Love Made Me Do It (10 page)

I was being greedy and I felt that I had earned a little greed. Only when it was too late, did I realize that I was robbing myself of self-decency.  I stifled my own growth.  I needed to get to know myself, and what was healthy for me to seek from the men in my life.

The cousin wasn’t at all bad for me.  He was a welcomed humorous edition to my life and to my bed. But eventually I started to be flakey with him.  I started spending more time with my lover.  My heart couldn’t manage the juggling act. Other people noticed it and so did the cousin…

The cousin and I were cooling off and we didn’t even return each other’s calls or pages until days later.  That was real life. You didn’t get closure.  You just separated and dealt with it. I dropped all my balls, no more juggling. 

Chapter 14

LIFE WAS GOOD

Life was STILL good. Me and my lover were like conjoined twins.  My birthday was wonderful I spent it with my friends and partied the night away. My weekends were filled with him and cocaine.  The drugs snowed us in every weekend. Or every time we had money to blow. There were no limits on how we expressed our love.  The cocaine enhanced every emotion.

My tolerance for the laced blunts had increased as did his.  So more money was spent too achieve our first high. I still didn’t recognize that he had a problem, and that I was right behind him. Love, sex and drugs go good together and whoever said it doesn’t… is lying.

Eventually, my roommate asked to talk to me about living there. We decided that since I am never there.  It didn’t make any sense to pay rent in a place that I never sleep at. So there it was.  I didn’t want to say anything to my lover right away.  We were getting along perfectly.

I must have been really in tune with God because all of my prayers were answered in reference to my love affair. Christmas came and went I spent it with my mom, and my granny nothing fancy.  The New Year was upon us and I was spending it with my lover.  I was so nervous it was crazy trying to get ready.  All my clothes looked wrong; hair wasn’t actin right, no matching bra & panties! But finally I pulled it together.

We decided that we would get dressed up and just chill at the house.  That was perfect. We sat on the leather sectional; drinking champagne, kissing in between sips, and smoking cocaine & weed. I can’t really remember what we talked about.  But I know that it was the first time since we had reconnected.  That I felt like we were emotionally on the same page at the same time.

Those feelings are the ones that lovers live for…the connecting of souls. That is what we always had.  We talked that night until the sun came up.  Bringing in the New Year together and then he asked me to move in. I couldn’t believe it.  A kiss sealed the deal.

I went to bed feeling high and wonderful.  But I woke up groggy, head pounding with the driest mouth. I looked around he was right next to me sound asleep. I loved him, he meant everything to me. Everything about him, in my eyes was perfect. I laid back down snuggling right against his back.  The warmth of his skin and the rhythm of his heart beat lulled me back to sleep.  He made me feel safe.

When we woke up on that 1st day of the New Year is was nighttime. Drugs & champagne were behind our 12 hour hibernation. I had a new lease on life. Yup, life was GOOD. I couldn’t wait to move in.

It was Monday and I was set to move in on that Friday. All week I had so much anxiety.  Friday finally came!  I packed my last box and I was ready to walk everything over. I had already loaded up my car and parked it on the opposite side of the street. I was going to be closing that front door for the last time. What a good feeling.

5pm, and I was sitting waiting on the porch for him to come home.  I didn’t even have the key to the house yet. At 6pm and I was still sitting in that same spot watching all the cars come and go.  Trying to determine if the headlights I seen were his. Finally, around 7pm he pulled up. I had such an attitude. I felt like maybe he forgot today was the first day of the rest of our life.

He didn’t forget, he just didn’t care and this was a constant pattern with him.  But because I was so love sick and insecure it often didn’t matter what he did or how he did it. He stepped out of the truck happy, but when he saw my sour face… that happy expression dissipated. I tried to clean up my attitude and my body language.  But I just couldn’t get it together. I asked him for the key and he gave it to me. 

Then he said he would be back, he was going out. So there I sat.  There would be many nights just like that, he went out…and I stayed home. After a while we started to get in rhythm with each other and we started having a really good time.  Some of my clothes were in the spare bedroom and some were in the bedroom that we shared. It was like we were together but separate.

Work was a drag. My best friend no longer worked there.  It impossible for me to fuck with the women in my office. I couldn’t be fake or phony.  Not even for the sake of work. I looked forward to the end of the day with him and the drugs. On most days he would already have a chopper rolled filled with weed and cocaine.

He had given me a new nickname “The 4:45 lady” because that was the exact time I came home every day, with an attitude. But his face and that blunt always made the 4:45 lady disappear. That was the benefit of drugs and love.   They were so good they made you forget your problems even the ones you had 2 minutes ago.

I would hurry and take a shower and lotion up and sit in my panties, so we could smoke.  That smoke was good to me.  It was good to us, it elevated our love making. But while we were making love, in the back of my head I would be hoping that another blunt would follow that one. That was the addict in me growing.

CHAPTER 15

DRUGS & LOVE

We started to not get along because the money was going too fast. I was working and bringing in decent money.  He was laid off and collecting a nice chunk from the unemployment department. But 2-300 dollar every other day was getting to be a bit much for drug money. I noticed that bills weren’t being paid.  However, there was always a bountiful supply of narcotics and weed. Something wasn’t right but I didn’t have the courage to say anything.  I just kept doing what I supposed to do.  This was going to work and put in my share.

