Caught Up

“Mickey, I’m really not sure about this.”

He shook the little bag in his hands, looking from it to me.

“C’mon Kacey. I don’t usually get this much, but he cut me a deal. I know you’re not into it, but let’s do just a little and see what it feels like.”

I folded my arms and stared out the window, pulling my knees under the steering wheel. We were parked on the side of the street, cars chugging steadily along beside us. Stoplights and brakes flared ahead as the light changed. I felt boxed in, buildings looming up on either side of us.

I usually felt that way when I was Mickey. He was the one that drug me here after all. It was two months ago, and we’d just graduated high school. He told me we could stay with his cousin Robby until school started next fall, that everything would be fine.

But Robby turned out to be a dealer, selling anything that he could get people to buy.

“Mickey, I…” I wanted to scream.

“C’mon Kacey, you tried the weed the other day. This stuffs just a little stronger.”

I stared at the powder in the bag he was still holding up.

“Do you even know what that is?” I asked, stomach fluttering.

He sneered, “Of course, it’s coke. I’ve done it a few times already and it makes you feel so good.”

I looked at him in disgust, “Oh, like I’m such a bad guy? You’re the one that’s been going along with this all summer, Kacey.”

I felt even worse when he said that. It was the truth I was trying to forget. That I was trying to show my parents I could make it on my own.

“They hardly agreed to let me go off to Southern, and they wouldn’t have if you weren’t going too. But you know I couldn’t stay at Robby’s. We weren’t safe there.”

Mickey cringed, no doubt remembering the fight that had broken out our second night there, “I know, baby, I know. And that’s why I started selling. But now that I’m in the game, this money is so good! I don’t even know if I want to go back.”

This wasn’t what I was expecting.

“What do you mean?” I asked, mortified. There were only three more weeks until Mickey and I were supposed to move into our dorms at Southern.

The twisted smile came back to his face. It was becoming all too familiar lately.

“I mean, I don’t think I want to go back.” He had poured out the powder on the flat dash of my beat up Buick, spreading it into little lines with his debit card. I watched as he held one side of his nose and snorted the line, coughing a little when he finished.

“Mickey, what the fuck?” I said softly, tears pooling in my eyes.

He leaned back in the seat, eyes closed, the smile resting on his face.

“Kacey, your turn.”

“No, hell no. No, no, no. This is where I draw the line. Weed is one thing, but this,” I said, gesturing at the bag, “this is just to much.”

His eyes snapped open and he seized my hand. With his other he reared back in the small space and slapped me across the face.

“I’m not going back!” he roared, “I’m not going to some lame ass school just so I can make what I make now after four years of busting my ass!”

I stared, shocked. Two months ago, I was in love. Mickey was the sweetest guy I’d ever met, he always held doors and treated me so well. He went out of his way to give me coffee before exams and was always there to talk. We’d even talked about life after school, about our future. He was my future.

“Get out,” I said quietly. I couldn’t look at him anymore. My heart was broken.

“Get out!” I sobbed, screaming. But he hadn’t let my hand go.

A second later another impact rocked my head against the window, not a slap this time. My jaw exploded with pain as the stoplight ahead blurred. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t see.

“I’m not going anywhere!” Mickey roared. He wasn’t the same anymore, but I couldn’t tell when he’d changed. Maybe it was right now. I tried to tug the door handle but Mickey grabbed both my hands and held me still. My jaw was throbbing but I’d recovered a bit.

“Let me go, Mickey. I’m going home,” I screamed, spit flying at him.

The twisted little smile appeared again, “Oh, going home to your parents, huh? The ones paying your way through school? I wonder what they’d say if they knew their little girl forced her boyfriend to start selling drugs, all because she wanted show them she was independent? They wouldn’t dare let you go to Southern then.”

I looked at him in horror. Southern was my dream school, since the time I’d been a kid. I had been recruited by them to play softball and everything had lined up perfectly.

“Mickey, no… please.”

He gestured to the bag on the dash, a wild look in his eyes.

“Do a line, Kacey. Do a line and then go wherever the hell you want. Do whatever the hell you want. But I want you to do it. I want you to know how good it is,” he finished with relish.

I looked from the bag to Mickey, terror swallowing me whole. I couldn’t possibly do it. I couldn’t stand it.

We were silent a few moments, the only sound cars rumbling steadily by.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do one.”

He let my arms go and started to doll out some powder on the dash closer to me. I watched his face shine with glee as he was smoothing the line out making it neat and thin. It was smaller than the one he had done and I eyed it with disgust.

“Ah, what the hell. A little more couldn’t hurt,” he said, pouring another portion on his side of the dash. As he was smoothing the line out with his debit card I realized that’s how I might be in just a few short days. He was already helping himself to more, not even caring about school, life, me, or anything else.

My hand snaked over by my side, inches away from the door handle.

“Show me how you do it, Mick. I want to do it right,” I said.

He beamed, eyes still wild.

“Just hold your nose like this and breath really, really hard. It’s going to hurt, but you’ve got to fight through the burn and soon it’ll feel amazing.”

He bent his head over the line, my hand flashing to the door handle. I threw it open as his ragged snort began. I was halfway out of the car when I felt the impact. The door was wrenched off instantly and I heard it clattering down the street. Suddenly up was down and I was flying, but only for a moment. The next thing I knew I was a heap on the asphalt, unable to think again.

A moment later the pain hit me, coming from everywhere. My vision grew hazy around the edges, as horns and screams shattered the peace of the bustling street. The last thing I saw as I turned my head was Mickey running off down the street, away from me.

 

I woke up blearily and the room was dark. I heard a faint beeping to my right and tried to turn to look but stopped when pain shot through me. Immediately, everything hurt again, my heartbeat in my ears.

“Ouch!” I exclaimed, shocked at how badly it hurt.

“Oh, Harry, she’s awake!”

Lights flicked on and I saw my Dad struggling to untangle himself from a blanket. Mom was hovering closely by my face, speaking tersely, “Oh, thank god. Oh, Kacey, oh god!”

She threw herself into Dad’s arms and sobbed loudly, Dad looking down at me over her head. His face was pale and he looked like he’d been crying.

I couldn’t hold back the flood of emotions, and despite the pain, I held my arms up to my parents. They embraced me gently as I raggedly began to explain what happened.

“Sweetheart, Mickey told us everything,” Dad said, shushing me.

I stared, perplexed.

“What did he say?” I asked, terrified. It couldn’t be the truth. He couldn’t have told the truth.

But he had.

Mickey had been running for help.

As a result, he served five years in the upper state prison system for possession and distribution charges but got out on behavior to see me graduate from Southern. The next fall he started online classes while trying to hold a job and now, ten years later, he’s married.

I never really walked straight again, but Mickey taught me a lot more than he ever took.