The People by the Stream

         My shoes were wet from the puddle I was standing it. Fresh rain covered the sidewalk for as long as I can see in both directions. This morning I awoke to a large warm sun in a clear blue sky, but with dusk came storm clouds. With dusk came sadness. This sidewalk feels like home. It’s not as warm as my apartment, but I feel as though I have connected with these stone slabs. They welcome my feet although I stomp down on them.
         I entered the neighborhood market as I do every morning for a coffee and the paper. The shopkeeper greeted me as he normally does. I never did catch his name even though I tend to see him every morning. He wished me a good day as I tucked the paper under my arm. With my coffee in my left hand and the doorknob in my right I exited with a smile.
         Back to work, I thought to myself as I sunk down against a brick wall onto the sidewalk. The pages of the paper breezed through my fingertips and soon I was finished. There is nothing in the paper that interests me. I don’t care about politics or celebrities or sports. All I care about is money and how I can make it. All I care about is making ends meet. What does interest me, however, are the headlines and the obituaries. Every morning I purchase a paper and with nervous hands I skim through the pages looking for deaths or murders of those I might know. My line of work is rather dangerous. Not many of us survive.
         My first customer met me with a nervous grin and a fist full of cash. I waved for him to meet me in the alley. He followed and we began business. “How much do your eighths go?” He seemed young. I almost didn’t want to sell to him, but money is money.
         “I’m doing eighths for forty-five dollars,” I answered unblinking. I became fixated on him. My price was incredibly high, but in order to make cash in this business I need to hustle. I figured he’d work me down to a more reasonable price, but that was the price I was starting with.
         “Forty-five dollars? That’s ridiculous!”
         “I’d like to see you find someone with the kind of shit I got. Take it or leave it.” I was lying. My dope was just as good as anyone else’s, but I could tell by his eyes that he needed that quick fix. The kind of fix where you don’t care about the price, quality, or quantity.
         “Alright let me get it.” He reached out to me. I saw the two crumbled twenties and one five in his hand. The transaction was made and it was made quick. From across the street it looked as though I was shaking hands with an old friend, but in reality I was making a living.
         I’m now forty-five dollars richer and I can afford lunch and dinner. Luckily yesterday I paid off this month’s rent and my dealer. Its days like today where my life doesn’t seem so bad, but it wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t always walking the block rain or shine. I wasn’t always relying on dirty money to keep a roof over my head and food in my gut. It was easier in the past. What went wrong? Not a day goes by where I don’t ask myself that. What exactly was it? What threw me off track?
         Again I find myself sitting. The seat of my pants is wet from the rain. I close my eyes and tilt back my head.

*          *          *          *          *

         I see my mother and she is smiling. The day is warm and bright outside of my grandparent’s house. It is my Aunt Katie’s wedding and we’re in the gazebo in their backyard. I am eleven years old.
          The ceremony was over and everyone was heading inside for food and refreshments. My three cousins run past me. They were playful in their eager attempt to reach the food. We have been close since birth. There is Dan, who is my age, Corey, who is five years older, and James, who is six years older. Dan and I were the closest. We spent every moment we could together. His brothers, James and Corey, were like brothers to me. Dan and I both looked up to them. They were the cool older kids who made us feel special. They were the smart, protective, caring brothers that I never had.
         The history of my family is rough. It is full of divorces, drug-addictions, and disease. My Uncle Frank had a bad heroin addiction that he kept secret from us until his death. He was found with a full needle in his track-marked veins. I’ll never forget that day and I know Dan, Corey, and James won’t either. We all agreed that substances were evil. They were dangerous, they ruin lives, and they ruin families. Never would we ever do drugs.
         Dan and I filled our plates with all the amazing food the wedding had to offer. We sat on the floor in front of the television and watched the Patriots football game. The food was delicious. The game, however, was disappointing. Afterwards we tossed our trash and ventured outside.
         Dan and I enjoyed role-playing games. We liked to pretend and explore through the woods. We loved to act as explorers. We would battle invisible natives as we bombarded our way through the woods to our treasure. While we hiked through the woods we saw two people ahead by the stream.
         “Who’s that down there?” Dan asked as he reached out to stop me.
         “I don’t know. Probably neighbors. Let’s check it out.” I began walking towards the people. “Who’s down here?” The two silhouettes began to move frantically. Dan and I finally crossed the stream and saw that it was Corey and James. They were standing cautiously at the shore of the stream. Smoke poured from James’s lips and I noticed a cigarette in between his fingers.
         “What are you guys doing down here?” Dan asked.
         “Just hanging out.” Corey answered. He seemed spooked.
         “Are you smoking?” I asked James. He wasn’t looking me in the face. He was staring at Corey then he flicked his cigarette.
         “Yeah. I am.” James looked finally looked up at me. His eyes hurt mine. He seemed angry with me, but I couldn’t understand why.
         “And what’s that?” Dan pointed to six cans that were neatly seated next to a rock.
         “Those are beers. Why? You want one?” James seemed to be getting angrier with us.
         “What are you drinkin’ beers and smokin’ cigarettes for?” Dan looked as though he was going to cry. He stared intently at his brothers. Neither one of them could face him. Instead they were staring at me as though I asked the question.
         “We’re just having fun. What the big deal?” Corey cracked open a can and guzzled down a sip. “It’s a wedding. Everyone is celebrating.” He wiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve then looked back at me.
         “I thought you guys didn’t do that,” I said. I felt the burning of tears in my eyes, “I thought you guys told us it was dumb and that you’d never do that.”
         “Well, I guess I lied,” said Corey. That’s when the tears began to tumble down my cheeks. How could they? After all we have been through. After all the death and hurt my family has felt how could they contradict themselves? How dare they rub my shoulders as I cry for my Uncle Frank? How dare they condemn substances then sneak always to indulge. How dare they. I looked at Dan whose face was as red as his eyes. He stood speechless with his hands in a fist.
         Suddenly Dan bolted towards Corey and slapped the can from his hand. “What the hell!” Corey shouted and Dan ran back to the house. I stood alone for a moment. I was fixated on the curling smoke exiting each of their mouths. “What? Are you going to tell on us now.”
         “No,” I answered. “No. I’m not going to tell.”
         “Well what are you waiting for? Get lost.” James spat. I turned and began walking back towards the party. Once I made it to the yard I lost it. I cried so hard that I fell to the ground and I pounded my fists into the dirt. The emotion I was feeling was not only overwhelming, but also unexplainable. It was a mix between anger, sadness, betrayal, and confusion. I ran to my mother and buried my face deep into her dress.
         “What is it? What’s wrong?” She asked looking at me concerned.
         “Ma! Ma… I just don’t feel well.”
         Dan was sitting in front of the television when we left to go home. I didn’t say goodbye to him or his brothers.

*          *          *          *          *

         The sun broke through the clouds and shined down onto me. I realized once again where I was and what I was doing. I thought about the last time I saw my cousins. Our relationship was never the same. Corey and James now have jobs and families. Dan is a police officer in Massachusetts. I don’t know why I never shaped up. I don’t know why I never got straight. It didn’t necessarily seem like the right thing to do, but it also didn’t feel wrong.  I suppose that is why I’m out on the street selling dope. Up to a certain age I felt substances were evil, but after a while things changed. I saw drug-use all around me. Before long I was experimenting myself and even pushing for friends. And now here I am. Standing on the street corner day in and day out. Getting by somehow.
         Do I see a future for myself? Would it be horrible to say that I don’t? I don’t live to sell dope. I sell dope to live.