Sometimes the "real world" is not real.  And the world of pretend is real. And the world of life is fantasy and the world of illusion is life and normalcy. For some that can only live in a state of inducement becomes addicting and what happens on the outside of the box is not reality. We must keep ourselves focused on our star player, reboot and refocus on the things that are real and not get down, not get comfortable but progress and shake the negative and dwell in the positive....Just Toy...Just Saying 

WHEN HELL AIN'T ENOUGH




I have always been a nomad, maybe because my parents were just that. My mother was what you call a Captain Save Them! My story is not glamorous at all, far from it! But it is a story that needs to be told now that's real talk. And before I tell it if you are weak in stomach or have an issue with foul language and as they say “mature content” then I say this story is not for you. I have been asked time and time again to tell my story though I have many times. But not in full as I will tell you today. So again I say to you, I will hold no bars and punches as I tell you the real deal.


First I give you a little bit of info on my dad. He is what many and myself call an educated fool. My father has read so many books high and not high. And also got his degree in social science. My father was also a student of life and probably had more schooling than an actual doctor getting his PHD! Real talk! I mean my father stayed in school in and out until I was fourteen. But I will get to that later.


Now my mother was once a beautiful lady educated and loved life a free spirit. My parents met while they were in college at the student center. Like some college students that tried drugs here and there and got drunk that was my parents. My mother being the one who was more level headed at the time. She told me that drugs didn't do her she did drugs. When she felt that it was getting a bit much to smoke a joint or drink she pulled back. Her mission was to go to school get out travel some and work a good job. Which she did, she did do that. Now the reason why I call my mother a captain save em is because she had a soft heart that always extended out to others. She always seemed to help many people in need. Some took the help and came back and helped her. Some dogged and used her and left her holding the trash. My father was one of them that she couldn't get out of her life for nothing. But as I told her when I got older “Sometimes you gotta let that love shit go!” Had she done that her life would have turned out so much different.


My parents love affair was off and on for three years. My father partying all the time and he could do that because he was a genius. He could read anything and comprehend it just like that! Never had to study nothing! So he helped a lot of people out and they paid him with money or a few pills to get high or some weed. My father did a bot of everything when he was in college not really favoring one type of high over the other. He just like doing drugs! And in college there was plenty to be had!


After my mother graduated my mother left my dad and went and did what she wanted to do and that was travel. I am glad that she did at least accomplish some of her goals in life. And when she got back she got her an apartment and furnished it and had a good paying job. My father the lifetime student was still in school it was like he never wanted to grow up. My father obtained a lot of knowledge but knowledge that went nowhere and was never put to use. Only to people he talked to, always fronting because he didn't want to appear to any one that he was some waste walking up and down the streets.


My mother and father had gotten back together when she was about five months on her job. My mother would fuss at my dad about how he needed to stop running the streets and get his shyt together and figure out what he really wanted to do. But as long as those scholarships were coming and student loans were there along with the grants my father was a student for life. Hell, my father wasn't worried he had been and was always a 4.0 student. He was drinking, getting high, getting paid and he was able to buy whatever my mother wanted and whatever he wanted. The good life!


My parents got married, why my mother did this I will never know! She knew that my father was an addict. He may not have been the type of addict where he was walking around looking bad and homeless. But yet and still he was a user. My mother just felt that if he was around her and saw how well she was doing and getting along he would follow suit. My father had his first OD and he saw his life pass right before his eyes so he kicked! He kicked cold turkey and that is when I came along. My mother said my father was clean from all the “drugs” except for weed and a beer here and there for a lil buzz. He stayed in school and saved his bread and bought us a house and of course was still in school. By now my father had earned himself a Masters, and was working towards his PHD. A degree in social science, and the next one was psychology. Not counting all the many certifications he had gotten. My father was smart in this case, as long as he stayed in school he didn't have to pay those student loans back. And like I said he kept getting scholarships to continue his education. He was balling!


For the first part of my young very young life my father was drug free. He with my mom pulled in the stragglers and helped those who were less fortunate than them. I can never recall a time where there wasn't someone living in our basement rent free. And when they fukd up bad my mother would put them out! It was when I turned five that my father had started to hang with the white boys in school. My father was around twenty-seven about this time. And they were into Quaalude's, uppers, downers, acid, coke, heroine and speed. Though my father had done the uppers and coke to stay up. The quaaludes, acid, speed and heroine were different and when he had gotten a taste of speed balling he had found his choice of drug. He would soon slide into that hopeless despair of addiction. Or shall I say a deep addiction!


When my mother saw the company my father was keeping and how she saw him slipping she begged him to quit. And when that didn't work she threatened to leave and take me with her. I was at one time my fathers fukn world! And life without me was or would be I should say a living hell. In the course of five years straight my mother would leave my father twice a year it seemed. Carting us off to a luxury apartment. Making sure that when my father came by there was always some attractive man there. My mother let me go with my father when he would come pick me up because he would stay straight just as long as he was with me, or should I say I was with him.


My mother had convinced my father to move and he did. We owned a house in New York, Maryland, Pennsylvania, Washington D.C. And Virginia! Yeap we moved to all of those places to get my father away from running the streets with the addicts. But what my mother failed to understand or realize that a dope fiend would always find out where the dope was.


I am going to speed up my story now that you have a gist of my mother and father and get down in the meat of the story. My mother had finally relented and joined in on the fun. She wasn't doing the hardcore drugs yet; but she was back to smoking weed and having a few beers or wine. My mother told my father if he stayed clean during the week they would both party from sun up to sun down on Friday and all day and night on Saturday. My mother had to rest up all day Sunday to go in to work on Monday while my father, yes the man was in somebodies school everywhere we lived you can believe that. It was his hustle.


