Homeless (12 page)

Lonnie laughed out loud. “Ain't nobody on my end to be worried about. You can use this number whenever you feel like it.”

“Good, then I'll call you tomorrow afternoon.” She spit her words out real fast, then the phone hung up. Trina knew she was on a free government phone that was only allotted 500 talk-time minutes per month. Out of every single one, she couldn't wait for the next twenty-four hours to pass when they were scheduled to reload. She had every intention on hanging around the shelter in the morning after they threw her and all the homeless people out. Trina wanted another chance to kick it with Lonnie, plus see what other shit she could get.

Lonnie, across town and holding his phone in his hand, felt like Trina had been bossy and hung up on him. He flicked the flip phone closed and found his bag of pills. He needed a melatonin pill to tap him all the way outta the game for the night.

Sunday morning, Lonnie woke up violently throwing up all the food he'd eaten yesterday. Bent over the couch, he didn't have enough energy to get up and run to the bathroom because of the sleeping pill, so he allowed his stomach to be emptied until he began dry heaving and overheating. That's when he fought against the sudden sickness, and slid off the couch to crawl to the bathroom. He was too light-headed to walk.

Lonnie stayed in the bathroom for about an hour trying to get himself together. With a cold towel on his neck, trying to bring down his spiked temperature, the young pill-addicted teen was trying not to pass out and die in the bathroom. It wouldn't have been any better even if someone, like maybe the friend he once considered Kevin to be before he strangely disappeared, was here to help him. Or maybe even Trina. An absolute stranger would've been better than having no one at all, even under the circumstances. The oval-shaped pill he got off the street last night had him going through some wicked side effects. His body was whopping its own. Lonnie was gonna have to live that struggle all on its own until the pill worked its way out of his system. It hadn't helped that he'd downed a cheap beer at the exact time of consuming the pill. All Lonnie could think about though, was getting his hands on another pill to help with the hell he was going through on that particular one.

Grabbing the toilet, he threw up all the water he'd been drinking from the bathroom sink faucet. In science class, he'd learned that if you are sick and to the point of throwing up stomach lining, that drinking water will give your body the fluid it needs to wash the stomach out, so to speak. He remembered the professor's lesson as he repeated the process until his stomach finally settled.

Out of the bathroom and feeble, Lonnie couldn't rest before cleaning up his vomit. He did so, found his couch cushions, and then grabbed a granola bar that was stuffed into the food box from the shelter to put something healthy in his stomach. Lying flat on his back on the dirty mattress, Lonnie didn't have the energy, nor did he care about, putting the sheets back onto the bed. All he could think about was feeling better so he could hit the streets to ask a few old women coming from church for some spare change.

Not able to doze off because he was busy running back and forth to the bathroom, Lonnie finally was able to drag himself to get dressed. He was determined not to miss the after church rush. Rushing out of his apartment, he almost slipped down the stairs to the first floor, but caught himself and was out the door only breaking a bead of sweat.

Lonnie couldn't believe the person he'd become. Although he wasn't addicted to hard-core drugs, he was still addicted to pills. He knew it was a sickness, but at one time, he'd been able to cope and was an A-student while taking them. If only he could get the right mixture going, the right amount of peace in his life, and some stability, he'd be able to handle his addiction better. Until then, he was only trying to cope. These are all things he kept telling himself, making his way to the megachurch a few blocks from where he lived.

The preacher was still deep in his sermon when Lonnie arrived. Feeling dehydrated but not having any money, he remembered the bum from last night getting water out of a hose on the side of a house, and did so himself. Filling up his palms about five times, Lonnie hydrated himself, then found a spot near the far side of the church parking lot. He needed to go in the church to get the Word, but Lonnie wasn't ready to face his sins, nor clean himself from them. The only thing he was prepared to do was beg for change; he'd lie to feed himself.

The first couple that came out had kids that seemed to be their grands, and they looked at Lonnie like he better zip his lips and not speak. Lonnie hung his head until they drove off, wishing he'd done better with managing the gifted fifty.

“Lonnie McKay?”

Hearing his government name, Lonnie looked up and lost the breath he needed to respond in his chest. His mom used to say God worked in strange ways. He laughed to himself wondering if this was an act of God or his mother sending a helper his way. Only a second after thinking about Mr. Reynolds's generosity, the shelter manager was standing before him with a Bible in his hand and a woman's purse in the other. Behind him was an elder lady standing with a cane, whom the purse belonged to. Lonnie managed to stop stuttering and finally speak.

“Hi, Mr. Reynolds. Ma'am,” he acknowledged the woman who was frowning at him like he was no more than filth.

“I didn't know you went to this church, Lonnie. It's nice seeing you. This is my mother, Mrs. Reynolds.” Lonnie took note that the woman wasn't introduced along with her first name.

Just like she'd nodded when he spoke, he nodded and smiled at the introduction in the same fake manner. In response to Mr. Reynolds's statement, Lonnie didn't know what to say. He couldn't say he was a member of the church or that he was even waiting on a family member because Mr. Reynolds might've asked who. Biting his lip and fidgeting, he didn't know his uncomfortable behavior told the tale Mr. Reynolds was all too familiar with. Except for in Mr. Reynolds's case, he used to beg for spare change from old folks while his mother sat in the congregation embarrassed.

