I raced into the house and straight to my father’s office. I was frantic. He wasn’t there. I went to the main living room and that is where I found him and my mother. They were sitting together sipping champagne as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Neither of them looked like they had a problem with cutting me off, nor did they appear as if they were waiting for me. I knew I looked bad so I stopped walking fast when I noticed them and I used my hands to try and smooth back my hair and make sure my face was clean. I licked my ashy lips and continued to try and spruce myself up as I walked into the living room slowly. I was trying to will myself to remain calm. I kept telling myself that there was probably a perfectly good explanation for what had been done. Maybe my father had changed banks and just hadn’t had the chance to tell me. Maybe he had opened a bigger and even better bank account for his baby girl and was dying to give me access. I forced these thoughts into my head to keep from going crazy on their asses. I didn’t want to believe that he had just left me out there for dead with no money.
My father was the one who noticed me first. He stood up and placed his champagne glass on the small table that sat between my mother and him. He had a halfhearted smile on his face and he quickly shoved his hands down into his pockets. That was not his typical greeting for me. There would be none of his usual open-armed embraces.
“Megan. What a nice surprise. Are you all right?” my father asked in a nice, calm voice like it was a regular day and we were seeing each other under regular circumstances. “You want to join us for snacks?” he asked, turning his body slightly to show me the table that had the champagne, orange juice, and homemade tea biscuits and pastries on it.
His smug tone made a flash of heat come over me. I couldn’t understand why his ass was acting as if he had not done anything. My eyes were squinted into little dashes and I used the back of my hand to wipe my running nose ... another downside to that meth shit. I walked toward my father and finally I opened my mouth. “No! I’m not all right! I didn’t come here to eat your fucking pastries either! What did you do, Daddy? I can’t get any money at the bank! I have nothing! What did you do?” I screeched, and I immediately lost control. There went the tears and wracking sobs. I was devastated by what I figured as his ultimate betrayal.
“I did what I told you I would do a year ago if you did not straighten up your life. I cannot condone your behavior as of late and I certainly cannot afford it,” he chastised.
My mother stood up and wrapped her arms around the front of her. She started hugging herself as if she was very cold. She seemed as if this was hurting her when I knew fucking better. It was all a concerned mother act coming from her.
“So how am I supposed to live, Daddy? How am I supposed to take care of myself? Just like that you leave me with nothing.... I can’t even buy a cup of coffee,” I screamed through tears. Snot and tears covered my face now. I had taken off my shades to reveal eyes that were rimmed with bags.
“Megan, over the past year you should have thought about all of that. You had more than enough money and chances to buy coffee. Look at you ... You are a mess. I have talked to Dr. Klusky and he gave me some literature about drug abuse. I can see the signs, Megan. Your mother and I think that you need to go to rehab. If you want to get help, I will pay for it and if you complete it we can try to start over. I will be here for you if you agree to get the help that you need. If you refuse the help, not only will you remain financially cut off, you will have to leave this house and the guesthouse. You will not be allowed onto this estate. You need to make a decision now. I will not give you any more time to think about this,” my father said harshly.
I doubled over and dropped down to my knees. I could not fucking believe my ears. I was overwhelmed with wracking sobs. I was devastated, to say the least. “I don’t need rehab! You and your fucking quack doctor don’t know what you’re talking about,” I screamed angrily.
“Megan, you will stop using that language in this house. You know your choices,” my father said, flopping back down in his chair. He looked like this was just as painful for him as it was for me.
I noticed his face softening and took that as my chance to appeal to his softer side. “Please don’t do this, Daddy! I don’t need help. I swear I am not using drugs. I drink every now and then, but I swear to you, I am fine. I promise. Daddy, please don’t do this to me. I will go back to school. I will work for you. I will do anything it takes to make this better,” I pleaded through sobs.
“Megan, you are pathetic. Your father has given you our stipulations and they are final,” my mother said dryly, finally speaking up.
I looked at her with hate-filled eyes. “I hate you! You were always jealous of me! I know this is all your doing!” I screamed at her.
“I will not have you speak to your mother that way. You will need to leave. Martha and the help have packed up your things and I will have them delivered to whatever address you’d like. You can keep your car ... it is still yours,” my father said cruelly. Every time he said anything I felt another pang of hurt. I was screaming and crying. I was a mess.
“I can’t watch this anymore. I am going upstairs,” my mother said.
“Megan, are you going to take my offer of rehabilitation or will you choose to leave this house?” he asked.
