Guide Me Home

CHAPTER 1

DEVIN

November

Saturday morning

Oh God. Here he comes. I mean damn. I can’t even get off work good enough before Khalid or whatever his name is come cursing me in Arabic about late payment. That hairy fist of his violently waves in the air like he wants to give me a piece of his mind about it. All these other guests he’s got coming and going, and he's checking for my little two hundred dollars. For what? My money ain't gonna make a difference in this place no way. One would think that he'd put it to good use in all these rooms in this motel, but nah. All our money probably goes to some family member of his back home, living it up on my expense.

It's not like I don't know I'm late already. He reminds me every day. He's always got something smart to say too when I pass his office. I'm not cheating the man on purpose. It's just that I've got a daughter and a girlfriend to take care of. That's where most of my money goes. But that don't mean nothing to him. I think this dude has it out for me. I don't care how many times I've tried to barter with him, he still finds some way to get me caught up, talking about how he gives no one special treatment, me included. But just the other day I overheard him giving some woman a pass cause’ she didn't have her money to pay for the night she stayed here. Oh, but I guess because I'm not a woman, I don't have those same privileges. Hmph. Whatever.

He reaches the top step, stomping and still yelling at me like I've stolen a herd of his cattle or some shit. Just as I slide the key into the lock, he stops me.

Ant ‘imbysyl Al-Aswad. I want my money. Where is my money?

First things first, I need him to stop yelling cause’ all of that ain't necessary. And I know he just insulted me. He's lucky I don't know what the hell he just said.

Good morning to you too, Habib, I say and slide the key in to unlock my room door.

You are late again. This is the third time this month. Over and over, you are always late. If you keep it up, I will have to put you out.

I got you this evening, Muhammad. Can I at least get off of work and get myself settled in before you start flying off the rafters about me paying you? I know I owe you money.

I mean it. I am not playing. I want my money.

I got it. Damn.

And who are all these people you keep having come in and out of my motel? What are you guys doing in here? He asks. My busy-ness stops and I look at him to figure out what he's talking about.

Uh huh. You think I don't know you got all kinds of people walking up in here. My motel is not a gang hideout. I don't want crime here. So you sir, he points at me, you better keep your kind away from here or I'll be forced to call the police.

My kind?

Yes. Your kind. He leans in, middle finger pressing on my shoulder and lips tight. That thick mustache he got almost covers over them thin lips and his eyes wide like he's trying to read into my thoughts. I don't even know what he's talking about because I stay to myself. I don't have anyone running all through here like this some kind of seven-eleven.

Okay, Apu, whatever you say. I'll get to the bottom of it. I push the door open, glance at him one last time. He pounds the palm of his hand and says, My money. I want it tonight. No exceptions.

This short little stubby man better go ahead somewhere.

Tonight, I say.

He walks off mumbling with those little dark grey pants and striped khaki shirt squeezing tight around his unmentionables. He's got more breast than a five-dollar box at Popeye's. All this money he's getting from us and he can't find a better shirt that fits? Blimp looking ass.

Yeah, go back to whatever rock you crawled out of, I say just barely loud enough so that he won't come back with a new argument.

Now that he's out of my way, I can get back to what I've been planning to do—breakfast with my baby girl.

Lo, I'm back.

I set my things down on my bed. She ain't even here, but what is here is the acrid smell of burning plastic dipped in urine, vinegar, and shit. A grey haze lingers from the nightstand, draws me near to see why. My lungs reject the choking odor every time I inhale it. Shit so strong, I could get high.

I pull my shirt over my nose to keep the vapors from attacking me. A needle lay next to a spoon—the bowl of it slightly dried with streaks of crack cocaine.

What is this, the umpteenth time this week? We had the talk. She made promises. And she's back at it again, doing it like it doesn't affect us. I mean how long is she gonna keep shootin' up anyway? It's this mess that got us here in the first place. It's the reason why I'm always coming up short to pay that man. And she got the nerve to leave it on the nightstand like it's some kind of heirloom on display.

I go over to it and pick it up. I would throw it right at her if she was here but instead it goes flying across the room, hits the wall and thud to the floor just like my heart—heavy and lifeless. I know I shouldn't be surprised about it. I shouldn't even be upset, but I am cause’ she keeps doing this to herself. What makes matters worse is that she does this in front of our child. Don't she get how fucked up that is? Ain't nothing cool about it.

