"Why does she need so many pills for?" Jessup asked. We were in my room sparking up a blunt. She, the owner of the pills wasn't home, out grocery shopping. She took the bus.
"She has selected amnesia I guess" I replied. "They help with that."
"Where did you meet this girl at?"
"I met her at Balboa Park, on Earth Day, I picked her out of the crowd, she was sitting on the grass all by herself looking gloomy, and she was cute so I said hi. Then before I know it we were shacking up together."
"Are you sure you want to be shacking up with homeless girls you meet at the park, especially ones with an arsenal of pills she has stockpiled"
"She's not homeless, she just doesn't remember where she lives, or she can't go back, I don't know man. I've got a good thing going. I'm trying not to blow it by asking too many questions."
"Damn she takes a lot of pills, some of it is pretty heavy duty stuff, Xanax, Lorazepam, Seroquel. She must have really bad social anxiety, Jesus with all that I wonder how she can stay awake during the day." Jessup said, marveling at the pill containers lined up on my dresser drawer. "Wait man just meet her, she gives off a good vibe, totally sane." I passed the blunt back to Jessup.
"Want to spark another one up, this ones just about through." Jessup said
"You got any weed?"
"Man you never have any weed."
She didn't come home until late in the night. From grocery shopping all she brought home was two grapefruits and some coconut water. I was drinking a beer and watching Comedy Central, it was my fifth beer of the night. She seemed excited, humming in a merry way as she pealed her grapefruit, she offered some to me but I said no, too bitter for my taste. She finished eating and got up to grab the last beer out of the fridge then plopped down on the couch next to me. She smelled like cigarettes. We both smoke, our way of saying fuck the world.
"Shall I roll up a blunt?" I asked
"Yea, that'd be nice."
We smoked and said nothing for a while, letting the TV cast an aural glow on us. Then out of nowhere she busted out a bag of coke. You want some, she asked. Sure I said, caving into peer pressure. We did coke all night while watching infomercials, laughing at their bombastic claims for their products; a blender with 2000 horse power, a spinning mop that makes life easier. How can you live your life without these items? Without perfectly blended mango smoothies? Without a microfiber mop for extra clean floors? The infomercial, the 24 hour cycle of American consumerism, consumption never sleeps,
In the morning, line after line, blunt after blunt, my heart was beating out of my chest. She offered me some Xanax and I took it, a wave of calm washed over me. She popped some pills in her mouth and we both went to sleep. When I woke up she was gone. She left a note saying she was running errands. I still felt the drip form the coke in the back of my throat.
She didn't come home for about three days, she had no phone on which to contact her. I began to worry. Should I call the cops? Jeez I didn't even know her last name. It began to dawn on my on how little I knew about her. I likened her to a stray cat. I began to fear the worse. Maybe she fell in with someone else, or maybe she was in trouble.
She showed up again, this time smelling of unwashed sex. I didn't want to push her away with questions. I'd been alone for so long any relationship was good for me, even dysfunctional ones. She took an hour shower and without words went into my room, popped some pills and laid down. I sat down on the bed and stroked her hair like I would stroke a cat.
Pills to prevent you from going crazy, pills that keep you up, pills that keep you down, pills that even you out, pills that make you sleepy, pills for your nerves, birth control pills, pills to help you remember, pills to ease pain of living, pills to ease the weight of guilt, pills for metaphysical crisis, pills that make it easier to live. Pills to stop the hallucinations, and a shot from the doctor to smooth it all out, make the voices go away, to make life sunny again.
She was like a one winged angel that flew into my life, yet I sensed the end was near. I would have to let go sooner or later. I wanted more coke, I felt like I needed to focus, mainly I wanted to feel the drip again. I rolled up a joint and went to the fridge for a beer. I felt slightly used.
The next day her pimp came, and he came with a gun. I get shy when guns are pointed at me. He wanted to know where she was, I told him she's in my room sleeping. While still pointing the gun at me he went into my room.
"Come on baby, its Sweets, you know I miss you."
"No, I'm with him now, I'm through with that line of work Sweets, I mean it this time."
"I'm gonna give you to the count of three before I get hectic babe, now get your ass in the car."
I felt I had to stand up for her. Save her from a life of destitute prostitution.
I went into the room and said, "Now look here the girl made her choi-"
That's when he pistol whipped me, a blinding pain over took my right eye and I dropped to the ground.
"Shut up sucka, she's coming with me, whether she want to or not, there is no discussion in the matter. If you don't want me to beat your boyfriend up to a pulp then I suggest you pack your shit up and get in the damn car. I ain't playing Mona"
I wish I could say I gave a heroic struggle to prevent her pimp from taking her away but I didn't. I cowered, he hit me with such a force it broke my orbital socket in my eye, all I could do was sit in the corner clutching my face as blood flowed heavily down from a nasty gash. The last I saw of her was when they both stepped over my slumped body and walked right out the door.
Sometimes at night I scour The Blade, otherwise known as El Cajon Blvd in search of my one winged angel, but it's a no go. I never see her. Just other denizens of the streets, but never her.