Love Made Me Do It

by Tamekia Nicole

  Lunardi’s Supermarket, Burlingame, Ca. There are certain areas that no matter what, if you look different than the general population, it’s suspicious. We were suspicious. Yet in still we went in and tried to steal as many things as possible. Nothing was off limits. So we put our backpacks in a nearby bush and I checked my hair in the reflection of a car window. Even though I was scared to death, there was no choice in the matter.

  We went in, got what we came for. Every big bottle of top shelf liquor that we could manage to carry out…we make it out. Then I saw the police SUV. My lover grabbed my hand and told me to run. We ran with our fingers interlocked. I was in flip flops, ripped jeans and an Usher tank top. Running across El Camino Real like the crooks that we were… There was a center divide that had a small waist high fence. He went over. I got stuck. The hole in my jeans was caught on the fence. Our hands slipped apart. He kept running. I was caught. Two police cars blocked me. I dropped to my knees like I was told. With their guns drawn, they cuffed me. They were looking for him. They searched for him. Meanwhile I’m sitting in the back of a tight ass police car, with my head down.

  This was no time to cry. But how could I remain calm, my lover had left me. He ran towards his own freedom, while mine was hindered. Then he came out of no-where with his hands up. They slid him in the back seat next to me. The few tears that did drop he told me to wipe them on his shirt. “Never let these white people see you cry.” I dried my tears. They put us in holding tanks right next to each other. The doors had a one inch gap under the door. We touched fingers and talked all night.

  Like I said as long as we were together, nothing else mattered. The law didn’t matter and whatever the judge said, that’s what it would be. Time would never turn back. My lover would always promise that he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. However he forgot that he had absolutely no control over the police. Although I knew that promise couldn’t be kept, I always blamed him when shit hit the fan. I lived by his word, even though it let me down more than 97% of the time. I was a true fool in love.

  In court we would stand side by side, and he would be gesturing for me to chin up. We didn’t kill anyone, so we wouldn’t be there forever. So I was supposed to just ride the shit out. I tried but I was always scared. The women in jail were different than me. I wasn’t better, but I was definitely different.

  I never handled jail well. Shit who did? Sometimes I think he didn’t mind. Maybe he was ready to get some sleep and three hot meals. I think deep down maybe he wanted to be better than what he was, at least that’s the wish I kept in my heart. That mentality is what kept me by his side.

  We met people along the way that contributed to the hustle. We would make new connects in jail to sell our merchandise too. We would call them or swing by their spot with what we had, as soon as we were back on our feet.

  We met D boys, and baby mamas that did business with us. They let us use their cars. Sleep in their houses. They gave us dope on a discount. They enabled us, they used us and we used them. It was a viscous cycle with no end in sight.

  We had just got out of Redwood City Jail. I did a week and he did a week a one day. I walked around all night, with no money, in an unfamiliar city. I met a group of young hippies that took me in. I was scared to go with a pack of strangers. But I needed to rest. I needed to wash up. I need to have a glass of water. There was so much that I needed.

  I walked with these hippies back to their apartment. I observed everything in their apartment. I was in need but I wasn’t completely retarded. I wanted to live to see the morning and to see him when they let him out.

  They fed me, gave me hella pairs of socks, a new back pack and two fresh new French braids in my nappy ass hair. In the morning I felt refreshed. I thanked them and I walked miles back to the Redwood City County Jail. He was sitting on a bench lacing his shoes up. Just as he looked up, he seen me…there he is…my baby. Thru thick, thin and jail I was going to rock with him. He knew it, I knew it, and perfect strangers knew it.

  As much as I felt like we were cursed and I wanted out. I never took the steps to free myself from the demons that possessed me. As deep in as I was, I would need an exorcism to rid me of the devil. I still wasn’t ready.

  I stopped calling my mom every time I was arrested. The only thing I was doing was breaking her heart and embarrassing everyone in my family. I wasn’t looking for help, because I already had that laid out on the table. I never took the help. I was looking for ways to pacify the situation, applying band-aides to gunshot wounds.

