Florida, man… It’s been dark and raining like a motherfucker all day. Twice my phone has alerted me to tornado and flash flood warnings and I haven’t been able to leave the lanai the entire time. Memories…
May 26, 2019, Dallas, TX
Monsoon rain all damned week and deep in the bamboo woods section of Cottonwood Creek where we’ve carved out, built, and occupy a small village everyone is too sober to be as wet and aggravated as we were. Wearing only a pair of shorts, I am madly working to repair whatever canopy cover we had, feeling just pissy.
Bear and I are far enough into the pain of opiate withdrawal that one would – like a cripple in a mad dash for the finish line – bike up 75 under the bridge to Stomper’s camp in Little Mexico every hour or so to check on the re-up. One waits with fierce impatience until the other eventually comes back with complete lack of enthusiasm and we would get back to miserably re-attaching tattered tarps and plastic sheeting, dying to lie back down until the smack arrived. It was hot, humid as fuck, and the mosquitoes; Jesus Christ! Devouring us at all times. Still… Despite these miserable conditions there were (slight) shared smiles between curse words, a sense of brotherhood, camaraderie, and responsibility towards one another. May be different circumstances that brought each of us to this place, you see; but now here, we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Everyone is busy. Nancy is preparing homemade tortilla’s and stuff for dinner. Jimmy is painstakingly rebuilding a pair of wheels for his bike. He takes his work quite seriously and upon realizing someone neglected to return his spoke wrench to its proper place his growls turn to bellows of profanity and other less critical tools are thrown about in total rage. He finally storms off, completely ripshit and still cursing the motherfucker that didn’t put his tool back where it belongs. Clint, recently ostracized by his family and their camp 1/4 mile or so down the way, is tinkering with some random bit of treasure in a dry corner. Johanna and Ryan aren’t being fair to the poor kid but, what are you gonna do?
Bear and I are maniacally trying to repair our roof. Soon as we reached “good enough” I laid down on the damp mattress to give my aching body a rest just as Paul rides through the entrance at full speed smiling like he’s having the best day of his life.
“What’s up Sully man, you alright?”
“Not really.”
“Oh… Want me to go check Stomper’s for you?”
“Man, I’d really appreciate that. I’m sorry.” I am too. Paul wants nothing to do with heroin, but he’s my brother and he’d do anything for me.
“Don’t even worry about it, Sully. I love you man. Here – hold and drink this Four Loco. It’ll make you feel better,” and off he goes. Paul takes his family responsibilities (adopted or otherwise) very seriously. I have no doubt he would kill someone simply for causing me pain.
Bear grumbles when he realizes somebody took his cigarettes and asks me for one. I pick up my pack so he can see the water pour out. He throws a couple random things and tells me to get the fuck out of his bed.
“No.”
He shoves me over to the wettest portion and falls into the rest. Bear weighs about 275. The fuck am I gonna do?
The mosquitoes continue to eat like kings on mine and Bear’s flesh as the sun decides to shine just enough to turn the recent 4” of rain into perfectly miserable humidity. Sam (Shawn’s Samantha, not my “Sean’s Sam” – I know. Sean and Sam and Shawn and Sam living in the same homeless camp together as family – talk about fucking confusing) rides in.
“Hey Sully, do you have any clothes that might fit my fat ass?”
I raised my head wearily, smiled, and pointed to a few trash bags, “Over there. Probably wet though”
“Are you sick?”
“A little.”
“Aw, I’m sorry honey. Do you want me to go check at the apartment?”
“Nah, Paul just went to check under the bridge. Thank you though.”
She’s found some clothes and smiles as she gets on her bike. “Thanks!”
“You’re welcome. Say hi to Shawn for me.”
As she heads out Paul is riding in looking none too thrilled which tells me everything I need to know so I just close my eyes and lay back down.
“Sully.”
“What?”
“Sully.”
“The fuck?!” I sit up angrily to his smiling face. He’s holding a bag up for me.
“Seriously?”
Big ass grin on his face, “Yeah, I was just fucking with you.”
Biting my lip to hold back tears I told him, “Thank you, Paul. Love you brother.”
His face lights with pride. “I love you too.” and off he goes to try to annoy Nancy. He will succeed. This I know.
Finally, with the waterfalls minimized, fires started, food prepared, medicine procured – and none too soon because when you realize not only your entire wardrobe but your smokes were drenched? We fixed up and sat down for dinner. There are probably 5 separate conversations going on simultaneously as we dig into the fajitas Nancy prepared. Those who pull a solo tallboy from their bag offer to share. There’s a little tension, some arguing, slight irritation with all the cross talk, but as I sat there that day I mostly felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. We are fucked up. We are dramatic. We are family.
“You gotta step out on your own sometimes,
You gotta make it feel like home sometimes,
Cuz its all you’re gonna own,
This life is gonna knock you up and down,
You gotta bleed to make it right”
Mrs. Hallelujah – Adam Ezra group
Very good. You make it feel like your there.