Even though we were miles apart…we managed to gravitate back to each other. The pull of the universe knew how deep our love was.
We made a way out of no way to be together, only to have sex and get high. More often than not I would just spend the whole weekend with him. His mama still loved me. So I was more than welcomed there.
We would rent DVD’s and snuggle up in his bed. Where ever he was, I was right behind him. Using drugs slowed down a bit at least for me it did. There were too many family members in my business. Plus I had my baby sister looking up to me. I had to do better.
He picked me up from my Grandma’s for the weekend. He fired up that longest blunt I had ever seen in my life. We could smoke on that all the way thru the Altamont Pass and be good and blasted. It’s crazy looking back at what we turned into and how fast it happened. We never talked about what was going on with us. How life was slipping right out of our hands. We rather watch Sponge Bob then talk about real life.
Things picked up for him as well, living back at home. He gained his weight back, skin cleared up. Those crease lines disappeared. Erectile dysfunction seemed to get better. Even if none of that had changed I was not going to leave him. He even got a very good job.
Getting picked up regularly to spend weekends in Stockton with no gas money didn’t last too long. My lover started making not so subtle hints about how I didn’t have any money. It’s funny how the tables had turned and now I was the broke one. He was too selfish to even buy me any of my necessities.
So I stopped asking him for shit. I didn’t need the extra grief. A little time had passed since we had stopped living together. During that little bit of time, I grew a small set of balls. I was tired of being treated like shit. So I adjusted my balls and said “Nigga please, you didn’t have any money plenty of times and I had you x’s 10.” He took one look at me and slapped the shit out of me.
The abuse rarely fazed me at that point. It was my new normal. I anticipated it after every disagreement or dry run to the ATM Machine. Those domestic violence classes he took, obviously did not change him. The rest of the way to Stockton was awkward. The music was too loud, it was uncomfortable.
Had I not been fearful of going to hell, I would have jumped out of car. Death by suicide. Thankfully, I decided not to jump out of the car because he just sparked up a blunt. Just pass me the drugs and shut the fuck up. Those are thoughts that never left my mouth, so they never reached his ears. Since he had an attitude and was feeling like the man. He took his sweet time passing the blunt to me.
Instead of puffing and passing. He puffed the blunt until it was half gone. If I was brave enough to say something, about how long he was taking. I would risk not smoking at all. Finally, he passed it. I hated when he watched me while I smoked. Fuck! Can I get high? You just slapped me damn, I need to decompress. God forbid I hit the blunt too hard; he would snatch the blunt out of my hands.
By the time we got to his house. I figured all was well. His body language was a little different and he hugged and kissed me. Okay, that’s much better. Twenty’s started pouring out of his pocket as he took his pants off. That solidified that our weekend would go very well. Money kept us happy, horny and high. Lack of money made us volatile, vindictive and vicious.
I hated leaving him on Sunday’s that was the worst. Staring out the window, I would imagine that we were going on a surprise date instead of back to my grandma’s house. That never happened though.
I was still unemployed, and my Grandma definitely had something to say about how much I was running the streets. Instead of looking for a job, when she laid into me I just said okay.
I took my ass to sleep, woke up early and started looking for a job. Instantly I was hired to do sales. That job and the people gave me the creeps they had too much energy at 7:30 in the morning. It was far away and they wanted me to wear tights and heels. No thank you. After my first check I was out of there.
Instead of trying to explain to my grandma what my problem was. I went to live with my cousin in Stockton, just a few exits away from my lover. When she said I could stay there, I was taken aback. Our relationship growing up was more hate…than love. She had two bedrooms and was barely ever home. As sick as I was at that time, I should have stayed where I was at. I was severely addicted to drugs.
No one, who ever met my lover liked him. Thankfully there weren’t many rules living with my younger cousin. Just the basic house rules, the number one rule was; no company especially him. Smoke and leave was the plan. Come over really quick, let’s blow. Those were the instructions I had given my lover over the payphone.
He came over all dressed for the day and here I was sitting in the house. With no phone and not dressed for anything but bed. Oh well, light it up. Once I get high nothing will matter. “Where did you get this?”…. “That’s that ooooooh wee” I held the smoke in, ‘till my eyes rolled into the back of my head.
Next thing I know I was naked and he was naked. He put a chair under the bedroom door knob as a lock. I rode him, he held me. In the midst of a position switch, I heard something or someone. I jumped up. My cousin was rattling the door knob trying to come in.
My lover was getting dressed. When the door opened he was dressed. I was naked and the whole room smelled like coke. Rightfully so, my cousin went off and told me to get out. So I ran after him putting a piece of clothing with each step. Trailing right behind him to his truck. He closed his door and said “I ain’t in this blood, you need to handle that.” He sped off and I sat on the curb. Defenseless… In a situation that I created.
CHAPTER 20
NOW WHAT?
I sat for some time on that curb. Crying and trying to enjoy my high before it was all the way gone. Too late… All that commotion knocked the drugs out of my system. I walked to the corner picked up the phone and dialed my lovers home number. Knowing, that his mama would answer, she made him come back to get me and all my stuff.
