Almost Lost (9 page)

“After a couple of days the aides had me up walking with a walker like old people use. The four morons in the room teased me and waited for me to fall down, but Ricardo gently and lovingly encouraged me. I knew with his help I could make it, no matter what the other circumstances were.

“One morning I woke up feeling clammy-cold, and looking over at Ricardo's bed I saw that he had died. I don't know how I knew, but I did. Maybe it was the quiet, peaceful, un-pained look he had on his face that I'd never seen before. I didn't call for anyone because I wanted to tell him good-bye and how much I appreciated what he'd done for me and…how much I loved him…and wished that I'd see him again sometime.

“I spent a long time thinking about that and wondering if I'd meet him again in Heaven after I died…or if
I'd
get there at all…or if the Heaven thing was really true…or…I didn't have time to figure it out before the aides came and threw the sheet over his face and wheeled him out. A new kind of fear overwhelmed me then. I didn't know how I could exist in the General Hospital County Ward without Ricardo. It was a place where the welfare people and the street people and the like are taken. When I came in I wanted to scream out, ‘I'm not one of you.' But I knew I was. Anyway, I somehow
survived the next who knows how many days, till I was told I was ready to be released.

“One of the cold, unconcerned women, falling all over themselves in the office, asked me where I was going to go, and quickly I said ‘the bus station.' She called someone to take me there and after forever an old greenish van lumbered up. On the way to the bus station I became frantic. I didn't have any money…and…I was scared. When we got close to a smaller branch of the freeway I asked the driver to let me off. I said my aunt lived only a block from there, and I'd decided to go stay with her. The driver didn't ask any questions. He just pulled over and let me off on the side of the busy road.

“It took a long time for a scrawny, scruffy-looking kid on crutches to hitch a ride, but finally a big, old, beat-up-looking eighteen-wheeler pulled over. The driver, as beat-up-looking as the truck, had to get out and help me up into the cab. He was so rough, it about did me in, but I didn't say anything because I needed outta there as much as I needed air at that point.

“The driver had a mind like a sewer and a mouth like an open manhole. He kept telling jokes and stories so sickening that I thought I'd throw up on my shoes. I used to think that was an expression, but believe me it's not. Later he started telling mother jokes, and I wanted to smash him across the head with my crutches, but I didn't dare. He was so big he could have broken me in pieces like a toothpick.

“A ways down the line he started talking about little kids, and I thought of Dorie and Dana and hoped the whole truck would blow up with both of us losers in it. He almost bragged about being a ‘Chicken Hawk' (a pedophile; child molester). He
didn't deserve to live. Laughingly, he told me that I was too old for him, but I'd do in a pinch, only first he had to take time out at a rest stop so he could dump his lunch, and then we'd get into the bunk behind the seat and have fun. He giggled and showed me some hot Red Hair Sies (strong marijuana) he had and said we'd both take a hit before…His foul mouth watered and his red eyes glistened like the demon pictures on the covers of horror books.

“I softly said I didn't have to go, but the minute I saw him turn the corner to the men's room, I grabbed the Duce-Duce 22 (gun) I'd seen under the seat, stuffed it in my shirt, and dropped to the ground. I landed with such a loud thud that I was sure I had either shot myself or broken open my stitches, but I didn't care. I was out of the truck.

“Thank goodness there were high heavy weeds around the rest stop because by the time I hopped and crawled and belly-wriggled ten or twenty feet back into them, I could hardly breathe I was hurting so bad. I wanted to scream out in pain and for help, but I didn't dare. Ants crawled over me, and some big black bugs began gnawing at my uncovered arm. I didn't move, but occasionally, in spite of myself, the slightest moan forced itself out between my lips and I shuddered. I was trying with all my might to keep absolutely still and soundless. After a while I began to shake violently, and my teeth chattered so loudly that I knew the demon deviate would see the weeds rustling over me, but apparently he didn't because after a little while I heard the big old truck grate into gear and drive off without me.

