Unraveled

What's Your Story?

I sat at the rickety table, the two bags in front of me. I rested my chin on my folded hands on the table, staring at them. Betsy, the woman who had given me my job, rented out a few rooms above the diner for cheap. They were drafty and furnished with items she'd salvaged from dumpsters. It was better than a cardboard box in an alley, though.

The trouble was, I didn't know which one of the drugs I wanted or needed to take. Both had their good and their bad. Coke only lasted for a short period of time. Heroin lasted longer. Coke was an upper and heroin was a downer. Did I want to be happy or did I want to float? Heroin was cheaper than crack. A lot cheaper.

I sat up, tucking the coke back into my backpack and pulling the heroin towards me. I hadn't gotten the kit out. The high that I wanted wasn't one I needed immediately. I wasn't that desperate yet.

I opened the bag and used my driver's license to organize the powder into a neat line. I took one of the dollar bills I'd gotten as a tip earlier that night and rolled it into a straw shape. I took a deep breath before I put it to my nose and ran it up the line, inhaling as much of it as I could.

The dollar bill went back into my wallet and what was left of the heroin went back into the bag. I put it safely with the crack and walked over to the couch. I pulled the ratty blanket off the back and laid down, watching the rain against the streetlight outside the window.

Against my better judgment, I turned my phone back on and scrolled through the messages. My dad had given me so much leeway that I should have seen something like that coming. Really, I was more pissed at myself than I was at him. I should have had my shit together better. If I'd at least kept up with my grades, everything probably would have stayed the same.

Colson had been the person I had treated like shit. He'd done nothing but try to help me. He'd put up with so much of my shit, and I hadn't had the decency to at least be loyal to him.

Now, I opened his string of texts asking for me to just let him know that I was okay. A heaviness was starting to settle over me as I rolled onto my back.

I found a place to stay that's not a park bench.

I started to power down the phone when his response came through.

Thank God. Your dad didn't call the cops. My parents talked him out of it.

What's the occasion?

They're trying to work an angle that makes the church look good.

I rolled my eyes, running a hand through my hair. Of course that was what they were concerned about. Not their son who they had no idea where he was. I could have been dead in a ditch for all they knew.

My parents are pissed that I didn't tell them about you.

Being gay, I mean.

Are they sending you away?

No. They took it better than I expected. Your dad's fucking pissed.

No surprise.

Your mom's trying to talk him down.

She actually seems cool, Shawn.

Maybe you should live with her after all.

I was fighting to keep my eyes open. My mom had made her decision. She could have taken me with her when she left the first time. Coming back for me hit different. How difficult would it have really been for her to have taken me with her when she had left?