Tuesday, July 26, 2005
My Crack Addict Group - Night #2
I cried last night. I have not cried in months. Somehow I thought I’d never care again. Somewhere the pain got stuffed. I lost faith in humanity. I no longer believed the mythic epic. Maybe there’s just so much of you to share. Then you are used up. Flypaper where nothing sticks. You are just hanging there for too long. Curled at the ends. Stained. Guts of a struggle in midair.18 crack addicts in a circle. I was in their midst, trying to feel something, trying to be their counselor. It was hot in that concrete block building on a hill surrounded by thirty acres of rolling Tennessee hills. A wooden cross by the front door. The lock on the door is missing two screws. It hangs without use. One window A/C unit in the back hummed. Water dripped into the ground outside. The front A/C unit caught fire last week. We were next.
Michael cried last night too. He’s an African-American in his forties. Pudgy around the middle. He wiped sweat from his face with a towel draped over his shoulder as if he came to wash feet. I hugged him. The rest of the crack addicts huddled around. Some laid hands on his shoulders.
I asked Michael if he ever felt loved. He shook his head no. He laughed. Nervous. Vulnerable. The top of his baldhead beaded with sweat like a waxed car hood. Sweat soaked his shirt. I cried as I prayed for him. Tears were flowing as if I were some Virgin Mary statue crying in the suburbs of Las Vegas. Just flowing. Streaming into my mouth. Mucus loose at the back of my throat. My brain mush.
I prayed for God to love Michael. I prayed that he’d know what love really felt like, as if I knew myself. When the prayer was over, I hugged him and said, “Man, you doing some serious sweating. You smelling like some BO too!”
Everyone laughed. I stood. Michael remained seated. I grabbed him in a headlock. His sweat soaked through my orange shirt. His desire for love is what we all want. All of us want to be loved. And somehow in that concrete block kiln, we all felt it for a brief moment, knowing we might not ever feel it again.
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Something New. Read one of Robert's novels in progress. It's a sweet and tender love story that appeals to the romantic in all of us. Click the link: http://ablogofregrets.blogspot.com/
© 2007 by Robert Stofel