I take a step back and a small, dime size bag pops beneath my foot. Her getaway candy lay on the floor taunting me all the more of our reality. I pick it up, palm it in my hand and sigh. Just as the thought of throwing it away comes to me, someone on the other side of the room door jiggles at the knob. Hope it's not that human stump that runs this place.

I close my hand with the baggie still in it, waiting for whoever it is to open the door.

Daddy! Logan walks in first and into my arms.

Hey baby girl. My smile is falsely brave.

Mommy took me to breakfast.

I see. Did you have a good time?

Yeah, she says and walks away from me to turn on the TV. The timing couldn't be more perfect as Mia tiptoes in and closes the door.

Without looking at her, I ask, Did you eat?

Yeah.

Do anything exciting this morning before you left?

The bag still in my hand, I rub it around without letting her know it’s in my possession. She comes over my way and reaches for the syringe, but I pluck it out of her reach. She stands still while her eyes shift from side to side before she finally looks at me.

You need to tell me something?

No. Why you ask that? She brings her fingers to her mouth, nibbling on those stained nails. She's so damn high, it don't make no sense. Her whole body is trembling.

You cold or something? Why you shaking?

What? I'm not shaking. She looks down at her trembling knees, bends over to feel them and giggles. Shit got her acting stupid as hell.

Mia?

Huh? She rolls up from her waist, arms long and dangling from the slight slump in her shoulders.

Mia? We connect eyes.

What?

What's this?

Her eyes follow my hand as I show her the small bag of rocks. She gives me a goofy ass smile and says, I don't know. And it irritates the hell out of me because she knows what the hell this is. Guilt is telling on her because all she can do is push her wild, loose coils to the back of her head like she's thought too long and hard. Her hip gets to bouncing and her eyes shift out of rhythm.

I thought we made a promise? I try to keep my tone low so that Logan won't hear us or even care about wanting to listen in.

We did. Her bottom lip curls into her mouth.

What happened?

Nothing happened.

Mia, come on. Why the hell do you keep making promises that you gonna stop using? I don't even know why I'm wasting my breath on her though. Like I said, we've had these talks before and still, I'm getting the same thing. I'm starting to believe that maybe I just like to hear myself.

That's not even mine. I'm just holding it for somebody.

Okay, so we just gonna play stupid today? Got it.

For who Mia? We don't know anybody around here.

It's for, she starts and then flips her hair to the back of her head again and sucks her teeth.

Whatever, I need to use the bathroom.

Good. Then you'll be throwing this away too. Flush it down the toilet.

I told you I'm holding it for somebody. She walks off into the bathroom and I get up and follow.

I'll flush it myself then.

What are you doing?

I move past her and stand over the toilet, opening the bag, but she swipes at my hand nearly dropping them by her. I shove her out of the way and hurry to pick them back up again before she gets a hold of them. She leaps towards me, causing us both to stumble. Quickly, I regain balance and press her into the wall behind the door.

Who are you holding it for? I ask while she makes it her business to get this bag from me.

Somebody. You don't know them.

Tell me the truth. Is this yours?

No. I swear. Just give it to me.

Why?

Because I already told you, Devin.

You don't know anybody around here, Mia. We haven't been here that long.

So what!

When are you going to stop doing this to yourself?

She scoots closer to the bathroom door, but being pent up against the wall makes it harder for her to get out of my grip effectively.

I'm not doing anything. Just give it back. Please give it back. She fumbles around, struggling to reach behind me still. Both of us in here looking like bully and victim. I hate to be the one that has to be the bully though.

Are you going to stop doing this to yourself?

She stops reaching and releases the tension in her body while looking me straight in the eyes. She calms herself and tries to gather her composure like she's got some kind of truth to tell. Her eyes misty and blotched with redness, she parts her lips to say something. I keep my hand pressed against her while the other stays near the toilet.

Answer me, Mia.

I don't— she hesitates and shrugs.

You don't what?

She whimpers softly. Please, can I just have it back?

