Memoirs Aren't Fairytales: A Story of Addiction

by Mann, Marni

  “There's a hotel on—”

  “Wherever you want,” he said. “I'll move anywhere with you.”

  Since Richard didn't have any towels, Dustin dried me off with handfuls of toilet paper and helped me get dressed. He put my clothes on much slower than he'd taken them off. And when his clothes were back on too, we took the train to Massachusetts Avenue.

  Frankie was sitting at the desk, and he eyed up Dustin when I asked if he had any rooms. He said he had one on the first floor. Dustin paid for a week, and Frankie held out his hand with the key. I went to grab it, and Frankie's fingers closed around mine.

  “You're looking good,” he said.

  I'd gained a few pounds in rehab since they fed me three meals a day.

  Dustin leaned over the countertop and stopped only inches from Frankie's face. “Give her the key. Now.”

  Frankie turned towards me and let go. “If you ever need Sunshine's discount, you just let me know,” he said.

  I thanked him and we went to our room.

  “Who's Sunshine and what's her discount?” Dustin asked. He was sitting on the bed, flipping through the TV stations.

  He didn't know I was a hooker. He'd never asked how I'd made my dope money, but I figured he just assumed.

  “Sunshine's my old roommate, she lives on the fourth floor.”

  “She screw him for free rent?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Have you?”

  “No,” I lied.

  “She's a hooker, right?”

  I nodded and asked how he knew. He told me all hookers named themselves Sunshine.

  I always thought Sunshine was her real name. Even in the hospital, the nurses had called her Sunshine.

  “So you were a hooker too?”

  He was still looking at the TV and had settled on a movie. The scene was familiar, but I couldn't think what movie it was.

  “I was,” I said.

  His gaze shifted to me. “That's some nasty shit,” he said. “I don't want you ever doing it again, you hear me? I'll take care of you.”

  He'd probably think carrying some John's baby for eleven weeks and causing my own abortion were nasty too. I guess I could never tell him, which also meant he couldn't find out about the deal I'd made with Richard.

  I sat next to him on the bed and rested my head on his shoulder.

  “You ever fuck Richard?” he asked.

  I pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “No.”

  “Are you lying to me?”

  “No, I swear, he's never touched me.”

  “Good, because I'm not sharing any more women with him.”

  I thought of Sierra and Erin, and the way they'd looked at Dustin.

  “I don't want you going over to Richard's either. I'll get you plenty of dope, just stay away from his house.”

  But I needed to go to Richard's one more time. Before Dustin and I had left his house, Richard cornered me in the hallway and told me he hadn't forgotten about our deal. I had to work something out with him, and make him promise to keep quiet.

  Dustin left me the next morning to do a run, so I went upstairs to Sunshine's room. She answered the door wearing a long t-shirt.

  “Can't say I'm surprised to see you,” she said.

  I took a seat on the couch and she sat down next to me.

  “Did you just get out?” she asked.

  I told her about Dustin and how we'd stayed at Richard's the night we left rehab and checked into the hotel yesterday. Her back went straight when I said Richard's name like I'd pinched a nerve. I'd said his name so many times in the past, but maybe I'd just never noticed her reaction before.

  There was a reason I'd come to her room before Claire's. Even if she didn't want to talk about it, I still had to ask. “What happened between you two?”

  She went over to the bed and fumbled with her purse until she found her dope. “I told you, he beat—”

  “No, why did he do it?”

  “Shit, I don't work for free,” she said. “If he wanted a piece of me, he had to pay up, but he didn't like that answer.”

  That was what had caused him to snap? She had said no to sex, and he beat and raped her? Damn, Sunshine didn't deserve that. Heather wasn't kidding when she said Richard had a bad temper.

  “You watched me go to his house every day,” I said. “And never once did you warn me about what he did to you. How dare—”

  “I'm a junkie, what do you want from me?”

  “Richard could have beat the shit out of me too, and it would have been your fault,” I said.

  “I'm sorry, but you would have done the same thing.”

