If I had known then what I now knew, I would have opted for rehab, yoga, meditation, medical marijuana—anything except back surgery.
While in the midst of wallowing in self-pity and fighting off the beginning sensations of drug cravings, I heard the loud motor of Kaloni’s car. I threw on my sweatpants and Nikes, raced to the door and threw it open.
Kaloni opened the car door and let the dog out, but she remained inside the car, her body twisted around as she rummaged through trash bags in the backseat.
Having bonded with me the day before, Paris Hilton was excited to see me. She scampered up to me, greeting me with shrill barks as she nipped happily around my ankles. In no mood for the frisky little Chihuahua, I pushed her aside with my foot, and then stormed over to the driver’s side of the car.
“Give me my fucking money and my fucking dope!” I snarled.
“I got you,” she said nonchalantly with her back to me as she continued searching through the trash bags that were piled up in the back.
I bit down on my bottom lip and made growling sounds as I tried to control my fury. I had never put my hands on a woman in my life, but I was seconds away from snatching the raggedy car door off the hinges and grabbing Kaloni by the neck and choking the shit out of her. Although I was furious over her audacity to steal from me, my rage was heightened by the fact that I was feening for drugs.
Kaloni pulled something out of a trash bag and tossed it to me. Instinctively, I caught it and was pleasantly surprised to find myself holding a thick roll of bills secured by a rubber band.
“That’s twice the amount I borrowed from you,” she said and then tossed me a baggie.
I could feel myself getting a slight erection as I fondled the baggie that contained white powder. I had no idea how Kaloni had acquired the cash and drugs, and I didn’t care.
She popped the trunk and slowly got out of the car. “I bought Paris Hilton some gourmet dog food. She’s gonna be so happy,” Kaloni said with a sluggish smile. “Paris Hilton!” she called out and her dog ran to her, barking happily.
It was obvious by Kaloni’s slowed speech and lethargic movements that she’d already hit before driving to the motel. She had a habit of endlessly rifling through the contents of the bags in the backseat of her car and the piles of junk she kept inside the trunk when she was high. I had no idea if she was looking for the expensive pet food she’d bought or if she was searching for a change of clothes, and I couldn’t care even less. As she continued fiddling around inside the trunk, searching for God knows what, I stepped away from the car.
Anxious to snort the white powder, I returned to the room and closed the door.
It seemed as if Kaloni had been outside for a hell of a long time, but in my hazy state of intoxication, I was oblivious as to whether minutes or hours had elapsed. I snorted some more lines and when I finally heard Kaloni swiping her keycard, I was so high I could have sworn that I heard the low rumble of male voices.
Curious to learn if I’d imagined hearing the voices, I fixed my eyes on the door as it opened. My high was instantly blown when I spotted two dudes creeping in behind Kaloni. One was holding Paris Hilton and the other was holding a gun with the barrel pressed into Kaloni’s back. Kaloni’s eyes were wide with fear and Paris Hilton was whining and squirming in the dude’s tight grip.
“Whoa! What’s going on, fellas?” I held my hands up in the universal gesture of confusion.
“Shut the fuck up and hand over the cash,” said the dude who was holding the dog.
“And hurry the fuck up,” his cohort added, waving the gun in my direction.
How the hell had Kaloni managed to get us involved in a stickup! My drug-addled mind frantically tried to think of ways to reason with the young thugs. I tried to force my lips into a friendly smile, but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate. Instinct told me there was no point in trying to reason with them. Although they appeared to be no older than eighteen or nineteen, I could tell by their cold, dead eyes that life had already hardened them, and they were left without a shred of humanity in their hearts.
The gunman glowered at me. “You hard of hearing, muthafucka? Gimme the fuckin’ money!”
Reluctantly, I reached under the mattress and pulled out the roll of cash. It broke my heart to surrender the money, and I considered making a run for it. But, realizing that I couldn’t outrun a bullet, I handed it over.
