reference point.
“Lot lizards. You know, hookers.”
“Ohhhh. I get it now.” I felt like such an idiot.
“What did you think I was talking about? Actual lizards?” He was laughing, but I didn’t get the feeling it was at my expense. It felt more like the way old friends laugh at some silly misunderstanding.
“No, of course n...well, okay, yeah. I did. I’ve never heard that term before.” I was laughing a little now too, and it felt good. It was as if a valve were being turned just a smidgen to the left, letting out a bit of pressure and making it easier for me to breathe.
We talked for almost an hour about nothing in particular. His enthusiasm for everything was contagious, whether he was talking about cars, skiing, music, or lot lizards. He’d been that way since I remembered him in high school. Allan was by nature an extremely friendly, outgoing person. Sitting there, alone in my van, I felt better than I had in a long time - a little normal. Allan said he’d be back in Boise in four days and asked if he could take me to dinner. At thirty-three years old, I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been asked for a date. Of course, he could take me to dinner. That meant he wanted to spend time with me. He wanted to see me and talk to me and it wasn’t all just a façade for getting drugs. Someone was interested in me .
That’s where the problem started. Not my addiction, but the beginning of what turned into years of a relationship that never should have happened. I see that now, but I certainly didn’t see it then. I took what was a normal, friendly catching-up-with-an-old-friend conversation, and turned it into the cornerstone upon which to hang my salvation. I was at the lowest point in my life, and Allan was a beacon in the distance. I scraped together the few remaining shreds of hope I had left and stuck them, like Velcro, onto Allan and our brief conversation because I wanted it all to mean more than it did. Much more. I wanted it to mean a new beginning for me. I wanted someone to care about me for more than just meth. I wanted the words between the lines of our dialogue to mean that he was genuinely interested and couldn’t wait to see me. If Allan had known what I was thinking, he probably wouldn’t have wanted to see me. If I had been in my right mind , I wouldn’t have wanted him to see me either. I would have told him to run as fast as he could in the other direction of that woman he’d been speaking with because yikes! Men should stay away from psycho women like that. Hell, women should stay away from psycho women like that. But I didn’t realize how warped my mindset was. Nor did I realize how skewed his mindset was. On whatever level he was attracted to me, or whether he had other intentions from the beginning, all I saw was what I wanted to see rather than any warning signs of what might be to come.
If I had the clarity then that I have now, I probably wouldn’t be an addict.
I cried myself to sleep that night, huddled in the warmth of that dingy comforter, feeling more like a real person. I was so lost, so removed from even myself, that simply talking to another human being, such a tiny slice of humanity, was all it took to nourish me. I hadn’t told Allan I was living in my van or that I had abandoned my son. I didn’t know what I was going to say when he asked about Andy. All I knew was that I had something to look forward to and, even if only for a few hours, I wasn’t going to be alone. Four days. It seemed like forever. I felt like I did when I was a little girl waiting for Christmas to come.
The next morning I drove to the Ameritel Inn, a decent place where I rented a room for a week. I took a long, hot bubble bath. Sinking into the masses of bubbles that overflowed to the linoleum floor was like going back to the womb and I stayed there until the water turned frigid. I watched some T.V. and a little later, I went to the store for Diet Coke, soup,
“Lot lizards. You know, hookers.”
“Ohhhh. I get it now.” I felt like such an idiot.
“What did you think I was talking about? Actual lizards?” He was laughing, but I didn’t get the feeling it was at my expense. It felt more like the way old friends laugh at some silly misunderstanding.
“No, of course n...well, okay, yeah. I did. I’ve never heard that term before.” I was laughing a little now too, and it felt good. It was as if a valve were being turned just a smidgen to the left, letting out a bit of pressure and making it easier for me to breathe.
We talked for almost an hour about nothing in particular. His enthusiasm for everything was contagious, whether he was talking about cars, skiing, music, or lot lizards. He’d been that way since I remembered him in high school. Allan was by nature an extremely friendly, outgoing person. Sitting there, alone in my van, I felt better than I had in a long time - a little normal. Allan said he’d be back in Boise in four days and asked if he could take me to dinner. At thirty-three years old, I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been asked for a date. Of course, he could take me to dinner. That meant he wanted to spend time with me. He wanted to see me and talk to me and it wasn’t all just a façade for getting drugs. Someone was interested in me .
That’s where the problem started. Not my addiction, but the beginning of what turned into years of a relationship that never should have happened. I see that now, but I certainly didn’t see it then. I took what was a normal, friendly catching-up-with-an-old-friend conversation, and turned it into the cornerstone upon which to hang my salvation. I was at the lowest point in my life, and Allan was a beacon in the distance. I scraped together the few remaining shreds of hope I had left and stuck them, like Velcro, onto Allan and our brief conversation because I wanted it all to mean more than it did. Much more. I wanted it to mean a new beginning for me. I wanted someone to care about me for more than just meth. I wanted the words between the lines of our dialogue to mean that he was genuinely interested and couldn’t wait to see me. If Allan had known what I was thinking, he probably wouldn’t have wanted to see me. If I had been in my right mind , I wouldn’t have wanted him to see me either. I would have told him to run as fast as he could in the other direction of that woman he’d been speaking with because yikes! Men should stay away from psycho women like that. Hell, women should stay away from psycho women like that. But I didn’t realize how warped my mindset was. Nor did I realize how skewed his mindset was. On whatever level he was attracted to me, or whether he had other intentions from the beginning, all I saw was what I wanted to see rather than any warning signs of what might be to come.
If I had the clarity then that I have now, I probably wouldn’t be an addict.
I cried myself to sleep that night, huddled in the warmth of that dingy comforter, feeling more like a real person. I was so lost, so removed from even myself, that simply talking to another human being, such a tiny slice of humanity, was all it took to nourish me. I hadn’t told Allan I was living in my van or that I had abandoned my son. I didn’t know what I was going to say when he asked about Andy. All I knew was that I had something to look forward to and, even if only for a few hours, I wasn’t going to be alone. Four days. It seemed like forever. I felt like I did when I was a little girl waiting for Christmas to come.
The next morning I drove to the Ameritel Inn, a decent place where I rented a room for a week. I took a long, hot bubble bath. Sinking into the masses of bubbles that overflowed to the linoleum floor was like going back to the womb and I stayed there until the water turned frigid. I watched some T.V. and a little later, I went to the store for Diet Coke, soup,
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