
“Just give them back!”
“Hear me out, dammit!”
Skunk waited with a hideous expression of rage burning on his red face.
“Listen, Skunk. I know you want me to trade you, but I don’t have this much H right now. And if I gave you that much, you’d be dead by noon. At best, you’ll wind up taking some of these on top of the H. You’ll just waste ‘em in like three days, man. But I can use these for injuries and shit.”
“I’m not a fucking child!”
They stared at each other. “Just come to me every day and I’ll give you a pill’s worth. You’ll be set for at least…” Jim glanced at the bottle and rattled the pills inside before continuing. “Two weeks Maybe more! Think of it. Two weeks with no hustling! No monster on your back! How many junkies has this stuff killed? Huh? Think about it.”
Skunk was expecting to party hard tonight. Giving that up felt like losing a longtime girlfriend. He sobbed. “So, can I just have two pills worth now? I want one good day. One party and then I’ll do one dose at a time, I promise.”
“I’m not bargaining dude. You already had one of these when you woke up, didn’t you? And now you want some heroin too. Starting now, one balloon a day. Or I give back the bottle and you go do what thou wilt.”
Skunk hesitated. He was obviously about to back out. Nothing could make him give up his big high after a score. He’d earned it. But he wasn’t quite sure Jim would hand them over as promised. He rubbed his chin and scratched his forehead.
“Jesus, you… Fine. I’ll give you a whole ball later today. That’s worth 3 pills, though! After that, one balloon a day and don’t start trying to change the deal. I’ll even throw in the balloon I have for you now for free!”
Skunk nodded.
“Ok. I’ll text you this afternoon. I got shit to do, thanks for running me late.” He tossed the balloon on the ground in front of Skunk, got in his truck and sped off.
As Bulldog drove away, Skunk saw him throw the bottle in his glove compartment. He felt like the truck was hauling away a piece of his heart as he picked up the pathetic balloon of black tar heroin from the pavement. Shaking his head, Skunk mounted his bike, bemoaning the fickle finger of fate on so fair and foul a day.
……………
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Lucy scrambled to throw on a pair of shorts and grabbed the bag of syringes, heading for the back of the house. As she burst out the door, she could see a light on in John’s shed. The sun was just starting to come up. Had he just fallen asleep with the TV on or…?
Lucy burst into the shed calling his name. The TV was indeed on. The talking heads on his favorite propaganda channel were already complaining about an imaginary invasion of foreigners. John lay in his chair and didn’t budge no matter how loudly she screamed. She fell across his chest in a bear hug and realized he was still warm. Tugging on his shirt, she started yelling again.
Finally, he gave a loud snort and slowly roused himself as Lucy crumbled to the floor, shaking. “Jesus, John! Thank the Goddess, you’re alive!” She leapt from the floor, ran to the workbench, grabbed John’s blood sugar meter and handed it to him. Lucy hurried to the house and returned instantly with a glass of orange juice. “I’ll make breakfast in a minute. How’s your levels?” She handed him the glass and he drank.
“I’m fine hon, really.”
“No, John! You were completely unresponsive!” She plopped onto the floor again.
“Be right back.” John wiped his face and walked outside to urinate. He lumbered back in and plopped into his chair with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Luce.”
“John, it’s not… don’t apologize…”
“No, hon. I keep telling you. I’m still early stages. I’m not gonna croak from low blood sugar.” He looked down at her and sighed. “I just took too much of that shit last night. That dude traded me for his stuff, and I didn’t really know how much to take, and I passed out.”
Lucy rolled her eyes and pursed her lips at him. “If you’re doing so great, why do you need pain meds? I don’t understand this. How do you go from being…” she shook her head and shut up. She knew how, because it was killing her too. First her mother, then Robin. It was too much for anyone to bear.
“That was my back, not the diabetes, you know that. I probably don’t even need them anymore. I’m just hooked now. I hate doctors!” He tossed the syringes across the room.
“John. Dad. Please don’t leave me. If you die on me, what do I have left? They will take me into protective services, and I’ll be put in some foster care that will… I can’t even imagine, John. All we have left is each other. Don’t I mean enough to you to…”
John jumped out of his chair, “Don’t! Ok, I fucked up. But don’t make a federal case out of it! I’m going to go shower at the house!”
“Don’t just walk away! I need to know you’re not… you keep that gun on your table every day, and you’re slowly killing yourself with these drugs! And trading with those weirdos! I don’t know what to do and I shouldn’t have to worry about you, but don’t you dare just walk away!”
John pouted as he dropped back into his chair, “Don’t start in with the gun shit. That’s my God-given right as an American!” But his hollow anger quickly imploded and vanished in defeat.
“I don’t know. I used to be all about truth, justice and the American way, you know? I just don’t know what to believe in anymore. They screwed me over so bad. I honestly don’t know if I want to go on anyway, Lucy. Maybe you’d be better off…”
Lucy burst into tears and clung to his legs. “Don’t leave me! John! We can face this together!” After a few sobs, she rose again, her face lighting-up in hopes she could rouse his spirits with their shared love for his daughter, “Oh! And I need another poster for Robin from the department!”
John seemed distracted and began looking all around the room. Pulling away from her, he got up from his chair and walked to his workbench. He busied himself pulling out drawers, slamming them back, checking in bins and open boxes.
“John, I’m going to find her. I promise. I just need your help. I know you hate going to the station, but…”
“Where are my pills?”
Lucy didn’t realize it wasn’t a rhetorical question and ignored it. “You think this solves anything? You can’t just take my shit, Lucy. I’ll really get sick. And pissed!”
Lucy pulled herself up off the floor and wiped her eyes. “Huh?”
“Yeah, ‘huh’. Just give them back, this doesn’t help me.”
“What are you talking about? I get that it helps you through your busy day, but again with the pills? You just woke up from a coma!”
“Look, I know you want to help, and you want me better, but if you take my meds again, I’m just gonna get sick and have to fight with the doctor and…”
“Dad, I didn’t…”
“Yeah, now it’s ‘Dad’! Just give them back, I’m not doing this today!” John turned over his chair and searched the beer-stained and matted carpet below. He let it fall back down and looked around the room frantically for his missing bottle.
“You think I… I ran in here thinking you were dead! Your fucking pills were the last thing on my mind!”
John scowled, unconvinced yet understanding the logic of her argument. But he knew how smart Lucy was and how she could manipulate him. He had to be sure, “Goddammit Lucy! Don’t play games with me! Stealing narcotics is a federal offense! You’re grounded until I get my morphine back!”
Lucy screamed at him, “I didn’t steal your fucking drugs!”
John screamed louder, “That means no visits from the little Mexican girl! No after school activities!” He suddenly remembered their last conversation, much to Lucy’s dismay, and twisted the knife, “No demonic concerts!”
“You can’t! You can’t do that! I was invited!”
“Fine. You can go when you bring back my pills!”
In tears, Lucy hollered out her innocence again as she ran out of his shed, casting a quick glance at her tree on her way into the house. She envied the tree. Nothing bad ever happened to it. It never had to worry about people treating it unfairly or hating her for no reason. Why did everything have to be so hard? Perhaps Bulldog was right. Everyone is an asshole. Life sucks and then you die.
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