This worked out for a year. Friday night while my parents thought I was sleep I was creeping and watching them do what they do. Smoke, flirt, get high, drink. They danced, screamed hollered, played cards and I caught a lot of the guest having sex. Oh yeah, it seemed as if everyone that came to my parents house all slept with each other. I later found out that a lot of these parties were swinger parties. They were hosted with everything a good host would or should have at a party. My mother it seemed was very uncomfortable with the swinging sex games for awhile. But she later got use to it and also indulged. On Saturday morning it was when I would leave to stay at a friends, relatives, or somebody so that my parents could do their thing. This was sometime and not all the time. However I had grown accustomed to leaving most weekends.


It was when I had turned thirteen about to turn fourteen the shyt started to get deep in our house. My father was now a functioning junkie and my mother was tooting coke. They thought they were hiding this from me, but I was far from dumb I knew what was going on. My parents made money, I mean crazy money! My father played the stocks and had invested into so much. My mother had finally quit her job and was what she felt living a life of leisure. But how long can a junkie and a dope fiend keep hold to the money and stay on top of their game? Hell not for long!


My mother had hired a nanny, she was suppose to make sure that I did my homework, pick me up from school and she took me places. Kept me busy because I was into all sorts of things. Ballet, piano classes, girl scouts anything my mother could do to keep me out of her hair so she could do her thing. It was one day that my nanny and I had come home and my mother was in the living room nude sucking a mans dick who had coke all over it!! My nanny quit! Threatening to call the police and child welfare. We left that night with my mother and father having some movers pack up our clothes and the things my parents wanted and moved into one of the many houses my father owned.


My father was speed balling and he was shooting up any and every chance he got. My mother would get angry with him, and they would argue about who was more hooked on drugs more than the other. They fought and argued like cats and dogs. As I starting growing up in this madness I was being put more and more on the back burner. I am not saying that my mother and father didn't love me. But they didn't love themselves, and how can you love anyone else if you are blinded by drugs?? The fact is I was so surprised at a very young age when my mother declined downward in taking drugs she was so set against them. And how many of times she would take me and leave the house. This to me is the only time I saw real love from my mother and father. They would spend time with me, take me places, talk to me and we would be a loving family.


The more and more my father got deeper in drugs the less he wanted to work on his investments and play the stocks. My mother would have a blow up and get to ranting and waving calling my dad mutha fukas and sons of bythches because she would see how low the bank accounts were.. She would panic not because she would not be able to take care of me or the bills. But because their drug habits were more important and where would they get the money to get high. And with that my father would make a huge investment putting one of the houses as collateral and the pay out would be huge. And my mother would be calm again.


As I got older it had began to be a stand off between my parents. Meaning that one would try to see who could piss the other off the most. My father really wasn't into having other women. I come to find out later that when you use heroine you begin to loose your sex drive. But this would come much later. But my mother was angry! Angry that she was hooked, angry she didn't work, angry that she was with my father and most of all angry that she had me! The love she once had for me was not the love she had for me now. Oh I ate, I wore the best and my neighbors, fam and friends were considered me to be spoiled and had everything. Little did they know that life was hell in my house! That I did not want to live there or be there!


There was an incident that happened when I was twelve years old and I can of course remember it like it was yesterday! I was up in my room with my headphones on tuning out the loud talk and caravan ting that was going on downstairs. I was flipping through a magazine. And in an instant my door is opened and I look up and it is one of my fathers friends. He was so damn plastered! High on coke and I could smell the liquor on his breath before he had walked all the way in my room. It seemed he was saturated in it. He wobbled over to my bed, “You know you fine and I have been checking you out. I know you want me girl.” And as he made his way to my bed he was pulling his clothes off and trying to unbuckle his pants. I screamed but no one heard me the music was up too loud. So I jumped out of bed and my bathroom just so happened was adjoined to a bedroom that was a guest bedroom and I made a quick get away to the door. He was quick and had caught my ankle, he had tripped over my shoes on the floor. I had kicked him in the face and ran downstairs. I found my father and it seemed as if in an instant his high went away and he ran up those stairs like a track star! When my father made it to my room he picked him up and punched him in the face so hard and knocked him out cold. He got two of his friends to drag his azz down the stairs and they threw him in the pool. They were high and not thinking. Truth be told that all of my dads and moms friends had “love” for me or shall I say liked me a lot. They would do things and take me places with their children when they were not high or drinking. I can say this, our conversations the ones with the children were crazy. We all had what we called war tales of what our parents did and who was the worse. We had the drug crazed experiences in common. But none had the story I had or had experienced so far that is. Or let me say to my knowledge.


Well once he hit that pool he woke up instantly! Thank God the man could swim, he fought the water for a long time and everyone including myself were watching as he struggled and then finally swam to the edge of the pool and pulled himself out. My father and him fought in the backyard and then he was kicked out of our home. Never to return again! Of course this led to everyone's high being gone and just like that when it was all over. They all went back to drinking and getting high and talking about what had just happened. I went back upstairs with no one asking me was I okay.


I had gotten immune to crying, I use to cry every time my parents fought and they partied or got high. But this night I cried and cried while sitting in my bathroom floor shaking like I was sick. The next day when it was over my parents mentioned nothing and had took me out to eat and let me get whatever I wanted from the mall.


As I told you before my father stayed in school until I was fourteen. Then it happened, my father had quit school he was tired I assume of school and all that was important to him was getting high! So as it was with my mother. I am so sure that when they pissed it was nothing but dope in the toilet. They barely ate, and they were starting to look like shyt. It was now noticeable no one could deny that there was something wrong. But most of my father and mothers family turned a blind eye to it and them and mostly me! Hell most of my mother and fathers siblings got high with them!