The ache in her voice chokes me too. I will never understand why she wants to do this. I want her to get help because she's hurting everybody in here. It ain't just her or just me. Our child sees this too, so I ask her to do it for Logan, like many times before, but it doesn't mean much as she looks away from me. Blinding mist burns my eyes. I close them to hide the hurt. A knock on the bathroom door interrupts us and I release Mia as Logan makes her way in. I want to offer my girl a smile but I can't. So instead I look away, rub my eyes, pretending I'm good.

What do you need?

What are you guys doing in here?

Nothing. Just having a talk. The expression of concern wears her face, and she asks, Why are you crying?

I hadn't even realized I let a tear slip from my eye. I wipe my face again and release a deep sigh.

Just go back and watch TV for me. I’ll be out in a minute.

She then looks at Mia and goes over to give her a hug, but Mia stiffens, arms straight—mannequin style. Logan releases her arms just as fast and backs away, leaving us in the bathroom now quiet and heavy. I'm not gonna let her kill herself like this. Down the toilet the bag goes.

Devin! Mia climbs over top of me to try and retrieve whatever remains but the water quickly swirls into the dark abyss, whisking all of its contents away with it. She drops to her knees, screams that I'm foolish for doing that.

You need help, I tell her. I try bringing her to her feet again, but she snatches away, falls back to the floor and scoots backward against the door.

No, you need help, you idiot. Why'd you do that? Why would you do that to me?

Anybody could see why I did it. Why can't she?

Mia? I reach down to her. She recoils, cuffs herself into her knees and hides her face between them. We're on two opposite sides of the spectrum when it comes to pain and anger, that's for sure. I take a seat on the floor across from her and bring my knees in towards me. My arms rest atop them, and I helplessly stare at her.

Dammit! She slams her fist into the wall as her chest bear ragged breaths from the tormenting tears that follow.

I just want you to get help.

I don't want help. Why don't you just go die somewhere and leave me alone?

You don't mean that. I reach for her arm to show her face and she kicks me before flipping the bird.

Get out of here. I hate you. I hate both of you.

But I love you. And I mean that. Her middle finger flashes again. I don't know what else to do. At wits ends, I oblige to her request and head out. Saying I love you again would be no use cause’ she don't believe me no way. Just as I cross the threshold, the bathroom door comes slamming shut behind me. Cool bumps rise on my skin.

I'm sick of her ass, man.

I close my eyes but for a moment until Logan calls out to me.

Yeah, Lo?

I love you, she says. This I know. She invites me over to the bed with her. I take my seat and let her rest herself across my lap as she watches TV again. We sit quietly while I stroke the messy strands of her hair. Hopelessness sets in, sinking me into myself. My love for Mia is deeper than she knows, but I know my love for her isn't enough. It's a constant war with our demons locking tight to our troubles and paralyzing us there. If I could save her, I would. The little bit of strength I have is depleting every day. There's no escape from it no matter the lengths I go through to get away. Every day I'm reminded that this is not going to change and that I'm stuck here. Whatever sins I've committed has left thorns deeply rooted in my flesh, and it seems like I'll never be able to repay by trying to do good by her or by anyone.

I lift Logan's head from off my lap to get up to go outside. I just need a minute before I completely lose it. I press myself against the thin rails on the walkway and rest against them, left alone with myself. A scary place to be. My hope and faith are fading fast, and the only constant I can rely on is the dependency of my child. I'm just praying that it counts for something because at this point, she's the only thing I have strength enough to hold on to.

CHAPTER 2

DEVIN

Wasn’t expecting the storm to come so fast. The plan was to get dinner beforehand, but all that has changed. So I take the moment to have a little daddy-daughter time and catch up on all the stuff she's been doing at school. She begins to tell me about all her school drama and latest scoop she's got going on in her first-grade class. Laughs and lots of it fill the air from the both of us."

And I was like nuh-uh lil’ girl. I will slap those braids outcho head. You betta get outta my face." Her little busybody jumps up and down on her bed, trying to say each word through jolted breaths. She giggles which makes me laugh. She's always had quite the personality too. Some days I see a lot of me, and other days I see a lot of Mia. I know that feisty attitude is from the both of us, that's for sure, but that sense of humor, she's definitely got it from me, honest.

And I told her that she was ugly because she called me ugly first. Daddy I know I'm not ugly. She don't know what she talking bout, she says so serious.

