A Street Girl Named Desire: A Novel (30 page)

Carvelas broke down in tears, and he lowered his head and begged her to forgive him.

“I'm sorry, Desire … it was my fault they did this to you … If I hadn't let my anger get to me, hadn't challenged him, this wouldn't have happened … I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry … If you had died I … I wouldn't know what to do …”

Desire squeezed his hand tightly. “Thank you for saving my life … again,” she whispered.

Carvelas shook his head. “Did I? Desire, there's somebody here to see you.”

Desire looked at him, silently questioning.

“It's your sister, Tiah,” he announced.

At that moment, Tiah walked into the room. It was as if she and Desire had reversed their appearances. Desire stared at Tiah, and saw a nearly spitting image of the woman she used to be. Even better, Tiah looked nothing like the woman she had been when Desire had last seen her at the funeral. Carvelas stood up, gave Desire a light kiss on the forehead and left the room.

Tiah approached Desire cautiously. She smiled and bent down to give her sister a gentle hug.

There was a deafening silence as they looked at each other uneasily. But Tiah could no longer hide her true feelings, and she began to cry.

“I miss you, Desire … I miss you so, so much!” Tiah looked at Desire and wrapped her hands around Desire's. “I want you to consider going to a placed called Visions after you're released from the hospital. The rehab program saved my life.”

Desire was unable to speak, but it was a moment when words were not needed.

Several weeks later, Desire got stronger. She and Tiah bonded as they filled each other in on what had happened after they lost contact with each other.

Tiah was now attending John Jay University in Manhattan and was working on her bachelor's degree is social work. During her free time she counseled runaway teen girls for a nonprofit in Brooklyn. And just like Desire, she had yet to receive any royalties from her time with Desire, Cream, and Dream.

Desire spent a total of six weeks in the hospital. Upon her release, she entered the Visions Drug Rehabilitation Program, under a false name.

V
isions housed over two hundred men and women. Many of the residents were plagued with issues such as mental disorders, homelessness and criminal pasts resulting from their addictions. Visions was considered the last stop on the rehab train, with the next stop being jail or death. The government-funded program accepted anyone that sought recovery. From the outside looking in, one would think that with so many dysfunctional beings under one roof, it would be anarchy, but real relates to real; most of the fine staff of men and women who worked there had been patients at one point themselves. They were the best type to help others because they knew everything there was to know about the mind of a fellow addict.

Since the Visions program had stringent rules, Desire was not allowed to have contact with anyone from the outside for sixty days. This was done to keep the clients' focus on their recovery and to avoid additional stress from family members or significant others.

Desire spent the vast majority of the first morning staring at the mounds of paperwork that needed to be filled out. Even though her jaw and bones had mended and the casts had been removed, her arms and hands were numb. Desire flexed her fingers and grimaced at the papers in front of her. The intake administrator empathized, “It's a lot of paperwork, I know, but it's necessary that it all be filled out to process you into the program. If you're not up to doing it all right now, you can stop and go have lunch, then come back. Would you like to do that?”

Desire kept her head down and remained silent. The lady waited for a response. Most addicts that walked into the program were timid and scared. Many had been on the streets for years and had dealt on a daily basis with human animals, the grimiest of grimy cutthroats, who were constantly plotting and scheming. Now that they were off of the streets and the drugs and in a new environment, around new people, their social skills were absent.

The administrator smiled and tried again to connect with Desire. “By the way, my name is Cheryl. Welcome to Visions.”

With her jaw still wired shut, Desire turned and gave the other woman a light smile. Cheryl smiled back even as she stared at Desire's twisted and deformed mouth and face. Desire admired Cheryl's strength. The administrator barely blinked at the sight of Desire's grotesque face. Cheryl extended her arm to shake Desire's
hand. Desire tried to lift her hand slowly, but it was too painful. The kind-hearted administrator leaned over and gave Desire a gentle, sincere hug.

“My name is Desiree …Desiree Vera,” Desire strained to impart. She smiled inwardly at having taken Carvelas's last name.

Desire's transition into the new program was touch and go, as she basically was quiet and kept to herself.

The first week took a lot out of her. Because Visions was a structured and controlled environment, Desire had a hard time with the strict rules, such as 5 a.m. wake-ups, house duties and mandatory group discussions and meetings that lasted into the night. She often wondered if she had bitten off more than she could chew. In her second week, she was assigned a managing counselor.

Desire had been assigned to the head counselor because her case was so severe. Mrs. Avery was despised and hated by staff and residents alike. She was a no-nonsense, micromanaging tyrant who would fire any counselor or staff member for even the most minor infraction. Residents fared no better, as she would show the door to anybody who wasn't inclined to follow the rules of the program. Mrs. Avery was a former addict. It was rumored that the she had once been married, but her husband left her when he found out she couldn't have any kids because she had polluted and abused her body so badly.

