The Heroin Scene in Fort Myers

by Oliver Markus Malloy

  Veronica always tried to act tough, but she was so insecure, she mirrored the behavior of the people around her. She really didn't even know who she was, unless other people told her how to act. She was like a little high school girl who just wanted to fit in. If the people around her used certain phrases, she used them, too. If people talked black, she talked black, too. During one of our visos at the Salvation Army, she had asked me in a thick black accent: "What time it is?" She thought she sounded cool. She had no clue how retarded it looks when a little white girl from the suburbs tries to act like a black thug from the hood.

  Virtually all the female inmates in LCJ are drug addicts who have prostituted themselves at some point or another to pay for their drug habit. And, like all drug addicts, they are used to lying and manipulating people, just like that guy had written in Sex, Drugs, and Taxi Cabs. No wonder Veronica was acting like a lying, cheating lowlife while she was in jail. She was trying to fit in.

  I held on to the hope that once Veronica was released from jail, and came home to me, she would no longer be around manipulative con artists, and she'd take her behavioral cues from me instead. I figured if I show her nothing but kindness and love when she comes home, that's the kind of behavior she would learn to adopt.

  But she never came home to me. Everything Nancy and the other 13 people had told me about Veronica was right.

  A few days before her release, she told me that her father was coming to town to pick her up. She said it would be rude if she didn't let him pick her up, because she hadn't seen him in ages. She told me not to worry, because she'd only spend a day or two with him at the most, and then she would be all mine. It sounded strangely familiar. Kayla had told me the same thing a few days before her release.

  During my last viso with Veronica, one day before she was released from jail, I told her that I had a really bad feeling, and that my instincts told me I would never see her again.

  "Don't be ridiculous," she said. "I love you. Of course I'm coming home to you. Watch, as soon as I get out, I'll call you from my dad's phone. I don't even really want to spend time with him. I'm just doing it because I have to, so he'll get off my back. He's only in town for two days, so the day after tomorrow, he'll drop me off at your house in the evening, and then I'm all yours."

  There was no sense in arguing about it anymore, because her mind was made up. She told me that she had no choice but to have her dad pick her up, and she said it was really no big deal, because she would be home with me less than 48 hours later, so I shouldn't make such a big deal about it.

  For the rest of the viso, we talked about something else. Somehow we ended up talking about Lucy. She had just been arrested again for drug related charges. Veronica told me she used to date Lucy, and asked: "Isn't Lucy hot?"

  I didn't really know how to answer that. Was that a trick question? Would Veronica get pissed at me if I said another girl besides her was cute? Or was she going to tell me that she wanted Lucy to be her "female friend" when she gets out, and that I would have to share her with Lucy?

  I told Veronica that I had never actually seen Lucy in person, but that I had known about her for over 3 years, because I used to date Lucy's stepmom Hussy when I moved to Florida, after Alice ran away from rehab in New York. Veronica was startled. "You used to date Lucy's mom? Wow! Small world," she said and grinned. "Why didn't you tell me that sooner?"

  "I did tell you all about Hussy, but I didn't know you used to date Lucy," I replied. Then I told her that when Hussy and I used to hang out all day every day, she'd tell me about her young kids, or her abusive ex Dick. Veronica said she knew Dick. Of course. He sold drugs. They all know each other.

  Hussy had told me a lot about Dick's teenage daughters Summer and Lucy, who was only a few years younger than Hussy. She had told me lots of stories about how badly Summer and Lucy were addicted to drugs, and all the trouble they kept getting into. So although I had never met Lucy, I actually knew her pretty well.

  The next day was Veronica's last day in jail. It was the beginning of June, 2013. She called me one last time that night, only a few hours before her release early the next morning. She told me once again that she loved me and that she would be home soon, as soon as she got this annoying visit with her dad out of the way.

  Her dad and Rachel had split up pretty much right after Veronica was born, and he had never really been a part of her life, except for sending her some money occasionally. He was a truck driver who drove all across the country, and she only saw him two or three times a year, for a day or two, if even that much.

  She had told me that he owned a successful trucking company in Ohio. But when I met him in person during one of his short stays in Fort Myers while she was in jail last time, I found out that she had lied again. She always tried to make herself sound better than she really was. He didn't own a company. He didn't even own the truck he drove. It was a company truck. And he was homeless. He lived in the truck. He just used his brother's address in Ohio to receive mail.

  Veronica rarely talked to him on the phone. Maybe once every two weeks. Meanwhile she called me several times a day every day. She had told me many times that she was estranged from both her parents, and didn't really want either one of them in her life once she came home. She said her mother was her biggest trigger for using drugs, and her father was a mentally ill dry alcoholic who heard voices. He thought he could talk to angels.

  One time, when he and I were texting after Veronica got arrested again, he suddenly wrote, completely out of context: "The blue angel sees everything. The white angel laughs. And the red angel takes his revenge."

