Memoirs Aren't Fairytales by Marni Mann Read Free Book Online Page A

seventeen dollars, we weren't going to get very far. We filled our backpacks with as much as they'd hold and headed for the park.
    I could have called Michael and asked him to put us up, but since I started basing dope three months ago, I'd only been to his place once. It was weird too, sitting there all high while my brother talked about—I don't know what. I nodded out after dinner, just so full and warm. I woke up in the guest room, tucked under the blanket with pillows surrounding my head. He had taken my sneakers off before putting me in bed, and on the dresser was a towel and toothbrush. All the lights were off in the living room and kitchen, and his bedroom door was shut. I grabbed the leftover pizza from the fridge and left. We didn't talk again for a few days, but when we did, he told me he'd planned on cooking me breakfast.
    If we stayed at Michael's, we'd have to hide our smoking. And then there was the whole nodding out thing. What would I say about that? I'd have to deal with his questions too like why I didn't have a place to live. I decided Michael was for emergencies and this was a fender bender. The way I saw it, as long as I had Eric, Renee, and a bag of heroin in my pocket, everything else would work itself out.
    There was a hotel near the bar that advertised rooms for nineteen a night. Eric wanted to check the place out. Renee didn't. She rested her back against a tree and pulled out a full foil and a pipe. After she took a hit, she said sleeping under the stars on H would be an adventure. I didn't disagree with her, but I sided with Eric. There weren't any cops around, but if they showed up, we couldn't afford to get arrested.
    When Renee was high, she'd agree to anything, so it didn't take long for us to swing her decision. The owner of the hotel hooked us up with a week's stay for a hundred bucks. We could pay the hundred in installments as long as we gave him a little cash each day.
    As we walked down the hallway to our room, I could hear moaning and yelling from the doors we passed. Flies swarmed around the flickering overhead lights. And there was a strange smell, not smoke or burning chemicals, although there was plenty of that too. The scent was like rotten peaches.
    Renee passed out when we got in the room. Eric and I took the other bed and shared a foil between us. The mattress was comfortable compared to Renee's lumpy couch and the grass in the park. The room wasn't too bad either, even with the funky smell and smoky haze that made everything inside look yellowish.
    We never made it back to the apartment to get the rest of our stuff. Before we smoked, we talked about borrowing Mark's truck and moving everything to the hotel. After the pipe hit our lips, our plans went to shit. We promised each other before we went to bed we wouldn't smoke the next morning until all our stuff was moved. Then a week passed. We figured by then it was too late, the landlord had probably scrapped it all anyway.
    When I first started basing, I'd smoke an hour before work, and I'd be high the whole shift. Being on dope at work was like sitting in class the morning after a keg party. I had no energy and couldn't concentrate. All I wanted was to sit in front of the TV and rip cig after cig. I'd forget to check on my tables, glasses went empty and I ignored them, and requests like extra napkins and silverware never got delivered. I used the other servers to help me out. Mark had a hard time keeping employees, so there was always a new face who wanted to prove herself. I'd have her run my food and check on my tables, and I'd pretend to be too busy. By the time the waitress got sick of doing my job, she had either quit or was let go.
    Soon the high was lasting only a couple hours, and the cravings would set in at work. I'd leave during my dinner break to smoke at the hotel. The thirty minutes I was given would turn into an hour, sometimes two. I'd come back to the bar prepared with an excuse like a doctor's appointment or