Dude counted the money and with a look of satisfaction, he stuck the roll in his pocket. Figuring that we were square, I bent over the screen of my phone and snorted a line. I had to do something to calm my nerves.
All of a sudden, the gunman knocked the phone out of my hand, and white powder swirled in the air before scattering onto the floor.
“Gimme the rest of the drugs this bitch stole from us.”
“That’s it…that’s all I have left,” I lied.
He put the gun to my head and cocked it.
“Don’t hurt him, Saint,” Kaloni pleaded. “He doesn’t have anything to do with this.” She turned her gaze on me. “Give him what he wants, Malik.”
I pulled the baggie out of my pocket and grudgingly gave it to the thug named Saint.
Satisfied, he smiled. “It’s a good thing this bitch decided to stop at the pet store, allowing me and my man to catch up with her and follow her here. Otherwise it might have been weeks before our paths crossed again.”
I was disgusted with Kaloni for being so foolish. If you steal from drug dealers, you don’t make pit stops…you get far away from the scene of the crime.
“All right, man, give her back her mutt and let’s roll,” Saint said to his partner.
“Nah, I’m holding this little mutt hostage until she takes care of me. The bitch owes me some top.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” Kaloni said in a high-pitched voice.
“Time is money, bitch, and you wasted mine. Now, take care of me.” He put Paris Hilton down and she quickly scurried underneath a chair. When he began to unbuckle his belt, I felt compelled to intervene.
“Man, you got what you came for—”
Before I could get another word out of my mouth, Saint charged toward me and whacked me upside the head and both sides of my jaw with the butt of the gun. I saw a burst of bright light before the room grew dim.
“Mind your business, muthafucka,” he hissed at me as I lay moaning after being brutally pistol-whipped. Blood trickled down my face and my head throbbed.
“Let’s go, Paris Hilton. Come on, girl,” Kaloni said, clapping her hands in desperation.
I heard the sounds of a scuffle, but was too lightheaded to sit up and see exactly what was going on. I surmised that Kaloni had tried to escape with her dog, but the two drug dealers had blocked her path. I could hear them taunting her.
Next I heard Paris Hilton let out a painful cry.
“No! Oh, my God. Why’d you stab her?” Kaloni shrieked.
“If you don’t stop running your mouth and start putting those lips to good use, I’ma stab your ass, too.”
I could hear Kaloni sniffling and crying, but there was nothing that I could do to help her. Pitch darkness eased over me and I welcomed the loss of consciousness.
• • •
I was brought out of my stupor by the shrill sound of the desk phone ringing. Sitting up was painful, but I managed to position myself upright. Rubbing my throbbing head, I answered the phone.
“Check-out time,” said a cheerful voice on the other end of the phone.
“Right. We’ll be out in a minute,” I mumbled. I hung up the phone and looked over at Kaloni.
She was sitting on the floor crying, with her face buried in her hands. Sprawled out next to her was the lifeless, bloody body of her dog. I knew how much she loved Paris Hilton, and I felt bad for her.
Despite my sympathy, I was ready to get away from Kaloni. I could wind up dead if I hung around with her much longer. But I wanted to at least help her bury the dog before I cut ties.
“We n
eed to bury her,” I remarked. “We can take her to the woods after we clear out of the room.”
“Why do we have to leave?” Kaloni asked, sniffling and wiping her eyes.
“I only paid for one night.”
“Can’t we stay one more day?” she asked.
Annoyed by the dumb question, I frowned at her. “I don’t have any more money…do you?”
“No,” she whispered in a meek voice.
Disgusted by the predicament she’d put me in, I dropped my head in my hand and let out a long sigh. Then, I looked up at Kaloni. “They say that a junkie has to hit rock bottom before getting help. I don’t know about you, but I’m at rock bottom and I’m ready to get some kind of help. I believe I still have health insurance from my old job, and it’s time to put it to use.”
“My parents offered to pay for my treatment,” she commented.
“You should take advantage of their offer,” I said as I stood up.