My party life with my friends had taken a nose dive since I couldn’t see past him.  Even when he went out. I just wanted to stay home and wait for him to get back. My friends were irritated with me but I could care less. I had started getting thin because of the drugs.  So I stopped coming around as much.  My whole life revolved around ways to make him happy and using drugs. 

His mom would often come over and visit with us they were really close. She was at the house one day and I overheard her ask him…Why did he need so much money to pay bills?  She had just given him several hundred dollars. I listened real close, I was curious as to how he would answer. I was working putting in my share, he was getting a check and supposedly putting in his share too AND he was getting money from his mom.

This didn’t sound right and it definitely was not adding up. As he would do for years to come, he told lies to cover up the truth.

I decided that eavesdropping on their conversation was not my immediate concern.  As long as there was no disconnect notices or eviction letters. I was going to hope and pray that this man….my man…. was taking care of business.

Drugs and more drugs. We spent absurd amounts of money on drugs. If you looked in our refrigerator there wasn’t shit in it but eggs, gas station burritos, hot sauce and maybe some Tampico juice. There was no money to do fun things like go eat, or go to the movies.  There was barely enough money for gas. We forsake having gas in both cars for having bigger supply of drugs.

His mom started noticing little differences in both of us, but mainly her son. She loved going to the movies and wanted us to go with her one day.  But we didn’t have enough money to go. That was no problem for her his mom was very generous. She liked me, I worked, I chipped in, and I kept the house clean, and cooked when there was food.  Most importantly, I loved her son.

  I felt like me and my lover, were becoming a little family.  We were all going to see Spider Man. I was excited but something wasn’t right. My lover had been acting weird. I felt as if it was another woman and it probably was.

To keep it real.  I was trying to train a dog.  He wasn’t a puppy, he was set in his ways. One woman could never satisfy every desire that he had. We argued that day like we never argued before. We were supposed to be getting ready for the movies.  When I brought up his attitude and how he had been treating me.  He brought up the roommate and how I fucked the roommate. “You’ve have fucked so many girls, who gives a fuck if I fucked him,” “Get over it.”

He didn’t like that answer but it was the truth.  I felt like if that was still going to be a topic…that could cause a heated discussion.  Then we shouldn’t be living together.

This argument had us going back and forth from room to room. Yelling and cussing.  We were detoxing from drugs.  It had been a few days.  Money was low plus we were going to be with mama all day.  We couldn’t get high.  I followed him into the bedroom, because I was still trying to get my point across.  That’s when he slapped me. That was the very first time he physically laid a hand on me. He grabbed my arm and told me to shut the fuck up.  I could say was “Please, don’t hit me again.” 

But instead, he closed the door on my bare foot.  He didn’t care about the pain in my foot or my shattered dignity.  Definitely not my self-worth.  He cared more about what would his mama would think if we looked like we had been fighting. So I dried my tears and put on a happy face.

I never forgot the physical pain.  I felt worthless.  I thought to myself…
I’m paying more than half the bills, tolerating hoe behavior from him, supplying us with endless hundred dollar bills to feed our addiction and you put your hands on me.

Too bad I never said anything that day. I may have been able to save myself from the many ass whoopins down the line. Saying something that very first day instead of cowering and crying could have changed a million things in my world. But I didn’t say anything.  My lips only let out small sobs. I ranted and talked loud but my bark was much louder than my bite.

CHAPTER 16

TO MUCH TIME ON OUR HANDS

On top of our volatile relationship, I started having more problems at work then I could handle. I knew I needed to get it together.  It was hard. I was emotionally distressed and it showed.

Yeah life wasn’t that good anymore. Life sucked. My friends or being around them didn’t interest me. Nothing was fun. I was agitated and sleepy all the time. There would be some days when I would walk across the street and visit with my old roommate.  Even she noticed that I had become increasingly slim.

I brushed off her inquiry when she asked if I was okay.  It really wasn’t her business.  Plus, I didn’t give a fuck about what she had to say. I was really over there buying time.  Until he decided to bring his ass home. So many nights I sat and waited up.  So many nights I sat on top of the kitchen table looking for familiar headlights.  Or listening for a familiar sound that only his truck made.

Most times the sun would beat him home. When I would hear his truck pull up. I would run into the bedroom and get in the bed acting like I was sleep. When he turned the bedroom door knob… I would rise from the covers and rub my eyes like I just woke up. That act was so obvious to me and to him. I wanted to argue and make my point. Instead, I cried and listened to bullshit excuses from him. An hour later I would be naked….glistening in the aftermath of awesome make up sex.

Bills were stacked high and money was not stacked at all. I started missing a lot of work.  Either I was hung-over, no gas, or emotionally distraught. My work ethic was at a 0.

It was hard to recognize myself in the mirror. My family life was there, they did a lot of things...parties, reunions and Sunday dinners. But I was a no show at just about everything.  It’s sad because no matter what, I can never get that time back.