Mirielle

Remembering her feels like memories from a past life. She was a broken, way too skinny, brown-skinned girl with matted hair, barefoot in dirty clothes, chasing something akin to happiness. She spent her days getting high with her boyfriend and nights sleeping on the dirty hardwood floors of crack houses.

Author's Notes: This is a 100% Fictional Story with Fictional Characters and events and does not promote the use of illegal substances. If you or someone you know has issues with substance abuse you can reach out to SAMHSA's National Helpline 1-800-662-HELP.

That girl, that memory, she was me, or rather who I used to be. There was a time when I couldn’t imagine loving anyone or anything as much as I loved getting high, even my love for Alonzo, didn’t come close to the love I had for coke. It was a magical place where nothing bad existed, not my mother’s death, not my father’s abuse, not even being homeless, none of it mattered when I was high.

Alonzo took care of me. He was the only one in the world that still loved me. He supported us with his night job in some factory. On payday, he would splurge and get us a room for the weekend in one of those roach motels off of Broadway Junction. I lived for those Fridays, a bed, a happy meal, my man, and of course the drugs. Coke, she was the third party in our love affair. We loved to get high and then fuck. We loved to get high in the middle of fucking. We just plain loved to get high.

Alonzo and I met when I was 17 years old. I didn’t have enough to pay for my omelet and juice at a little rinky-dink diner, couple blocks from the high school I should’ve been attending.

“Don’t worry about it, put it on my tab,” He’d told the waitress who’d been impatiently staring me down for the past four minutes. We both looked over at the voice with surprise. There he was sitting in the next booth, slicked-back hair and a cheese-grin on his face. He won me over with those Mario Lopez dimples. I looked at him with curiosity, wondered what he’d want in return, and contemplated a blowjob in the bathroom. He gestured for me to come over, so I scooted out of my booth and into his.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Kira, and you are?”

“Alonzo baby,” He said it with so much confidence I wondered if he was a celebrity I didn’t know.

“Alright, so what do you want for the meal?”

“Nothing, just sit with me.”

I gave him another curious look.

“Nah for real, ain’t gotta do nothin just keep me company beautiful.”

I didn’t trust it, but I sat with him, entertained some basic conversation, and as we talked I realized I kind of liked him. He ordered us hot chocolates and we split a chocolate chip muffin and stayed in that diner talking for hours.

Later, he invited me to his apartment, a small studio in BedStuy, to smoke some weed. I smoked weed all the time with my ex so I was down. The weed high was relaxing and made our conversation more intense. We stayed up past midnight talking about everything, kissing when things got quiet, and talking some more. And just as in most relationships, in the beginning, we were inseparable. I stayed with him more and more, avoiding my father’s house at all costs.

The coke came later. One day we were sittin around, drinkin Coronas and playin spades with his friends, when his friend Miguel threw a small baggie of white powder on the table. He told us it was ten times better than weed and we had to try it.

I watched as Johnny, Luie, and Miguel snorted the white powder.

“C’mon baby let's just try it one time just to see. No big deal. Don’t nobody get hooked on coke the first time they try it. We’ll do it together.” Alonzo had whispered in my ear, sensing my reluctance.

I wasn’t hooked that first time but I knew it was something I wanted to do again. It was the sweet taste of bliss that seemed to make my whole life better. After a few months, things began to spiral. Alonzo started using rent money to get more coke and within a year we were being evicted.

At first, we couch surfed, but when we’d overstayed our welcome we rode the train from end to end and stayed in known crack houses to get our fix. Alonzo turned a blind eye when I hooked up with guys to score us coke. His need to get high outweighed any bits of jealousy.

----------

I was already 24 weeks pregnant when I found out. I wasn’t very surprised though, I’d suspected for a while but kept on getting high. When I noticed the little bump starting to form, I finally decided I needed to know. I lied to Alonzo told him I needed new clothes so I could get a job. We picked up a few decent shirts and pants from a spot called Shop For Less. It was the equivalent of a ninety-nine-cent store for clothes.

While Alonzo was sleeping, I cleaned up in the hotel bathroom and tried to make myself presentable. I walked at least two miles to a Planned Parenthood and told them I thought I was pregnant.

I sat in the crowded waiting room, among other women who looked like me. A sea of melanin faces, in all different shapes and sizes, mostly bored, tired, and angry faces. Nobody looked happy. I sat in that room long enough to watch Finding Nemo, on the small TV that was mounted to the wall, one and half times. By the time I was called, the shark support group was reciting their pledge and trying to convince themselves, Nemo, and Dori that they didn’t want to eat them.

A young black nurse walked me to a small bland room, handed me a gown, and said the doctor would be right with me. Dr. Anita Jeffries strolled in with a smile, but quickly changed her expression to that of concern. I knew that she knew I was an addict. I cleaned up but I couldn’t hide being thin nor could I hide my bloodshot eyes.

