Where I Ended Up
Nine months ago, I gave up everything I didn't have going on in my world to move in with my friend, Glassy Eyed Rob, after his girlfriend died of a heroin overdose, leaving him to raise their four month old son.
I was living in a motel room disguised as an efficiency apartment. Huddled between parolees and pedophiles, I was probably the most normal felon in complex. Don't worry, my felony came from a love of collecting books I didn't own from the backroom of a bookstore I used to work at. Still, I paid my rent. Minded my own business. Went to work. Ate cheese sandwiches when things got tight.
When Cassie died, I felt compelled by the Cloud to rise to this occasion. I offered to move in. Help with the kid. I'd worked with him for almost five years serving in the Army of the Golden Arches where he is a manager and I hold the official title, Primary Maintenance, which is code for janitor. He's my friend. This is what friends do.
I was in the best position of everyone in Glassy's world at the time. Single. Living alone. Doing nothing. And the more I meditated on whether or not it was a good idea, the Cloud always seemed to point to Yes. Zero knowledge regarding raising a child. Twenty years or more since I'd lived with male roommate.
I had no idea what I was getting into.
Okay, that's a lie. I'm forty three years old. Glassy is twenty eight. I knew exactly what was going to happen. Nine months later, I was finally admitting I felt like I made a mistake.