I was living in a world of the invisible. I had been cooking my own meals since I was the age of eleven. And most times if there was a meal that my mother so-called cooked it was take out from somewhere. I had also started stealing money from my father when I was eleven to get the small things I wanted. Hell all he was going to do was go to get high. I bought fashion mags and cooking mags, all types of books to disappear from my world. And this is what turned me into my own fashionista and a great cook or what I liked to call chef. Any food that was purchased in the house was mostly me asking my mom could she take me to the store and buy groceries. Of course whenever I cooked my culinary delights and deserts my parents waved to their friends and me how good of a cook I was turning out to be. At first it was little things I would cook until I dared to think big and cook out of the box. I found myself cooking a lot just to get compliments from my parents because that was really the only time they truly talked to me.


Now that my father was fully engrossed in his own world and no longer in school. When he wasn't getting high and when he was high or coming down from his high he loved to read which is where I got my love for reading and studying. My father had bought all types of books and he read them and mastered the knowledge of them. He was extremely smart and intelligent. Also now at the time I had begun to keep the house clean because my parents had now lived in what I liked to refer as squalor. No longer was there a maid to come clean the house as there was before. And now the government wanted their monies back for all the money my father had owed for going to school. My father had obtained three Master degrees and a PHD. Can you believe it? He was also certified as an IT consultant and also studied criminal justice. Altogether my father had spent over fifteen years in school.


It was also when I turned fourteen my father had stopped paying taxes on his houses. So what he did was sold one of the houses to pay up the taxes and the rest he used to party. I threw myself in everything I possibly could to stay away from home. I despised kids that I knew that drank and got high. So my friends were far and few in between. I hoped on buses and created my own fun by sight seeing the city. I shopped and found many bargain places, alleys, warehouses that sold clothes from reputable designers at low prices. I took myself out to eat and found a lot of small stores that sold specialty foods and groceries. And I spent a lot of time at the book stores and libraries. I stayed in dance classes, tried out for plays at school. I felt I was all alone and a grown up raising myself. My father felt he was a big money mogul so he had money laid out everywhere. And again when the bank accounts dwindled is when my mother would fuss and scream about him playing the stocks to make more money. And this led to selling another house. So far two houses out of the eight he had were now gone. And number three was on the way because of the student loans that my dad had incurred.


My father when he wasn't high had sold his tips to some of his friends and stock brokers because he predicted the stock market better than they did. So this was a side hustle. But of course he wasn't reliable or reachable because he liked getting high.


Let me stop here now and tell you that you may think that what I am telling you is bad now. But I haven't yet gotten to the bad part of this fukd up situation. I am going to fast forward to when I had graduated from high school. Because now I will have you at the point in my life when it had finally hit rock bottom.


By the time I had graduated from high school all of the houses had been sold because my father couldn't keep up with the taxes and he wanted to get high. We still had the one house we lived in and had never moved from in Brooklyn, a brownstone that I had somehow managed to keep up. If it were not for me constantly stealing money from my dad every time he got a lump sum we would have been in an even worse position. I would forge my mothers signature on checks. From practicing over and over to sign her name just like hers. I would buy supplies for the house, food, and pay the bills. I do believe my father was now aware of what I was doing but he never said anything. It took one time for all the utilities to be cut off in the house and we were in the dark and for a week because neither of them would go pay it and have the electric turned back on. I was so angry! But I had nowhere else to go! And everyone knew my parents were dope fiends! Everyone!


The one thing people thought was crazy was how I had new clothes, how cleaned the house stayed and how on the outside I seemed to have it all together. But I was fukd up on the inside fronting like everything was okay and I was good.


When I looked at my father and saw how his veins in his arms had now collapsed. My mother was frail and both of them had bags under their eyes. They looked like walking zombies. They both now hung out in the abandon brownstones in the ghettos shooting up and getting high. My mother sniffed coke, heroine, and also smoked crack. She had graduated too different types of ways of getting high. There was still some money left, but as I looked at the bank accounts I knew that soon it would get treacherous in my home. I had knew that things would soon be sold and most of the things I had bought to be comfortable in the house would soon be gone. So I was now placed in the situation to move out as soon as I could. I had saved up quite a bit of the monies from all the monies I had stolen. And at first I was spending it as fast as I had stolen it. But one of my close friends who's mother was an addict and hung with my parents told me that I should save the money. She said she was doing the same thing and when she turned eighteen she was moving out and getting a job. So I followed suit and started doing this when I was fifteen. So I hid my money in a place at first I knew my parents would not look. I had a doll that I had loved my mother had given to me when I was six years old. Her head could come off and on. So I started putting money there. And when that had gotten filled up I then cut open a stuffed animal my father had won me back in the day when we went to Coney Island. It is long shut down now. So I stuffed money in there and would sew it back each and every time I put money in the lion. My friend Olivia and I said that we would move in together. But as time went on we grew apart which I was glad of because she had begun to be a problem child which it wasn't her fault. It was the environment. Believe me it was damn hard trying to keep a head up above all the filth and the shyt I had endured. Walking in on people who would get paranoid when they were high, to people who could only get high if they were in the nude. To cursing and many fights over the dope that my parents had so graciously provided. These were no longer friends they were fiends in the worse way and only came over to the house to get high. I have had guns pulled on me because my aunt and uncle carried them and had at times forgot who I was paranoid that I was some undercover coming into the house to raid them. By the time I had reached the tenth grade I had went to the local hardware store and had gotten deadbolts on my room door and the bathroom door. I slept with the keys around my neck every night!