My eyes landed on Paris Hilton and I flinched. The little pooch had begun to grow on me, and I hated seeing her small body covered with multiple stab wounds. What kind of savage would viciously murder a little animal? If this wasn’t an indication that my life was in the toilet, then I couldn’t imagine what kind of tragedy it would take for me to realize that I couldn’t go on living this way.
“Come on, Kaloni,” I said, reaching for her hand. “Let’s bury her.”
Cradling the dead dog like it was a fragile infant, Kaloni cried openly as we trudged toward the wooded area behind the motel. Without access to a shovel, all we could do was cover Paris Hilton with branches and twigs. After we covered her sufficiently, I turned to leave, but Kaloni wouldn’t budge.
“Come on, let’s go,” I said impatiently.
“I can’t leave her like this. Suppose wild animals find her and tear her to shreds.”
“What wild animals? We’re in Philly, not the jungles of Africa,” I scoffed.
“I know…but, squirrels and raccoons could find her and eat her. We have to get a shovel and bury her, Malik. We can’t leave her out here like this.” She paused in thought. “Maybe the desk clerk has a shovel.”
“I doubt if the desk clerk will give us anything if we don’t pay the bill. And how are we gonna do that?” Anger began to build and I gazed at Kaloni accusingly. “If you hadn’t been so sneaky, waking up and fucking with my money and my stash, none of this would have happened.”
“I know, I know,” she said, shaking her head regretfully. “I fucked up and I’m sorry.” She covered her face with her hands, sniffling and crying. The sounds that emerged from her were so pitiful, I couldn’t continue my verbal tirade.
I put my arm around her frail shoulders. “Don’t cry. We’ll figure this out. But, I can’t look for a shovel or anything else until I get another hit. My head and my jaw…everything hurts,” I complained, rubbing the sore and swollen areas where I’d been pistol-whipped.
“I kept something for us,” she said, bending over and patting her right boot. She stuck her fingers into the top of her boot and pulled out a baggie that she’d hidden from the two drug dealers.
My eyes lit up and I nearly salivated at the sight of the baggie that bulged with white powder. I reached out a desperate hand. Since we no longer had a room for privacy, I was prepared to sit down on the ground and do lines right there in the woods.
“This is all we have until we can get some money, and I can’t let you waste these good drugs by snorting them,” Kaloni said.
Getting high by snorting required a larger quantity than shooting, but I wasn’t willing to become a mainliner.
“No, I can’t do that,” I said firmly.
“It won’t hurt you to shoot up just this once,” she cajoled.
“No!” I insisted and then yanked the baggie from her hand.
While I snorted lines from the cracked screen of my phone, she began walking toward the car where her works were stored in the console. I didn’t rush to catch up with her. I took my time, enjoying the euphoria that came with the rush. When I finished, I made my way out of the woods and headed to the motel’s parking lot.
After she shot up, we both sat in the car, nodding for an indeterminable amount of time. As soon as we came down, she immediately started bugging me about getting a shovel from Home Depot.
“We don’t have any money to buy a shovel,” I reminded her with annoyance in my voice.
“But, you promised we’d give Paris Hilton a proper burial.”
I groaned inwardly. At that point, I should have told her to drop me off at my parents’ house. From the shelter of my childhood home, I could have made arrangements for rehab. But feeling a sense of responsibility toward Kaloni, I allowed her to talk me into going to Home Depot to steal a shovel.
Had I been in my right mind, I would have realized that with a big knot on my head and a swollen face, I stuck out like a sore thumb. But I wasn’t in my right frame of mind. My entire body hurt, especially my head, and rational thought wasn’t easy.
Two bumbling fools, Kaloni and I brazenly walked into the store.
While I browsed the aisle that contained shovels, she wandered to another part of the store. I located the shovels, looked them over, and selected a small one that seemed like it would be easy to sneak outside.