You're absolutely right, you ain't ugly.

She just jealous because I got gold stars all throughout the week and she only got two.

My baby smart.

And Ms. Faith lets me help her pass out papers and treats. That's what we get to do when we've got a row of gold stars.

She starts jumping higher and harder making the springs of the bed hit the box spring beneath. The chopping sound it makes could grind your gears a little bit, but it doesn't bother me none. She ain't hurting nobody. But Mia, on the other hand, swings the bathroom door wide open and stops to look at me first and then Logan.

Would you stop with all that damn noise? Why are you in here jumping on the bed? Does this look like a trampoline to you?

She reaches over and pulls her down hard and fast. Logan pathetically falls to the mattress. Her sweet and innocent smile leaves her face and Mia keeps a long, icy stare on her. If looks could kill, my daughter would be dead sure enough. Logan looks away from her, her face pointing towards the floor now.

I was just having fun.

Well, life ain't fun. Act like you got some sense and stop jumping on the bed you little monkey. And you better stop going to school with that smart-ass mouth of yours. You gonna catch the wrong one, one day and they gonna beat your little ass.

I get up from the edge of my bed and step toward them. She stands upright and gets into my face. She ain't bout that life coming from the glistening hills of Bowie. Not a solid thug bone in her.

What the hell is your problem?

You mind your business. I'm talking to my child. Her finger points at me and then she looks at Logan again.

Oh, so now she's your child?

Don't play with me. You let her do whatever she wants around here like life is some fun little game. It ain't fun, and you need to tell her that. She needs to get real.

Logan's happiness deflates by the second. I don't want her seeing us like this. I try my best to be as respectful as I can with her mother, but when she pops off with no warning, it takes everything in me to keep my own self from flying off.

Come over here, Lo, I say. She crawls off the edge of the bed and takes a seat onto mine.

That's all you do is spoil her ass.

Don't worry about what I do with her.

Mia rolls her eyes and sucks her teeth at me and then walks away to the other side of her bed to sit. For once I'd love to be irate just like she is to the both of us. If I didn't care about what Logan would think about me, I'd do it. I'd do it right now, but I can't because she's watching, and the only example she has is me. So instead, I let it go for the time being. Her pretty brown eyes nearly drown in tears. I know what she's feeling.

Don't worry about her. We're going to be leaving out of here as soon as the storm dies down okay?

She nods and sniffles. I take her up under my arm while Mia looks our way rolling her eyes again. Please, storm will you hurry up? I don't know how much longer I can be stuck up in this room with her before I go off.

We wait silently as the storm rolls through with the loud thunder and cracks of lightning. Logan jumps at each one and asks why it's so loud. I tell her that it’s just God up there playing bowling with the angels and each crack of lightning is just him getting a lucky strike. My logic makes her smile about it, but Mia doesn’t seem to like it. She pushes away from the headboard and says, And there you go always making up some shit about God. Look lil’ girl, ain't no God up there playing no bowling or doing nothing that's making the lightning and thunder happen. It's called the weather. That's what it's supposed to do. Get used to it.

She then gets up to retrieve her purse from the dresser, searching wildly through it.

Are you for real right now?

I need a smoke.

I'm at a loss for words. Logan remains silent.

It's not hot in here to y'all?

The heat is on but it ain’t that hot.

Well turn that thing off. I’m sweating.

Stay off them drugs and maybe you wouldn’t.

Forget you, Devin. You ain't no saint yourself.

Never said I was.

Is that what mommy was doing earlier? Logan asks. I don't want to answer her because I don't think a six-year-old should know anything about drugs, but all of that went out the window once Mia took it upon herself to do the shit in front of her. My child ain't stupid. Did she not think she would catch on?

Cause’ she was putting this white stuff on the spoon and put fire under it. She demonstrates to me while Mia chuckles about it.

And then took this needle and put it in her arm like this.

And what did I tell you it was? Mia says.

Medicine.

Exactly. So don't be tryna make me look like I'm doing bad stuff. I was just taking my medicine.

Your medicine? Is that what you call it now?

Medicine, drugs, they all the same thing, ain't they? Logan, you gonna be just like me and your daddy. You gonna be taking your medicine soon enough because, with a father like him, he's going to drive you to it. Watch what I tell you.

