Running Home (11 page)

I must have slept late
, because I was woken with a quick pound to the door and a “Sweetie are you awake?” coming from the kitchen. I rolled over in bed and looked at the clock. “Crap!” I shouted and jumped up. I ran over to the dresser and grabbed a pair of sweats, tossed them on quickly, and headed out to the kitchen.

“Patty
, start with those salads over there; thank goodness the fridge is bare. We have so much stuff to cram in there. Now, I know I set that box down somewhere……….” Mom’s voiced trailed off as she wandered around looking for something.

“Hey M
om, Aunt Patty,” I said, as I placed a kiss to each of their cheeks. “Did you just get up Son? What in the world were you thinking? Go get in the shower and clean yourself up! We have way too much work to do, and you not being ready isn’t helping,” Mom scolded, as I walked over to the counter to start the coffee maker.

“Get going
, Walker Gene Mason,” Aunt Patty swatted at me as she grabbed the coffee can out of my hands.

I held up my arms in surrender as I began my retreat out of the kitchen and to the bathroom. I should have known I was never really
in charge of setup today anyway, not with the women in my family.

It took several hours to get the reception area ready, and praise the Lord
, the ground had dried out after the ass kicking downpour yesterday. Looking around the field at all the white draped round tables with flowers in shining tin cans as the centerpieces…..it all looked fantastic.

“Hey Walker, come give me
a hand. I keep burning the shit out of my hands, trying to light these bitches,” Derek whined, as he lit one of the hundred Mason jar candles hanging in the big elm tree we were standing under for the ceremony.

“Are you that special?” I joked with my best man, as I reached over and snatched the lighter from his hands.

“Well then, if you got this; I’ll go check on the food,” he called while walking away.

“Don’t you dare touch it,” I shouted back at him
, as he turned and flipped me off. I chuckled, and continued to light the remaining candles in the tree; it was going to shine when the sun started to set.

“Honey? Walker?
Derek? Patty? Anyone?” I heard Mom yell from the front side of the barn. I hurried off the ladder and went running around the side of the barn. Mom was walking down from the truck, carrying a large pink box.

“Oh
, thank goodness Walker, come get this cake before I drop it, and make Sadie have a heart attack,s” he said in a panic. I quickly grabbed the box and went to place it on the cake table.

“C
areful taking it out of the box………. on second thought, move and let me do it,” she bossed, as she hurried over to me. I watched as she pulled the cardboard off the all-white three tiered cake. It was gorgeous, dusted in a shimmer powder with a single monogrammed ‘M’ piped on the side.

“Wow,” I muttered quietly.

“She was at the café until midnight, I swear, trying to make this perfect.”

“It is,
” I said softly.

“Go
; I can finish all this up. You and Derek need to get cleaned up again, before people start arriving. Have you seen Waylon?” Mom asked as she tried to shoo me away.

I gave M
om a quick hug, before I hurried up into the house. “He’s in the kitchen Mom, begging Aunt Patty for food,” I yelled back out the door.

“Stupid dog,” s
he hollered back.

Aunt Patty just laughed as she tossed a piece of pulled pork to the floor. I hurried to get into th
e shower real quick, before I had to get dressed in my khaki linen suit.

“Well
, I can’t say this about you, but shit, I look fantastic in this ensemble, don’t you think?” Derek laughed as he walked into my bedroom.

“Whatever loser,” I fired back
, while straightening my tie.

“Are people arriving?”

“Basically everyone is here already; you know the town doesn’t wait well,” Derek commented.

I took one last glance in the
mirror and took a deep breath; this was it. “Walker darling, I have your boutonniere,” Mom said, as she entered the room and walked over to pin the single pink rose to my lapel.

“Thanks M
om,” I said softly.

“Baby
boy,you look amazing. I am so proud of the man you have become, and who you will continue to be.” Tears started to form in her eyes.

“
Mom, don’t start now,” I pleaded and wiped the moisture away from under her eyes.

“I’ll cry if I want to
, Walker Gene Mason,” she scolded, while turning to walk out the door.

“Is Sadie here yet?” I asked Derek
, who sat on the bed looking at himself in the mirror.

“What? Oh no dude, not yet.”

I started to pace the floor. We were scheduled to walk down the aisle in less than thirty minutes, and my nerves were shot. I know it wasn’t customary for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony, but I needed a quick moment with her. Just seeing her calmed my crazy spirit, soothed the inner beast, and always brought a sense of calm over my ever wandering mind.

“Sit your ass down;
you are going to ruin what’s left of this old carpet.”