“I felt a soft black cloud swirling around inside my head and knew I was about to pass out. I guessed maybe in a week or so someone coming into the rest
stop, maybe the guys who clean it, would smell the stench of my rotting body and would come and find me. Maybe some wild animals would distribute my bones around the area, or a big dog from one of the motor homes would bring back one of my arms or legs or something to his master. That would be a pretty sickening surprise. It was horrible, more horrible than nightmare time, and I was so hot with the sun beating down on me that I thought for sure I'd gone…you know where.

“I decided that it was better for me to just do it to myself than to draw it out, so I pulled the gun from my shirt, released the safety, and put the barrel in my mouth. My fingers began to slowly tighten on the trigger and then…then…” Sammy choked up completely. After a few seconds he whispered, “I felt Mom put her gentle, loving hand over mine and slowly pull the gun away from my face. I did! Honestly, I really did! And she said, clear as anything, ‘No, Sammy, not that.' She kissed me on the forehead and whispered, ‘Relax, precious child. We'll be together again, soon.' I wondered if she meant in Heaven.

“I must have drifted off then, for I don't know how long. When I woke up the ground felt soft and damp beneath me, and it smelled good. Some bees were buzzing above me, and I was in no pain. I couldn't believe it and wondered if maybe I'd been there for weeks and nature had healed me up all by herself. But why would she do that? I wasn't worthy. I was a screwed-up dropout who wasn't fit for or worthy of anything. Why hadn't I just died like I'd wanted to for so long?

“I felt something warm touch my face as though it were gently wiping away my tears, and when I
opened my eyes a sweet, bright little sunbeam was winding its way down through the leaves, caressing my face. Did it love me? Did one single little sunbeam in the whole world care about me, want to warm me and cheer me and lighten my life? I smiled and talked to her for a while as she playfully flitted back and forth in a radius of two or three inches but always coming back to
me
. She cared! That was enough! I had Ricardo and the sunbeam, and had it really been my mom? I fell asleep.

“When I woke up sunset had turned the world to orange. The leaves, the stalks, the sky, even my hand when I held it up was tinted with orange. I heard something rustling through the weeds and my heart almost stopped. What if it were a…a…Bears and lions and tigers and the driver and other unrealistic things flooded through my mind. Then I heard something whimpering and saw the head of a tiny orange-colored poodle. At first he was apprehensive, then he came over and gently licked my face. His tongue felt moist and sandpapery on my cheek and I heard myself giggling. This was a happy day. A sunbeam and a little orange dog loved me…and…maybe Mom…

“A soft whistle and an even softer voice flittered over us. ‘Come here, Pumpkin.' Reluctantly, the little creature backed away. In a couple of minutes I could hear him whining and coming back in my direction. The soft voice was coming along with him into my broken world. ‘Pumpkin, Pumpkin.' Asking the little dog where he was taking her, what he had found. A man's voice behind the woman's voice sounded not so pleased. ‘It's probably just some old dead rabbit or squirrel or something,' he grumbled.

“The woman was more concerned and broke her
way through the weeds, talking gently to the dog and telling him to be careful. When she saw me she looked like she wanted to shriek, but she didn't. She knelt down beside me and cradled my head in her soft, grandma kind of hands. ‘You poor, dear child,' she whispered, ‘whatever happened to you?' Then she started calling, ‘Karl! Karl, come see what Pumpkin has found this time.'”

“‘Not another kitten for you to adopt, I hope,' he answered.

“By the time he got to me, tears were flooding inside me as well as outside. I'd tried to tell myself I wasn't scared and that I wanted to die and all those dumb things, but deep inside I knew I didn't, really. I just wanted someone to pull me out of my dark, mucky hole and clean me off and help me become the old me again. I clung to the woman's hand like she was my only lifeline, and I guess she was.

“After a little while, Grandma Maizy—she asked me to call her that, said everyone did—and her husband Karl helped me back to their big, beautiful motor home. It smelled of sweet things and had lots of pretty flowered stuff around. I felt safe.