And since no one went into the basement I had also put locks on those doors so that my valuables I had purchased I would place down there so they would not get taken. I was also getting way tired of cleaning the mess in the house after the get high crew would come over. Some times I would not clean up and let it go for days. But I couldn't live like that, so I ended up cleaning it up. Empty glasses, liquor bottles, and it seems dirty dishes from nowhere would appear. Like a cyclone would hit the house!


I had a classmate vouch for me as a reference so that I could get an apartment. And I moved without saying goodbye to my parents. Hell they didn't know if I was there or not half the time anyways. So while they were getting high I was packing boxes and moving out. I had removed all the things I had bought for my apartment in the basement and my room. I did this when they were sleep in the day time. Of course both of them missed the day I walked across the stage to graduate from high school on the honor roll with a 4.0. Like I said I had picked up some good habits from my dad. Because I just remember my mom working for a little while. I knew she had a degree because it was on the wall in the family room. But as I grew older I didn't see her as an educated woman at all.


Most of their monies were gone, I am now talking to now just maybe a thousand in one bank account. When there was more than one bank account, money market CD;s and more. My dad had long gone gave up playing the market. And before I had moved out he and my mother had OD'd more times than I like to recall. My mother had gone into cardiac arrest and thank God I was there or she would have died! But after a week of being sober she went right back to getting high. My father had checked himself into rehab for the fifth time and was clean for only a couple of weeks at a time. He couldn't handle the real world without being high.


I was going to school at Columbia University living in Harlem far away from my parents. I had managed to finish up a year in school and was working part time and just using small amounts of the money I had stolen from them. I was being very frugal. I wanted to be a chef and fashion designer. I took my pre-reqs and I took classes in business and design. Though Columbia didn't really have classes or courses in being a chef. I still took any and all classes that I could that were close into what I wanted to do. I knew that I would attend culinary school at one point and time. But I still cooked and cooked and sharpened my skills.


I did not tell my parents or any of my relatives where I was and what I was doing. I did not want the embarrassment of any of them coming up to my school. But after a year and a half had passed I had decided to call the house. And of course all phones were disconnected along with cellphones. Which really didn't surprise me. I called one of my Uncles my fathers brother who didn't participate any longer. He had now been clean from drugs for five years and was doing well. I had asked him had he seen my dad or mom, and his reply was “Yes, baby girl they are faaar gone and not doing well at all. You wouldn't even recognize them if you saw them. Your mother looks like a skeleton. And my brother.....my brother he broke down crying and then got his self together. My brothers hands are swollen badly. He has rags tied around them all the time because of the sores he has from continuing to shoot up. His teeth are rotted out. He has sores and scabs on his face and neck. And he has open wounds that need care. He refuses to go get help.” I cried I never thought that within a year and a half it would have gotten this bad.


My uncle told me that the house was now a shell of its self, it was a wreck and it now inhabitable drug addicts twenty-four seven. Which I could believe because it was mental and emotional torture on me to keep it clean all those years. And if I had not cleaned it it would have stayed that way.


I tried to imagine and picture what my parents looked like from my uncles description. And I was overwhelmed with emotions. I shook, I cried, I paced back and forth in my apartment. I screamed and yelled “Why!!!!???” And I sat in a corner on the floor and cried until no more tears would fall. I made myself sick where I had to go to my bathroom and vomit until I was dry heaving. I sat in the dark all night looking out of my window with no sleep, wondering if I could get the courage up to go and see them.


I got up and took a shower. Taking nothing but money to get to my parents house and back. I put it inside of my bra. I took my license and put it in there as well. I chose not to drive in case I was asked to take someone some place. I put on my Columbia sweatshirt, jeans and sneakers. I pulled my hair back in a neat ponytail and I walked out locking my door and putting my keys in my pocket. I headed towards the subway for the long ride to Brooklyn. The longest ride in my life because I knew that that is how I would feel.


My stomach was tied up in knots and I had a slight headache. My pulse was racing and it seemed that my heart kept skipping beats. I kept ringing my hands from the moisture and I couldn't stop bouncing my leg up and down from nervousness. This ride was torture for me. No matter the sad and bad times that I had experienced with my parents I loved them. They were all I had really.


When I got off the train and started walking I kept talking to myself, bracing myself. But this still did nothing for my nerves and how I really felt. I was a wreck! And just like that! I was in front of the brownstone and I couldn't even tell you how I got there so quickly and what the people looked like on the streets and sidewalk. A walk that took twenty minutes seemed as if it had took five. I was now standing, looking and staring at my home. And I saw addicts come in and out and some sitting on the stoop smoking cigarettes. I recognized none of them.


“Any of you know Bobby and Cathy?” The dude that was sitting on the stoop looked up. He looked like a zombie. He had scabs and sores on his arms and face. I was disgusted, I was trying not to throw up.

“Yeah I know em. Who are you?”

“I'm there daughter Cecily.” The man smiled and nodded his head. He had a long ash on the end of his cigarette that wouldn't fall off. And he was leaning so much to the left I thought he would fall over to the left side but he didn't. I knew he was high.