“Whatever man,
I’m going to replace it anyway,” I spat back at him.

I continued to watch the clock and wander the floor, driving myself crazier as the minutes passed
, still without word from Sadie. My body jumped when I heard a knock at the door.

“Um
, Walker…………………..um…………….I found this,” Sadie’s friend Beth, said as she meekly walked into the bedroom, holding a folded up piece of paper. The look of confusion crossed my face, while reaching out to take the paper. Written on the paper, in Sadie’s handwriting was my name.
What is going on,
I thought to myself.

Walker,

My world was spinning out of control when I left North Carolina
, and wandered across the states. Who would have known that everything ugly and bad would stop when I broke down in your town, and had this amazing officer stop to see if I was okay? That was the first time in my entire life someone had shown any compassion for my wellbeing. It was that moment that I started to believe in humanity; it was you that gave me faith in people again.

The last year and a half has been th
e best time in my entire twenty-three years of life. You and everyone in this small town have shown me so much love and thoughtfulness that I don’t even know where to start saying thank you. There is so much good that radiates out of you and your amazing family.

You alone have opened me up to knowing what love feels like and being a
ble to give it in return. My life was filled with hate and despair until the moment I met you. I will cherish every moment we spent together, knowing that I have you to be thankful for.

Walker
, you must realize I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you; in fact it’s the exact opposite. I loved you too much to be selfish. I am not the woman for you, Walker; I’m still not finished with this journey I’m on. It would be unfair to you and I to continue on this path, when I know you are destined for greater things then I can bring you. I will love you for a lifetime, Walker Gene Mason.

Please don’t hate love; it is the best thing in this entire world. You taught me that
, and I hope you can remember that during these dark days you might come under.

Don’t hide from love
, Walker; be open to it and it will find you.

All my love,

Sadie

My hand dropped the note as it fluttered to the floor; my eyes went blurry with the tears that were streaming from them. I staggered to the side of the bed and dropped down; I didn’t know what to do. I was so sure that this was the path for my life. Fuck,
OUR lives
. How could this possibly happen……. again? How am I able to keep going after the second woman I truly felt a connection with walked out on me?

It took only a couple minutes of feeling total despair when I shot off the bed and ran out the door. The screen door slammed beh
ind me as I ran for the Bronco. “Walker wait!” Beth yelled from the doorway. I didn’t care what anyone had to say, I was going to find Sadie. We were not over,
THIS
wasn’t over! If she wanted to push the wedding back, I was okay with it, but I was not letting her run away, like I did with Carmen.

“Sorry” Buckcherry

Carmen, June 2012

My
own personal hell was this six-by-eight foot grey brick cell room that I shared with another girl, who was more messed up then I was. The metal bed that was anchored to the wall was about as comfortable as sleeping on concrete, and that’s with the mattress on top. The sheets are stiff and the blankets scratchy; definitely not like my bed back on the farm. And for some strange reason it’s the only place I can think of anymore. Being at California Institute For Women for felony prostitution charges makes you think twice about life. I knew what I was doing was illegal, but I was so wrapped up in the drugs that I no longer cared. Well, I can’t say that I didn’t care, I did. The urges were too strong, and when I weighed out the consequences in my mind, the drugs always came out on top. And the results of those stupid choices have made me sit in this cell for the last fourteen months. I would have been up for an earlier release, had I been able to keep my mouth shut, but for as long as I can remember that has not been a feat I’ve been able to accomplish. So instead, I remain here, alone, and longing for the outside world.

The first day wasn’t
horrible, but it was no walk in the park either. Being stripped of all your clothes, searched, watched as you bathed, and then given clothes that are five times too big for your body and the color of crap, wasn’t the worst thing that happened. Nope; it’s the solitude, and for a person who needed interaction to survive it was the worst feeling ever. I could deal with the lack of privacy from the cameras and the crappy food, but being a free spirit, it was like my wings had been clipped and tossed away. The withdrawals from my binges didn’t start for at least a day or so, and then my whole world came suddenly crashing down. Crash, bang, smash, boom. I landed hard on my ass, in a world where my future looked grey and bleak.

I couldn
’t sleep the first night, but figured it was from the whole situation of ending up in jail. Getting arrested again was never fun for anyone, and my mind was in overdrive from it. I made it through the second day like a zombie, doing nothing but sulking and eating the nasty food that was placed in my cell. I was pulled out for a medical check later that afternoon, and given a warning that I would be detoxing soon.

“G
reat,” I told the nurse as she took my vitals. What a fucking fantastic trip that was going to be.

