My Son Marius’s 1st Birthday Card
“Downtown Finally,” I think to myself as the bus pulls into the station.
Impatiently I wait for the bus to stop and for the doors to open.
The doors swing open and off the bus I go, relieved the trip across town has come to an end.
I begin my walk the few blocks down to the hotel I’ve been staying. I’ve been there since coming back to Reno from San Jose the week before, living there now with a friend and her son.
It isn’t that far but it still seems like forever, not used to walking this much but I left my bike in the room this morning cause unlike other days it wasn’t needed.
The thought going through my head though, is so offensive to my senses, I cannot believe I’m about to sink so low. I can’t help it the burning desire of this damned demon inside me, the addiction having taken hold of my reason.
Nearly to my destination, I sit down next to this on the edge of hard pavement of this parking lot, between between a tree and the driveway leading out to the next street, in the shadow of this parking garage.
Letting the strap of the backpack I been carrying slide off my left shoulder and swinging it around the front of me, I set the backpack down between my legs. This thing weighs a ton, but I hardly feel it, having become accustomed to the weight of this burden.
Opening the back pack ,I reach inside and pull out the folder kept inside my binder. . Still sealed inside is the blue envelope, having been returned to my mom in the mail at my grandma’s house in San Jose, I flip it over and begin to peel it open. Sliding out the card inside, every moment my conscience telling me to stop. I don’t listen I continue.
What have I done, God forgive me. I remove the 10 dollars put everything back and continue on. I reach my destisnation, knocking on the door for “the Bitch,” a man opens the door of this motel room and exchanges her once again to me for 10 bucks.
My inner addict now relieved proceeds back to the motel I’m staying, to once again kiss “the Bitch” named ‘Crystal’ once more. She don’t care bout my 1 year old son, she is so glad I robbed him for this 10 dollars, “It’s Ok,” she says to me, “Ill make it all better.”
For the moment, she blows a kiss at me and down into my lungs, numbin my emotions and thought, briefly the pain of what I had done, is gone. Oh how she loves me to relieve me of such pain. She fills me up with such such delight, she tells me that just because that I did tastes disgusting, her medicine is oh so good.
Disgusting, is the act I committed, something so hurtful to my soul, it refuses to heal. A thousand times I’ve had money to replace that ten, but none if it has come from an untainted source.
This took place last summer, Tuesday June, 26, 2012.
-Nick ALIAS: COUNTERFEIT