  Aaalrighty then. Thanks for sharing.

  MY BEST FRIEND GEORGE

  “The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”

  Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

  I met George for the first time in August 2012. He was a heavyset guy in his late 50s, with white hair and glasses. He told me he hadn't been fishing since his dad had passed away, so I went fishing with him, even though I had never been, and I had no idea what I was doing. He enjoyed being able to teach me.

  He also took me to a gun range for the first time in my life, and showed me how to shoot. I had been against guns my whole life, but now that I actually shot one, I was hooked. It was a whole lot of fun! I ended up buying an assault rifle and a hand gun. But then I felt the rifle was a bit much, so I ended up selling it again. I kept the pistol though.

  George was old enough to be my dad. I guess that's why we got along so well. My parents lived in Germany, and Donna had been my only family in America. After the divorce, I had nobody. That's why the divorce and losing Alice later on had been extra hard on me.

  When I met George in Bonita Springs, he was like a father figure to me. I told him about all my crazy little stories with the girls I had met in Florida, and he'd always say: "Nobody has the right to abuse you." He agreed with me that cheating is a form of abuse, because emotional pain hurts so much worse than physical pain.

  He was not a fan of Veronica. He already knew me when Veronica ran away from the Salvation Army rehab in September 2012. And I told him all about her running off with Kim 2 or 3 days later, instead of staying home with me. I talked to him every day, and he was familiar with the whole story. He knew that all she ever did was hurt me and cheat on me. He saw it much clearer than I did, because I kept holding on to the idea that she'd turn around eventually. He'd just sigh and say: "The heart wants what it wants."

  I really loved Veronica, despite everything she did to me. Or, maybe I was just addicted to her. I had read an article about brain scans that showed that when someone goes through a painful break up, it activates the same part of the brain as cocaine withdrawal. In other words, these br
ain scans showed that missing a loved one was really not that much different from craving drugs.

  It makes sense, if you think about it. Every pleasurable experience releases the feel-good chemical dopamine in the brain. So when you spend time with the person you love, it releases dopamine. Just like heroin or cocaine does. And when that person is suddenly gone, so is your source of dopamine. So the mental anguish you feel after a break up is not that different from an addict's cravings for cocaine. The article concluded that love is the original addiction all human beings share.

  We all want to feel loved, and we are all miserable when we lose a loved one and it leaves a big emotional hole. And we all deal with it in our own way. Some people curl up on the couch and eat a tub of ice cream. Some get drunk at the bar down the street. Others smoke weed. Some smoke crack or shoot heroin. Others have a lot of sex, or become fitness fanatics. We all try to find a distraction that helps us get over the pain. But if the pain persists, we get addicted to whatever we're using to try to forget the pain.

  In an interview with Vice magazine, Dr. Gabor Maté said about the current heroin epidemic in America: "Heroin is a painkiller. It's actually the strongest pain reliever that we have, and it relieves emotional pain as much as physical pain. So the real question is not why is there a heroin epidemic, but why is there so much pain amongst young people today? And that has to do with two factors: one is that a lot of young people are traumatized and abused in childhood, and another is that a lot of other people that are indirectly abused are still not getting their emotional needs met."

  Dr. Gabor Maté said that today's rehab treatment is ineffective, because it sees the addiction as the problem. But addiction is not the problem. It's the addict's failed attempt to solve a problem.

  I really don't like hanging out with American guys. I hate all that "bros before hoes" bullshit. I hate the way most of them talk about females, as if women are the opposite team in the battle of the sexes. I was raised to look at a girl as my partner, not my enemy. I was taught to respect girls, not use them and abuse them. I hate when some dumb brute goes on and on about chasing tail, or brags about getting into some girl's pants like he's expecting a trophy for it. I hate when guys holler at girls in the streets. It's so disrespectful. Maybe I'm old-fashioned. Or maybe I'm just the only guy with some class in a hundred mile radius. Just kidding.

  Anyway, I liked hanging out with George, because he was different from most other American guys. I didn't have to put on some stupid macho act. I could be myself around him, and admit when I was hurt about something Veronica did, without him calling me a fag for having feelings.

  He understood my pain, because he had been through some pretty traumatic stuff himself. He used to be an insurance adjuster, but when his father passed away, he was so grief-striken, he ended up losing his job. And when he lost his job, his wife left him. It was the perfect storm of emotional turmoil. It's a miracle he didn't kill himself. He just got drunk to get through the pain. He liked to joke that he's not an alcoholic, but a drunk: "Alcoholics go to meetings, drunks go to parties."

  But now he hadn't touched alcohol in a long time, and he was completely sober ever since I had known him.

  George knew I was counting down the days until Veronica came home. He kept telling me to brace myself for the worst, considering what had happened last time, when she ran away from the Salvation Army and then posted an ad on Backpage, cheating on me with God only knows how many people.

