Motorboat Cruiser
11-20-2006, 02:07 PM
"Pins and Needles"
Steve sat motionless on the small bed, his mind a cyclone of emotional contemplation. The red neon sign that blinked endlessly through the dirty window provided his only source of light, other than the small tealight candle that sat burning on the old dresser across from his bed. Alongside the candle, lay a piece of white paper that had been folded into a triangular shape and a tarnished silver spoon, blackened from its previous interludes with the candle. Each time he started to lift himself from the mattress and walk towards the dresser, his attention was once again drawn to the three objects that lie in front of him.
He picked up the largest of the three, a photograph whose edges had long been worn away by the hands of time. In the picture was a beautiful little girl with green eyes, smiling proudly to reveal a missing front tooth. It had been her ninth birthday when he took the picture and the occasion had marked the last time he saw her. He wondered how different she must look now, almost 3 years later. He wondered if she thought of him as much as he thought of her, or if she had discarded her feelings for him like a broken toy. He really couldn't blame her if she had. He was broken.
To the left of this treasured picture was a small pin with the number "1" embossed on it. He remembered all that he went through to get that damn pin; twelve months of tears, twelve months of suffering, twelve months of sobriety. All he needed to do was focus on that pin until he could get the courage to blow the candle out.
To the right of the photograph, lay an unused hypodermic needle, persistently whispering his name in the dimly lit room, telling him that everything was about to get much better.
Steve's eyes shifted from one object to the other like a metronome as he scratched at his arms, imagining that they were covered with tiny spiders, crawling upon him for no other reason than to drive him crazy.
"I can't get away with this", he thought. Certainly his parole officer was going to be alerted to the positive reading from his next drug test. Certainly the judge that sentenced him to a rehabilitation clinic instead of prison was going to find out. Certainly he would not be given another chance. And most certainly, his daughter would continue to grow up without her father.
The words "Just say no" crossed his mind, and he couldn't help but wonder if Nancy Reagan had ever realized how ridiculous that statement sounded to an addict. For the only time this evening, he managed a small smile. "What the hell had she been thinking?", he mused. He had tried to just say no ever since he lost his business, ever since he first resorted to shoplifting, ever since he realized that his daughter was growing up without him.
And yet, those were all the life instructions he really needed at this moment. Just say no. All that was required was to stand up, blow out the candle, flush the paper package, and walk out of this room. Simple tasks that anyone could do. He could just say no and within twelve more months, finally be allowed the limited visitations that he longed for. He could add another pin to the collection. He could work everything out and have that fresh start he so eagerly desired.
It came down to one simple choice. A pin or a needle. Nothing more.
Making his decision, he picked up the object he no longer would require and grasped it firmly in his hand, knowing that their shared history must end right now. With his other hand he picked up the picture of his daughter and gently kissed her image. He placed the photograph back down on the bed and used his free hand to wipe the tears that were flowing freely down his cheeks. His choice between a pin and a needle had now concluded. These two objects could no longer coincide together in this room, in his life. He tossed the small object out of the open window, and with it all of the pain it had caused. He was done with pain. He was going to get his fresh start.
As he walked towards the candle, its flame dancing with delighted approval, he took a deep breath. For one last time, he considered blowing it out, then slowly removed his leather belt instead.
It was the only choice he had ever really known how to make.
Steve sat motionless on the small bed, his mind a cyclone of emotional contemplation. The red neon sign that blinked endlessly through the dirty window provided his only source of light, other than the small tealight candle that sat burning on the old dresser across from his bed. Alongside the candle, lay a piece of white paper that had been folded into a triangular shape and a tarnished silver spoon, blackened from its previous interludes with the candle. Each time he started to lift himself from the mattress and walk towards the dresser, his attention was once again drawn to the three objects that lie in front of him.
He picked up the largest of the three, a photograph whose edges had long been worn away by the hands of time. In the picture was a beautiful little girl with green eyes, smiling proudly to reveal a missing front tooth. It had been her ninth birthday when he took the picture and the occasion had marked the last time he saw her. He wondered how different she must look now, almost 3 years later. He wondered if she thought of him as much as he thought of her, or if she had discarded her feelings for him like a broken toy. He really couldn't blame her if she had. He was broken.
To the left of this treasured picture was a small pin with the number "1" embossed on it. He remembered all that he went through to get that damn pin; twelve months of tears, twelve months of suffering, twelve months of sobriety. All he needed to do was focus on that pin until he could get the courage to blow the candle out.
To the right of the photograph, lay an unused hypodermic needle, persistently whispering his name in the dimly lit room, telling him that everything was about to get much better.
Steve's eyes shifted from one object to the other like a metronome as he scratched at his arms, imagining that they were covered with tiny spiders, crawling upon him for no other reason than to drive him crazy.
"I can't get away with this", he thought. Certainly his parole officer was going to be alerted to the positive reading from his next drug test. Certainly the judge that sentenced him to a rehabilitation clinic instead of prison was going to find out. Certainly he would not be given another chance. And most certainly, his daughter would continue to grow up without her father.
The words "Just say no" crossed his mind, and he couldn't help but wonder if Nancy Reagan had ever realized how ridiculous that statement sounded to an addict. For the only time this evening, he managed a small smile. "What the hell had she been thinking?", he mused. He had tried to just say no ever since he lost his business, ever since he first resorted to shoplifting, ever since he realized that his daughter was growing up without him.
And yet, those were all the life instructions he really needed at this moment. Just say no. All that was required was to stand up, blow out the candle, flush the paper package, and walk out of this room. Simple tasks that anyone could do. He could just say no and within twelve more months, finally be allowed the limited visitations that he longed for. He could add another pin to the collection. He could work everything out and have that fresh start he so eagerly desired.
It came down to one simple choice. A pin or a needle. Nothing more.
Making his decision, he picked up the object he no longer would require and grasped it firmly in his hand, knowing that their shared history must end right now. With his other hand he picked up the picture of his daughter and gently kissed her image. He placed the photograph back down on the bed and used his free hand to wipe the tears that were flowing freely down his cheeks. His choice between a pin and a needle had now concluded. These two objects could no longer coincide together in this room, in his life. He tossed the small object out of the open window, and with it all of the pain it had caused. He was done with pain. He was going to get his fresh start.
As he walked towards the candle, its flame dancing with delighted approval, he took a deep breath. For one last time, he considered blowing it out, then slowly removed his leather belt instead.
It was the only choice he had ever really known how to make.