  So we went in and out of jail at least 12 different times. It never got easier, but we did start getting longer sentences every time. The judge did not give a FUCK that we were homeless. I always steered clear of San Jose. There was no way I was going to do any dirt where I was from and where my family still lived.

  CHAPTER 28

  DOPE DEALERS

  As an addict, you must always remember a dope dealer does not give one fuck about you. They give a fuck about a few things; how much dope are you going to buy, and what method would you be paying with. Dope dealers are not your friends. They talk about you when they see you walking up, and they dog the shit out of you when you walk away. That was a part of the lifestyle.

  We had so many dope dealers that we interacted with. Some of them were cool and some of them looked at me like I had no clothes on. Once again, I was in unfamiliar territory. I dealt with situations in the best way possible. Anything for drugs right? Anything to make him happy? Anything so that we could have a peaceful night…

  We had a dope dealer out of East Palo Alto that let us stay at his house for days, and use his car. The only stipulation was that we kept the bottles of Patron running like tap water. We did our best to keep that dream alive. We slept in a house with other people that we never seen only heard.

  On a mattress that was on a tile floor. I remember seeing a trail of ants in that room. But once I got high I didn’t care, there could have been roaches coming out of the cracks in the wall. I would have closed my eyes and enjoyed my high. We argued in that house, and he popped me good.

  They made us leave the house, so we left with no-where to go. It was the middle of the night. With our back packs and one blanket, we passed out in a Marsh. A stinky, muddy Marsh, behind the Dumbarton Bridge. When I woke up there was duck footprints around us, an empty bottle of Whiskey and for some reason my vision was blurry.

  My left eye was swollen shut. My head throbbed and I was covered in mud. I discovered the damage done to my eye when I say my reflection in a Jack in the Box bathroom mirror. He acted like he didn’t remember, then he laughed about it. I didn’t say shit…I still needed my other eye, so I stayed quiet. The show always went on. My lover got me a pair of sunglasses and we got back to business.

  There were dope dealers that we tried to rob and failed. There were dope dealers that gave us credit, there were dope dealers that sold us bogus drugs and never gave our money back. There were dope dealers that got the shit checked out of them if they were too disrespectful.

  Women dope dealers were the stingiest. They felt like they had something to prove. It was always wack when we had to deal with a woman. Bag was short, dope was stepped on a trillion times, and sometimes the dope was too wet to even smoke. These dope dealers were something else, but they were our world.

  The way of life that we had become accustomed to was wearing us out. It hurt my soul to look at my own reflections. We went to jail eight times, while being homeless. No one had heard from me. I was a hit or miss with my family and with my friends. That hurt and sometimes still does. I made everybody worry.

  Everyone who knew me couldn’t understand why I stayed and why I accepted this lifestyle. I never had enough heart to ask for help and tell them that drugs got me. That I was getting my ass beat so much that sometimes I can’t even see or walk. I couldn’t do that to the people that loved me.

  There were a lot of shady and grimey things that happened in this ten year period. Some things I ne
ver lived down and some relationships I have never been able to fully repair. I accept full responsibility and accept that there are moments that I fucked up forever.

  The weather was changing once again, it was getting colder and the nights were long. We wouldn’t be able to go on like this for too much longer. We would surely die. I had plenty opportunities to kill myself and a few failed attempts. But I knew…I just knew that God had something so great planned for my life. That hope kept me alive.

  Commadore Motel. This night is the straw that broke the camel’s back. We had hit a nice lick at Stanford Mall, and I we had new clothes for our move to Vegas. We were supposed to be there by my birthday November 3rd. He promised and I held him to that.

  It was the last room that they had we lucked out because it was late. There would be no other options except to roam around all night and pray that we make it to the morning. I was hanging on to the glimmer of hope that God could fix our situation.