“I don’t need rehabilitation! I don’t need you either! I don’t need any of you! I will show you! I can make it out there on my own! You made me into this monster and now you just toss me away like a piece of trash! I hate both of you!” I wailed. I pulled myself up off the floor and stood toe to toe with my father.
“I hope you are satisfied with what you have done to me. This was all your fault,” I said indignantly. My father just looked at me pitifully. I turned around and stormed through the house. When I made it to the foyer I noticed my mother’s pocketbook. I grabbed it and hurried out of the house. It was the last time I’d be home in a long, long time.
4
My Dose of Harsh Reality
T
o say that I was devastated by my father’s actions would be an understatement. I couldn’t find the words to describe my feelings as I left the house I had grown up in for the last time. I had been turned out onto the streets by the very people who were supposed to protect me from the world. I was feeling dejected and revengeful. I wanted to hurt my parents as much as they had hurt me. As I stormed out of the house, I didn’t leave before I got my hands on my mother’s purse, which had about a thousand dollars in cash in it and her American Express card. I was so angry that day that taking my mother’s shit was my way of having the last laugh.
What I did afterward was get with Eric and we used my mother’s card to shop and buy things he could resell for cash. We were able to net about five thousand dollars worth of stuff before we walked into Saks Fifth Avenue. But we had to hightail it the fuck out of there because my mother had reported her credit card stolen by the time we had gotten to Saks. Eric was the one who had enough street smarts to notice how the counter girl was trying to stall us there while her manager got the police on the line. Eric had been looking around at all of the stares coming from some of the store associates. He told me later that he knew right away that they were calling the cops and just trying to keep us there. I remember Eric leaning into me and saying, “We need to get the fuck out of here right now.” I was so high and so naive to stuff like that, that I had laughed it off. Eric grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me out of the store.
“Wait, I have to get my card back!” I had shouted. I was so stupid and it wasn’t even my damn card.
“Shut the fuck up and run!” Eric belted out, and he took off. I followed suit and it was a good thing I did. We had gotten out of the mall parking lot just in the nick of time. I was in tears when Eric explained to me what had really happened. My parents were actually playing hardball for real. They had completely shut me out and cut me off. The fact that the store clerks were going to call the police on me could only mean that my mother had found out I took her money and her card and she had reported me.
With no money and no credit cards, I was forced to move in with Eric. Talk about culture shock. I was used to living in Crystal Lake Estates, where there were estates with gates and circular driveways. Eric lived in South Norfolk, basically the hood. He lived in an apartment complex that had doors so close to one another it reminded me of a seedy motel that I had seen on television. I had never even been to an apartment complex. Growing up, all of our family friends and all of my high school friends lived on estates. When Eric opened up his apartment door and I stepped inside, naturally my facial expression told it all.
“It ain’t the palace you used to living in, hmm?” Eric said with an attitude, and he left me standing in the middle of the floor.
I didn’t mean to make him feel bad, but looking around I knew it would take me some getting used to. Eric’s spot was very small, but I must admit it was neat and clean. It was still not what I was used to. I could see every room in Eric’s apartment if I stood in the middle of his living room. His couch was a worn leather piece that looked like someone had sliced it with a razor in some spots, and the recliner was a mismatch plaid material piece that looked like it had been gutted, with cotton spilling out of it in the middle. The coffee table looked like a throwback from the seventies and like it had been used as a butcher’s block with so many nicks and scratches on it. I had never thought people lived like that in real life. I had only ever seen stuff like that in some of the movies or TV shows I watched.
Eric and I had frequented so many upscale hotels and I had lived in the lap of luxury so long that I never really thought about how he lived every day. Looking around at his raggedy furniture and shabby living conditions kind of confused me too. I was just wondering how someone like Eric, who always donned the best of everything, lived there. Eric wore the best clothes, either from hustling or that he got from me. He wore Rolex watches and thousands of dollars worth of jewelry, so I could not understand why he lived in a place like this. His bedroom looked even worse than any other place in the house. His bed was simply a mattress on the floor. No box spring, no bed frame, no bed skirt, no bunch of luxurious pillows, and certainly no regal headboard like I was accustomed to.
“You gonna have to get used to this shit here, rich girl,” Eric had announced the first day I came to stay.
I had tried to smile and act as if it would be fine with me, but I don’t think he bought the fake smile on my face. He kind of had an attitude that entire day.
“I know it’s not what you’re used to, but I guess it beats being homeless,” Eric had followed up.
