Addiction.

My names Gene, and this is a cautionary tale about drugs and addiction.

I live in the Chicago area with my mother and older sister; my father went to prison on drug charges. He’d been in and out multiple times for possession and dealing, but this time he was found with enough to get him 15 years… He tried to cooperate and give up some information, but none of it played out well enough in his favor.

Drugs, specifically heroin, were a real issue in my family… not for me so much, but my father sold regularly (but rarely used), while my mother and sister on the other hand were users. This created quite the stir in our home after my father left. At first things sounded like they might actually change for the better, there was talk of them getting clean and us being a more normal family, and to their credit it happened… for about 2 months, until one of them found a new dealer.

My mom liked to remember the days of her youth when she was homecoming queen, and a teen model, she was still a very pretty woman but her lifestyle had made her a shadow of what she used to be… But her fading good looks hadn’t hurt her confidence that though, as she was very outgoing, and was able to hold down a job. But with the sole income in family of 3 it paid the bills and that was about it. The plus side is it wasn’t the type of environment that allowed her to easily make acquaintances with people who sold drugs.

My sister was her mother’s daughter. Beautiful and still living her glory days, or so she thought. She was homecoming and prom queen, and incredibly popular, mostly because she could get drugs for parties and would sleep with any guy who mattered in her class. But when she graduated last year and all her classmates moved off to college or started jobs, she was not the type of person they wanted to keep in touch with. So she just sort of drifted. With no responsibilities, she had the freedom to do whatever she wanted, and that made her feel like she was living the life, but that still required money. Any one who looked at her could see she was a user, but she was young and pretty with enough charm that she could still sort of hide it. With every job though, eventually her drug use took precedence and she’d miss work or something and would get fired. She could never keep a job and thus never had money for, among other things, drugs. It actually seemed like it might secretly benefit her to not have a job, and I was right, when she was unemployed she was clean, but not willingly.

She had finally stooped to taking a job that was “beneath her”, as a convenience store clerk, and came home one day with a $25 bag of dope. They’ve always tried to hide what they did from me, but it took more than shut doors and hushed voices. From what I gathered, she met a guy named Kyle, your typical, skinny, crack-head, white-trash type of dealer. She told my mom he could hook them up and asked if she wanted to buy her some too.

My mother shuffled through her purse and pulled out her cash. I could see her doing the mental math, trying to decide what she could give up. Like most users, both she and my sister were also smokers and drinkers. These secondary vices weren’t as enjoyable as heroin, but were cheaper, more accessible and didn’t interfere with normal everyday life. Even though dope was preferred, deciding on a week’s worth of smokes in exchange for one shot in the arm was at least up for some debate. It also showed that she had made some progress being clean, the urge wasn’t as strong, and it was that false sense of accomplishment that made her think she deserved some sort of treat… so she handed my sister the money.

Now $25 doesn’t sound like a lot, and it’s not… if you wanted one hit every couple of weeks, but when an addict wants it multiple times a month, then a week, then daily, it adds up.. And for a single mother of 2, or a girl just out of the school who can’t keep a job, it adds up quicker…

Fast forward a couple months and my mom’s one time “treat” was now a weekly habit on the verge of becoming more frequent. The good news for her is, she’s a good mom, and has always put her responsibilities as a mother before her desires as an addict, so since once a week is all she can afford, that’s all she allowed herself. There’s no booze in the house and she’s all but quit smoking, which is all fine, but that money is going in her arm now, which isn’t an improvement.

My sister lost her job 2 weeks after starting to shoot up again. She quickly burned through whatever money she had left, and I thought this was going to be the end of it… if she’s not buying, then my mom will back off too and they’ll clean up (again). But one night she came home with a bag and my mom freaked out on her.

“Where did you get it?! Where’d you get the money?!” She said, snatching the baggie away. I was sitting on the couch watching TV, just feet from them, desperation, it seems, had made them less discreet.

“Kyle!” My sister answered, taking the bag back. “And I didn’t use money.” Her voice dropped suggestively with the last word.

“Then how’d you pay for it?” My mother demanded. My sister just looked down at her feet and shrugged. “Answer me dammit!”

“I did stuff ok!?”

“What did you do!?” My mom grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room, out of my sight, but not far enough.

“God, I just sucked him off!” I heard my sister say defensively.

There was more scolding and yelling. Sexual favors for drugs was clearly the line that my mother had never crossed before, and she was disgusted that her own daughter had done it, but it didn’t stop. For weeks my sister was still getting high, and hadn’t even bothered to look for a job, she didn’t need money anymore. My mother disapproved of course, but let it go.

Now one of the problems with addictions is that they actually get worse over time. A person who has smoked for 30 years probably smokes more now than when they started. Same goes for an alcoholic, and the same goes for a junkie. Some studies say it’s because the longer a person uses a substance they become increasingly resistant to it, and need more to get the same effect. People also compromise with themselves to the point that they give themselves permission to do more. They start out with a budget, and they stick to it, until they decide they can give up something else in exchange for their addiction.. “I’ll quit smoking and use the money for coke instead”.. Well they’ve technically stayed within their budget, but now they’re feeding the addiction more. It’s all this flexibility that enables the user to get in deeper and deeper. If a person said “I’ll only spend $50” or “I’ll only do it twice a month” and stuck to their own rules, you’d still have an addict, but one who uses far less. But bending on your principles and morals can be even worse. It seems the financial restraints on my mom’s habit were enough to keep her from using more than she was, that is until she learned that she could use more and pay less…

One day I came home from school and caught her sucking that scumbags cock in the middle of the kitchen. I always came home through the back door, which happened to be the kitchen door. I walked up and grabbed the knob but before I could turn it I looked in the window on the door, and saw Kyle standing in there, pants and underwear pulled down mid – thigh. My mother was kneeling in front of him, head bobbing rapidly on his tiny prick. Her hands were grabbing his ass cheeks, while he had one on the back of her head and the other on the counter next to him. My eyes were wide, I was shaken, disgusted, and angry. I turned and left, I didn’t want to watch, although the hard-on I had suggested otherwise.

I never caught her again, but I knew it was still happening. For several weeks afterwards both she and my sister were shooting up on a nearly nightly basis. It sickened me to look at them, their drug induced state was bad enough, but knowing that they were allowing a piece of shit like that to use them, and use BOTH OF THEM! And be ok with it!? My mother sucking the dick of the same guy her own daughter sucked for drugs! I mean do you see what people will do for drugs?!

Then one day he was gone. I came home to my mom and sister arguing frantically, “why isn’t he answering?!”. Apparently Kyle couldn’t be reached by any means. I know I was keeping a straight face, but I was smiling on the inside. We never heard from him again, never found out what happened to him. Most likely he got arrested, or just realized that getting paid in blow jobs wasn’t a good business strategy.. but who knows, maybe he wound up dead in a ditch somewhere.. It’s nice to imagine. But this sudden disappearance turned into two very long weeks in my house. Sure I was fine, and rather enjoyed seeing them forced to clean up, but they were miserable to be around. They complained constantly about having to find a new dealer, which was easier said than done. The problem was that my dad burned a lot of bridges when he tried to be a rat to get out of jail time. No one with connections wanted anything to do with my family. But as with all industries, money talks, and they finally got in touch with someone.

His name was Tyrone, young, new to slinging, his older brother was a big shot dealer who was all about the money. So when my, still unemployed, sister offered him a BJ in lieu of payment, he turned and got back in his car and left.