Becoming A Son

by David Labrava

  “Why does everyone want to do the operation?” I asked. The doctors looked at me like I was dirt.

  “Because it’s a really tough operation. You are probably going to die. But who ever pulls it off is a really great surgeon.” He said.

  He turned back to his colleagues. I felt about as bad and low and dirty and near death as I ever felt in my life. Within an hour I was on the operating table.

  “Count backwards from ten.” I don’t think I made it to eight. The next thing I knew I woke in a nice clean hospital bed with a bunch of bandages wrapped around my neck. I could barely talk. That same young doctor walked in with a clip board.

  “Good morning.”

  I nodded hello.

  “The operation was a success.” He put a little glass bottle on the desk next to the bed with the needle in it. It was so small I could barely see it. I picked it up to examine it closer.

  “We took that out of your neck. It’s amazing you made it here. If that had dislodged chances are more than likely it would have shot to your heart. You would have either died or had to have open heart surgery. Is that what you want?”

  “No sir.”

  “Then I suggest you take a look around. The path you are on will only lead to death. Get off it. I don’t know how. That’s for you to figure out. Before it’s too late. A social worker will be here to talk to you later today. We are going to keep you here for five days for observation, make sure you don’t get an infection from that dirty needle. After five days we will take the stitches on the outside of your neck out. The ones inside will dissolve on their own. I’ll be back this afternoon to check on you. Try to get some rest.” He turned around and left.

  I looked around at my clean bed and room. It had been over a year since I had slept in a clean bed like this. I thought about how far gone I was, how I hadn’t spoken to friends or family in a long, long time. I started to cry my heart out. Absolutely alone with not a friend in the world. I started for the first time to think, how will I get out of this? Can I get out of this? I fell asleep and for the first time in a while I thought about taking my life back.

  44

  On the third day I couldn’t take it anymore. The street was calling. I took my IV bag and slung it under my arm and put my street clothes over that and walked out of the hospital. Patients were always going downstairs to smoke so I didn’t think anyone would miss me for an hour or two.

  I had a few dollars left and I jumped in a cab to the mission. It was like a six dollar ride. People hadn’t seen me in a while and when I opened my coat and showed them the IV bag everyone thought I was crazy. I stood on the corner until one of my regulars showed up.

  “Where you been?”

  “In the hospital.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story. Doesn’t matter anyway. What you need?”

  “Two grams of each. You still got the connection?”

  “Yeah come on we gotta hurry.”

  I hoofed it to the payphone and called Jose. I knew his number by heart. He agreed to meet me and bring me a little taste. I bumped up the price and bought my own gram of each, so with the tax I had enough to last my stay in the hospital. If I had any sense I would have stayed away but some lessons take longer to learn.

  After the deal I bought a new syringe and fixed in the alley. Then I waited at the bus stop. I took the city bus back to the hospital and snuck back in.

  I got in my bed and closed my eyes. Mission accomplished.

  “Better not do that again.” I opened my eyes. It was the orderly who wheeled me in.

  “Do what?”

  “Leave this hospital.”

  “I went downstairs to smoke.”

  “Sure you did. Listen, no one here likes you. You are some street junkie that just wants to die getting high. We are in the business of saving people. The social worker was here when you were gone.”

  “Is she coming back?”

  “You better hope so.” He said as he walked out. I laid back and thought about what he said. I had a lot of time to think in the hospital. A lot of alone time.

  Along this road there are all kinds of characters you meet. Some try to help you and some try to hurt you in the disguise of being your friend.

  It was the first time I really realized how deep I was. I just had a needle removed from my neck. That’s insane. I knew I wanted to get out, I just didn’t have a clue how.

  “Good Afternoon.” I opened my eyes and there was a middle aged white woman sitting in front of me with a clipboard.

  “Mr. Labrava?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Mrs. Stanton. I will be your social worker. Am I to understand you are indigent?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Homeless. No money, no where to go.”

  “Yep. That’s me.”

  “It’s my job to help you get back on your feet. Please fill these out as best you can. Please be truthfull.” She sat back patiently as I filled the paperwork out. I handed it back and she looked it over.

  “This seems to be in order. When you get out of this hospital you come see me at the welfare office. Do you know where that is?”

  “The big brick building with the line around it?”

  “Yes that’s it. You won’t have to wait in the line. You get released tomorrow in the morning. I will give you an appointment at two p.m. which will give you plenty of time to make it. You qualify for assistance so we will be giving you two hundred and ten dollars in food stamps twice a month, three hundred twenty five dollars at the beginning of each month and a hotel room for a week at the beginning of each month. This will last for four months then you will have to apply again.”

  I was trying to contain my happiness but I don’t think I did that well.

  “This program is to help you got off the street and get on your feet. Not to help you be a better street drug addict. We will help you find a job. Do you understand Mr. Labrava?”

  “Yes maam. and Thank You.”

  “You are welcome. I will see you tomorrow at two. Don’t be late.” And with that she walked out. I laid there and I thought how lucky I was. Not because I lived through the operation, or that I had a chance to start again, but because I was getting more money to get high. I still couldn’t see past getting high.