“Yeah, your momma and daddy talk about you all the time. I was beginning to think they was lying they had a daughter. But here you are in the flesh. They inside, I know they will be happy to see you. Go on, go on inside.” He smiled showing his missing teeth. The lady that was sitting next to him was so gone she wasn't paying attention to anything we said. I was shaking, and my nerves were truly on edge. I put my foot on one step and took a deep breath and I went up the stairs. I covered my hand with the end of the my sleeve then opened the door. When I walked in I immediately heard low voices coming from other rooms. I also zoned in on people bickering, I heard moaning and I was now sucked up in what I felt was hell. The house was a wreck just me taking it all in from standing at once use to be a nice foyer. The hard wooden floors were tattered badly! They looked overly worn. The walls that were once bright white were now a dark gray minced in with black. There were no longer curtains up to the windows just old sheets, my mothers designer sheets no less! And the designer would feel hurt if he saw where his sheets were. They looked beaten and were filthy! I walked in the living room and there was two people sitting in there. One was sitting on the sofa that had cotton coming out of it from the cushions and looked as if it was pulled off from the back of an alley somewhere and brought here. I couldn't believe all the artwork and little things my mother had purchased to decorate her home, our home were now gone. And what was left which was very close to nothing looked horrible. The coffee table was barely standing and had loads of trash on it along with used needles, bottle caps, candles, lighters, pipes, mirrors and old razor blades! I was forcing myself from the smell in the house not to gag. I could smell the shyt in the house, mildew and bad plumbing surface and permeate the entire house. I had to cover my nose and mouth with my hand.


The person who was barely dressed her legs wide open showing all her feminine business had a sore on her inner thigh that was oozing puss and blood. And from the looks of it she had bodily floods leaking from her snatch! I shook real hard. I thought did they just finish having sex? Because the man sitting on the sofas pants were un-done. His eyes opened as he sensed my presence. I walked off and went to go look for my parents. It was like sunlight in this house was against the law. It was dark which made it eerie and uncomfortable like I was walking in a moseluem and in some horror movie all combined in one at night. Not a good feeling because I had no idea of what I would run in or see. I had walked in the kitchen and it was just as I had suspected. Dirty dishes everywhere! It reminded me of the shows I would see on A&E Hoarders! I could see the roaches climbing and crawling all over the walls and counters. I seen bags and bags of uneaten and eaten fast food. I didn't know these people ate. Or who was eating for that matter. There was trash all over the floor and the sink was backed up with God knows what in the sink. It looked like a gutter and a tar pit. I walked out to the hallway passing up the love birds again and in what was once a guest room was in bad shape as well no one was in there. The next room was what my father used as his cave, his office. Well there was no furniture in there at all! It was filthy as the rest of the house and there were clothes and drug paraphernalia on the floor along with a couple who were arguing about the dope and one man leaning on the wall smoking a cigarette oblivious to their conversation. And another drug addict rocking back and forth seemingly needing to get high and her eyes were scanning the floor wide open!


I saw the bathroom from the hall, I couldn't walk in but there was a smell that came out that told me it was better to walk on by and glance and not get sucked in the filth that resided in there. As I looked in rooms and saw people who were walking around naked, a lady on her knees sucking a man off because he had some dope and she wanted some so she decided to get him a favor. The man was high I could tell and loving the attention he was getting. That is when I let it go. I threw up on the floor, and no one cared that I did. When I got a hold of myself I wiped the side of my mouth and ran back to the hallway. I then heard familiar voices coming from upstairs. It sounded like my mother she was arguing with someone. There were people that were talking upstairs and some arguing and laughing. All of this going on at the same time. It was overwhelming! I again covered my hand with the end of my sleeve and held the stairwell as I walked up the stairs. The smell of death seemed to just consume me, this wasn't life! This was not acceptable at all. How could I walk in from a wonderfully sunny beautiful breezy and a perfect day into darkness like this? To pain and the only need and want is to get high. There was all types of drug addicts in this house. Those who shot up, smoked crack, sniffed dope all in this house and their addiction had taken over.


All the rooms were to the left of me as I made it to the top of the staircase. This was a huge house and now it seemed even more massive because there was no furniture in it at all. Two bedrooms downstairs with a huge dining room and living room and kitchen. A laundry room or service porch and pantry. Two bathrooms downstairs one off the kitchen that had just a toilet and sink. And the other was a full bathroom. Up stairs in the master bedroom was a master bath attached. And then there was the two bedrooms that had an adjoined bathroom. The other bedroom was at the other end of the house it was small didn't have as much character as the other bedrooms upstairs but it was nice all the same. As I walked and saw every room in the house I saw how it was when I lived here. The before and after of the house was like a make-over. From seeing a woman who weighted 300 pounds to now looking like a runway model! Except this was the reverse!


It is so hard to explain the feeling I was getting all over my body. You know when you get the chills and how they run all over your body back and forth? This is what I was feeling and it was overwhelming and scary. This was the house I grew up in. I was now mentally tired of what I was seeing I just horned in on my mothers voice and walked to it. She was in the master bedroom at the end of the hall. As I got closer my stomach got tighter and tighter. Like I was doing sit ups and crunches I could feel my abs getting tighter. I could barley decipher what she was saying, and then I heard the front door slam and someone was running up the stairs. I turned around, I was standing right in front of the bedroom door. I looked at the man coming towards me all smiles with a cigarette in his hands. He was grinning from ear to ear. He had his two front teeth missing and the rest looked over yellow if that made sense. His clothes fit him big and they were filthy, he had on too many layers of clothes for the weather. Even though it was brisk outside. His sneakers were too big and there were no laces in them. When I finally looked into his blood shot red eyes, behold it was my father! I stood there frozen solid in my stance. My mouth automatically fell open. And tears came from my eyes. I could hardly recognized him and tried to see the man I knew. The good looks, the beautiful smile perfect teeth. Twinkle in his eyes. Naturally wavy kempt hair, smooth and clear skin. All that was gone leaving him in a shell of his former life. Gaunt cheeks, the twinkle was gone, teeth and smile gone. Hair matted and locks had formed in his hair. All this happened in a year and a half? I was only gone for a year and a half! And now my father looks like hell, hell this house looked like hell! I saw the sores, his hands wrapped up in torn sheets or rags. Hands swollen, open wounds!