  We were settled in our room, looking at all of our new fancy Vegas clothes and talking about a new start away from our demons. I took a hot bath and he rolled us up a few blunts. We kissed and smoked. But my paranoia was so bad sex with me was literally impossible. I had hallucinations that were visual and auditory. I was scared of my own shadow. If he attempted to have sex with me I couldn’t get into it. Sometimes he would look like the devil and my coochie would dry up. He would give up and go masturbate.

  That night wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary. We smoked and smoked and smoked even more. Normal for us. The guy two doors down was selling us good dope and that made it easy. No traveling involved. We ran out of blunts and the store was closed. No big deal, it’s about 1am and we needed to sleep. Vegas was supposed to be tomorrow after our last hustle.

  Instead of shutting it down for the night, my lover was pissed and left the room. I didn’t think anything of it. I changed into my pajamas and got into the bed. Shortly he came back with more dope, probably close to a quarter piece. I was terrified when I saw that. I started thinking that we couldn’t possibly go to Vegas if we SMOKED all the fuckin’ money.

  He sat next to me on the bed and handed me a glass pipe. I looked at him with tears in my eyes and said “You know if we hit this, there is no coming back.” He didn’t even respond to my statement. Instead he told me that when he puts the rock on the pipe that I suck from the other end (that was cracked, black and dirty} as hard as I can and don’t blow it out until he tells me.

  I went deaf, dumb and blind after that. I never felt anything so powerful. I never tasted anything that good. I was sprung. Apparently he knew how to smoke out of a pipe. My lover hit the pipe with ease. Then I remember sweat covering his face…when he blew out the smoke I think he blew out some of his soul with it.

  This went on the remainder of the night. I was shaking, looking over my shoulder and looking out of the windows. He thought bugs were crawling on him. Our minds were slowly seeping out of our heads just like the money was seeping out of our pockets.

  I couldn’t deal with the noise, the sun that was rising, the neighbors arguing outside of our door. It was too much. Not to mention how fast my heart was beating and my nose started to drip blood. I went in the bathroom to try and pull myself together and I couldn’t. I really tried too. Instead I sat in a bathtub filled with about four inches of water and tripped out.

  When I finally came out of the bathroom…the dope man was in our room and it was close to check out time. The dope man and my lover were having a conversation at the table. Shaking my head in disbelief I started to get dressed.

  The next thing I seen was unbelievable. The receiver on the phone in our room had a bag of dope in it. I was weak. I was calling on God to give me strength to walk away. While I was putting on my shoes and putting stuff in my backpack, my lover and the dope man started arguing.

  My lover wanted more dope….BUT there was no more money. Literally there was no more money, hundreds of dollars gone in hours. The dope man was willing to take anything…even me. I had, had enough, he wasn’t touching me. My lover reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a nickel….5 cents and slid it across the table.

  I was crying as I seen this transaction. The dope man in return reached into his baggie and gave my lover a crumb. My lover put this crumb in his pipe and smoked it. I walked out of the room and took off down the street. A few blocks down my lover caught up to me. I was embarrassed, silently praying for either death or a miracle. Neither prayer was answered. Instead I was promised by him that we would be on the greyhound that night on our way to Vegas.

  He made good by his word. We begged several bus drivers for free rides. Hoped gates at a few Bart Stations and he went into a supermarket. Taking everything that wasn’t nailed down. Including the save the children jars by the check-out stands, that had Lou Rawls picture on them. We made close to $400 that night after he made a few phone calls.

  No more drugs that night, instead we walked through four cities to get to Oakland Greyhound Bus Station. We got on the bus two days before my birthday and our next stop would be Vegas.

  CHAPTER 29

  VEGAS

  I can’t really remember if I was happy or sad, but I was definitely tired. My body ached, my head throbbed, and my heart was broken along with my spirit. We got on the bus exhausted. I was silently praying that my life would soon get better. Failing, to realize at that time that, everything began and started with me. I had yet to take ownership in the debacle I called a relationship. It was more like a relation-shit.