  She was probably right.

  Before she stuck in the needle, I told her to stop going to Roxbury. I said if she gave her money to Dustin every morning, he'd get her dope from Richard.

  And when she shot up, I left.

  I knocked on Claire's door, and she opened it with a blank expression. Then her eyes squinted like she was trying to figure out who I was.

  I waited a few seconds and said, “Claire, it's me.”

  “Why aren't you in rehab?”

  She stood in the middle of the doorway and didn't invite me in.

  “I met someone and we left together. I want you to meet him, his name is Dustin, and—”

  “You left after a week? For a boy?” she asked. “Are you sober?”

  She knew the answer, so I didn't know why she asked.

  “I was, I—”

  “Then I don't have anything to say to you.”

  She started to close the door, and I stuck my hand in the doorway. “Claire, I've missed you, that's why I came back to the hotel. I'm living downstairs with Dustin and…”

  She looked at the floor.

  “Claire?”

  “You promised me,” she said. “Promised and promised that you were going to get sober.”

  I had promised my parents and Michael too. And the baby.

  “I love you, Nicole, like a daughter,” she said. “But I can only take so much.”

  “Claire, wait.”

  “You've broken my heart for the last time.” The door shut in my face.

  Maybe I shouldn't have left rehab.

  I went to my room and shot five bags. And four hours later, I shot six more.

  I remembered Heather telling me that the squatters did most of their runs at night. So when Dustin left the next afternoon to go to Providence, I went to Richard's after dark. When I opened the front door, Shank was on the couch, sitting between Sierra and Erin.

  “What's up, Nicole,” Shank said.

  I'd been spotted. It was too late to back out.

  The twins were dressed in bras and panties. They were touching themselves, squeezing their nipples, rubbing their crotches, and moaning. Shank's Mohawk swished from right to left like he was watching a tennis match.

  “Have any of you seen Heather?” I asked.

  One of the twins stopped pinching her nipple long enough to point to the back of the house, and I slipped into Richard's bedroom. Heather wasn't in there, which was good. I didn't want her to know about our deal either.

  Richard was lying on the air mattress and through the white sheet, I could see he was naked. I stared at his lighter-shaped penis and the black bush around it. That was the dick that had raped Sunshine.

  His hands moved to his dick and scratched. Those fingers, scarred and filthy, had beaten her.

  “Coming to pay back your debt?” he asked. He sat up as if he was getting ready for something.

  “Richard, we can't. I'm with Dustin now, and you're with Heather. You know it's not a good idea.”

  His body didn't move, but his lips were almost pouting.

  I told him I'd pay back the three hundred, plus another hundred for interest. I said I needed a couple weeks and then we'd be even, our old deal forgotten and to never be mentioned again, especially to Heather or Dustin.

  He didn't say anything.

  “Are we good?�
� I asked.

  He nodded his head just as coke-head Cale came bolting into Richard's room. “We have a problem,” he said.

  Richard shot out of bed and reached for his clothes.

  “It's not the cops,” Cale said. “It's Heather, you need to see this.”

  The three of us rushed down the hall to the far bedroom. We pushed through the doorway past Shank, Sierra, and Erin. Heather was sitting on a mattress with a knife in her hand, cutting all the skin off her arm. She was singing, “Bugs, bugs go away, come again another day.”

  Blood was pouring out of her arm, chunks of skin lying on the bed. She was having a meth psychosis, and if we didn't get her to the hospital, she'd bleed to death.

  “Someone call 9-1-1,” I said.

  Everyone just stared, and Heather continued to cut and sing.

  “Richard, do something,” I said.

  Richard shook his head. “We've got to get her to the street, the cops can't come here,” he said.

  He started barking orders. Sierra took away the knife, and Erin wrapped Heather's arm in a trash bag. Tiffany called 9-1-1 and reported Heather's location. Once everyone had an assignment, they all began to move. And when Shank and Cale carried Heather out the front door to leave her on the corner, I followed behind them and went to the train station.