The anxiety
of detoxing set in that evening. I was trapped in this small cell and I knew my next fix wasn’t coming any time soon. I began to plot ways to break out and get it, and all it did was work my mind further into a tizzy; I needed to get my hands on some pills. Paranoia pairs well with anxiety, and I was soon believing that everyone here would find out I had plans to bust out, thus making me sit in the corner of the room, hugging my knees to my chest. It must have been a pretty sight to walk by my cell and see a small girl huddled in the corner, talking to herself. But, then again, the officers probably see this quite often, as no one stopped to check on me.

Dinner was brought later that night
, and I refused to eat; the smell of whatever had been on that plate totally turned me off. I was already a good twenty pounds underweight and most of my bones were sticking out on my thin frame, yet I was certain they had placed sleeping medication in something on that tray. Sleeping would have prevented me from the ‘great escape’ I had formulated in my mind. How could I get out and score more pills while I was sleeping? Thus, night two was spent huddled in that same corner, watching out for the unknown.

After two days of no sleep
, and small amounts of food intake, my body crashed on day three. I remember being in my now favorite corner, mentally going over my plan, and the next thing I knew I woke up in the hard stiff bed with the scratchy blanket thrown over me. It was dark when I came around the first time, and I didn’t have the strength to fight the heaviness in my eyes. I fell back into a deep slumber, to be woken the next evening for dinner by the clanking of a metal tray hitting the floor. I finally brought myself to an upright position and stared at the tray on the floor. The food looked inedible, but my stomach had other thoughts as it growled and begged for nourishment. Slowly, I drug my weakened body over to the front of the cell, and collapsed into a heap on the floor. I smashed the hard roll into my mouth; sometimes taking a break to smear it in what I was hoping was beef soup. I no longer cared about what it looked like; I was so hungry that it tasted like the best frikin’ meal ever.

Now that my body had rested
, I wandered back to my little corner and tried to think of new ways to get out of this joint. The fogginess that was slowly clearing in my brain had now allowed me to see flaws and holes in my original plan, and I needed to formulate a better one. In the midst of coming up with plan number twenty-eight the shakes started in. It was slow at first, just affecting my hands. Then it gradually made its way through my entire body; I had to lay on the floor in the fetal position to keep my body from spazing out. My muscles started to stiffen up and ache as I lay curled up on the cold concrete floor. It was like I was frozen in place.

The sweating and
nausea started later that night; I threw up everything that remained in my stomach from dinner, and then I continued to dry heave until later the next morning. The moment I tried to move, I would cry out in pain and puke; it was like being hit with a horrendous flu, just five million times harder. Why anyone would want to deal with this shit was way beyond me. Becoming sober was not one of my favorite things on my life’s list of pros verses cons. I continued to fight the shakes, shivers, dry heaves, and cramps for another day and a half. I was finally able to make it to my bed, and continued to ride out the pain on the paper thin sheets. At least they somewhat soaked up the massive amounts of sweat that had been dripping off my body for the last twenty-four hours. Nothing like laying in a puddle of your own nasty body fluids to make a promise to yourself that it would never happen again.

On day seven
, my body finally cooperated with my mind and I was able to straighten myself out and stretch my now weak muscles. A pounding in my head had developed, but at least I was no longer puking. I finally managed to keep a little bit of food in my stomach and was once again seen by the nurse. She claimed that I was on the downhill slope of this detoxification thing; I told her to just go ahead and kill me then. I wanted to die at that point; I wanted a release that couldn’t be sought in this world. The realization had finally sunk in that I wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, thus the only option was death. Now, I wasn’t stupid and knew there was no way of it happening when I was locked in the grey room, but I prayed to whatever god might be listening to end the bullshit and take me now. Of course, none of them listened; it was punishment enough to be sitting here suffering from the years of stupidity, death was too easy of a way out.

On day ten
, I finally found some relief to the suffering I did to my body. I was no longer in constant pain, and the cravings had subsided to a point where I didn’t mind living. Shit, they didn’t go away, but they were no longer controlling my entire thought process. I was able to eat all three meals that were served, and finally took a much needed shower, even if it was in a cold nasty room with ten other women.

I was able to start some self-reflection on what I did to get me to this point. It was never my intention to get sucked into that lifestyle, but I did. I wa
s so worried about getting trapped back home that I never sought out what I was looking for by running away. All it did was leave me open to any possibilities, and what presented itself to me were things I knew better than to get involved with. I hated my parents for years for what they had become. They left me with my grandparents, and basically lived a life of selfishness and drugs. I had turned myself into them; I was no longer any better than they were. Hell, I was sitting in jail out of my own dumb life choices; I no longer had any right to judge them…… or anyone, for that matter. Maybe this was my opportunity to finally figure out what I was searching for in life; what I wanted to do with myself. I needed to find the real Carmen for once in my life, and stop trying to pretend I knew who she was.