“Grandma Maizy cleaned me up a little and fed me and pampered me like Grandma Gordon used to do when I was teeny-tiny. I loved it. Pumpkin and Shale, a cat bigger than Pumpkin, curled up beside me and soon, after I'd told my nice, new, pretend relatives about my
pretend accidental
drive-by shooting and my pretending to not have any family, I fell asleep. The last thing I remembered was the cat curled up by my neck, purring, and Pumpkin nestled by my chest, snoring, along with Grandpa Karl.

“I stayed with Grandma Maizy and Grandpa Karl for a couple of weeks or something. She washed and
medicated and bandaged my wounds, and made me exercise a little more each day and eat right and all the things she had learned about health care over her many years.

“One day when we drove through a fairly big town, I decided I'd taken advantage enough of them so I borrowed fifty dollars and had them drop me off at the bus station so I could go home. I didn't really mean to go there but…well…I couldn't sponge on them anymore. And I did have their home address in some little funny-named town in California. I would have returned their money with interest, too, if I hadn't lost their address.

“In the bus station I looked over all the pamphlets and decided I'd go to Las Vegas, but when I went to buy the ticket, something almost stronger than me bought a ticket home (Sammy's hometown), even though I didn't want to go there. I couldn't! I thought there was no way that my mom and sweet innocent, clean little sisters would ever accept me after what I had become, the dregs of the earth or worse.

“When I got to town it was dark, so I dared to walk down my old street past my house. There were lights on inside, and I could hear music. Mom's car was in the driveway, and, as usual, Dorie hadn't closed the back door tightly, so the little bulbs were shining inside, running down the battery. I wanted to go over and close the door as I had a million times before, but I forced myself to go on. Mom's silhouette passed by the window as I reached the big tree on Mr. Laton's place. My heart was beating so hard and so fast that I had to lean against it to keep from falling down. Then I heard Dread Red Fred barking to get out. I could see by his jumping against the
window that he knew I was there, so I started running away as fast as I could.”

“Your pain and loneliness must have been intense.”

“It was.”

“So how did you get from there to here?”

“I slept in the park and then came and sat on your steps till you came out.”

“All day?”

“All of probably the longest day in my life.”

“You precious, hurting kid. Have you now finally dumped it all out?”

“I think so. Everything but
it
, that is.”

“
That
we'll put in a separate department and take care of later if it's all right with you.”

“Anything you say.”

“Let's stop for a while and a little later put all the pieces together in the order of their importance. Okay?”

“What a relief it will be to finally be led out of my…my yucky black past.”

“Into your brilliant, glorious future.”

“But I still feel like I've got fly-attracting crud all over me even though I've walked away from it. I feel dirty and unclean and unworthy and unacceptable inside and outside.”

“Whoops, remember who is putting
those
thoughts into your brain?”

“Ummm, I guess
I am
, but they are just as real as though some unseen force had pushed them there and won't let them out.”

“Then maybe it's time to face the enemy down and defeat it?”

“I'm…I'm…I hope I'm prepared for the battle.”

“First let's relax and stretch and have some nuts and fruit and drinks.”

“Sounds good to me. I need nourishment.”

“Teenagers always need nourishment, physically, mentally, psychologically, and lovingly.”

“Now
you
get the gold star on your forehead.”

After a few minutes our session continued.

“We may be going over some things you've gone over before, Sammy Soul Searcher, but you've got to really believe in a principle and precept
to have you work for it and it work for you!
Does that make sense?”

“I think so.”

“Then let's go back to the beginning. When and how and why do you think you first began slipping into depression?”

“Well…I used to sometimes get mad at a teacher, or ripped at my mom, or bugged out of my brain by my sisters, but I never hated their guts or wanted evil black clouds to close in on them and make them disappear or any of the other feelings that seemed to come over me after
‘it'
happened. It really did seem that after I got black they all got black, too!”

“You felt and thought black and you thought
they
felt and acted black, too? You mean black in the sense of absence of light and love and good, shining happiness?”