Desire had a one o'clock meeting with Mrs. Avery.

“Excuse me,” said Desire as she peeked into the office. “Um, I'm supposed to see Mrs. Avery. My name is Desiree Vera.”

Mrs. Avery didn't look up from the paperwork on her desk. “Ms. Vera, you were supposed to be here at one p.m.”

Desire looked at the clock on the wall; it read seven minutes after one.

“I know,” said Desire, “but I'm new, and I didn't know my way around and—”

Mrs. Avery rudely cut her off, saying, “ ‘But’ is a word used by procrastinators who are doomed to failure. Failure is what brought you into this program. Have a seat outside and think about your failures.”

Desire stared at her, not saying a word. She backed out the door and sat in the hall.

Desire sat there for nearly three hours, until she heard Mrs. Avery call her name. She walked into the counselor office and stood before her desk as Mrs. Avery continued writing on a piece of paper. Desire stood for another full minute, until Mrs. Avery gestured that she could take a seat.

After she finally stopped writing, Mrs. Avery slowly and methodically filed each piece of paper in different folders and closed her desk drawer. She took off her glasses.

“Ms. Vera, why are you in this program?”

The question caught Desire off guard and she stammered, “Um, because I want to stop using drugs.”

“Ms. Vera, did you get high today?”

“No!”

“Did you get high yesterday?” she asked.

“No!” Desire said, a little annoyed.

“Well, it seems to me that your problem isn't stopping, your problem is staying clean. You can stop when you want to. But
then you go back. You are here because you do not know how to live on society terms and your life has become unmanageable. Is that right, Ms. Vera?”

Desire nodded.

“Since that the case, Ms. Vera, you are to follow all rules, participate and show up
on time
to all scheduled meetings. These are copies of all the house rules and regulations you received and signed on your first day. Read and sign each page
again
, and come back tomorrow at six thirty—
that's AM.
—to have a one-on-one for an assessment plan.”

She handed Desire a spiral notebook and stared at her with cold, dark eyes.

“You are expected to keep a daily log of your feelings and the events that go on in your life. That is your personal journal. It is for therapeutic purposes only. It is not to be read by anyone else unless you want them to. I'll expect you to write at least one page a day. You are dismissed.”

Desire pride had been wounded by Mrs. Avery. She knew that she had gotten to the lowest point a human being could possibly get, but she still didn't think she deserved the type of treatment Mrs. Avery had dished out. It was as if everybody was afraid to cross her. Most of all, Desire resented the way Mrs. Avery had talked to her. Who did the woman think she was? Desire laughed as she thought about the fact that there was a time when Mrs. Avery would have been begging her for an autograph. She decided she was only going to speak when spoken to as far as Mrs. Avery was concerned. So there was an icy chill each and every time the two women were near each other. Mrs. Avery acted like she didn't even care.

Not everyone was in the Visions program by choice. Some of the residents were mandated by the courts or as a condition of their parole. One man, J.D., was a Midtown pimp and crack addict. He was only biding his time, fulfilling a requirement imposed on him by his parole officer when his urine came up dirty. He noticed Desire during group on several occasions, but never paid her any mind. Over the weeks, however, Desire wounds began to heal and her bandages were removed. J.D. then saw a potential sex partner to help him pass his time.

As Desire sat eating lunch one day, J.D. walked up with his food tray.

“Anyone sitting here?”

Desire rolled her eyes, as except for her, the entire table was empty.

“I know that was a stupid question, but I didn't want to be rude and just sit down, nah mean?”

He placed his tray on the table. Moments later, he said, “Damn, I forgot to get some juice.” He rose and asked Desire if she wanted him to bring her some since he was going. She declined. Before he left to get the juice, he asked her, “Excuse me, ma, do you mind watching my tray?”

Desire nodded. He thanked her and smiled as he walked away. It was a small gesture of trust. J.D. went on to extend many little gestures such as that, and in no time at all he and Desire were on friendly speaking terms. They sat together at breakfast, lunch and dinner. Desire told him everything about her family and being strung out on drugs. The long conversations and constant contact
filled the hole left by Carvelas's absence. She found herself thinking more and more about being alone, and about how J.D. made her forget all about it.

One day, as they both sat together eating and laughing during lunch, Mrs. Avery approached them.

“Ms. Vera, I1'd like you to come with me.”

Desire and J.D. continued to laugh, only quieter, as they watched her walk away, in her extremely masculine style. J.D. mocked her in a deep voice. He began posing like a bodybuilder. Desire smothered her laughter and asked J.D. to watch her bag while she went to see what Mrs. Avery wanted.

Inside her office, Mrs. Avery told Desire to sit down. Taking off her glasses, she wasted no time getting down to business. “If you spent as much of your time with the rest of your peers as you do with Mr. Davison, you would be doing much better than you are now. Remember our policy on fraternization—we can put you both on focus,” said Mrs. Avery. Desire nodded.