The Beginning of the End, Part VIII

After what seemed like forever, Kevin returned from the police station. And when he did, he was pissed. Apparently Glenn had not only been shooting heroin while he was supposed to be delivering publications, but he was selling the publications to a recycling plant (instead of filling the paper boxes) to get the money to do it. Which explained why he kept putting off Kevin and telling him the companies would only pay them monthly. Since they hadn’t even been working a month, Kevin had never seen a check for their efforts. And now, he never would. To top it off, they impounded the van and wouldn’t release it since it was used in a “drug related arrest.” Glenn, obviously, was being held in the clink and probably would stay there indefinitely, since I was pretty sure he had no real family to call and aside from Kevin and I, Tom and Kathy were his only real friends. Kevin had no desire to ever see Glenn again, and Tom and Kathy could’ve cared less.

As another of Kevin’s dreams of easy money went up in smoke, he started getting frustrated. He began going out without me more and more, and getting high more frequently than ever. I tried to just keep on working my nine-to-five and at night not dwell on his current state, but as time went on I was getting increasingly worried. I still partied with him on the weekends, but usually only one night. Kevin, on the other hand, was out every night and slept every day. I came to find out that he had closed a bank account that had been in trust for him since he was a teenager. To the tune of over $20,000.00. When his parents found out, they basically disowned him, but he didn’t even seem to care. He was on a path to destruction, and I felt that all I could do was watch.

After several weeks had passed and Kevin showed no sign of slowing down or cutting back, I finally confronted him on a Friday night. I told him I was really worried because he seemed to be partying too much, that he would wind up like Glenn, that I needed him. He responded by telling me not to worry, he was fine, he had plenty of money, and let’s get high. Of course, we wound up at P’s looking for Aaron, who seemed to be waiting for us. By this time I knew the routine, and sat at the bar chatting with Sam while Kevin and Aaron made the walk out back to the storefront where Aaron did his “business.” He returned as he always did, and Aaron sat back at the bar. Finish beer, wave goodbye, leave. It was getting redundant.

For whatever reason, this time when we got back to Kevin’s I had an incredible feeling of sadness wash over me while I watched him cooking up the shit. This wasn’t what I wanted, for either of us. Yet here I was. Funny thing about using drugs, though, is that even when you get those moments of clarity, if the opportunity to use is there, you still won’t pass it up. Which I didn’t. But when everything was gone, and I drove home, I decided to do something drastic. I wanted this to end, and I thought I had the perfect idea how to make that happen.

I snuck into my house and tried not to wake my parents as I looked up my uncle’s number. It was about three in the morning, but I didn’t care. In my cocaine-addled mind, I truly believed that this was the only way to go. As I dialed in my bedroom, my mind raced with the still lingering rush of the drug and the hope mixed with fear over what I was doing. My uncle answered, and sounded panicked when he heard my voice at that hour.

My uncle, who was a narcotics officer. My brilliant idea was to get Aaron busted so Kevin would have nowhere to go to get drugs anymore. I knew I was taking a major risk by calling my uncle, but I hoped that I could convince him I was still the “good girl,” only trying to help my boyfriend who had a “little issue with cocaine.” I cried while I talked to him, and I guess the fact that I was so NOT the type of person to be “on” anything mixed with my obvious desperation was enough to make my uncle soothe me with kind words before prodding me to talk more. When I was able to slow down and catch my breath, I explained everything to him (well, almost) – how Kevin was getting mixed up with drugs, how concerned I was about him, and how I knew where he was getting them. I told him all about Aaron, and his “cancer,” and the storefront behind P’s where I knew he kept his stash. I told him he had to shut Aaron down so Kevin could quit, and so he and I could live a normal life. My uncle swore he would take care of things, and added that actually, his unit had been watching that area for a while. They just were missing the details, which I had now filled in for him. He also told me not to tell ANYONE what I had told him, because it could wind up very dangerous for myself and Kevin.

I promised, over and over, and thanked him profusely. When I hung up, my heart was pounding out of my chest from a combination of fear over what I had just done and the drugs. There were two possibilities: if this worked, Kevin and I could possibly be forced to live a normal life without the drugs; but if it didn’t, things would continue as they had been, and I would have to start making some serious choices. I fell into a restless sleep, and awoke the next day with a cold hand of fear clutching my heart. What had I done? In the bright sunshine of a new day, I realized that the phone call I had made the night before would result in some SERIOUS consequences. I knew I had to keep Kevin away from P’s until the other shoe dropped, without telling him why. This would be no easy task, but I HAD to do it. Somehow I convinced him to join me out at O’Brien’s that night, and brought enough money with me to keep him drinking there. He mentioned wanting to stop at P’s, but I cajoled and flirted and convinced him to stay. At closing time, we went back to his place and I spent the night sleeping next to him, hoping I could somehow save him from himself… hoping my plan had worked. It wouldn’t be long before I found out, and when I did I wasn’t sure it was worth it after all…