No, Seriously, it’s over.

“I’M SORRY I HAD TO DUMP YOUR DRUGS DOWN THE TOILET, BUT THAT’S NO REASON TO BLOCK THE DOOR AND DEMAND MONEY FROM ME…”
 
So it’s been 6 months.
 
If I rewrote the last entry
And stuck last week’s date on it
It would still be true

 
I went back.
It got worse. 
 
She stopped partying.
She settled down.
She tried to stop snorting sleeping pills.
She failed.
I tried my hand at drinking responsibly.
I failed.

 
We broke up 5 more times.
Each time I dumped her in anger.
Then I went back.
Because……..
When you truly love someone, you can forgive them anything.
 
I quit everything on 10 10 10
I got a tattoo of that date on my leg
I changed.
 
She kept snorting sleeping pills.
 
The second to the last time was bad.
I grabbed the bottle of pills out of her purse and dumped them down the toilet.
3 hours later, like magic
She had another bottle
I wrenched those from her hand
Down the toilet they went.
 
While she was out, I dumped her weed
The weed brownies
The muscle relaxers
I took the key to her apartment back
But that last bottle
Dumped in the toilet
Stirred an anger in her I’d never seen
 
The first punch in the face hurt.
The second, I was ready for.
I had never been tested like that.
I passed, but just barely.
 
She was screaming at me that I had to pay her back
Pay her back for the drugs I had just dumped down the toilet
So loud! 
She blocked the door.
You can’t leave till I get MY MONEY.
Drug crazed and wild eyed.
 
The apartment’s paper thin walls
The neighbors all around
I wasn’t talking to Ashley,
The neighbors had to know.
“IT’S 8:15 AT NIGHT AND YOU ARE HIGH ON DRUGS AND BLOCKING THE DOOR….ASHLEY BENDER”
“PLEASE STOP HITTING ME…ASHLEY BENDER”
 
I had to get my things into the car.
I had to keep her away.
I had a fever, pneumonia.
I lied.
I’ll pay you back,
just let me get my stuff and we can go to the bank.
Then I drove away.
 
I slept in the car, long term parking.
My flight out of Austin left that morning.
I watched for the cops all night.
 
A week later
I take her back
(I know!)
She swears to go to Narcotics Anonymous
She will change.
 
Hook
Line
Sinker
Decicious
 
A week later
She’s loopy on the phone
She won’t answer
She wants to take the weekend
Time to herself
 
I show up
Unannounced
to drag her by her hair to an NA meeting
She’s not home
Go Go Magic Stolen Key
 
The apartment is littered with empty sleeping pills
The bed is messy
Two people have been sleeping in it
I was not one of them
 
I fell down, my legs stopped working.
My left arm wouldn’t do what I told it to do.
unless I told it to go numb and tingle.

my chest felt like there was an animal on fire
running around in it
 
I was drenched in sweat.
I washed my colorless face in the mirror.
 
I screamed so loud, no noise came out.
Somewhere, a Giant and a Spanish Swordsman looked up.
 
I walked out, crying,
sat in the car,
and called her parents.
(I know!)

They demanded pictures as proof.
I took them, emailed them, told them everything.
 
I drove back to Houston.
 
I cried, and screamed and beat the steering wheel the whole way home.
Her parents told me they’d give me an update on how she was.
They showed up at her doorstep the next morning.
I don’t know what happened next.
 
No one ever called me back
Or replied to my emails.
 
My guess, she lied to them, and she won’t get any help.
I guess it’s open season on messengers in Dallas.

It’s on their heads now.
 
My solace comes in the knowledge that I did all I could have done.
When she ends up dead, because she was snorting sleeping pills that cause blackouts
And takes too much insulin for her type 1
I won’t feel guilty.
 
That probably won’t happen.
 
She’ll probably just be an unhappy drug addict for a very long time.

And that’s the worse punishment I could ever imagine for her.
 
Michael Ian Minter