Earlier I had given them a urine sample and so she was able to tell me right then that I was definitely pregnant and that she wanted to take a look at the baby. She put the cold gel on my stomach and moved the wand until we heard the echoey sound of the baby’s heartbeat. She told me that I was 24 weeks and that my baby girl was underweight.

“Is it too late for an abortion?” I asked.

“You’re too far along, there’s a small chance the baby could still live if it were born right now.”

I swallowed and nodded. I was numb and deaf after that because I didn’t hear a word of the prenatal care advice she gave me. After the appointment, I walked the 2 miles back to the motel.

“Where the fuck you been? I was worried as fuck over here. You just leave, walk out no note or nothing. I thought you left me.”

“Alonzo, I’m pregnant.” The words came out neutral and matter of fact.

“No you’re not! Fuckin liar! We ain’t fit to have no fuckin baby.” He screamed.

I plopped on the bed without saying a word. I told him and now I had nothing else to say. I eyed the two lines of coke that were on the nightstand calling my name. I wanted it so bad I could taste it.

Alonzo was pacing and still yelling about me being a liar. I closed my eyes and put my hand on my belly and tried to imagine being a mother. I couldn’t. My own mother had died in a car accident when I was nine and my memories of her had started fading. I felt no connection to the tiny human growing inside of me, but my instincts told me to leave the coke alone.

At that moment as if trying to tell me don’t give up on her, I felt her kick. Several tiny kicks in a row and one final hard blow. “Ok baby, ok baby, I hear you,” I whispered. When I looked up, the lines of coke were gone and I could hear Alonzo in the bathroom.

The next day, I found myself back at the clinic, in one of those rooms with Dr. Jefferies again.

“I gotta do something. I don’t know if I can keep her but I gotta do something for her.” I bursted out before she’d had a chance to close the door completely.

“Do you want to keep her?” She asked gently.

“I don’t know.”

“They have programs that’ll help you get clean and help you find a job so you can take care of her.”

I thought about her words for a moment. I’m a kid, I can’t be nobody’s mother.

“I’m only 18, I can barely take care of myself let alone a baby.”

“You do have other options.”

We continued talking about rehabs and options. This time I listened intently to every word she said. I absorbed it all without allowing myself to actually consider any of it.

I went back to Alonzo and told him I wanted to go to rehab. I’d expected him to freak out and say hell no, but he was calm, high, and without much hesitation, he said okay.

Two more lines of coke were calling my name on the nightstand. At that point, I was nearly 24 hours into detoxing. I was dying, everything hurt, and all I could think of was relief. So I did the two lines, that sense of bliss kicking in, pushing the hurt and pain away. I felt a bit of guilt but knew I’d never be able to stay sober without help.

Soon after that Alonzo and I ended up in a rehab facility in Long Island. I stayed in the program for the remainder of my pregnancy, while Alonzo was only there for six weeks. He stayed in a shelter near the rehab and got a job in a hardware store.

On August 1, 2016, our miracle baby, Mirielle was born naturally. A beautiful, pale, image of me, with Alonzo's big brown eyes, weighing in at 5 lbs 12 oz. She was small but by some miracle, she was healthy.

We were placed in a one-bedroom apartment. Alonzo continued to work, while I took care of Mirielle. In the first few weeks, everything was okay. It was tough taking care of a newborn but we were getting by. One day when Mirelle was almost eight months old, Alonzo never came home. I later found out that he had overdosed in the alley behind the hardware store and died. I was heartbroken. I know he tried for Mirelle’s sake but sometimes our will just isn’t strong enough.

It might be selfish but I’m glad she was just a baby when she lost her father. He loved her so much and I know they would’ve been so close. I would've hated for her to experience him being taken away from her, the way my mother was taken away from me. I hope his soul is at peace wherever he is and he’s watching over us.

----------

Mirielle is a bright funny energetic five-year-old now. I’m back in Brooklyn, renting a nice two-bedroom overlooking the East River. I had no ambitions before Mirielle was born, but while working in an afterschool program and putting on plays with the children, I fell in love with theater. It wasn’t something I’d ever considered before, but I loved it. After finishing my GED, I got into NYU’s drama program and studied acting with some of the most talented coaches out there.

Right after I graduated, I was lucky enough to be cast as the lead in an off-Broadway play. The pay was incredible and I absolutely loved it. Today I’m auditioning for a new play as the lead, Eva, who’s secretly an alcoholic, raising three boys. I’m trying to remember her, the girl I used to be, so I can bring her with me into this audition and hopefully get the part. I just want to continue doing what I love while taking care of my baby girl.