I definitely couldn’t bring all of my clothes to his house. My walk-in closets were bigger than his entire place, so I had only taken a few things with me; even what I considered just a few things was still too much for the closet he called an apartment.
After looking around, I had starting thinking that maybe rehab didn’t sound so bad, but there was no way I could ever go groveling back to my parents. I was way too angry at them. The first two weeks at Eric’s house I was fine. I had made myself get used to the cramped quarters and the horrible furniture. I stayed high enough to escape reality and Eric laid the dick down on me enough to satisfy any doubts I had about remaining in a relationship with him. I had not heard from my parents and soon found out that they had even cut my cell phone service off. I thought that was as petty and as low as they could go. It sent the message that they obviously didn’t want to stay in touch with me... . How fucking worried could they be? They knew I didn’t have any money and they didn’t care where I was living or anything. Fuck them!
It was about the third week that I was with Eric that shit started going downhill fast. Eric had been out hustling, or “working” as he referred to it, and I was at home. He had my car so I was stuck. Besides, not being from Norfolk, I was too scared to venture out alone. I had woken up one morning and looked over at the cable box, which like the bed, also sat on the floor. The box read 7:18. I sat up and looked around. I quickly realized that Eric was not in the bed, nor had he ever been the night before. Then I remembered finally falling off to sleep waiting for him and, with no way to contact him or question him about his whereabouts, I wasn’t left with many options.
I got out of the bed and walked into the living room. Eric wasn’t out there either and I had already passed the bathroom door so I knew he wasn’t in there. It was finally clear to me that Eric had not come home. My heart sank as I flopped down on his beat-up sofa. The cracked leather pricked my bare legs and sent a sharp dose of reality through my psyche. Not only wasn’t Eric at home, but he had not left me anything to get me high, which meant I would be dealing with being withdrawal sick in a few hours. I put my head in my hands and began to sob. I was all alone with no money, no parents, and no drugs. This would definitely be a harsh dose of reality for me.
I waited three hours before Eric finally put his key in the door and came into the apartment. I jumped up with a fire burning inside me that I had never felt. I rushed over to him before he could even make it all the way in the apartment and I began slapping and punching him. It felt like I was possessed. I was feeling a crazy adrenaline rush, which had given me a false sense of courage.
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” I screamed over and over again while letting off a barrage of hits.
Eric was shocked and caught off guard. He grabbed my wrists tightly and pushed me off him. His face was drawn into a scowl. I didn’t even care. I kept trying to get at him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Megan! You done lost your fucking mind or what?” he barked as he pushed me with enough strength to send me to the floor.
My body felt like it was melting. I felt like I wanted to curl up and die.
“Why didn’t you come home, Eric? How could you leave me all alone with no money, no phone, no shit? After all I have done for you!” I wailed, kicking my feet and flailing my arms like a big baby. I was so used to throwing tantrums like this with my parents, I guess I thought it would work on Eric too.
“What? Don’t be fuckin’ questioning me. Look, I ain’t ya daddy! I ain’t responsible for your every fuckin’ need! Maybe you need to get the fuck up and get a job! If not you need to come up with a plan to get some fuckin’ money!” Eric screamed at me harshly.
My heart was breaking and it hammered painfully against my sternum. His words stung. After all I had done for him. All of the tons of money, the crazy high-priced gifts, the royal treatment he received during those expensive nights at hotels, and he had the nerve to turn around and tell me I needed to get a job. I was floored. I guess since I didn’t have the money to splurge on lavish things for him anymore, Eric had grown tired of me just that fast. But he was all I had right now.
“Eric, please. I love you,” I pleaded, quickly changing my tone and my mood. I wanted to make up with him. I hated fighting with him. Besides, I needed him right now.
“You don’t love me, Megan. You love what I represent, which is the very opposite of what you were. You wanted to be with me so you could have a little adventure on the hood side. You wanted some bad boy dick, so don’t think you can convince me that you love a niggah. You are a selfish little spoiled rich girl.... Oops, I mean, you were a rich girl. I guess your parents showed you ... huh?” Eric said cruelly. Then he walked into the bedroom and slammed the door.
He had left me on the couch looking stupid. I broke down again. I was distraught by his actions and his words. Maybe he was right. Maybe all I loved was his bad boy image. I started feeling overwhelmingly anxious. I couldn’t let Eric slip away from me. I needed to show him that what he had with me was still perfect even if we didn’t have a lot of money. At that point, I would’ve done anything to please him. Anything to get more money to make him happy.... Money was what made him happy and what would keep him with me.