I've heard enough. It's probably best I get out of here, rain and all, because she's so close to getting hit in the face. She's real close. I have never hit a woman and never desired to, but at this point, she deserves every slap I feel like giving her.

I rise from the bed and head over to her. She shrinks back onto the headboard and looks me in the eye like she knows she's said too much.

For all I care, you can mess yourself up on all the drugs you want, but don't you ever do that shit in front of her again. And don't you ever come out your retarded mouth with some bull like that. That is our child.

She laughs in my face. Go head, Devin. You need to chill with all this bucking you doing.

This ain't no game, Mia. I don't know what happened to you, but this ain't the woman I know. This ain't the girl I fell in love with.

Yeah, well that girl been gone. All thanks to you, buddy, she says and turns her head away from me. I've never been this person—angry, hostile and tired and worn out. And to add insult to injury, she goes and says something like this to her own flesh and blood. All I care about right now is to protect my daughter. That's it. Love or not, her time is really limited now.

Let's go, Logan. We need to go eat.

But it's not finished raining, she says. I pull my hoodie over my head and help her into hers. We'll be alright. Go get your shoes.

She does as told, all the while, Mia continues to sit, scraping under her nails and says, I was just telling her the truth.

For real, I don't feel like talking to you.

"For real, I don't feel like talking to you. Boy, you weak. You weak as hell, she mimics. You ain't shit. Look at you. You can't even provide for us. You can't keep a decent roof over our heads. You got us living in a dirty, moldy ass motel for crying out loud. Bet you wish I had gotten that abortion like I had planned, don't you?"

My leg jackhammers into the floor madly as she continues to spit venom into my wounds.

And to think I actually loved you and had a child with you, I tell her. She scoffs. Believe me, we could've avoided all of that.

Having Logan with her is one choice I should've made different. Of all bad choices, this is the one I wish I could redo on different terms. It pains me that we're at this place in our lives where a constant tug of war between hate and love is the premise of our relationship.

This addiction is a sobering truth that our lives lay in ruin and there’s no way to make it better. Like I said, me trying to repay the universe by doing good so that my sins will be washed away hasn't helped not one bit. I'm afraid that all it's going to do is keep driving us farther and farther into a place where we may never get ourselves back. I'm working against a ticking time bomb getting ready to explode. I just hope in the midst of the explosion, it doesn't kill me too.

CHAPTER 3

DEVIN

I’m tired as hell. Last night was rough. When Logan and I got back from Waco Taco, we came back to the room finding it in a mess. I thought we had been robbed but turns out Mia was the one who flipped it upside down. She was so strung out on whatever she took that when we found her on the floor, I thought she was dead. It took me a good fifteen minutes to get her to wake up but when I did, the only thing she had left for me was a bitter and ungrateful attitude. She yelled about how much she hated Logan and Me and that she wishes we had never met. Granted, our life hasn't been a bed of roses, I can admit that, but she makes me feel like I'm her curse. She tells me all the time it's because of me that she's like this. She went on and on why her life is the way it is and I just listened like a dummy, watching her, but it brought me to the realization of why my love for her is fading by the day, though parts of me can't figure out why I choose to stay in this relationship. Some would say it's love. Others would call it pure dysfunction. I think it may be a combination of both but mainly because she's all I know. I've done enough convincing to myself that despite what we're going through and where our relationship is right now, she's the one that can give what I've been longing for—whatever that is. She said she wants me to leave her. Crazy she wants me to leave but she ain't got the guts herself. I couldn't tell if it were the drugs talking or if she meant it. I believe that denial plays me as a joke though. It's like I hear her but I can't accept it. However, in all of her mess and stink, harsh attitudes and mood swings, no matter what I want to believe, the sad reality is that this is who we are now. Ain't no saving nobody who don't want to be saved. Nevertheless, while we're here, I'm just hoping that today will be better than last night.

As I button up my jumpsuit and throw my hoodie over my head to get ready for work, Logan crawls over to me at the edge of the bed and wraps her little arms around my neck.

Do you have to go?

I wish I didn't but I need to make sure I can take care of her.

I won't be too long today. I promise.

I don't want to stay with mommy, she whispers. I feel the same way.

It's just for a little while. When I get back, maybe we can go to a movie or something.

