Millionaire Man (Part Four)
As I pulled on the door my weak shaky hand made me feel faint. The door felt like a hundred pounds as I slowly opened it. My mouth was dry and my eyes felt heavy.
“Duuudee, you got some hash,” The voice muttered in a slow stoned tone. I stared back in the same stoned look of confusion. Before I could respond my vision had blurred with weakness.
“You ok, man,” the man said as my hearing faded with my eyesight. I thought I said no, but by that time, I had blacked out. While the cold hard ground supported my body, I fell into a deep sleep. Images in my head came to light, like I had lived my life too fast and this was the end. I saw my past mistakes and successes all wrapped in one image like a slideshow at a movie theatre. I heard my mother’s voice echoing in my ear. I looked to my left and then to my right, and with deep surprise it was my beautiful mother smiling at me in my dream. She was sitting next to me watching my life flash across. She held a bucket of popcorn with her arm and dug into the greasy bucket with the other hand, only to pause briefly to crunch on a cornel every couple seconds. I looked at her still in amazement to see her lifelike spirit reawakened. Her laughter was the same as I remembered as she watched the images, like a movie. She looked back at me and paused her chewing.
“Well what are you doing, your life is passing before your eyes and you starting at me!” She yelled. I looked down in shame, then back at my mother. “I miss you,” I said quietly to myself. I looked back at the slideshow that was my life. My mother leaned in quietly, “I miss you too sweetie.” I turned to look at her beautiful eyes to no avail. She had disappeared in my mind. “Wait!” I yelled in solitude. Nothing, not even a fraction of my mother returned. I looked back up at the slideshow passing and sighed. My tears wanted to run, but the dry feeling I felt about everything kept me repressing my emotion. I could only count the three or four slides until the slideshow became blurry. The sound of a voice was ringing throughout my imagination. It wasn’t my mothers this time. The voice was raspy but sweet, like an old woman, who smoked the better part of her youth. She kept saying, “I’m sorry punk, you’re still going to be around for a bit.” I didn’t want to go back to where the voice was trying to lead me, so I continued ignoring it. The voice became a magnetized version of attraction, and the more I pulled away, the more the magnetism to it became stronger until suddenly my mind went black and all I could hear was the voice. The woman’s voice was lovely, like a warm spring morning and calm wind but this didn’t change the way I felt about the intimidating pull. My eyes opened gently. The woman smiled with relief.
“It’s about time punk,” she said. The woman’s brown hair still lay partially on my chest and the rest behind her. She smiled with her green eyes and smooth hands. “What happened,” I said, trying to get up, only to be forced to lie down by the young lady.
“You mean the fact that you passed out of the fact that you’re mentally fucked up? Either way I can explain it. I’m a nurse” The girl said proudly. I looked at her aggressively. “Look bitch, I didn’t need your help, or your expertise.” I said irritated, “I needed, no I wanted to be by myself. So fuck off.”
“I can see being by yourself had done you well,” she said picking up my stitched up, mutilated hand. I withdrew my hand abruptly and with anger. She was right, but I didn’t care what anyone thought. I was bitter they interrupted my “ceremony of death,” and I wasn’t ready to forgive her. “Look you can be upset, but I’m not leaving here by yourself. Sorry punk.” The woman said with strict kindness. Her absolution died down from my impending look of fear. The woman sighed.
“I’m sorry, look we are all lost in this world,” she said almost mocking me, “But you don’t see anyone around you killing themselves do you?” My fear and anxiety died down listening to the young woman, but my frown wasn’t going anywhere. “Here,” she said reaching out to lift me up with her hand. Hey eyes were caring with a questionable look, asking me to reach out and take her hand. I resisted for a moment, but reluctantly took her hand.
“I’m Amanda,” she smiled, “and the guy you met at the door is my stoner brother Jesse.” Jesse walked out of my kitchen and waived in short gesture. “Hey. Thanks for the hash.”
“Dude, I don’t have any hash,” I laughed. Jesse looked confused, “Yeah you did. It was in that black drawer in the wooden cabinet.” I didn’t want to put two and two together, so I sarcastically shrugged. “Dude you crazy, I’ve never done pot.” I froze. The black drawer was full of things my mother never let me look in, but a pot smoker? “That can’t be right,” I thought. Could she?
After a couple hours, I had warmed up quite a bit with Amanda and Jesse. I didn’t like them violating my boundaries, but I knew it was the Samaritan way to protect me. I was still disgusted by my life, but that night they made me feel like a million dollars.
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