“Daddy?” My voice cracked. The excitement he had coming up those stairs was gone.

“Cecily? His voiced had cracked and his eyes got watery. His hands were filled with his drugs in one and the other a brown paper sack with I am sure some type of cheap alcohol. Cathy!! Cathy come out here now!”

“Bobby bring your azz in here now these mutha fuckas in here tripping! I don't have time for this shyt!”

“Cathy you need to come out here now!” Tears were streaming down his face. My mother had snatched the door open and was talking loudly fussing at my dad for making her come out of the room. She was sniffing and sniffing and wiping her nose. I had assumed she was still snorting coke. She had black bags under her eyes. She had on a thin worn T-shirt no bra. Her breast were sagging and looked like they were the breast of a seventy year old. My mother used to have full breast that set up. Now they were saggy and you could see her nipples through her T-shirt. Her hair that was long was allover her head. No luster no sheen no life. Her arms looked the size of a twelve year old, boney and rail thin. She had on some old gray sweats that were twisted around her waist. She was never a full figured woman but she had a beautiful figure with full hips, thighs and a round azz. All of that was gone! Her skin had broken out and she looked like a thirteen year old with acne. The tears had now poured from my eyes. I could smell my mother, she was right there next to me. I wanted to hug her but she smelled of must, azz, and like a ladies restroom all in one! She backed up when she realized she was standing right next to me in front of my face. She smoothed her hair back as if she was putting it back in place. She fixed her sweats and shirt. Of course it didn't help. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand again. It seemed she did this constantly. And she kept sniffing. I looked over at my dad who was still standing in the same place. Just then the bedroom door flew open and a man with no shirt on and had his raggedy dirty jeans unbuttoned holding them up stepped outside. “Cathy get your azz back in here and finish me off!” Hearing that broke my heart! I held back the sobbing. “Not now Curtis!” “Bytch you wanna get high on my supply you better come on I don't have time for this shyt I can take my shyt somewhere else!” My dad yelled at him. “Respect my house Chico! My daughter is standing right there!” He looked at me up and down. “So what that mean? Cathy wanna get high, you want some dope for later so you won't get sick. Then you do what you gotta do! I don't give a fuk about her! Then have this fine young thang come on in here and do me!” Just then my father dropped his bottle and his drugs and ran over him in a flash and jumped on him. As he was pounding Chico, I of course had moved out of the way and I was sobbing. My mother was trying to pull my father off of him. She was yelling and screaming and hitting my father. She knew I knew that if it didn't stop he wouldn't get high. No matter if I was there are not. There first concern and number one priority was getting high. Once my dad gotten up from drilling Chico and where he had gotten the strength to do it I was shocked. Chico had a bloody nose and blood coming from his mouth. He jumped up from the floor and pulled his pants up and buttoned them up and walked into the bedroom and had his shirt and a handful of dope. My mother screamed out “Chico wait!” My father walked over to my mother and snatched my mother by her arm. As if he was snatching sense into her. And just as he did it she woke up. My father had her drugs on him. I assume he didn't want her to suck Chico off for some coke. Her superman I suppose.


“You look good Cecily.” I wiped my face. My stomach was getting nervous and rumbling. My parents were now standing close to each other for support and each others security. They looked like kids who got caught and was now in trouble.

I manged to say, “Thank you”

“I see you have a Columbia sweatshirt on. Do you go there?” My mother asked. I looked down at my shirt and nodded yes. My parents knew nothing about me. They just knew I was their daughter.
“I don't know what to say....I just came by to see how you both were doing. I see...you are still living. I guess that is good. I, I..”

“I know we look like shyt. I know we do.” My dad replied. I nodded my head yes.

“The house looks like hell, how..how did you guys....I am going to go. I ..”

“Wait! I know it looks bad in here. You don't think we know that?”
“Do you guys know what I suffered? You are here living like savages! All these strange people in this house looking like the walking dead. Look at you daddy! I see sores on your neck and look at your hands! You need to see a doctor! I can't do this right now. I thought seeing you would help me release the guilt I was carrying. Its not. It is making me boil over in hating you both!”

“We were horrible parents. I think about you everyday Cecily. Let me show you something. My mother walked towards what was once my old room. She opened the door and to my surprise when I saw a small piece of it from where I was standing it was perfect! Immaculately cleaned it looked like the room I had left. I walked into the door, my bed was made my stuffed animals, books, magazines. All placed perfectly in the room. My mother stepped in. I took everything that was important and placed it in here. Family albums, pictures of all of us in better days in frames. I even keep the bathroom clean. I will not let anyone come in here and get high. She walked over to the closet. And began pointing out how she safely and carefully placed heirlooms in plastic containers. There were some original art pieces. She showed me a metal case that was as small as a jewelry box with a lock on it. My jewelry is in here. All those tennis bracelets, diamond earrings, rings, even my wedding ring set is in here. All the jewelry your father bought me and mink coats all in this walk in closet. I knew one day you would come back home just didn't know when she chuckled. Yeap this was my old life. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. My father just stood at the entrance of the door he didn't walk in. Many of days your father and I argued over this stuff. Him wanting to sell it or pawn it to get high. But the more I said no the more he backed off and had told me I was right. She reached at the top of the shelf and pulled own a envelope. She handed it to me.

“What is this?”

“A savings account. Your name on it baby. Ima tell you it was hard as hell not to get the money out. We have sold everything in this house to get high even ourselves. Look.....Cecily I know we ...and she caught her breath. She was beginning to cry. I can't do nothing to save me now but I can make sure you okay. You know this house is paid for. When the taxes is due, I never question what your daddy do to pay them but they get paid. We still got our house, we still live here.”

