Young Writers Society

Jack Lucas stared at the ten-digit sequence that’d been scrawled on the piece of scrap paper he held. Though he’d dialed the phone number at least five times, he couldn’t help but want to call one more time- just to be certain this was the place. Outside, a light rain was beginning to fall and it left the inside apartment with a sticky, summer residue. The walls, Jack could see, were stained by streaks of what looked to be brown water. Though he couldn’t say his apartment was much better, Jack scowled at the grimy walls and the chipping tile floor, covered in dirt and soot. A feeling of aggravation took rise within him as he checked his phone for the third time. Still no reply. Knocking on the door, Jack’s body trembled with an extreme longing. This was the address- Jack was sure of it and he knew that what Lester had said was true. This woman had almost every drug under the sun, which meant she had money-a lot of it, even if the foul smell and decaying walls seemed to say otherwise. Behind the door, she was probably sitting there rolling her fifth joint of the day or injecting another shot of heroin for all Jack knew. That little tramp. Jack had collected good money for this and he wanted whatever she had- whether he had to snort it, smoke it or infuse it into his blood, he didn’t care. That feeling of desperation was coming on again and Jack knew if he didn’t take something within the next hour, find some way to escape, he might die. Might even kill himself. With each passing second, sitting there engulfed in that hot, summer day, Jack felt himself slipping away into that place inside himself. No matter how hard he struggled to avoid reminiscing, his mind had a way of transcending him back in time, deep into the painful tribulations of his childhood. Only when he was high could he break free of these tormenting chains that tried to tie him down, tried to embroil him in the times he swore he’d never revisit.

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Gunfire lit up the Lucas’ living room, immediately inhabiting the air with a thick, acidic smoke. Jack watched from the hallway through fearful eyes. A shrilling scream emerged from the cloud of smoke that’d transpired and when it cleared, Jack saw his dead mother lying stilly on the family room floor, already gone, already far away from that hellish place.

Across the room, Jack saw his sister, Nadine, curled up in a tight, ball. She was screaming and pounding the ground with her fists, cursing at the man they knew as their father. Though Nadine was only nine then, born two years after her brother, something in her age changed that day and Jack saw it clearly from across the room. In that moment of gunfire, the innocence in which once made Nadine her childish self seemed to drain right from her crystal blue eyes, leaving them cold as stone- two lenses that had seen far too much for nine years of age. Mr. Lucas would go on to spend the rest of his life in jail and Jack, little did he know, would only see Nadine twice after that day, before they were separated by the decree of their foster homes and the storm that diverged their paths for what Jack thought would mean forever.

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The rain was falling hard now and Jack’s brain was numb with a dull headache. He wondered if he should call Lester and ask for the woman’s name, so he had something to address the so-called drug dealer by. It seemed to Jack that all this woman was dealing was his time. From inside the apartment, there was a muffled noise- something like the pat of feet. Jack stood up eagerly and knocked hard on the door. Another faint noise followed, someone was moving around on the other side of the wall and it infuriated Jack that she knew he was there and wouldn’t open the door. “You open the door, right now!” Jack’s voice resounded against the grungy, stained walls. “I’m not playing here. I’ve got a good $400 here with me today and I know damn good you’ve got what I came for. Now open the door.”

A long, taunting silence followed. Jack began to walk away, feeling worse than ever. Then there was a noise- a lock being unlatched. The apartment door swung open and Jack turned around to see the face of his sister.

Jack had thought of Nadine sometimes- where she’d ended up, who she’d married. From time to time, he’d lye in bed and make up what her life was like today. Social workers had always said she was a resilient child and she could recover from any loss but Jack knew differently. He had wanted to believe that she was out there somewhere, providing for herself and maybe even a family. He’d hoped that she’d have been able to escape the memories that Jack couldn’t seem to rid. Deep inside though, he knew that Nadine suffered. He’d saw the way that her eyes had looked that painful day those many decades ago and he remembered that feeling of helplessness when he realized he couldn’t do anything. Now, thirty years later, looking at Nadine’s tired expression and her blue eyes nearly red they were so bloodshot, Jack felt that same painful feeling.