  The bus ride was excruciatingly painful. There was so much chaos, noise, people and all of that was coupled with a bad come down from drugs. We were scheduled to be on that bus for 13 hours. For most of the ride my lover was sleep on my shoulder and I just peered out the window…Hoping to catch a glimpse of better times. Far off in the clouds I swear I saw God motioning me to come to him. But instead of praying and accepting his call. I closed my eyes too and tried to relax.

  When we both woke up we were in Baker, CA. I was starving, my stomach growled so hard that I had cramps. We had no money. Desperate times call for desperate measures. With his empty pockets, and my big purse we were sure to eat something. While the bus driver took a 15 minute break we went into Rite Aid and did what we did best. Make shit happen.

  The dry salami, Ritz Crackers, and spray cheese stopped my stomach from feasting on its self. I had no idea what Vegas held in store for us but I just wanted to eat, shower, and rest in a comfortable, consistent matter. I drifted back to sleep and when I woke up we were in Vegas.

  It was nice to be away from the poverty. I was happy for the moment and I saw the look of relief in his eyes too. Maybe my dreams of dying would turn into dreams of living.

  We did our best to freshen up in the bathroom before we were picked up so we wouldn’t look like the wrecks that we truly were. His older brother picked us up from the Greyhound station and instantly I recollected how he could not stand me. But I greeted him like I would greet my own brother. I hugged and kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for picking us up.

  According to him and the rest of my lover’s family I was the cause of his demise and his addiction's. How far from the truth they were without knowing. I was the prisoner, the sacrificial lamb and whatever else he made me become.

  That first night in Vegas was amazing, and I say amazing because we were enclosed in four walls of a house, not a hotel room and I was positive that the sprinklers wouldn’t start spraying us. There would be no pit-bulls lurking to eat us alive. So yes, it was amazing. His sister in law cooked a meal that was full of comfort and gravy. I tried not to inhale my food like I hadn’t been eating…but truthfully I hadn’t been. But I also knew that if I embarrassed him in any way, shape or form. I would be beat up and marked up. So I smiled in between bites, made sure my mouth was closed while I ate, made polite conversation and said please and thank you.

  I had become the perfect robot. It was never my intention to be fake …it was impossibl
e to be genuine. But I did the best I could. It was received by his family just as I thought it would be. Not at all. I was ignored during the conversation. Talk was going over me, around me and did not include me. Which was okay, I was in their house, miles from home.

  I just wanted to go to sleep on a full stomach, thank God for keeping me safe and wake up with a more positive outlook on life. I hoped that wasn’t too much to ask for. The futon in the living room was offered to us. I only wanted a shower and to put one of his tee shirts and dream until the sun came up.

  That was the deepest sleep I had been in, in a very long time. I don’t even recall having a dream that night. I just remember hearing the sounds of bacon popping and then the aroma hit my nose. Sitting straight up, I rubbed my eyes, adjusted my head scarf and watched my lover in the kitchen cooking. I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. He said good morning, and then he told me to put some clothes on. Shit. I forgot I only had on a tee shirt and panties.

  I didn’t need any extra criticism or talk about my character. So I changed back into my dirty jeans, put my bra on and put his tee shirt back on. His sister in law came down stairs and immediately I knew that this would not work. Her aura sent off volumes of negativity. I said “Good morning” and she replied with the same. Her tone didn’t match my friendly demeanor.

  Oh well, I was ready to eat this smorgasbord of bacon, eggs, and potatoes. I didn’t want to touch anything in a kitchen that was not mine. So I sat at the table and my lover served me, then his self. The sister in law stood back and looked in her refrigerator as if she was taking inventory. My lover looked at her then at me, and he shook his head. It was obvious that she thought we cooked up her food, but we didn’t. Apparently while I was still sleep his brother took him to the grocery store, and he had pushed out a cart full of food.