Love Made Me Do It

by Tamekia Nicole

  We finished our meal in silence. I went and folded up the covers and set them off to the side, out of view of any visitors. Then I sat, until my lover cut the TV on. Although it was technically our first day, I had a feeling that shit would be hitting the fan soon.

  The day dragged on, I watch my lover and his brother play video games most of the day. It was so hard to keep my eyes open. I was going to need more than just one good night’s sleep. But I knew it would be considered disrespectful if I sprawled out on the futon, midday. So I stay up and just sat next to my lover while he enjoyed his time with his brother. I understood…plus his needs and wants were more important than my need for sleep.

  Fuck it, I couldn’t take it anymore. I leaned back and shut my eyes. Man… did it feel good, I pushed every thought and worry out of my head and commenced to sleeping. Unfortunately it was a short lived cat nap I was awakened by yelling and screaming along with the sounds of shattered glass.

  “Nobody said he was coming with EXTRA COMPANY!” Now I got it…I was the extra company, and I was not welcomed. But in reality she had no reason to dislike me. The sister in law was as sorry as they come and never did a legal thing in her life, including work. She had aliases and bogus names for the bogus life that she lived. Yet in still, she judged me like she was God. I started to jump up and check her but her husband was already doing that along with my lover. The shattered glass I heard was an ashtray that his brother had smashed with his hand.

  I was unwanted by my lover more than half of the time. Now I was unwanted by a woman who jumped on the bad wagon with others. Honestly my lover did badly without me. I on the other hand excelled at everything I touched when we were apart. With no time to explain that to an enraged bitch… I started gathering my belongings and placed them in my backpack. My whole life was now in a backpack.

  With our backpacks on our backs, and harsh words behind us we hopped in his brothers Benz and took off. Destination unknown. But anywhere by myself is where I wanted to be. But instead we pulled up to a business office complex and I was instructed to get out.

  I sighed in disbelief as I am recalling these events. Our new home until we made money would be inside of an office that his brother used to record music. I looked around. There was a vending machine. But we had no money. There was a small refrigerator. But we didn’t take all those groceries with us. There was no shower. So I would have to take bird baths in the sink. There was no stove. But there was a microwave. The only thing left on the agenda, was for us to stock up on lighters…although it had been a few days with no talk or using of drugs….this situation was going to put us in that frame of mind, seeking an escape.

  “Oh well,” had become my new all-purpose statement. We were dropped off and left in the studio. There was a computer and we had a portable DVD player so I would find solace in that. For a few days we walked around our new neighborhood, exploring the shopping plazas and taking anything and everything our hearts desired. New shoes, clothes, food, books, movies, you name it we took it. Which was really hard work and very dangerous since we were on foot. But it was the same shit we did in the Bay Area the last few months. Different state, same hustle.

  I loved getting new things, even though I had nowhere to wear it too. I wore my stolen clothes; back to the store I had stolen it from, just to get more stuff. In hindsight, we were pretty dumb and reckless. But something about being with him made me feels invisible. I half assed believed him when he would tell me that he would never ever let anything happen to me. .

  Watching movies, surfing the internet and going nowhere in fancy clothes, was starting to play out. Boredom hit and it hit us, in a way that would not be avoidable. Idle hands are surely the devils playground. We were ready to play. At least I was, and I knew him long enough to know that look of being a fiend. I saw it every time I was brave enough to look at my own reflection for more than 30 seconds. At this point I had been with my lover for four years, and I knew he had a trick up his sleeve to alleviate the pain we were both having from detoxing.

  I never said one word; I never mentioned drugs for a few reasons. One I did not want to be the reason that we sunk deeper into our addiction, and I did not want to give his dysfunctional family any fuel to further BBQ me. So I stayed quiet and occupied my time with books I had stolen. I would go thru 300 page books in a day. I would read all day and night. That was my escape. Occasionally we found each other attractive and made love and talked. But our temperament was edgy. It was only a matter of time, before we either killed each other or put flame to a pipe.

  I had no money, I had no way to get any money and I never inquired about his money. But low and behold he had money. It was probably about $100 or so. There would be days that he would leave me in the studio with my books and my snacks and disappear on foot or with his brother. I didn’t like being there by myself, stuck in an office with no windows, but I made do.

  One day he had been gone for at least three to four hours and when he came back he rushed to the bathroom. That right there was a tale-tell sign that he had drugs. The rush of knowing that you are going to get high is so intense that it turns your bowel system into an erupting volcano.

  Now that I had the notion in my head that we were going to get high, I dumped out my purse looking for a lighter that worked. I found one. Tucked it in my pocket and acted like I was so engrossed in my book just in case he wanted to act funny with me. See I couldn’t act a certain way, or he would short my issue of the drugs or he would talk a bunch of unnecessary shit to me. So I played cool, until I heard the toilet flush…then I had a wave of nausea that almost knocked me out.