  I told him that I was hoping for the best, but expecting the worst. I knew there was a good chance Veronica would do the same thing to me again this time around, even though she kept telling me over and over that she loved me, and how sorry she was about what she had done to me in the past, and that this time would be completely different. This time she would really come home to me and we'd live happily ever after.

  But she didn't.

  REVENGE SEX

  "Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die."

  Gautama Buddha

  During our last conversation, a few hours before her release at 4 am, Veronica had promised to call me from her dad's phone as soon as she got out of jail. But she didn't. Somehow I had known that she wouldn't. I didn't even wait up. I just went to sleep around midnight.

  When I woke up the next morning around 9 am, I checked my phone to see if I had any missed calls. Nope. I spent the whole day waiting to hear from her, even though deep down I knew I wouldn't. My instincts told me I would never hear from her again after she gets out of jail, and I was right.

  She had told me her dad would only be in town for 2 days, and he would drop her off at my condo on the evening of the second day. As part of her probation, Veronica had a 10 pm curfew. If she wasn't home by 10 pm, she could go back to jail.

  So I waited until 10 pm on the second day. But I didn't hear a peep from her, and her dad didn't bring her to my place. She had done it to me again. Once again she had left me hanging and chose someone else over me, after I had waited for her for months. I had been faithful to her, had deleted every other girl from my Facebook page and from my phone. I had even changed my number, because she didn't want other girls to call me anymore. Meanwhile all she did was cheat on me, and now she just left me hanging like this. I was heartbroken. I couldn't believe anyone could be this low, this cruel, this selfish.

  George had called me to find out whether Veronica came home or not. He knew all along that she wouldn't. He came over, because he didn't want me to be alone. He knew how upset I was. We waited for 10 pm together and watched some movies, even though I really couldn't concentrate. I was just counting the seconds until 10 pm, checking the time on my cell phone every few minutes.

  At 10:01 pm, George stopped the movie, and said: "Well, that's it. I hope you're really done with Veronica now. She's no good for you. All she has ever done is make you miserable. She's toxic."

  Then he grabbed the keyboard, went to Match.com and started creating an online dating profile for me. "I want you to meet a decent girl," he said. "Stop wasting your time with trash like Veronica."

  I really was not in the mood to fill out an online dating profile right now. All I wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position, hide from the world and die. I was so fucking miserable. I just couldn't believe she would do this to me. Again. I just couldn't believe anyone could do that to anyone. What kind of a person lies to someone for months, tells them she wants to get married and have a baby, strings them along for months, gets their hopes up and then just abandons them like it's nothing? I hated her for doing this to me. I HATED her so fucking MUCH right now.

  I wanted revenge! I wanted to hurt her back, as badly as possible, any way I could. I had deleted her mother's phone number, along with every other girl's number. Otherwise I would have called Rachel right now and asked her to come over and suck my cock. Haley was in jail, but even if she was out, neither she nor Erin or Crystal would do the trick this time. I wanted to fuck the shit out of Veronica's mother. I knew that would get under her skin. I wanted to ram my big fat cock in Rachel's mouth and make her swallow my load. I wanted to fuck her in the ass. I knew Rachel hated it when Veronica's stepdad did that to her. I wanted to cum in Rachel's pussy and then brag about it, rub it in Veronica's face, and humiliate her. If that wasn't gonna hurt her, nothing would.

  Obviously I wasn't thinking very clearly at that moment. While all these crazy revenge fantasies were going through my mind, I remembered my last viso with Veronica before she got out of jail. She had mentioned that she used to date Lucy, and that she thought Lucy was hot. For some reason, I figured it would really get under Veronica's skin if I fucked the shit out of Lucy.

  And Lola, Veronica's ex-girlfriend who had sent me dozens of letters from prison, was released recently, and she was now back in Fort Myers. I had ignored her when she tried to contact me on Facebook, but now I decided to call her, and fuck the shit out of her, too.

  Lola was staying at the Gulfview Motel on 41. She sh
ared a room with her mother, who was also a drug addict. In her letters, Lola had written over and over how miserable the drug lifestyle had made her, and that she was never gonna go back to that. Prison had given her time to think about her life, and she wanted to make a change. She wanted to live sober, and since I was the only sober person she knew, she fantasized about a future with me. That's why she started writing me those explicit sex letters and love poems.

  I know she really meant it at the time, when she wrote me those letters from prison, and told me that she would never ever touch drugs again. But everything changes when you get out of prison, and you are faced with all that confusing freedom. You don't know what to do first. There are endless possibilities. Now you can do all the things you dreamed about doing, while you were in jail. You want to make the most of all that newfound freedom. And what was your favorite thing you used to do before you went to prison? Drugs. Despite all their best intentions, many, if not most, drug addicts relapse as soon as they get out of jail or prison. Many of them tell themselves that drinking is not the same as shooting heroin or smoking crack. But substance abuse is a slippery slope. Soon getting drunk just doesn't cut it anymore.