Long moments, each seeming to surpass sixty seconds, passed before Nadine recognized who she was looking at. She was high, there was no doubt about that and though Jack largely envied that, he ran to her and lifted her in his arms, kissing the top of her greasy ponytail.

“Jack? My brother Jack?” Nadine words formed slowly and Jack could hear the confusion in her voice. He was wildly confused himself. Had he known this was his sister’s house, he may not have come- at least not for the reason being. Nadine seemed to be studying Jack as well, observing his ancient, frayed jeans and oversized sweatshirt. She did not judge though, but instead smiled- almost sweetly so and it wasn’t until then that Jack realized how much he’d missed her.

The apartment was a haven of smoke and exotic smells. It was small, consisting only of a tight living area and a bathroom. In the furthest corner, sat a twin-sized cot covered in a mass of tangled sheets. Beside the bed, a microwave was propped up on a stack of shoeboxes. Jack scanned every detail of the room, unable to believe this was a space of Nadine’s- a girl who’d once found joy in organizing her school binders or color coating Jack’s few toys. She had had an artistic eye and yet a love for order. It was hard to believe that she now lived in a place where gray was the brightest color. Jack couldn’t help but feel he’d failed somehow. He should have taken on the role of a father, not the diminished older brother. On the opposite wall, lined on a cheap, steel desk, was a row of sealed bags containing different drugs, some Jack didn’t even recognize. He felt his knees begin to shake and a metallic taste formed in his mouth. He needed something and pondered asking Nadine if he could take a hit, but something stopped him. For the first time, Jack was feeling something other than ‘gone’ and though his longing to smoke wasn’t suppressed, he felt it was important for him to stay clean for Nadine. She needed him and this time, he wasn’t going to leave her.

“I thought you’d never come. Never to see me.” Jack was panged with guilt. Nadine didn’t know that why he’d come was for the same reason all other wretched men like himself came- drugs. Jack wondered how many of them ever tried to touch her and the thought engrossed him in anger and disgust.

“Nadine, I’m not a good person,” he said. She did not answer but instead looked to the steel desk across the room. Jack saw a flash in her eyes- some kind of eagerness that Jack felt only he could relate to. He watched her make her way toward the desk and begin to unseal one of the bags. Slowly, she emptied the white powder like substance into a pipe and reached for the lighter. Watching her, Jack felt as if he was watching himself- staring into a reflection of his own life. He knew that when it was him standing there, lighting the pipe with trembling, pale hands, he would’ve felt no guilt or regret- only relief in being able to flee from this unexpected reunion. But watching Nadine, it was different. In her bloodshot eyes and knotted hair, he saw the neglect her life had granted her. In her ghostly complexion, he saw the isolation she’d created between herself and the world. And in her breath, the way it clung to the smoke that she’d inhaled, searching for something to hold on to, he saw how alone she was. This recognition immersed him in a sad agony. He ran to her and grabbing her wrist, he shook the pipe from her hands. She looked at him and for the first time, Jack could see through the drugs and the haze, to where she was hiding inside herself. Again, he threw his arms around her and once more he felt himself begin to transcend in time, returning to that day decades ago. In his arms, Nadine felt nine years old again and slowly, her sobs began to takeover. Jack held her tightly, refusing to let her go. He closed his eyes and watched the gunfire light up the room, then the smoke clear as his mother’s body fell to the ground. This time though, the memory conjured up no pain or remorse. In that moment Jack realized it wasn’t his mother who was killed that day after all, it was he and Nadine. Two bright spirits, glowing with innocence, were ceased by darkness that day and captivated by a life they didn’t deserve. Opening his eyes, Jack gazed through the window before him into the city parking lot below. The glass was blurred with teardrops of summer rain but he could see that they had washed away much of the dust and soot that had collected on the pane, creating an entry for the soft rays of light that now fell upon the apartment walls. Nadine looked up through misty eyes and turned to where Jack was looking. Standing beside one another, they watched as the purple tinted clouds slowly moved away into the distance, leaving only the radiant sun behind.