Grave Situation (20 page)

February 2. Groundhog’s Day. Brrr,
it’s cold. –24 in the sun.

The little marmot saw his shadow,
so winter won’t be ending soon.

I’ve been clean for three days now,
but it’s been hard. No, not hard. I’ll say impossible. So much so
that I went out this afternoon and bought a bindle. I haven’t taken
it yet. But I don’t know if I can continue to fight these cravings.
I have no energy at all. The withdrawals have really debilitated
me. This must be what they refer to as the super flu. Do I have
what it takes to escape this? I’ve been using rum to help combat
the withdrawals. It seems to work, but only a little.

February 3. Warming a bit from
yesterday. -12.

What is the punishment for breaking
promises? Especially to your parents?

I never thought the cravings and
withdrawals would be so strong. I only took enough to make them go
away. Oh, but it was instant pleasure. The heroin put me back on
top of the world.

Can I wean myself off? Do I really
want to? Maybe that’s where my problem lies.

Allan leafed through pages. The
first couple weeks of February were nothing more than prosaic
entries—Cathy still talking about her disappointment with her job,
about how she got high on her birthday. When Allan reached February
16th, he slowed down.

–
5 and
cloudy.

Missed a vein today. The blister
that formed under my skin took hours to recede. God, the burn was
painful. That’ll teach me.

I’m so tired right now. I should
call in sick. But I need the money. Not looking forward to going
into work. Do I ever?

At February 22nd, Allan soon became
engrossed in the story again.

Sunny and –4. It feels and smells
like spring outside.

The walk home this morning was
pleasant, until I walked into the house. This just might be the
worst day of my life.

Dad was sitting at the kitchen
table with my needles splayed out across it. He had found them
hidden in the back of my closet. God, he was so angry. Mom was
crying again in the other room. What excuse could I come up with? I
told him again that I would quit. That I did quit last time, but
found it difficult and only took a small amount to relieve the
cravings. He didn’t believe me. He thinks I lied to him. He gave me
an ultimatum—seek help or get out. All this was becoming too
stressful on him and Mom. Watching their daughter kill herself. I
told him that I wasn’t doing that. That he was overreacting. That
he just didn’t understand. He told me to look at myself. What is it
he sees that I don’t? And how did he know I was still
using?

I found my room ransacked. Like a
burglar had gone through it. I keep my diary key with me, so I
don’t think he’s gone through it. The lock doesn’t look tampered
with.

I don’t know how this will all play
out now. Do I try to get clean again or do I move out? I hate the
thoughts of rehab. It’ll be like a prison.

Why can’t they just leave me alone?
After all, it’s my life. I can do with it what I want.

February 23. Cloudy.

I told Trixy what happened. She
said she knew I was on something all along. She could see it too.
Funny, she never brought it up. She said I should check out rehab
or call Nar-Anon. I thought it strange to hear her agree with
something Dad said. Is it because she’s having regrets for her own
decisions in life?

February 24. The weather’s a repeat
of yesterday. –7 and cloudy.

Dad is watching me like a hawk now.
He won’t stay off my back. He again asked to me to seek help. I
told him that I quit for good this time, even knowing that I had
done the unimaginable at work last night…I shot up in the bathroom.
I was afraid someone might walk in, but didn’t. I don’t think
anyone noticed either that I was high. I kept to myself, but nearly
drifted off many times. It took all I had to stay awake and finish
my job.

February 25. The white stuff is
coming down today.

I talked to Trixy this afternoon
and told her what was going on at home with Mom and Dad. She told
me I could move in with her, but said again that I should seek
help. Have I lost all trust with everyone? No one seems to believe
that I can quit. They just don’t realize that my problem isn’t that
serious. Why don’t they all just get off my back?

February 26. Rain and fog. Can’t
complain, at least it’s mild. What a difference.

I took Trixy up on her offer. Moved
my stuff into her apartment today. I feel awkward living here. Like
I’m an intruder.

When I left home this morning, Mom
shoved some money into my hand as I was going out the door. “Don’t
tell your father,” she said. There were tears in her eyes. I didn’t
want to take her money, but did. God, I know, will punish me for
what I did with that money…took it straight to my
dealer.

Dad stayed in the family room,
staring into the fireplace. I noticed a near-empty bottle of
bourbon on the end table beside him. Funny, I’ve never seen him
drink that early in the day before or that much.

February 27. Temperature’s staying
mild. +4. Fog and some drizzle. Is it a sign that spring’s just
around the corner? I hope so.

I have another night off work. I
need a fix and it’s the perfect time for it. Trixy’s out working
right now. She comes home at daybreak most of the time. I don’t
know how she does it. It’s like nothing to her. Just a job, she
says.

Allan began flipping pages.
Abruptly, he stopped at March 5th.

Snowing. When is spring coming? Not
soon enough for me.

Nadir. That’s the point I have
reached in my life. I am so ashamed.

Earlier today, I needed a fix
badly. Everything is secondary when you reach that state, even your
own integrity. You don’t rationalize. You only have one
thought—getting that fix at whatever cost.

I was short money. When I saw
Trixy’s purse on the coffee table and noticed that she was in her
bedroom, I couldn’t help myself. I only took a few dollars. I knew
it was wrong.

When I came home after meeting with
my dealer, I saw the look on Trixy’s face. She knew I stole from
her. It wasn’t what she said; she said nothing. It was the look.
Betrayal, hurt. She has been so good to me and this is how I paid
her back. How could I have done that? God, I want to kill
myself.