“With no lights ma, no gas, no food and junkies in and out of here. What type of life is that? This is not good! You guys can get help. Don't you want that? A normal life? Not this hell hole you have made for yourselves? It smells of death and filth in here.” I ran out of my room and down the stairs. I needed some air. It felt like I was in that house for horror. As soon as I reached the front door and went outside I was in a better place. The crispness of the air, the birds singing, the bright sunshine. People who were not addicts smiling walking down the street. And some staring at me wondering why I had come out of the house. I looked nothing like the addicts that walked in and out of here. My thought was why had the cops not kicked them out of the house bust the doors in. But I could feel there had been times where the cops may have been called over some drug drama. And then again what could they do? This was their house and they could have anybody in it they wanted to and do what they wanted to. My mother came out of the house. “I love you Cecily.” I looked at her and walked down the front steps and down the sidewalk.


I hadn't realized I had walked ten blocks. I still had the envelope in my hand. I had gotten on the subway and had when I opened the envelope I saw what bank was on the account and saw that all my information was on it. I got off on the stop where I knew this bank was. Still in a daze I walked inside of the bank. When I got in front of the teller I asked her could she tell me what was in the account. She typed in the numbers on her keyboard and looked at her screen of course asking me for my ID and when she told me the amount I was shocked! I took the bank book back and walked out. I hopped back on the subway an headed home.


Five months had passed by since I had last saw my parents. And as I was making myself a grilled chicken salad my cell phone had rang. I looked at the caller ID and it was my uncle. My fathers brother, the one who had been clean for the past five years of drugs and was doing very well.

“Hey Unc how are you?”

“I am doing good real good baby girl! I just got back from a little treat myself right island vacation. Me and my girl.” My uncle had lost his wife when he was on drugs. She indulged here and there but never became an addict. Then things came up missing and my uncle would be gone for days at a time. Wasn't working losing jobs. She packed the kids up and left. They from my understanding are very good friends and he sees the kids which are now in college all the time. But back then it was hell for her. I never met the girlfriend. But my cousins say she is very pretty and smart and they have been together now for three years. I think they say she is a make up artist and works for movies and TV shows and has her own school where she holds classes in how to become a make-up artist and do make up for horror movies and much more.

“That sounds good. I need a vacation. I was thinking of going on my first cruise this summer. I chuckled. Or to London, I have enough money to do it.

“I say go! Hey I want to see you. I have something for you, do you think we can link up at Tony's later for some dinner?”

“Sure...around six would be perfect for me. Plus I should be famished by that time I just made me a grilled chicken salad for lunch.”

“Okay perfect we can meet around six.”


Summer semester was over with and I was happy about that just six weeks long. And I had taken this course at a city college to add to my credits. I wanted to get out of school and continue on my path. Though I was always giving a party of some sort because I loved cooking and creating all these funny and unique themes. And cooking gave me my high. I was wondering if I would soon go into the catering business. I don't know, but I have made my hustle money from cooking and always got business when I cooked for a party. I would plan the whole themes, décor, and food menu. It was real fun.


After I finished my salad I surfed the internet and did a little shopping. And my boyfriend had come over and we watched a movie together. He was going to wait here at my place until I got back from hanging with my uncle. I had been seeing Dallas for the past year. I wasn't as off into him as he was into me. He pursued me hard while I just wanted to date and have someone to hang out with. But we had established a very great rapport. I wasn't fully ready in telling him about my past as of yet. Some things I found out that when you share intimate things some people use them against you and I did not want Dallas to do that. I needed to really know if he was just hanging out or if we would truly be a couple down the line. As far as I was concerned this was a college fling. Because of my past and where I came from I watched people and studied them real quick. I knew that young people would experiment and do many things. Sex, drinking and drugs and not in that particular order. When you have a campus full of good looking men and women there is bound some sexual tension to be had. And that was real shyt as far as I was concerned. A lot of drama with that boyfriend girlfriend shyt to. Dallas put a label on us when he talked to his friends I said we were hanging out. Which confused people because he was saying one thing and I was on another. Hell we just started having sex three months ago. I wasn't jumping into bed with no one. And I still treated the sex loosely. I was far from a virgin and never pretended I was an angel. I had lost my virginity when I was exciting the eleventh grade to my first love Chonce. We went to the prom together and we were in love and a couple until I left Brooklyn. I cut everyone off! I changed my cell number and let know one know where I was. I couldn't chance someone ratting me out to my family or friends where I was. I still love and miss Chonce. I knew where he was, but he had no idea of where I was. And I am sure he has moved on as I have. Hell a lot of girls wanted Chonce! We were not only crowned King and Queen homecoming but prom too. We both got good grades, I was a cheerleader and Chonce was playing football. We had gotten nominated for cutest couple, most likely to succeed, best dressed and more! It was my senior year that Chonce found out my parents “partied” and I was glad he didn't make a big deal from it. But no one in the neighborhood was dumb when it came to drugs. Later down the line I had opened up to Chonce what it was really like in my home. I promised him I would leave and never return here. He never took me serious I don't think.


I had gotten dressed up with heels and the whole nine. My uncle had turned into this bougie upper crust buppie but I loved it. And Tony's was a five star restaurant and bar lounge. When I got out of my car in valet I was happy to see my uncle. He had now in my mind taken my dads place because I seen my father in the place that my uncle was now in. I notified the host that I had come to meet up with my uncle and she asked me to wait in the lounge. So I walked to the lounge and just sat in one of the wing back purple velvet chairs they had by the entrance so that my uncle wouldn't have to look hard for me. And even though I was a feeling myself I wasn't twenty-one yet. And didn't feel like being carded. I was just twenty years old and I wouldn't see twenty-one in six more months. There were a few men that came in and flirted, I flirted back but not giving in to giving my number. I took their cards. I looked at it as business, let me come cater a party for you. I laughed to myself. Hell! Why not?