She smiles and nods. Mia remains to herself on her bed, twirling strands of hair around her finger—thin strands of mess.

Aight, I'll see y'all later.

The pep in my step used to be something mean but now it’s more like a dragging of the feet as I make my way to the bus stop. Everything that went on last night took me by surprise. I'm still trying to recover from it, especially since I didn't get much sleep. Between trying to keep watch over Mia so she doesn't try anything stupid, and my life's quarrels running through my brain, sleep was the least of my priority and now I'm feeling it.

As I get to the job, John calls me into his office right before I take ahold of my timecard.

Devin, come in here, will you? The sound of his voice takes me back to a time where I'd get called into the principal's office for something I've done. It's never a good feeling.

Yeah John?

Close my door and have a seat.

I do as told, grab the chair and sit before him at his desk. Something wrong?

There's an aura of awkwardness that befalls us as he waits a moment to tell me what it is. He folds his hands, meeting his thumbs together. His lips part, exposing those crooked, stained teeth of his and then he sighs heavily. The pounding in my chest increases by the second cause’ I see where this is about to go. He goes on to tell me, Devin, it really pains me to have to do this.

The sweat in my palms loosens my grip on the arm of the chair as I try to situate myself comfortably. He sighs again and readjusts himself the same. Those thick, pale sausages he calls fingers rake through his short haircut and finally he comes out with it.

We have to let you go.

Wait, what? Did I hear him correctly?

Why?

I know. I know. It really does hurt me to have to do this, but corporate is downsizing and looking for ways to cut back on spending. We already have two full-time janitors who have been here for quite some time. The part-time position is no longer needed, because like I said, the company wants to cut back. So since you're the new kid, you know—

That shit ain't fair.

His lips tighten and he nods. I didn't mean for that to slip out of my mouth.

Look, I know it's not easy finding another gig. I get it. Your best bet would be to get unemployment until you can find another job.

And what's that gonna do, John?

He stays quiet for a second. But I want him to answer it. Unemployment for a part-time position that I've been working for almost a year now ain't gonna do much. If my regular paycheck wasn't much—all six hundred and thirty dollars—what the hell is unemployment going to do for me now? It's gonna be half that.

I'm sorry. I don't know if that will help or not, he says, But that's a good place to start. They could also be hiring as well. You could check. And if you need a reference, I'm more than willing to be one for you. He hands me his card and I stuff it in my hoodie pocket without ever looking at it. Hotness rises to my cheeks. I’m trying to process what's being done here. He hands me my last paycheck, and I take it from him—two hundred dollars and some change—due to the short week I worked, and get up from my seat and head out of the office. His voice echoes from behind, but I'd rather not turn around and acknowledge that he's talking to me because there are a lot of things I'd like to say to him and to this company. I've busted my ass for them. Worked hours that I wasn't supposed to, to only end up with the same lousy ass pay. I've mopped, cleaned, dusted, vacuumed, fixed—put my blood and sweat into this damn building—working hard to make sure this place looks good for them and this is what I get in return? This is all they have to offer me? No thanks. I'm good. Forget his card and forget his well wishes. I don't need it. It ain't doing me no good no way. Never seen a well-wish put food on the table or clothes on my back. Never has it given me much a place to lay my head at night. He can stuff that well-wish up his ass for all I care. I'm out of here.

My feet feel like heavy, grey cinderblocks are mounted around them as I trudge to the bus stop. One step after the other, the pace seems slower and slower and being out here trapped with my thoughts don't help either. I want to throw up. I want to scream. I want to fight. I want to do everything that could possibly take this fear away. But none of that comes out of me. Just a pitiful sigh. I don't think I've been this frustrated in my life—ever.



I don't know if it's just sheer paranoia or what but something inside doesn't feel right. The only way to explain it is that feeling of uneasiness that only a parent can get when it feels like something is wrong with their child. Though I try to play it cool as I pick up the pace just a little in hopes that it's just my imagination, I can't keep it from spreading through my mind. Could be because of what Mia did in front of her yesterday and all the things she's been saying.

Our room in close view now, I spot Mia out on the walkway, lazily chatting with another man outside. This must be what mister hairy arms was talking about. But never mind her, where is Logan? I don't see that little puffball-wearing child of mine