  When I got home, I buried myself in bed. Even after I shot up, I could see Heather holding that knife, gushing blood, and chopping her skin. She'd lost a lot of blood, and I didn't know if she even made it to the hospital. I called Mass General and asked if she was there. Without her last name, they said they wouldn't give me any information. I called Boston Medical and Brigham and Women's, but they wouldn't tell me anything either. I didn't have Richard's cell phone number, and I couldn't call Dustin and ask him for it.

  At least since heroin didn't produce psychoses, it wasn't as scary as meth. But Eric's lips had turned blue, and he'd foamed at the mouth before he died. Sunshine was blue and foaming when Claire had found her, and I'd overdosed too. Maybe dope was just as scary.

  I wasn't asleep for more than twenty minutes when I heard Dustin come home. The door slammed, the springs in the mattress squeaked, and then he was on top of me. With my eyes closed, I waited to feel his lips on my neck and his hands on my tits.

  My eyes shot open when I felt his hands clamp my neck, his thumb pressing on my windpipe. His lips were pulled back over his teeth, and he was snarling like a pit bull.

  I couldn't breathe.

  “What the fuck did I tell you,” he shouted. “You fucking whore, why didn't you listen to me?”

  I should have expected this. But with all the drama that happened at Richard's, I didn't think the squatters would even remember I was there. The twins. Those bitches wanted Dustin and ratted me out.

  I reached for his hands and tried to pull them off my neck. “I'm sorry…”

  His fist whipped across my face. My eye socket pounded with pain, and I let out a cry.

  I tasted blood seeping down my nose and onto my lips.

  His arm went back, preparing to swing again.

  “I just wanted to say goodbye to Heather,” I said. “She's my friend and I knew I wouldn't see her again.”

  “I would have taken you there. Why didn't you just ask me?”

  “I…”

  The snarl changed to a look of remorse. “Why did you make me hurt you?”

  “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

  “I want to be with you forever,” he said. “But if Richard ever touched you, we'd be done, don't you get that?”

  He threw the comforter off me. “I need to know you're mine.”

  He yanked off his clothes and got between my legs. While he moved on top of me, he held my face. He wiped the blood from my nose and kissed the skin around my eye.

  “All I've got is love for you,” he said quietly.

  He moved in and out, and up and down.

  “So much love,” he said, his voice deep.

  His breathing turned heavy, and then his body went limp on top of mine.

  In that moment, two things were decided. Once I gave Richard the money, I'd never lie to Dustin again. He loved me and wanted to protect me. I couldn't be mad at him for that. And I was going to be with him forever too.

  Dustin was gone all the time doing runs. Sunshine was never home anymore since she'd met some guy and was at his place when she wasn't tricking. Claire wanted nothing to do with me, so I spent my days in our room with nothing but TV and heroin. And at night, I sat in the hallway outside Claire's room with my back against her door, talking out loud and hoping she was listening. I told her about Dustin, how much he loved me and took care of me. I talked about Heather and how she was admitted to the psych ward after the doctors repaired her arm. I told her I missed her. She never came out of her room, but I could hear her sniffling on the other side of the door. Just knowing she was there was enough. Sometimes I'd fall asleep there, and Dustin would carry me down to our room. He'd tell me I didn't need Claire, I had him, and I should leave her alone. But I couldn't. I'd never leave Claire.

  After two weeks of not leaving the hotel, I went for a walk. The hotel was sucking all the air out of me. I headed down Massachusetts Avenue, to where Sunshine and I had tricked and the place where I'd been shot.

  I owed Richard four hundred dollars and didn't know how I was going to get the cash. Dustin gave me money for food, but if I didn't eat, I'd end up in the hospital again. I couldn't trick with Sunshine because I'd promised Dustin I'd never do it again. Boosting was my only option. So while I walked, I searched through every trash bin on the next four blocks and returned the items on the receipts.

