Somebody's Baby

I was desperate.

But rock bottom felt pretty good. I had everything I needed. I was happy, satisfied when I had money to get what I needed, and I lived in the city. It was everything I ever dreamed, on the surface. The only thing I was missing was a house, money, friends and family. Only I didn’t really care about that.

I was running low on cash, and my supply was low. I remembered when I was around seventeen I would see people post pictures on Facebook with homeless guys in them holding up signs saying “Need Money For Drugs” and stuff like that. The photographs were always paired with a comment about how they appreciated the addicts honesty. I figured I’d give it a shot.

Leaning against a building, half asleep with my sign in front of me, I hoped to get enough money for at least the next day. My only other option was prostitution, and I would never in a million years have pictured myself doing that. But, if it needed to be, it would be done. I looked down the sidewalk only to find a man walking my way. He looked like he was going to come talk to me, and that’s all I hoped for.

He had the kindest eyes I had ever seen, and a gentle loving smile to go with it. He reached out to me as if to shake my hand, and when our hands met was when he finally spoke.

“This money belongs to me, but it comes from someone else. Use it well.”

He squeezed my hand, looked deeply into my eyes as if to say “I’m giving you a second chance with this, don’t blow it.” I just nodded. When I looked down into the palm of my hand, a hundred dollar bill was sitting there. When I looked up he was gone, disappeared into the crowd.

I was set. For days. I went to the corner to set my order, got what I needed and left. I went to my favorite spot in the city, the bridge that gave me shelter and company, and sang me to sleep at night with the music of the river flowing underneath and the buzzing of the cars above.

I took one hit, and couldn’t stop going back for more. I could feel it pulsing through my veins, my head was buzzing, and I got a warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt blissful. It was the closest thing to perfect I had ever felt in my life.

I sat watching the water pass below me. I started to think of the man who handed me that hundred-dollar bill. I remembered the look in his eyes before he left. “Don’t blow it.” I wished with everything inside of me that I could see him again. I wanted to ask him for help. He was the last person I met who really would give me help. I needed him, more than I needed this high. But he was gone. I blew it.

That’s when I drifted off to sleep for the last time.