  He came into the room I was in and handed me two little bags of dope and a blunt. I almost passed out. I was so happy to see these little baggies and a blunt. I immediately found scissors and started putting together my smoke able vacation. He disappeared into some other room and put on a porno. I heard in blaring so I closed the door and lay back on the sound proof foam that was our bed, and escaped everything. I had an out of body experience that night. I was relaxed, there was no paranoia and I felt the best I had felt since that first good night sleep we had.

  My paranoia had become so bad that getting high was often more scary than fun. So I was relived to feel the actual high and not be hallucinating. We fucked that night, it wasn’t love making because in reality we had no clue on how to love. Somewhere along the way we had lost that or maybe we never even had it. We just thought we did.

  The money he had made, doing who knows what, allowed us to stay high that whole night. He walked blocks and blocks to the ghetto, copped drugs and brought them back and we hit repeat. Spark up then, attempt to become one and experience orgasmic relief.

  It was back on, and we were at an all-time dysfunctional high. He would push me around and cuss me out for not having money and having no job. Tell me I was ugly, worthless, stupid and a dope fiend. Imagine that. I had no job because I continuously allowed him to uproot me and invade my mind when I was doing well. I started yelling back at him. “I have no job because of you,” “If I’m so ugly, what the fuck are you doing with me?” “I’m not stupid!” “I have no money because I have no job.” Those words just echoed around the room…they never ignited him to think about his role in our situation. It was always me. It would always be me. So I shut up and locked myself in the bathroom and cried until I damn near threw up.

  I was in a dictatorship. So the next day when we went out, I grabbed a paper and started looking for a job. I had no idea how I would get there but I need to have something of my own. Although he complained, he didn’t want me to be anything better than what I was. I updated my resume. I circled a few ads, sent emails and made calls. But if we weren’t there, I had no way of knowing if anyone called me back. If I did receive an email response, there were a million excuses of why I couldn’t do something. I was truly stuck. I had to hustle with him, period. So I did.

  We had new customers that would pick up merchandise from us at the studio. We also h
ad dope dealers that made house calls. So I chilled and tried to stay in tune with his needs. My self-esteem was so low; my needs became null and void. Escaping those drugs seemed impossible. I mistakenly thought that if I followed him to Vegas that the drug use would cease, and that the addiction would just end. I was fighting a losing battle, simply, because I failed to be honest with myself.

  Time was passing me by and I was using drugs to pass the time. Without windows in that tiny office space I was never aware if the sun came up or even when it set. I was missing things that I had previously taken for granted. I’m not sure if my lover missed those small things or any other daily routine of sober living. I never asked.

  Every time there was a potential opportunity for us to talk about life, drugs were being given to me, or a pipe was being passed to me. I never knew how to say now. I only held out my hand, looked for a lighter and prepared for my out of body experience.

  Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into over a month that we had been living at the studio. Occasionally, his mama would bring us a real meal, or he would go by her house and bring back food for us. We weren’t exactly welcomed there, maybe him but not me.

  We made do, we were no longer starving or cold but I was overdue for a long hot bath. Instead of a sink that I tried to fill up with shower gel and attempt to get clean. Right when I thought that he had taken the notion of making me, get money from strange men out of his mind…I had a rude awakening.

  Unbelievable, but by now there were few things that could shock me in regards to the level of disrespect I subjected myself too. He had been gone all day with his brother and his brother’s side chick. They all came in with smiles on their face like they shared a secret. I was told to get dressed, and refusing to move, I was knocked out of a chair and hit in the back with a beaded Mardi gras necklace. The brother and his side chick said nothing. Did nothing. I picked myself up and did as I was told.

  Locking myself in the bathroom I pulled my shirt off and examined my back. The same way I viewed all my battle wounds is the same way I wish I could see my brain and figure out what caused me to think so little of myself and allow others to treat me like shit.

  I was dropped off at Treasure Island Hotel on the Las Vegas strip with no instructions. Just a look, and that look was a look that could kill. His glare burned a permanent hole in my soul. I roamed around the hotel looking for a millionaire that would just want to talk all night. Instead, I picked up an old white cowboy that turned out to be an undercover police officer. I wasn’t arrested but I was 86’d from that hotel.

  My lover was watching from a distance, seen me get on the elevator and probably started spending money that did not exist. So when I came downstairs he held his hand out. I told him I was busted. There was no money and that I had to leave the property and he should walk away from me. Pissed was an understatement he was high and belligerent, shaking his head in disbelief he walked away. In the car with him, his brother, and the side chick, I was shamed like the two bit hoe; he was trying to turn me into.

  I tried to sit back and ignore everyone, but my back was on fire from the welt that the beads left. I rested on my elbow and peered out the window and let the tears fall freely.

  I slept long and hard that night, fighting my drug cravings and fighting thoughts of killing myself. I woke up and opened the main door to the office suite and tried to figure out the time of day. It had to be at least noon. My lover was nowhere in sight. I didn’t know if that was good or bad.

  The phone rang on the fax machine and it was his brother looking for him. “He’s not here, no I don’t know where he went, yup, and I tell him to call you.” I hung up and wondered what now.

