"Jessica, I am so sorry."
"Thanks, Mia. We knew she had a problem for a long time after the divorce. I blame myself."
I said nothing. The overdose was not mentioned in the paper, just as a rumor in the neighborhood gossip mill. It was just confirmed.
"You can't help people who don't want to be helped," I said, echoing some psychobabble I once heard. I didn't even know if it was true.
Jessica nodded her head, dabbing at her tears.
"If you need anything, please let me know." I hugged Jessica as a man I assumed was her husband came up to her. He put his arm around her and led her away.
I left soon after. Miles didn't show up to the wake, either, not that I expected him to. It would have caused quite a scene because he looked like a drug dealer and people can put two and two together. Besides, I didn’t believe that etiquette allowed for drug dealers to attend the funerals of their customers to mourn the loss of income. It seemed too gauche.
I wandered around my house for a couple days afterward, not knowing what to do. On the one hand, I didn't want to get involved. On the other hand, I wanted to find out what Miles had to do with Mrs. King's death. Was he a fellow drug user or worse? Maybe I was craving the excitement. Maybe I was upset that I was lied to. As I paced around, I convinced myself that there was only one thing I had to do. I had to drive down to Miles' apartment and find out what happened for myself.
Chapter 19
I shook my head at my foolishness when I found myself climbing the stairs to Miles’ apartment the next day. No one had shoveled or put salt down, and they were very slick. Risking my life, again. After I knocked on the door, I saw Miles briefly look out the window. I waited for the familiar sound of the turning of the doorknob. Nothing.
"What do you want?" Miles voice was soft and low.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay." It wasn't a total lie.
"I am fine."
"Miles, let me in. I am concerned about you."
Miles opened the door and a smell of overpowering staleness wafted out of his apartment and hit me. I cringed internally and pushed my way in. Miles looked terrible, worse than usual: pale skin, stringy hair, hollow eyes, and dark circles under said eyes.
"Are you okay?" I said, peering at him in the dim light.
"I'm fine." He turned and went into the living room. I had no choice but to follow.
"You don't look fine."
Miles said nothing.
“You don’t work for Meals on Wheels either.” I don’t know why I was pissed.
Miles sat down on the couch and looked at me with tired eyes.
“I told you what you wanted to hear.”
“What?”
“How hard is that for you to understand? You wanted to believe that I was from Meals on Wheels, so I told you I was.”
“So it is my fault?” Jesus, it was like talking to Noah.
“Whatever, Mia. What do you want?”
I felt stupid but was unable to turn around and leave.
“I was just concerned about you after what happened to Mrs. King.” I sat down in the nearest chair. “What happened?”
Miles closed his eyes and leaned his head back on his ratty couch. He didn’t look like he wanted to answer any questions.
“She o.d.’d. What else is there to say?”
“You were her drug dealer?” My eyes must have looked like saucers.
Miles opened his eyes and looked at me with pity.
“Yeah.”
“You make deliveries?” There was a lot I didn’t know about the drug business. No one ever delivered drugs to Noah’s house, but something told me that this was different than pot and acid.
“Yeah.”
“Wow,” I said, half to myself. “How did you know Mrs. King?”
Miles looked annoyed. For someone who had recently wanted to hang out with me he certainly wasn’t being very forthcoming.
“I used to operate out of an apartment on Upton and one day she came to the door. When I started delivering, she became one of my customers.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Three years ago. Why?”
“I just wondered how long she had been doing drugs. Was it heroin?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how long she was using.”
“I am just mystified that she overdosed. I wonder if she was trying to kill herself?”
Miles closed his eyes again. “She got a bad dose.”
“What?”
“She got a bad dose. There is some bad stuff going around. Another one of my regulars o.d.’d too.”
“Good lord Miles.”
Miles said nothing.
“Are you ok?”
“I’m fine although the word on the street is that the cops have been looking for the dealer that sold them the stuff, so that doesn’t make me feel too happy.”
Word on the street? It was like being in the middle of a televised crime drama! Miles was not only a drug dealer, he was probably a wanted criminal. Maybe it was time to leave. I stood up.
“Why did you go out with me?” I had to know.
“You threw yourself at me and asked me out at first. I thought at least you’d be a good fuck or maybe a new customer.”
Good god. Did I not have any redeeming qualities whatsoever? Miles reached out to touch my elbow as I passed him to walk toward the door.
“I like you as a person now. I didn’t know you then. And besides, you’re hot and you gave me your number. What was I supposed to think? Either you knew I was dealing or you wanted to fuck.”
I turned to look at him. His sunken eyes stared back at me from his skeletal face, his skin stretched taut. He didn’t look like he would be able to perform even if I was interested in a sexual relationship with him. The thought made me feel really sorry for him.
“Oh Miles. ”
He let go of my arm and leaned back on the couch. I sat down next to him.
“Does your dealer make deliveries too?”