March 7. Sky is a clear blue right
now. + 4.

Trixy’s been acting differently
around me. She keeps her purse in her bedroom now. I’ve lost her
trust. I want to replace the money I took, but how do I explain why
I took it in the first place? What bills would I have to pay? My
Visa? I could tell her that. Would she believe me? Do I tell her
I’m still using? What would her reaction be? Would she put me out
like Mom and Dad? I have nowhere else to go. Sometimes I feel like
I’m free falling into an abyss.

March 11. Clear and hovering around
the freezing mark.

One of the girls found me asleep at
work last night. God, I hope she won’t tell the manager. She swore
she wouldn’t. I can’t afford to lose my job. So much has happened
to me already. I don’t need that to top it off.

Allan flipped pages again, skipping
ahead twelve days until he got to March 23rd.

Rain and fog.

Do I hate myself? I know it’s a
strange question to ask oneself. But today, I did something that I
had never done before. And I don’t know what compelled me to do it.
After shaving in the tub, I broke apart my BIC razor and took out
the blade. Then I laid back and ran the blade over my forearms.
Only lightly. I didn’t cut myself or draw blood. Just a couple of
scratches. But I wanted to cut myself. And deeply. Why? All the
while I was doing it, I felt like I was in a trance.

Why am I having these
thoughts?

Allan continued through the diary,
focusing on the entries that portrayed Cathy’s declining state of
mind.

March 28. Clear on the walk home
this morning. Cloudy now. -6.

What is it we all seek in life?
Love, contentment, success? Are those the ingredients of happiness?
To me, happiness seems like a personal journey in search of a
fulfillment that some of us never truly find.

April 2. Good Friday. Cloudy, but
the sun is trying to come out. +17. Nice.

I have the night off. I imagine Mom
and Dad are at the church service they take in every year. As with
each Friday during the forty days of Lent, they will abstain from
eating meat or any animal products today. They used to make Trixy
and me follow the same practices when we were little. We never
complained. It was something we thought everyone did. Things I was
taught to believe in when I was younger, I find harder to do
now.

April 4. Happy Easter. Sunny and
+23. Feels like summer. Wow!

“Memory is the power to gather
roses in winter.” Not sure of the author of that quote or that one
was ever known. But it makes sense.

I have fond memories of Easter. Not
on the same level as Christmas, but special nonetheless. Mom used
to hide eggs all over the house and after breakfast, she would have
us set out on an adventure. Each egg would have a clue written on
it to help Trixy and me find the next egg. And so on down the line.
It was like a little treasure hunt. Waiting for us at the end was
our big present, an Easter basket. In it we would have stuffed
animals, candy eggs and chocolate bunnies…

April 7. + 8. Foggy with a light
drizzle. In this city, you learn to like the fog or at least
tolerate it.

I finally did it. I cut myself in
the tub today. For a long time I just laid there, staring at the
razor in my hands. On one shoulder, there seemed to be the angel of
conscience. On the other, the devil of temptation. One was telling
me not to do it; the other was urging me on.

I caved in to the devil.

I cut my right thigh three times.
They weren’t very deep, but they bled enough to turn the water red.
It was funny; I actually enjoyed it. Pain on the outside seems to
alleviate pain on the inside.

Writing this entry, I realize now
that I should’ve listened to the angel of conscience. Yes, I am
having regrets. God, why am I doing stuff like this? Am I
developing a split personality? With each passing day, I am feeling
more and more worthless. My life is so screwed up. There are times
now when I’m alone, that all I do is cry.

Is heroin really the savoir I
always considered it? Or is it the cause of all this? How can
something that makes you feel so good be so bad for you? And it
seems to be the only thing that makes these miserable feelings go
away.

April 12. Sunny in the morning.
Cloudy now. +11.

The manager called me into his
office after my shift this morning. I was so nervous. I was
wondering if Rosa told him about that night she found me asleep. I
thought I was going to be fired. But it was nothing like that. I
didn’t realize that I had been at Harbor View for 3 months. My
probationary period was over. Hooray. The manager told me that I
was doing a good job and gave me a 25-cent raise. Wow. I guess I
should be happy, if that is possible for me. There was a time I
thought I knew what happiness was. Not anymore. I even feel that
I’m losing my ability to focus.

God, I seem so self-absorbed
lately.

April 17. Snow showers
today.

I need a higher paying job. Either
that, or a second one. God, I can’t believe how the price of
everything is going up. Especially my score.

I just got back and I’m a bit
pissed off. I set up a meet with my dealer this afternoon. Every
time I call, I’m supposed to do it from a payphone. We were to meet
down by the old bridge. He changes our meeting spot every time we
get together. Sometimes it’s in different nightclubs, if I have
that particular night off. Other times it could be at one of the
parks or a quiet alleyway. Our swaps only take seconds. I hand him
the money, he hands me my score, and we walk away without another
word. Whenever I have to meet him in a secluded area, I get
nervous. Who’s to say he just won’t shoot me in the back and take
his stuff back?

Only today was different. He
doesn’t walk away. He stands there and counts my money first and as
I’m walking off, he says, “You’ll need another
twenty-five.”

“For what?” I ask.

“The price has gone
up.”

I have two junior dealers. If I
can’t buy from one, I call the other. It’s seldom both are out of
stock at the same time. They each work under the same head dealer,
or Boss, as they refer to him as. I’ve only met him a couple of
times, but I don’t like him. In fact, I don’t like any of them. And
I surely don’t trust them.