That's the reason why Mr. Reynolds, now clean and a positive member of the community, takes his mother to church while carrying her purse each Sunday. Despite the weather or his mood, they'd be mother and son in the first pew. Not only does it refill Mr. Reynolds's cup of hope to keep fighting his addictions and demons, but allows his mom to be proud of her son in front of the worshipers he once lied to and begged from.

Mr. Reynolds, although off the clock as the shelter manager, jumped right into his helper role. “Stay right here for a second while I get my mother settled into the car,” he told Lonnie, then grabbed his mother's arm to help walk her to the car.

The mother, who'd been evil eying Lonnie, didn't want to budge and leave her son and him alone to converse. You couldn't tell she was a Christian by the judgment she was passing off on Lonnie without knowing his story. All the woman wanted was to live the remainder of her golden years in peace and maybe find her son a nice churchgoing wife to make some grandbabies with. Tucked comfortably in the passenger,s seat of the Cadillac that was once hers but now handed down to Mr. Reynolds, she asked her Lord not to let her son forsake her for drugs again.

Lonnie knew what Mr. Reynolds's mother was thinking without her speaking a word. He'd been looked at like scum by enough women to know she didn't think much of him or his worth. Not discriminating against the old woman, just like all the others, it was fuck her too.

“Look, Mr. Reynolds, I know you've got more important things than looking after me on your day off. I'll see you on Thursday,” Lonnie said, turning to walk away.

“Naw, it's cool, Lonnie. Hold up,” Mr. Reynolds called out for him, then reached out to stop Lonnie by grabbing his shoulder. “Are you good? Do you need anything? A ride home or a few dollars?”

“Well, I hate to ask, but I do need a few dollars, as a matter of fact. Just enough to get me some stomach medicine. I think I got that bug that's been going around, but ain't got no insurance to go to Urgent Care. You think you could help me fill out the forms when I come in Thursday? It's all online.” Lonnie thought he'd throw the last part in as a deflection from him asking for money. He'd also lied about having a stomach bug. Lonnie knew damn well he was trying to buy some more pills.

Mr. Reynolds knew Lonnie was playing him. He'd read his record from the court and knew the teen wasn't supposed to be doing drugs but looked to be high on them. Staring at the youngster, he saw droopy red eyes, a sunken-in face, and ashy skin. He having a bug could've been believable to Mr. Reynolds—if he didn't know the signs of a pillhead.

Not wanting to enable Lonnie, he offered his help another way. “I don't have any cash but can do you one better. Come on, I'll run you up to the pharmacy for some medicine, and then the store for some juice and crackers. You'll be like new in the morning.”

Lonnie wanted to tell him no but knew he couldn't. He wasn't a fool and knew his story would've fallen apart in an instant if he turned down what was offered to him. Mr. Reynolds might've been off the clock, but he could surely report Lonnie's behavior when he was back on the clock. Lonnie made sure to play it safe. In the car ride to the both the pharmacy and the store, he stayed still as a statue. He even closed his eyes so he wouldn't get locked into a stare down with Mr. Reynolds's mother. She didn't hide her utter disgust and discomfort with the troubled teen riding in her backseat.

“How do you know my son?” The woman was rude as soon as Mr. Reynolds got out of the car to pump the gas.

Lonnie wasn't caught off guard or surprised. Mr. Reynolds's mother was just like all the women he's been meeting lately: rude, obnoxious, and bitchy. Lonnie wanted to wish himself out of the backseat and back to the far side of the parking lot, begging, where they'd found him at. Instead, he had to answer.

“I'm working over at the shelter he manages, ma'am,” Lonnie tried being polite, as his mom taught him to be.

The woman grunted. “Are you one of them? Or like my boy?”

One of them?
The woman sounded racist. Even more so than the most loyal Klan member. In this case, however, she'd drawn a fine line between homeless people who lived at the shelter, and those who worked to help those misfortunate souls.

“Um, I'm not sure, ma'am. I think you'll have to ask your son,” Lonnie answered, trying not to say the wrong thing.

The woman grunted again. She was mighty mouthy when her son was out of the car, but quiet as a church mouse once Mr. Reynolds got back in. Lonnie noticed the change in her behavior and knew she wouldn't have a chance to interrogate him again because they'd never be alone again. He even made a mental note to never beg at that church again.

* * *

Missing all the church traffic getting caught up with Mr. Reynolds, Lonnie hadn't been able to beg from the worshipers. Climbing the stairs up to his apartment, he decided on being content with what he did have. All the queasiness and nausea he'd been experiencing earlier seemed to be over. He was thankful for that since he was starving. Choosing to keep it simple, he heated the skillet up with some butter and two pieces of bread. All he planned on eating was some toast.