  He came sauntering in all sweaty and fidgety. He had drugs this I knew. I held my hand out to get my issue, and then I told him to call his brother. I vacated to my hideout… on the foam mattress with my lighter and my pipe. This is what life had become for me. I was once full of life, now my life was whatever was in my pipe.

  My high was interrupted and short lived. Rent in the office suite had not been paid by his brother. We had to get out, right at that moment. They were coming with the Sheriff’s and a padlock. I was in a fog, barely able to fathom the circumstance at hand. Now were homeless in Vegas too. What the fuck…

  Darting around every room, we gathered, picked up and threw away any and all things that looked suspicious. He was running around without a shirt with handfuls of our clothing throwing them into the back of his mama’s truck. I followed suit.

  Instead of going straight to his mama’s house to return her truck, we drove around for hours and hours and hours. Smoking up everything including; our souls, pride and dignity. I was so paranoid and hot, I needed to get out of the car. Finally we pulled up in his mama’s driveway and we got out.

  There were few words exchanged between me, him and her. She let us stay the night and we slept for almost two days. I was on the living room floor and he was in his mama’s bed. I woke up before him and just watched him sleep. When he was sleep I could still see the attraction I once had. When he was awake, I could only see the Devil and a man that I once respected.

  CHAPTER 30

  IN LAWS

  She didn’t like me anymore than I cared for her. However, my heart was very forgiving and I was always willing to do anything necessary to mend broken fences. She wasn’t that willing. This was fine. I needed to be able to shower, eat and be normal. I was in a constant dark tunnel, searching for normalcy with no flashlight.

  She agreed to let us stay, but in return we would have to get jobs and help with her 4 foster kids. I was in agreement with that plan. Now that I had an address and access to a car to get back and forth to work, I had action at getting back on at least one foot. My lover would not get a job; I knew that just as well as she did.

  The brother was not happy when he received the report from the Office Suite Landlord. There was an extensive amount of drug paraphernalia left behind. I hated the fact that they acted like they did not know. I understand being embarrassed and in disbelief but they were as much of the problem as my lover was. They never said shit to him, they never addressed the issue. There was never an intervention only enabling.

  The brother tried to talk his mama out of letting me live there, I overheard their conversation and I started to shake thinking about where would I go, and how could I get back to my family. Luckily, their mama didn’t put us out.

  I woke up early in the morning, got dressed, did my hair, cleaned up and asked her for the want ad section of the paper and if I could use the computer to apply for jobs. This was a good start for me. I let him sleep while I attempted to be the adult.

  That following week I was hired at a time share company. They loved me immediately, I put up numbers, I hit every challenge and I brought home good checks. Half went to him and the other half went to his mama. Sometimes I would sneak and keep a few bucks so that I could buy lunch with my coworkers

  Not only was I expected to go to work every day and give away all my money. I still had to be a part of what ever hustle he had going. I was so exhausted by the time I got off of work I didn’t want to be a part of his scams. I did my part already. I got up and went to work every day, even if I had been up all night getting loaded.

  We had a few regular spots that we went to that were guaranteed money makers. Against my better judgment and following his orders, I spread the word to a few girls at work that we had the plug on shoes, clothes and baby items

  That was a huge mistake. That only cost me and made it awkward at my new job. One chick made an order of about $300 worth of stuff, but when the time came after work to exchange our goods for her cash…She played us, and gave us the run around. She insisted that it would be good later on that night, and not to sell her stuff. Well later on that night came and went. There was no answer at first when my lover tried to call her, then her man jumped on the phone and it continued to go all bad.

  When it was all said and done. I was the blame. I was
at fault. So the next day I went to work with an eye so black, and bruised that blinking made me flinch in pain. When I saw my eye in the morning, I cringed at my own reflection. The foster kids questioned my battle wound. I lied and said that some cans fell on me in the pantry. They weren’t that bright but between the four of them, they knew I was lying. I dismissed their questioning and continued getting ready for work.

  The drive to my job was solemn and filled with random noise from the DJ’s on the radio station. I sat back with my shades on, thinking of what lie I could use at work. Unable to come up with one, I decided to recycle the one I used with the foster kids.

  I sat in my cubicle with my glasses still on, and just when I was ready to remove them. I was called into my manager’s office. Not again. I would refuse to take another loss, I would beg for my job if I had too. Luckily I didn’t have too.

  When I took a seat in my manager’s office I was asked to remove my glasses. I took them off and kept my head down. My manager told me I was beautiful and that I didn’t deserve that type of treatment and I shouldn’t be using that stuff. Looking at him in disbelief I played dumb. “What stuff?”

  Apparently the chick who played us, her dude is the one who my lover bought dope from 85% of the time. She told it all. I could have killed her. But instead I smiled at my boss, held back my tears and apologized for coming to work inappropriately and swore that it would never happen again.

  I never admitted to using any stuff, and dismissed his accusations of domestic violence. That was yet another mistake I made that really cost me down the line. I worked the remainder of my day, doing my best to keep the bruised side of my face away from my coworkers. But they knew. It was so obvious. I had started my first day there and all my other days filled with so much charisma. I was bubbly and personable, but on that day. I was simply a shell of person.