Miles looked at me as if I just asked the stupidest question ever.
“He’s called my supplier, not my dealer. And, no he doesn’t. I have to go pick it up.”
“Sorry, I am not up on the drug lingo. Where do you pick it up at? Aren’t you afraid?”
“At his house. No, I am not afraid. The guy has a wife and kids. I have known him for a long time. You’d be surprised. You would think the guy would be a total scumbag, but he’s a lawyer. Wait a minute.” Miles laughed at his own joke.
I didn’t know what was so funny. Miles was not only a drug dealer, he was wanted. But he thought I was hot. God, I had a problem.
“What are you going to do?”
Miles sighed. “I am going to cool it for a while. I have told all my customers that I won’t be delivering. If they want to come by, they can. I will lay low until things settle down.”
As if by a pre-arranged signal, there was a knock on the door. Miles immediately got up and went to answer it. In walked a college-looking guy.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Miles left the room. The guy stood in the kitchen, swinging his arms back and forth, back and forth. His gaze moved across the apartment, settling on me. He looked startled.
Miles came out of the bedroom and saw him looking at me.
“That’s Mia, my girlfriend.”
“Hey.” The guy nodded at me and turned his attention back to Miles. Money exchanged hands and the guy left.
“Your girlfriend?” I asked as Miles walked back into the living room.
“Yea, these people are suspicious, they won’t like some random girl in on their drug transactions.” Miles sat down next to me on the couch.
Miles had a point, I thought as I sat there. Still, I didn’t want him thinking I was his girlfriend. I looked over at him. His eyes were closed again and his head was leaned back against the couch.
“Have you eaten today?” I felt sorry for him. He wasn’t a bad guy.
Miles sighed. “No.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really. Maybe I will be later.”
“OK.”
There was a lot I didn’t know about this guy. I wasn’t scared of him though as I was the first time I was in his apartment.
“So now what happens? Do people just come over all day and you have to sit here?”
“Pretty much. That’s why I started delivering; I didn’t want to be stuck inside all day. It’s cold out though, people can come here.”
I didn’t blame him. I hated early spring in Ohio.
“How many customers do you have?”
“About 25. Why?”
“I just wondered. I don’t know anything about it at all. That’s a lot of people.”
“You’d be surprised by how many people do drugs.”
“No kidding. Everyone I know, except my parents, does drugs.”
“You do drugs?” Miles looked at me like I was lying.
“Yes. I smoke pot and drop acid.”
“Please. Those aren’t drugs.” Miles looked like he was going to laugh.
“Excuse me. Are you making fun of me? I can’t believe it! A lot of people drop acid. And I will have you know that I am quite the alcoholic!”
“I bet your parents are so proud!”
“They are!”
Miles and I laughed. He was pretty funny.
“I have never done heroin or meth. I did coke once in high school, I thought it sucked.” I said by way of trying to redeem myself. “What other drugs are there?”
“Nothing else worth a damn.”
“Do you do heroin?” That would certainly explain his appearance.
Miles didn’t answer right away. I looked at his arms, they were hidden by long sleeves. He looked at me.
“Yes.”
“God, Miles, how long have you been doing it?”
“I have stopped and started a couple of times.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“I know what I am doing. I have been dealing for a long time.”
“That’s what they all say. What is it like?”
“Why?” Miles looked at me suspiciously. “You don’t want to get involved in it. It can be a real hassle.”
“Isn’t that a weird thing for a dealer to say?”
“I’m not a monster, for god’s sake. Jesus Christ.” Miles was pretty upset. I wonder if wild mood swings were part of the heroin experience.
“I didn’t say I was going to do it, I just wondered what it was like. God, relax.” Miles made me feel really guilty. I didn’t want to do it, I just wondered what all the fuss was about. Besides, I wasn’t that thrilled about injecting anything into my arms. Needles were not my friend.
“It’s like taking a vacation from yourself for about six hours. It’s not like acid where you can have a bad trip. It’s like floating in a comfortable cocoon.”
“That sounds great.” I had to admit that I would like to take a vacation from myself sometimes.
“Please, Mia, don’t do it. If you aren’t careful, it can really fuck up your life.”
“I didn’t say I was going to do it. I just wondered.” God, how many times do I have to repeat myself?
Miles said nothing and I didn’t press it.
We sat in silence for a while as I thought about what he had just told me.
For the rest of the afternoon, people from all walks of life knocked on his door and bought heroin while I sat on his couch and watched TV. His clientele weren’t who you would think they were. College guys, cheerleader-looking girls, a couple of suits, a biker or two, and the occasional older woman. I think that the people behind the war on drugs were lying to me. Drug addicts were portrayed in the media as low-life scumbags. These people looked respectable. What an unfair stereotype!At around 5, I started to get unbearably hungry.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Have you even eaten today?”
“No.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
“I don’t remember.”
“How can you not remember? I am starving. What do you have to eat?”
