A Forgotten Tomorrow (5 page)

As I walk away from the City Community Center, I still feel it. I still feel the rage that’s brewing inside. It needs to escape, but is unable to reach the surface as anger, instead becoming a river of tears.

The memories of my life surface all at once, causing my whole being to feel completely numb. I could shut down, I need to shut down. The bridge by Flannigan’s is too far to walk. I won’t make it – I need it now. I need a fix.

Everything I’m passing is blurred, like it doesn’t exist, as my mind remains fixed
on that day I left Miss Peters’ house. We were fighting, badly. For two years I let her degrade me, call me names and ignore me as if I were invisible. That day something clicked – I realised it wasn’t okay. The fury I’d held in for my entire life exploded.

At first I begged her to call my case worker and have me sent to another home. I asked her why she even bothered keeping me there for so long, and she couldn’t even respond. It didn’t make sense.

“Just call her,” I yelled, “I don’t understand why you are even keeping me here. You don’t give a shit!”

“Watch that tone, young lady!”

“You watch it! I’m not taking it from you any more, I don’t have to!”

“You ungrateful brat!” she yelled back.

Quick as a flash, I was in her face. “Ungrateful you say? You’re a miserable old maid, who only cares about herself!”

“Oh is that right? And that’s why I took you in, right? Because I only think about myself?”

“You’re crazy! I’m getting’ outta here. Can’t take you anymore! Gonna call her myself, and tell her that you should never have any kids in your house.”

“Go ahead and leave. And Savannah – who are they going to believe? Me? Or a poor, depressed child who no one wants? Your mama didn’t want you, that’s why they threw ya on me.”

I couldn’t resist – I pushed her into the wall, fast and hard, and I’m sure I hurt her. And right after that, I just left. I ended up not calling my case worker, because I figured that I wouldn’t have any luck there anyway. They’d probably stick me in another hell-hole, and if they were going to do that, I might as well be living on my own.

Granted, this might not be the life I had hoped for, but it’s okay for now. Better than places like that. And once I save enough
money I’ll get out of here for good.

Back to reality. I need it, my body needs it. It’s a craving I can’t deny, especially when I feel like this. I need some place to go, an empty alleyway, a parking lot – anywhere.

I’m shaking and everyone is staring at me. I should sneak some into my hands, just a tiny bit is all I need, enough to relax me. I need to relax and stop thinking so much. Stop it!

I walk into a dark alleyway. As the sun sets, most of it is hidden in the shadows. No one will notice me here; maybe I should stay until I go to work. It only has one entrance, which is good. And I can stay alert, just in case any lunatics pass by. Normally I wouldn’t do this because I don’t know this area all that well, but I don’t care right now. I need to calm myself down.

The zip-locked bag that carries my powder is low, too low. I feel panicked, because it will
only supply me for another day or two. Then what? I can’t go to Jon for any, or any of his dealers. That’s where I used to get a fix, but now I need to stay as hidden as possible. If they saw me, I’d be where Elijah is – dead.

I lean back against the brick wall and pour some powder into the palm of my hand. I place it under my nose and inhale. Again and again, until I feel its power taking over my body. I’ve never used so much at one time, but I need it. I need the calming sensation, the euphoric state of bliss to take me away from all of my past miseries and worries of the present.

My mind drifts slowly, and visions of my best friend begin to surface. I smile, forgetting for a moment that I will never hear his laugh again, remembering perfect moments, those days we would goof off for hours. I remember that certain day when his face revealed pure excitement, when he knew his life was going to change forever. On that day his smile lit up my heart, even though my heart felt, at the same time, pained.

When Elijah was still around, I would often go to his house while his dad was still at work and hang out for a while. He used to joke with me, saying I only loved him because of his bathroom. That wasn’t true, but I surely did love using his shower.

His dad had just had the bathroom refinished, so it was a taste of luxury – for me, anyway. I’m sure Elijah took it for granted because he was used to having some of the finer things in life, but the spa tub and stand-up double-headed shower amazed me. I would’ve probably stayed in the shower forever if Elijah didn’t force me to get out.

On that day, I went over to his house around four o’clock in the afternoon. I’d planned on going over a little earlier, but most of the time it was safe so long as I left before six. I never understood why, but Elijah tried to keep me away from his dad as much as he possibly could. I gathered that his dad was over-protective, and the idea of his son being friends with a prostitute wouldn’t have gone over well.

I remember exactly what Elijah smelled like. We were never that close, but often enough I would have to use his body wash and lotion when I was there. I missed smelling like a girl, because I always ended up smelling like a mixture of Old Spice body and Coolwater, an odd combination. I miss that smell, his scent.

This particular day stands out more than others. We were sitting on his bed relaxing. I was reading some sort of magazine, probably Spin or something like that, and he was playing Grand Theft Auto. From the moment I went over there, I was having an internal struggle. I wasn’t sure whether I should or shouldn’t tell him about his meeting with Jon that night. Actually, I was surprised he didn’t ask me about it first, considering how excited about it he was.

