Cocaine is the drug I hate the most. Some people can do it
occasionally and live a normal life, that’s the irony. Too many others fall
head so over heels in love with the feeling they dedicate their lives to
getting more. I've watched so many fall into that trap that it makes it easier
to avoid.
I first tried it when I was around 16. Funny
I don't really remember which the first time was. I know it was something I
wanted to try for a couple of years. It was a status symbol in the 70's,
classy, expensive. From what I hear, it's actually costs less now, weird.
My deep love affair with the drug started
when my boyfriend’s brother in law started selling it. He was already good at
selling weed, had made enough money to live pretty well for several years. My husband’s
sister Jane married her high school sweetheart when she was 16 and he was 19. She
was 24 when I met her. I was in high school; my husband (boyfriend at the time)
was a ceramic tile setter. At first, when he only sold weed, a bunch of
us would go to their house on Friday nights, play board games, sit in their
glassed in patio and smoke pot, listen to music and stare at their giant salt
water aquarium.
After he started selling coke, we would
blow through a quarter ounce in one sitting. They handed out
quaaludes when we were ready to sleep and do it all again the next night.
The vibe was different though. The doors were bolted shut at all times. Fewer
people invited in, couldn't hear the music over everyone talking at once about
nothing. We never went in the patio; we rarely left the living room.
As you probably suspect, that didn't last
too long. His supplier got busted, big bust, federal charges, was
sentenced to 50 years in prison. Supplier’s wife, someone they had known since
elementary school, was found dead in her swimming pool not long after he went
away. They called it accidental death; we all believed someone killed her.
Bob and Jane's marriage fell apart in the
aftermath. Jane had never worked, didn't finish high school. She and my
husband grew up in extreme poverty with a Dad who repeatedly abandoned them and
their Mother until the kids told him to leave and never come back. All she
wanted was to have someone she could take care who would keep her safe. She
wanted be a homemaker, eventually have a family. Bob was a bright guy, an
artist, good painter and an awesome guitar player, road a harley. He had
never had a job for very long either. The divorce was ugly but eventually
they both remarried and became civil to each other.
By the time it was over, everyone I knew
was selling or buying cocaine. So many are dead now, many more dead inside. Jane
quit everything overnight and never went back to it. The quaaludes were
the hardest to stop for her, withdrawals are never easy. She
found a job in a factory that made ceiling fans but not before going through a
gut wrenching year of chaos and confusion.
It was wonderful to see her confidence
grow. She became independent, self-sufficient and proud. It was inspiring.
She eventually started a home day care, remarried. Can't swear it's all been
happily ever after but it's probably closer to it than most people have.
Bob eventually settled down too. Last time
I saw him he was married to a rich woman, driving a hummer... Maybe it's
my imagination or the memories I invoke but there never feels like there is
much depth to his smile.
It took my husband and me several more
years to completely stay off the train but seeing the consequences, we were
convinced we were not cut out to be dealers. Lack of money definitely curbed
our appetite...Despite many opportunities I haven't touched the stuff in over 25 years.Whenever I'm tempted I go through the list of friends I've lost to that bitch.
My love affair with cocaine left me with a bitter taste and a heart broken many times over from watching so many people I love fall prey to her seduction. Some never escape her grasp.