  I got discharged form the hospital and walked to the welfare office. It was about twenty blocks. I still had bandages wrapped on my neck so people were staring at me where ever I went.

  I got to the office and found the social worker and she gave me my food stamps and my three hundred twenty five dollar check which I immediately cashed and bought dope. The hotel room was two blocks east of South Van Ness on sixteenth. So that was about four blocks from where I normally was selling dope.

  I used that room as my headquarters and the money they gave me to come up. I split up and ballooned up a few grams of heroin and made quarters and became my own boss. I gave decent sized quarters, making six to a gram so I had a lot of return customers. Most dealers would cut a gram into eight or ten quarters and sell them as twenties.

  After a week in the hotel I was back on the sidewalk. I had a bunch of customers that would only buy from me. They would wait till I got back and not buy from other dealers which pissed a lot of them off. There were these two guys from the Midwest, Michael and Marcus, Marcus had a girl friend named Heather. They were straight out of the trailer park. Real rednecks, country folks that came all the way to the west coast because they like to get high. Michael could steal cars like no one else. He would roll up in a new Mercedes or BMW every single day. Marcus could open any trunk with this little flat screwdriver. He could open a trunk faster than the owner could open it with the key. Heather just did dope and looked good. Real good. She was usually the decoy.

  These three would clean out entire parking lots at night. Open every trunk n the lot. They hit some really good licks. Some of the trunks were loaded with computers, cameras, once they even found a suitcase with like twen
ty grand in it. They would go downtown and stay at one of the most expensive hotels in town and shoot dope for days.

  I was standing on sixteenth and mission about a week after the hospital when they rolled up in a new Mercedes.

  “Hop in.” Michael said. The front seat was empty. Marcus and Heather were in the back. I jumped in. It was a really nice Mercedes.

  “Where you’d get this?”

  Got it last night around Market street. He pulled onto the highway.

  “Where we going?”

  “Martinez. The city is a little hot. With the four of us we can do some shoplifting there. Heather will be the decoy. I have a guy that will but all the camera film we can get. It’ll be easy.” Famous last words.

  I shot my last bit of dope on the way out there and as soon as I did I knew this was a bad idea. I was getting further and further away from my world, which is where the action is.

  “We should hurry.” I said already feeling the anxiety of running out of dope.

  “It wont take that long. Two or three stores and we will have enough for all of us to get high.”

  The first store we hit was a supermarket and everything went pretty smooth. I stayed in the car and they went in and did their thing. I sat there wondering why I even went. I had enough money to re up, I sat and thought about just leaving them but I was so far away from the city.

  The second store was a drug store.

  “You sure you don’t wanna go?” Marcus asked.

  “Naah I aint no good at that anyway. I just wanna get back to the city.”

  “One more stop after this and the we should be good.” He grabbed the keys and they all jumped out of the car and walked inside. It seemed like they were in that store forever. They all came walking out then they started running, with the store manager behind them.

  “STOP! THIEVES! STOP THEM!” The Manager yelled. They jumped in the car, Marcus put the key in and peeled out.

  “That didn’t look like it went too well.” I said.

  “We just gotta get back to the city and we will be fine. We should ditch this car.”

  As soon as he said that there were red lights flashing behind us.

  “Too late.”

  They all started eating whatever drugs and pills they had. The siren on the car was blaring and the cop was about an inch off our tail. Marcus pulled over. The cops jumped out of their cars with their guns drawn. We all got out and laid on the ground. I was in handcuffs on my belly with Marcus on one side and Michael on the other. I felt like crying but I didn’t. I knew I was going back to jail, again. Everything started moving in slow motion, again.

  45

  I got six months for the Martinez escapade and ended up doing three. I lost my benefits from welfare for not keeping up with it so I was back on the street when I got out. I didn’t have as big a habit when I got out so I could work myself back up. I middled enough deals and saved enough money to sell quarters again with out tapping into my own supply.

  Spring turned into summer and it got warmer on the street, which is good if you live outside. I didn’t always have to find a hallway to sleep in. The nights were warm. I got used to sleeping right on the sidewalk. I would wake up with business people stepping over me on their way to work as if I wasn’t even there.

  I started hanging out with these two hookers Patty and Debby. Patty was way more together than Debby, and cuter. Not that that mattered to me. The ONLY thing I spent money on was dope. I barely even bought food.

  Patty had a one room flat in between Howard and South Van Ness in the twenties that she split with Debby. They would let me sleep in their closet when it rained, which was a trip because when they turned tricks and I had to be quiet. And they turned tricks ALL the time.

  One night late I was standing on seventeenth and mission selling dope. Patty got out of a car right in front of me. The car pulled away fast.

  “Whats shaking Patty.”

  “You got any quarters.”

  “Nice ones.”

  “Coke too?”

  “Dimes.”

  “Cool give me two quarters and two dimes.” Patty never tried to work me down the price she just paid it.