I waited a while for Kaloni to join me, but she was taking forever. Impatient to get the shovel out of the store, I slipped past the person who was checking receipts at the exit. I made it to the car without anyone from security running up on me, and I was relieved that Kaloni had forgotten to lock the car doors. I reached inside, popped the trunk, and then squeezed the shovel inside the area that was crammed with everything from household items to clothes, and a bag of dog food.
My heart clenched at the sight of the dog food. If only Kaloni had stuck to the regular dog food she had on hand and hadn’t decided to splurge on the gourmet brand, Paris Hilton would’ve still been alive. I swallowed down a lump of sorrow and then closed the trunk. I slid into the passenger’s side of the car and waited.
I had no idea why Kaloni was taking so long, and I was growing more and more agitated.
Alone with my thoughts, I was filled with regret about Elle. Cancelling a wedding had to be a painful and a huge embarrassment for her. She believed in me and I’d let her down. I hoped that my failings wouldn’t cause her to lose her belief in love.
With the seat reclined, I was briefly at peace as I imagined Elle one day recovering from the hurt I’d caused and living her best life.
But the peace I felt was short-lived.
Seemingly out of nowhere, the car was surrounded by the flashing lights of police cruisers. Guns were pointed at me and I heard a booming voice demand that I get out of the car with my hands up.
I immediately obeyed, wondering why the cops were acting so dramatic over a stolen shovel.
I found out later that Kaloni had stupidly tried to rob a cashier, threatening the woman with a box cutter she had picked up in an aisle near the shovels. She was charged with attempted armed robbery.
They had me on camera entering the store with Kaloni, and I was charged with accessory to the crime.
Kaloni and I had separate trials and I never saw her again. I was convicted and sentenced to four years in prison. I heard that she was given ten years for armed robbery. It seemed like a stiff sentence for an underweight young woman who didn’t have the strength to hurt a fly.
CHAPTER 4
After seven months of incarceration, I was pleasantly surprised when Elle came to visit, and I was even more surprised to see that her stomach was swelled with child.
Pregnancy agreed with Elle. She had that glow that I’d heard about but had never actually witnessed with my own eyes. When I sat across from her at the table in the visitors’ room, she reached out and grasped both my hands.
“It’s good to see you, Malik,” she said with a faint smile.
“Good to see you, too.” I examined her face closely…questioningly. I nodd
ed toward her stomach and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Is it mine?”
“Of course, it’s yours,” she said with indignation.
“How far along are you?”
“Seven months.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“What good would that have done? I’m here now because I wanted you to know before he’s born.”
“We’re having a boy?” I asked joyfully.
She nodded and I was filled with a sense of hope that I hadn’t allowed myself to feel for a long time. Suddenly I had a reason to look forward to the future, and I quickly convinced myself that Elle had a change of heart. She’d come to tell me that she was willing to do this bid with me and still wanted to get married.
Happiness washed over me as I imagined going home to my wife and child one day. My son would be approximately four years old when I got out, but I was hopeful that Elle would bring him to see me on a regular basis, allowing us to establish a close father and son relationship.
My gaze wandered downward and I noticed Elle’s bare finger. Reminded that I’d pawned her engagement ring, I felt a sharp stab of guilt. Even if I were a free man, it was too late to get the ring out of hock, so I vowed to myself that one day, I’d replace it with an even bigger diamond.
“Elle, baby…you’re giving me a new lease on life; I’m not going to mess up again. I swear! I went through horrible withdrawals in here, and I’m clean now. And I’m going to stay that way. I know I’ve said that before, but since I’ve been behind bars, I’ve been attending Narcotics Anonymous meetings, and I’ve learned that maintaining sobriety requires sticking to the program for the rest of my life. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to have you and our child back in my life. I’ll fight with everything I’ve got,” I said with earnestness.
Waiting for her response, I stared at her fixedly.
She looked away uncomfortably, and when she finally returned my gaze, her features were arranged in an unreadable mask.
I gave her a searching look.
“I didn’t come here to make future plans, Malik. I came to tell you about the baby and to ask you to give up your parental rights.”
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