“Carmen, what makes it different for you now? How are you able to curb the need for pills?” The addiction counselor asked me
, while sitting in group therapy.

“Well,
the major factor here is being stuck in jail. I can say it’s a pretty huge block at the access to pills, wouldn’t ya say?” I responded in a smartass tone. I knew what this lady was asking, yet couldn’t reserve sneaking a little jab in. I had believed talking about my addiction for the last nine months since I started this group therapy thing. Yes, I am an addict, and I probably would be one for a long time. The key to success is admitting the fault, right? No, the real thing is pulling my head out of my ass, and realizing I no longer wanted to wander down that road. I was headed for an early grave the way I was going, and that wasn’t what I wanted for myself.

“Carmen, you know what I mean,” the lady scoffed.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know, other than the reason of I know I don’t need it. I don’t want to spend my entire life in and out of the jail system. And as much as I’ve had a great time with all you ladies, this isn’t the place for me. I thought I wanted more from life, but I’m beginning to see that all I want is to go home.”

“Back to Los Angeles?”

“No, back to South Dakota; I want and need to go home,” I whispered, while trying to fight back the tears fighting to make their appearance. I fought staying there for so long, and now it was the only thing I could see in my future. There was no life back in LA for me. That was a dead end road, and the only thing that would be waiting for me there would be the bottle and some pills. I needed a clean break; a chance to start over again. I needed to go home.

“What does home symbolize for you
, Carmen?” The therapist said, while taking off her thick black framed glasses.

“Simplicity. I don’t want to try and pretend anymore. I wanted to run like hell from that place at eighteen. Now
, at twenty-four, all I can think about is home. I want to be able to walk down Main Street and have people acknowledge me, and not for the wrong reasons. Be able to see my Grams and Grandpa. I put them through so much hell when I was younger. I haven’t done anything to make them proud of me. Hell, I was a stripper who starred in some porn flicks, and then got addicted to drugs. I need to get grounded again, find my roots, and make something of myself.”

The room was silent as I verbally let everything go, it’s not like everyone didn’t know my story, but it was the first time I had shared the plans for my future. All I need
ed was to get home, and life would be okay then.

“Tell me about home, Carmen. You know what you were talking about in group today?” Erica asked, as we loaded another round of bedding into the large washing machines at our job.

“Well
, I grew up in Boston until I was about eight. My mom stayed at home with me and my dad worked on ships down at the shipyards. It was amazing, being there with them. Mom had tea parties and took me to the park, and every night when dad came home we ate dinner as a family and watched
America’s Funniest Home Videos
. I didn’t know how lucky I was for those early years, because it didn’t last forever. Dad started coming home later and later each night. Most of the time he was drunk, but I didn’t realize it till way later in life. I think I was about six when he started to do drugs, and I guess he slowly sucked mom into the lifestyle too. Soon, dinner was a peanut butter sandwich most nights, and I quickly learned how to take care of myself. They had sold most of our belongings to pay for the habit they created, and CPS threatened to remove me if they didn’t clean their act up. One day, Dad loaded us up in the old station wagon, which barely ran, and said we were leaving. I was so excited, because I thought this was a way to be a family again; that we were going to be leaving all the problems behind and start fresh. We drove for days, and slept in the car at night. I remember eating bags of chips and other things they bought at convenience stores, but for the most part I don’t think they ate anything; just popped more pills. It’s a miracle that we arrived at my grandparent’s farm in once piece.

I remember that first night t
here; Grams cooked me mac and cheese, and let me have as much as I wanted. After that, she gave me a warm bath, and then tucked me into a real bed in my own room. I had taken to sleeping in the living room on pillows back at the apartment in Boston, just so my parents wouldn’t forget that I was there and leave me during the night. It was like I had a family again, until I noticed that mom and dad had left sometime in the night. I always thought they would come back for me; you know, leave and clean themselves up. But, as I got older, I got wiser and realized that was never going to happen. It left me jaded and resentful toward, them. I always swore I wouldn’t end up like them, but shit, here I am.

Home was
just that old farm house that I resented my parents for leaving me at. It had my grandparents, who tried their best to raise me, despite my attitude and wild ways. Home has my best friend Walker, and I can’t begin to tell you how much I miss him.”