Miles said nothing as I walked into his kitchen and opened the refrigerator. As cliché as the old “nothing in there but a lonely lightbulb” saying was, it was pretty accurate in this case.
“You should just unplug this thing. There is nothing in here and you are wasting electricity,” I said as I shut the door.
Miles said nothing.
I searched his cupboards and they were bare. Literally empty.
“How long have you lived here? You don’t have any food or plates or silverware or anything. You have two glasses and that is it.”
“I eat out a lot.”
“I see.”
“Let’s go out to eat then.”
“I don't want to leave the house. The cops are out there.”
“Well you can’t stay here without food. Give me some money and I will go shopping for you.” I couldn’t in good conscience just leave him here to starve. I really believed that he would sit there until it happened.
“You don’t have to.”
“If I am going to hang out with you, I need food and plates. Give me some money.”
Miles got up wordlessly and went into the bedroom, coming back with a wad of cash and handing it to me.
“How much is here?”
“$200.”
“Okay, I will bring back the change and the receipt. Is there anything that you like to eat in particular?”
“No. Whatever.” Miles went and sat back down on his couch.
“Ok.”
I left and walked down the slick wooden steps, making a mental note to get some rock salt. Miles was pretty easy with his money. I wondered if he had ever been robbed. He obviously trusted me, but it was only $200. The guy probably had thousands stashed away somewhere.
I drove to an obscenely well-lit Kroger’s and started filling my cart. I really liked projects. I should have become a social worker I thought as I compared brands of toilet paper.
All in all I spent the whole $200 but came away with a set of dishes, cups, a cheap set of silverware, dishwashing soap, chicken breasts, a couple of steaks, milk, cereal, enough food really, for a week or two worth of meals. It was like Miles was my kid and I was sending him off to college or furnishing his first apartment. Maybe one day I would find an adult to date.
I took everything back to Miles’ apartment and began to make dinner. I had to guess what he liked to eat since it wasn’t like he shared a lot of personal information about himself or anything.
I made tacos and washed his dishes and put all the perishables away and made him eat.
He was ravenous. I knew it. I used to get like that when I lived with Amy. I would tell myself I didn’t want to eat because I was too lazy to make food, but then found myself devouring a box of cookies.
I hadn’t seen him shoot up all day, of course I didn’t know what a heroin users’ schedule was. Maybe he did it earlier.
He perked up after he ate.
“Thanks Mia. That was really good.”
“You’re welcome. I bought you plates and silverware and food. I wasn’t sure of what kind of cereal you like so I bought you a couple of different boxes.”
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Well, that is what friends are for.” It was true. Maybe he looked so sickly because he wasn’t eating properly. It was clear he had other things on his mind.
I got ready to leave soon after dinner. I wonder if Miles thought I was going to stay the night. Uh no. I can only imagine what his sheets looked like and I wasn’t even attracted to him. I had a job and a life to get back to. Miles’ whole life consisted of sitting on the couch and selling drugs. I am known to be unmotivated but even I couldn’t sit there all day.
“When are you coming back?” Miles said to me as I put my coat on.
“I don’t know. I have to work the next five days in a row.” This w
as a verifiable truth.
“Can’t you come over afterwards?”
“I’ll see.”
As I drove home, I thought about the untenable situation I had put myself into. I wasn’t attracted to Miles at all; there was nothing to be attracted to. He was probably wanted by the police for being a drug dealer, he was a heroin addict, and his rough good looks were slowly fading into unruly-looking drug addiction. At least I didn’t think he was violent and would come after me if I stopped going over there; he could barely get off the couch to feed himself.
Chapter 20
In the days that followed, I scanned the newspaper to see if there was any mention of an investigation of Mrs. King’s death. There was nothing. The media would have you believe that the war on drugs was this ongoing, constant assault, and it may be. The reality is that the general public wasn’t going to hear anything about it besides the random mega busts that were featured on the evening news.
Maybe Miles could find another line of work.
I asked him that question when, against my better judgment, I found myself at his house drinking a beer after work about a week later.
Miles laughed at my suggestion.
“What do you propose I do?”
“I don't know. What do you like to do?”
Miles shook his head. “Nothing. I wouldn’t even know how to go about getting a job.”
“You have never had a job?”
“I worked as a dishwasher when I was 16, but this pays better.”
I couldn’t argue with that but I could certainly try.
“How much money are we talking about?”
“How much do I make in a year? I have no idea.”
“Give me a ballpark. How about weekly?”
“I have no idea.”
“If you have no idea, then how do you know if you are making a lot of money?”
“Let’s put it this way, I don't have to listen to some asshole tell me what to do.”
He had a point there.
“But what about the future?”
“What about it?”
“Don’t you think about it?”
“No.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Who doesn’t think about the future? My thoughts weren’t exactly crystal clear, but I knew I saw a mansion and luxury cars in mine.
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