That wasn’t my ideal way to be with him for the weekend. But I rather that, than be homeless. It was obvious that he was dressed to be in the company of some bitch. He was pissed that he had to come back and get me. But he did and that was my only concern. He dropped me off at his mama’s house and took off. He came back 15 minutes later, gave me hella crack, a pack of blunts, and a bag of weed. His mama was going to gamble out of town and he would be back.
I went down stairs said thank you and good luck to his mama. What a day. I’m basically homeless, broke and on drugs. I loved the sound that a laced blunt made when you first lit it. I ran a hot bath with plenty bubbles. Turned the TV towards the bath tub, got my lighter, two blunts and a towel.
I stripped down and sank into a temporary happy space. I allowed myself to sink down into the water just far enough to where a tiny bit of water seeped into my ears. With my feet on the faucet I blew clouds of smoke and contemplated my life. I could kill myself and be less of a burden to everyone around me. I really didn’t know what to do. Or how to do it. But I knew for certain that I would not be staying here with him and his mama.
I just was caught smoking dope at my cousin’s house after she welcomed me into her home. That was wrong. I have yet to live that one all the way down. Over the course of this journey I have learned to be accountable for every part of me. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I left guilt and shame behind me years ago.
Wrinkled from head to toe, it was time to get out. I felt good in that moment alone with my own thoughts. Contemplating the next move for me. Drugs are not t compatible with, making calculated decisions. I just wanted to be with him.
The drugs were talking to me and I was listening only because I was dumb. I snapped out of my fog when I heard his truck. Partially naked and under the influence is how he found me. I must have been lying on the bed for hours after I got out the tub. The bed was damp, but I was dry and ashy.
Internally he was fighting the urge to yell at me about making the bed wet and fucking up his weekend. Thankfully he spared me the bullshit arg
ument. Instead he started tracing his fingers on different parts of my body. Every touch felt like a cold, wet paint brush that was searching for the perfect canvas to start a masterpiece.
I closed my eyes, and closed off all the negative energy of the day’s events. My lover began kissing my skin, which led to tasting my skin. Life sucked. I was homeless but his touch was the cure all. Making love was our only healthy connection.
I was dehydrated, hungry and ready to go to bed. We ate salami and crackers, and watched a movie until we fell asleep. In the morning I would deal with my problems. The morning came fast. I needed him to take me back to San Jose. Maybe I could go back to my Grandmas house. We dressed and headed to San Jose. Obviously he had things to do, people to see and places to go that did not require my presence.
I put on yesterday’s stale outfit with a new lease on life. “Where we going?”, “Just drop me off at my Grandma’s house, please” “Alright”. No other words were said. No blunt had been mentioned or seen.
I folded my arms across my chest, and nestled into the r the passenger seat attempting to vibe with the music. We pulled up to my Grandma’s house. I saw my uncle and my childhood friend in the driveway. Fuck. I do not want to see anyone right now. I leaned over and kissed him when he stopped the car. He said “Call me and let me know what is going on” I smiled and hopped out.
Wasting no time I marched in the house, and sat at the dining room table with my Grandma. Rumors and half-truths had already surfaced about the incident at my cousin’s house. Just as I knew it would. Grandma was easy on me. Although no one directly asked me if I was using drugs it was heavily implied.
I needed to be serious about getting it together. So I got a job at a psychiatric facility. I went to that job every day and put forth my best effort. I had done too much, and getting my priorities straight was no longer an option it was a necessity. My family was beyond disappointed in me. I just wanted to get things back to normal. Even if, that meant not talking to him for a period of time
My snake figure began looking more like its original form…..curvy. He was doing well from what I could gather from our brief phone calls. We made love when and wherever permitted. Not seeing each other as often was good for us. I was lost and so was he. I was still dealing with the situation with my cousin. No matter how many times I would try to pull her to the side so we could talk….she started talking loud and calling me names. So I let it go. I knew what happened, but she had exaggerated the story in such a way, that nothing I said mattered.
So I proceeded in showing everyone that I could be better. I avoided his calls, so that I could focus. I was making good money and started saving for another car. I was getting up early and getting on the bus and going to work at the ass crack of dawn. I was on a mission to prove people wrong. I had been relying on the drugs and him for far too long. You can only cheat your body and brain for so long before it shuts down.
It had been about a month or so since I saw my lover. I actually had direct instructions from my family not to see him. Or I had to get out. So I adhered to those rules. I had too. But then I started to sneak and see him again. I started missing work or showing up late. I would tell my family that I was going out of town to Reno or LA. But I would really be with him. His family didn’t care, but my family did.
I would catch the train to spend the weekend with him. That way no one saw him picking me up. Plus it was easy on his gas tank and our pockets. There was no tension in the air, because we both had positive things going on in our life. Tonight felt like the old days. My soul was recharged, my spirit renewed. Before any drugs were brought out we hugged. Resting my head on his shoulder, we hugged.