  I boosted for a couple hours each night and hid the money in the back of our toilet. If Dustin ever found the cash, I'd tell him I was saving for an apartment, a place of our own we could fill with furniture and framed pictures of the two of us. But an apartment that wasn't too far away. I still needed to be close to Claire even if she wouldn't let me in her room or talk to me through her door. And once I paid off Richard, that's what I'd save for. Dustin couldn't be angry with me for that. He'd never told me not to leave the hotel, he just didn't want me at Richard's.

  But he did get angry—not because he'd found the cash—because he didn't think I should be sleeping outside Claire's door. He'd been finding me there asleep for weeks, and he snapped one night after carrying me home.

  He set me on the bed and stood in front of me with his hands on his hips. “How can she be so important when she won't even let you in her room?”

  I wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked.

  He kicked the trash bucket and punched a hole in the wall by the fridge.

  Had something gone wrong during his run? He couldn't be this mad because I was sleeping outside Claire's door.

  “She's my best friend,” I said.

  “What if Frankie found you there passed out?” he asked. “I'm sure that scumbag would love to put his hands all over you.”

  Frankie had keys to every room in the hotel. He could stop by anytime when Dustin wasn't home and put his hands on me. But if I said that to Dustin, we'd be moving out tonight.

  “Is Claire more important than me?” he asked.

  He didn't need to keep bringing Claire into this. I knew what would happen if another guy touched me.

  “I won't fall asleep there anymore,” I said.

  He stopped kicking. There wasn't much left of the trashcan anyway, the plastic bucket was in pieces. He didn't believe me. Dope made me tired, so it was hard not to fall asleep when I was up there talking to her.

  “I promise,” I said. “When I get tired I'll come back to our room.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed by my feet. “I wish you'd just leave her alone.”

  “I'll never leave her and don't ask me to. Claire's old and she needs me—”

  “She won't even let you in.”

  “I'm going to keep going to her room until she does,” I said.

  I crawl
ed under the covers, burying everything but my eyes. He got under too and our backs faced.

  Just as I was about to fall asleep, he cuddled behind me. “I'm sorry,” he said.

  I wasn't going to apologize. He could set any other rule he wanted, but not one that had to do with Claire.

  “I just want you to be careful. There's a lot of shady people in this hotel, and if something ever happened to you…”

  I'd won. But he'd made his point very clear. If I ever fell asleep there again, we'd be moving out of the hotel, and Claire would be added to the list along with no tricking and no going to Richard's house.

  “You know, someday we're going to get out of here and you're going to have to leave Claire,” he said.

  I rolled over to look at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Don't you want to quit all this shit and start a family?”

  The only way we could stop using was if we left Boston. Dustin knew that too, that's why he said we had to get out of here. And that was exactly what I wanted—moving far away from our dope connections, living in a little house on the beach with kids running around. But what about Claire? Maybe Dustin would let me bring her too.

  “Of course I do, I want that more than anything,” I said.

  “I just need some time,” he said. “We need a car and a place to live, and we won't be able to work while we detox, so I need to save for all that.”

  I wasn't going to put all this on him. By tomorrow night, I'd have enough to pay off Richard, and then I'd boost to save money for our move.

  I took my clothes off and kissed his soft lips, and he pulled me on top of him.

  When we'd had sex in the past, I'd always been so high I couldn't come. And before I'd met Dustin, Casey was the only other person who had gotten me off. None of the guys had known how to make me come, or didn't care enough to, or the heroin wouldn't let me. But tonight I'd slept off my high outside Claire's door.

  As I rode him, he rubbed my clit, and I felt a surge of tingles inside my crotch. The build-up was much more intense than when I fingered myself, and I shuddered and collapsed on top of him.

  He told me how wet I was and how much that turned him on, and he flipped me onto my back and got on top of me. He bit my lower lip while he moved in and out, and then shuddered like I had. After he came, he held me in his arms and said he'd never felt like this with any of the other girl he'd been with. I felt the same, and it wasn't because Dustin was the first guy to make me come. It was because he was perfect for me.