Just as soon as I settled back in to the chair my uncle walked up.

“Hey pretty lady!” I got up and gave my uncle a bear hug. He looked great and smelled great.

“You look great and you got a tan!”

“How much darker can I get I asked, but I am okay with it. Come on our table is ready. I have some guest that are coming in a bit. I want you to meet my lady. You would like her.” I smiled.

“I have heard you say a lot of nice things about her. And Paul and Anna think she is very nice.”

“Yeah they like her. Bonnie likes her too! Can you imagine and ex wife and a girlfriend getting a long so sweet?”

“No and yes. But Aunt Bonnie is good, I mean she is happy and remarried and you two have a great relationship.”

“Yeah better than what we had before I started getting high. I mean we talk about everything when we do talk. I am thankful for that. You have no idea.”


We got to the table and we talked about school and me catering his trip and other stuff we caught up on. And then he looked up.

“Aww here is my lady. I turned around. She was with a another woman but I couldn't see her face. She had on this sombrero fashion hat. You know the kind that have the real wide floppy brim? It was hot and so was her outfit. I could tell she was a refined classy lady. And so was my uncles girlfriend. She had on a long black clingy cocktail dress. With beautiful costume gold jewelry in her ears, wrist and around her neck. The other lady had on a teal blue hat, bag, shoes and a tight fitting cream dress. Her jewelry was immaculate. My uncle had stood up and pulled their chairs out and I still couldn't see the other ladies face. But when she sat down she removed her hat. And just like that my mouth fell open! My mother!! I couldn't believe it! She looked absolutely incredible!

“Mom?” She nodded and we both got up and hugged each other. Tears in our eyes. We hugged for a long time.

“Sit down you two, you are beginning to embarrass me. My uncle laughed. A waitress had come to the table. Give us a moment and we will have our drink and appetizer orders ready soon.” He winked and then introduced me to his girlfriend. I shook her hand and hugged her.


My mother got some Kleenex out of her purse.

“I knew we would cry so I brought some. Come here let me fix your face. Do you have your compact with you?” I nodded yes. I went in my purse and handed it to her and she had began to pat my face and fix me back up. When she was done she got hers out and fixed her make-up.

“Mom....I am speechless....” My mother grabbed my hands and held them.

“The day you left I was sick. Not from the drugs but my life. I called your uncle here and told him I was ready to get clean. He flew me out to a luxury rehab in Malibu. It was hard for the first two weeks I was a wreck. But we prayed a lot, we did things I hadn't done in years. Swimming, working out. I hiked and I enjoyed long baths. I ate great food to fatten me up a little. I wrote a lot which they told us to do. And listen, I with the help of your uncle got a book deal. I am going to write my story! They had a spa there and I hadn't enjoyed that in sooo long!! Manicures and pedicures. I stayed there for three months. One day at at time. I live in a sober living house sort of upscale because your uncle didn't want me in the bad neighborhoods. We have to get tested daily to make sure we are not using. I even have a job. I go to my meetings, I found out I really love swimming so I do a lot of that.”

“I am so proud of you!!! I had tears falling down my cheeks. My mother was trying to wipe them and hers. But I shook my head no. Let them fall.. My uncle and his girlfriend were crying too. You look so good better than when you were not doing drugs. I mean your skin is clear.”

“I have your uncles girlfriend Lynn to thank for that. She sent me all types of stuff to clear my face up. Baby proactive really works! We all laughed. No but she got me a chemical peel before I went in which burned and hurt like hell! Whew! I didn't care I was going away. And she came and checked on me every month. She and your uncle helped me with buying me new clothes and a lot of clothes were given to me from Lynn's associates. I have been blessed.”

“What about dad?” As soon as I asked everyone's face at the table went sour. I knew it wasn't good news. My mother had held my hand in hers and rubbed my arm. Tears fell from her face.

“Your father died two days after you saw him. I had left already and your uncle was in Europe. He found out when he got back.”
“Cecily I was mad and I called the cops on all those fukn bastards! I had some of my boys that work for a construction company come and board it all up.”

“My father is dead” I kept mumbling.

“He bought some pure heroine and coke and shot up I was told” My mother replied.

“Why?”
“One of the guys told your uncle that he did it because he was sad I would be leaving and not having me or you in his life he was already dead. He also said that he knew that when I went to the rehab I would not come back to him or drugs. And he was right Cecily because without me knowing he had died I had already filed for a divorce once I had gotten my head right. Drugs wasn't me, but I did them because your dad wanted me to. And he begged and begged me to do a lot of things I didn't want to. Seeing you was my rock bottom. I had stayed high when I realized you had left. I had to fight your dad tooth and nail to keep your room clean, my jewelry and that money. I had refused to let him take it from me. We fought many a days and nights when he would get sick and needed to get high he was so addicted. I found out he died when I got out. Your uncle wouldn't tell me.”



So there it was, we cried and we cried ruining our make-up. And we caught up. My mother said she didn't want to see me or tell me where she was until she had gotten herself together and that was now. I was happy and sad at the same time. My uncle told me that he had fixed up the house in Brooklyn and he was going to sell it and give my mom the money. But she had to be clean for a year. She was close, she had six more months to go and I knew she would do it.


I also knew that my father was burning in hell. That he was there for an eternity because the hell he was going through on earth was not enough. He had to endure hell forever.


“Just Toy”

Written Expressions

02/2012

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