While that was grilling, Lonnie began unpacking his bags. Mr. Reynolds paid for him to get a gallon of orange juice, two different types of stomach medicine, some Tylenol, and a box of saltine crackers. Putting everything away but the capsules of Tylenol, Lonnie took five of them to equal a 1,000 mg dosage, along with a chocolate-flavored Melatonin sleeping pill; then ate his toast, showered, and dozed off. He didn't have anything else to do.

That Sunday night, snoring loudly, Lonnie had been fast asleep ever since returning from being in the streets. Waking up early ill, then going out on a quest to beg, had Lonnie completely drained. It was his body's way of shutting down on its own to prevent him from killing himself with all the narcotics he was pumping into it. The Tylenol and Melatonin pills he'd taken only sedated him even more. Hours had passed, and he hadn't budged off the couch.

Not stirred by a sound, not even his ringing cell phone, he finally heard his name being yelled to the beat of someone pounding on the door. At first thinking it was in his dream, maybe even his mother again, Lonnie's finally eyes popped open to reality. It wasn't his mind playing tricks on him. It was Kevin.

“Where have you been and what rock have you been hiding under?” Lonnie bitterly questioned, sounding salty like a girl when he opened the door for Kevin to enter.

“Dude, that's my bad. I got into some shit last night similar to the madness yo' ass is into,” Kevin called himself relating to Lonnie. “My dad's partner came in from out of town earlier than expected and busted my ass having a party. There was prescription pills, coke, and pussy everywhere.” Kevin was dramatic as he told the story, but he was telling the truth. “Remember that scene in
What's Love Got to Do with It?
when Tina Turner comes home from the hospital after Ike beats her ass, and he's having a party in the house . . .? Yeah, imagine that scene, but with me having a lot more hoes and a lot more drugs. My dad's partner went psycho crazy, then called my dad. When my dad arrived, he called the cops and had the whole house of high motherfuckers carted off to jail. Me, I'ma be sent to some rehabilitation center up in the sticks when the semester is over.”

After saying a mouthful, Kevin plopped down on Lonnie's couch and cracked the seal open to the bottle of 1800 he'd brought over to bid his friend a farewell. Although Lonnie wasn't living with him anymore, he still considered them friends. He also heard the voice mails and read the texts Lonnie sent once he was released from his dad's daylong berating session. Kevin had come with gifts: alcohol and a bag of various prescription pills. He hoped the gifts would keep him in the good graces of his pal, especially since he couldn't guarantee him ole' girl at the clinic would give him a file now that she had a record behind Kevin's wild party that got broken up.

Lonnie might've felt elated to have Kevin in his apartment with both his favorite vices yesterday; but today, the sentiment was bittersweet. No longer was Lonnie upset over Kevin disappearing. He was upset that Kevin was about to get a chance to get a clean slate and would be able to start over. Wasn't nothing similar to their situations, as Kevin stated when their conversation first started.

Kevin was getting to finish his semester, then start fresh the next one. Lonnie was expelled; no gray area about that. Kevin was getting a chance to detox in a rehab, whereas Lonnie would be left a pill junky. The more Lonnie compared him and Kevin in his mind, the more depressed and angrier he got. He found a reason to drink the liquor and pop the pills Kevin was presenting him with.

“To my last night partying.” Kevin lifted his shot glass for a toast.

Lonnie didn't say anything. He wasn't toasting to no shit like that. Kevin had gotten him addicted to drugs, only to run off to get clean. Throwing his pill, then his shot, down his throat, it was clear to Kevin that Lonnie was on some hating shit, but he didn't give a fuck. It wasn't his fault he was born white and into a family that had enough money to fix their broken kid. Leaving the bottle and his stash, which was the sandwich bag of assorted pills, Kevin told Lonnie he'd see him around, then walked out door. He never mentioned they'd lose the pill hookup with ole' girl. He knew Lonnie would find that out when it was too late, but that wasn't his problem as a privileged kid with a daddy to bail him out.

Jealous, bitter, tired of always getting the short end of the stick in life, Lonnie watched out his window for Kevin to exit the building and drive off in his overpriced luxury car. As soon as he was gone, Lonnie picked another pill from out of the bag Kevin left and washed it down with another shot of 1800. It must've been an X-pill because he started to feel horny. Not having a girlfriend but still being a man with needs, Lonnie reached for his cell phone and clicked on a free porno site.

Clicking the link, he pleasured himself until climaxing. Then he stroked it back up and jacked himself until he came again. It was then Lonnie really wished he had a warm body to cuddle up with, that could probably be his partner in life.

With so much continuous drama and turmoil, Lonnie hadn't had a connection with a woman since Karisma. And even with her, it wasn't sexual. He was eager to get his jollies off with a chick tonight but settled for watching the porn over and over again. Lonnie wasn't gay; he just hated women who were bitches. Trina had been the only female not to turn his stomach into knots as of lately. The thought of her pretty face, cute curves, and delectable smell made Lonnie even hornier than he already was. Between the porno and being lost within his own drugged-up mind of dirty thoughts, Lonnie pleasured himself time and time again. He even called her a few times, but was disappointed to get the generic playback message that the caller couldn't be reached.