Once I’d made the decision to tell him about it, his excitement level shot up within seconds, and his smile lit up the room. Immediately he started dancing around in his way. I loved how he danced, even though
he acted as if he was in a hip-hop video, with his headphones on, bouncing back and forth. It made me laugh. I never saw him so excited or happy about anything. I guess he knew what he wanted to do, even though it wasn’t the right thing. I remember worrying that he was too naïve to be in the street world, but he felt he could handle it. And for a moment there, I allowed myself to be convinced that everything might be alright.

Before we left his house he changed his clothes at least ten times. I repeatedly told him that Big Jon wasn’t going to care what he looked like, but he insisted I was wrong. He wanted to look the part, matching his entire outfit from head to toe.

I feel it creeping in slowly as the effect wears off, the feeling of internal chaos. My eyelids twitch, but I cannot open my eyes. My body squirms as I try my hardest to ignore the visions that flash through
my mind. I can’t wake myself up, I feel tranquilised, paralysed.

First, a flashback of our meeting with Jon surfaces – the beginning of what changed my and Elijah’s lives forever. The beginning of addiction, of pain and death. I could have changed it. I could’ve talked Elijah out of it. Instead I went along. I killed him. He didn’t know how rough the streets were. He thought it was business. Sure, it was business – but if you handle your business wrong, you could end up dead. Yes, and that’s what happened. I killed him.

I’m unaware of the tears that are falling from my eyes. My memory takes me back to that night when we entered the dark and secluded warehouse…

We walked in silence on our way to meet Big Jon. I suppose we both had thoughts racing through our minds; I know I did – worry over not knowing how the night was going to work out. Elijah didn’t seem nervous at all. If anything, he was still buzzing.

Elijah walked the entire way with a forced strut, music blaring through his headphones. I glanced over at him a few times, but he never noticed me. He was hypnotised by the lyrics of the songs, as he often was, and by what was about to happen. I could hear him practising lines, what he was going to say to Jon when he met him. It was like he thought he could conquer the world.

As Elijah and I reached the door in the rear, I was startled when a tall, overweight, rough-looking kid dressed in black swung open the door. The warehouse was larger than I’d expected it to be. It was huge, actually. Two of Jon’s luxury cars were parked near the front of the building, next to the garage door.

The place was jumping with people, adolescents mostly. A handful of kids were sitting at long rectangular tables, wrapping up goods. There weren’t any light drugs going on in that place, like marijuana – it was all cocaine-based, or meth.

A few moments passed before I heard Jon’s deep, intimidating voice.

“Hey trick, let’s see whatcha got here,” he yelled across the room.

I looked around for Jon, not noticing him right away. He was standing along one of the walls with another big guy who could’ve passed for his brother.

All of a sudden, I felt like everyone in the room was watching us. It was a weird feeling, walking towards Jon, having the gaze from the others practically burning my skin. I guess it was only me that felt that way, though, because Elijah walked across that room with his head to the sky, like he was the next best thing.

“Hey Big Jon, I’m Jah,” Elijah said, reaching his hand out to offer Jon a friendly shake.

Jon didn’t speak for a minute, just looked Elijah up and down, from head to toe.

“First of all, you can call me Mr Big,” he announced. “Second, don’t even try to shake my hand, boy! I don’t know you like that!”

“My bad, Mr Big,” Elijah replied, putting his hands to his side.

The meeting lasted about an hour. Jon spoke with Elijah alone for a while and decided to give him a chance. Elijah could start the very next day. He was shown the ropes of the place, but guidelines were kept to a minimum. Jon basically told Elijah that he better never do him wrong. That is what he told all the boys who worked for him and with the reputation he had, no one in their right mind would even think of screwing him over.

I think at first he viewed Elijah as lame, not thinking that he had it in him, but then again if he did, it would only mean more money for Jon, and money is Jon’s middle name.

My body squirms once more, as I’m trying to wake myself from my dream. I see Jon’s face, his eyes meet mine. He is so close that I can hear his breathing. He is angry. I try to walk away, but can’t.

This isn’t real, but his words feel like a knife penetrating my skin. “I told you, trick – no mistakes! And you didn’t listen to me. Those were the consequences.”

My head jerks, sweat is dripping off my body. I try to ignore his comments.

“Your boy got what he deserved. You better watch your back,” he laughed.

My head jerks again, this time spiraling me away from my dream, away from Jon. As I wake up I am confused, but quickly realise that Jon is nowhere to be found. Why did I dream that? I’m scared that he is going to find me and his stolen bag of drugs that I have in my hands.

I wasn’t going to do it, but I need another fix. I need to calm down before going into work, and I only have an hour.