That was another moment that I wanted to bottle up for those long dreary days that came along. Talking, oh my God I can’t believe how much we talked that night. Our new jobs, what we’ve been doing, did we miss each other and everything in between. This was my friend, my lover, a man I once knew and the man I wanted to always know. Happiness was an expression I missed seeing on his face. Shit, I missed being happy too.
Experiencing happiness at the same time was the best part about the whole weekend. No drugs were mentioned but when the conversation was almost dead. He reached under his bed and pulled out our extra dose of happy. Drugs. Crack to be exact, now there was no weed to mix it with. Now we just would save some of the tobacco filling and mix it in with the cocaine. Lift off.
I loved to be with him. I loved to be high with him. Money was flowing from legitimate sources so we didn’t have to go out and rob stores. We talked about living together again now that we were getting back on our feet. I knew my family wouldn’t approve, especially because what the drugs and him had already done to me and my life. I had a decision to make.
For the time being life was pretty content. I was doing very well at my job. Then I was laid off. Fuck! But this time I was prepared. I had a few thousand saved up. The cat was out the bag about my lover and I being back in contact. I just told my family to deal with it. I loved him and that would always be.
With no job I had ample amount of time and money to spend with him. I would spend days on end at his house. Using drugs, and catering to his every need. We were a very harmonious space….until everything changed. If I kept my mouth closed about his suspicious behavior we would have gotten along much better, for longer periods of time. But I noticed everything. This was something that he couldn’t stand. But I didn’t give a fuck. Stop disrespecting me and there would never be a problem.
I needed to take my life more seriously. It was a must that I started making better decisions for myself or else I was going to die. We would see each other here and there. Until, I started acting funny with him. I didn’t really want to be bothered anymore. I liked having money in my pocket that wasn’t being spent 100% on drugs. I was scared of myself and I was even more scared of myself when I was with him.
It was like there was no limit to the things I was willing to say yes too. No person should have that type of effect on another person.
CHAPTER 21
MOVING ON
Talking to my grandma and listening to her struggles growing up. I began weaning myself away from him and the drugs. That shit was so hard. Some night I felt like I was going to rip someone’s head clean off their shoulders. Some nights I gave in and every time I did, I would be so sick from the drugs. I would start throwing up and sweating.
One time my baby sister had to call 911 because I couldn’t stop vomiting. They threw me on the ambulance and asked me what I had that day and did I take anything. To ashamed I never said one word. I just complained that I was in pain. Too many irresponsible nights that led into an irresponsible week. Fuck that, I had to put those days and him in my rear view and I did. Living at home started getting much better, because I was turning back into myself. The Meka that everybody loved. That felt good.
I was in the neighborhood where I grew up. So I still had a lot of my same friends that were just around the corner. I spent my evening unwinding in my hood with my childhood friends. Everyone was so happy to see me. I felt like I was a celebrity. Most night’s I would lie in my bed and think about why I allowed drugs get to me like that. Drugs were the devil and they were still calling me.
The volume wasn’t as loud as it had been. But it was loud and clear. So I started popping pills and doing a few lines here and there. Those were more acceptable drugs to buy in my own neighborhood. Everybody was doing it and as long as I wasn’t getting huge quantities. I would be under the radar. I needed to fill a void inside of me that only drugs could fill. I had become a closet addict. No one knew how serious it was for me even the ones who thought they knew me best.
Against my better judgment I called my lover. Just like all the other times when we hadn’t spoke for a while. It was a little weird and perhaps even a little dry but I didn’t give a fuck. He belonged to me when I wanted it and vice versa. An hour and a half later he was picking me up on the side of my house.
I hopped
my ass in that passenger seat leaned in and kissed him. I held the side of his face to let him know it was real and that I needed him. I hoped to God that he needed me too. He took off for the hills behind my house; he had a blunt already rolled.
I loved the smell of cocaine burning in the air. The windows were fogged up and I was naked telling him to get in the back of the truck with me. We literally stayed naked, sweaty and high until the sun started coming up. I was satisfied and shaking. Being too high isn’t good when you have taken a break. Your heart can’t take the starting and stopping that’s how the most damage is done.
He dropped me off on the side of the house and waited until I was in the house. Then he turned up his beat and took off down the street. An hour or so later I started throwing up all over the place. I told my sister to call 911. Obviously, I was not built for this lifestyle. This time I was picked up from the emergency room, by my grandma. She didn’t let me off the hook that easy, I was lectured all the way home.
No need to say anything back because I knew it would only be lies. I was tired of lying. All the other areas of my life were pretty squeaky clean accept when it came to him and things I did with him. I took head to those words that came from my grandma. I stopped taking all calls from him. My friends were back in rotation. I was running the streets and looking damn good while doing it.
I met some-one that I heard had the “juice” with the girls. Supposedly a ladies man, so I was going to see what he was all about. I shall call him the “jack rabbit” for years to come that name will be very relevant in my life but in the end he was a sorry ass nigga just like the ones before him.
The jack rabbit was in my extended circle and there was plenty women who knew him. So I tried my luck. We would spend hours on the phone and we started getting close. I would take out of town trips with him to pick up and drop off duffle bags. So now that I wasn’t using drugs, bad boys became my high.
Love Made Me Do It Page 9