  “Wanna go fix?’ She asked me. The street was quiet, not a lot of business.

  “Sure.”

  We walked to nineteenth and South Van Ness. On the corner was a gas station and next to that was a real estate management company. Behind that building was a lot full of the stuff they would clean out of peoples apartment when people moved, or got kicked out. Normal people would scavenge through the stuff there every day. It was also a cool place for junkies like myself to shoot up at, especially at night.

  “Me first.” Patty said. “Hit me in my neck.” That girl couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds but she could take a huge speedball and stay standing. She had a MONSTER habit. She stood there rushing out for a minute while I fixed my speedball. When her eyes stopped rolling in her head she looked at me totally relieved.

  “Your turn. You want me to do it?”

  “No thanks I have a hand mirror.” I never let anyone shoot me up, ever. Especially in my neck. It takes a whole lot of trust on both sides to shoot someone up in their jugular vein. A LOT.

  I held my hand mirror in the light so I could see my neck and held my breath. I put the syringe in and saw the blood flow into it.

  The next thing I knew I was laying in a puddle of water with Patty jumping up and down on my chest, screaming and crying at the same time.

  “HELP! SOMEONE HELP! PLEEEEASE!” She was frantic. I looked up at her.

  “What are you doing? Get off me. Where’s my dope?”

  She immediately bent down and started helping me up.

  “We have to go. We have to go. I’ve been yelling. You were out. Dead. Come on hurry.”

  I got up and my whole back was wet. My chest hurt from Patty jumping up and down on it. We got out of there fast and walked up the block. A few people had gathered at the driveway of the building and were looking at us.

  “You see? I was yelling so loud. I thought you were dead. Come on.”

  We hurried out of there as fast as we could and walked back to the Mission.

  “I gotta go turn a trick.” Patty said. “You sure you’re ok?”

  “Yeah. My chest hurts a little. But hey, Thanks for not leaving me.”

  “You’re welcome.” She turned and walked back to Howard street to turn a trick. I went and found a doorway up in the twenties off Valencia to sleep in. The apartments were a little nicer up there. I would walk along and try every door knob till one was open. This led to a hallway that had four or six apartment doors. I would curl up and sleep in there till someone kicked me out which was usually on their way to work in the morning.

  I didn’t see Patty for about a month. I was doing way better. I had come up a little and was buying quarter ounces of Heroin and coke and splitting it up and selling it. I was still was living outside with only one set of clothes, but I didn’t care. I was moving around the city from dwelling to dwelling surviving anyway I could figure it out. Every day was an absolute fight for survival.

  There was a small building behind that real estate place on nineteenth where I overdosed. I lived there for a few months. I would hang my stuff from a string in a slot between the two buildings so no ne could find it. There was a little over hang I would crawl under to sleep. Finally someone in the building next door saw me and started screaming that they would call the cops unless I split. Some stupid citizen with nothing better to do. I wasn’t bothering him. I wasn’t even on his property. But I definitely knew it was time to find a new spot.

  The next time I saw Patty was a sunny day on the mission. Warm and sunny with a lot of people on the street. The donut shop was filled with dealers hanging out waiting for customers. Most of the dealers were Mexican, from way down in Mexico. They dressed like cowboys, with cowboy boots and hats. And NONE of them did drugs. They were all about money. And they ALL had workers like me.
They needed them so they could sit back and not get arrested. All the action was at the donut shop.

  I was standing with Indio just hanging out enjoying the sunshine when Patty walked up. She looked real bad. She was shaking and sweating all over.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Debby took my wake up and split this morning. I’m so sick I can’t even turn a trick.”

  I immediately went in the donut shop and spit out all the balloons I had in my mouth. I picked a big quarter gram of dope and twenty of coke and came back outside and handed it to Patty.

  “I don’t have any money.”

  “You can have this free Patty. If you had left me that night I would be dead right now. Everyone is saying that if I had went with Debby instead of you I would be dead now cause she would have left me. You get it free.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “Thank YOU Patty. Go.”

  She turned around and took off to go fix. I only saw her once or twice after that. People would disappear and reappear on the street all the time. Most of the people on the street were from somewhere else in America, or the world. Patty must have decided to go back t whereever she came from. Or maybe she just died. A lot of people died.

  46

  I started getting picked up for vagrancy a lot. That was the cops trip. They would arrest you for being on the street then make you piss in a cup and document your track marks. They can only keep you over night on a vagrancy charge but after three or four of them they can give you a little time. Not much, but any time inside a locked box is the worst time you can spend on this earth. Better off to be strung out junkie standing on a corner in the rain at three am waiting for a dealer that is not coming than to be locked up. Or dead. At least you still have a chance to come out of the first scenario.

  I was starting to want to come out of this life but I didn’t know how. I had been living on the street out doors using the jail as a revolving door for over a year and a half. It was getting old but the grip of Heroin is stronger than anything else. I had never really tried to stop before. I was just a hoping to die dope fiend, running scams to feed my habit.