Choices Of Hope

                                                 


         I heard a saying in a movie once. It said "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know which one your going to get." Some bad, some incredibly good. You throw some back here and there, but sometimes, you bite down into one of those nasty peices you absolutley can't stand, and by then its too late to throw it back. My life is very similar. Except I always seem to get the bad peices, and then its to late to throw them back. I deciced that I would finally control what happened with my life. I would make my choices,
nobody else would make them for me. My life will be in my own hands, literally. But little did I know, it would all have to go to shit,before it could actually become better. My life spun out of control, and there was nothing I could do about it, except seek help from those who had ended up destroying it.
         
         November 6th, 1995

         I was on my way to see my little brother. Snow was lightly falling all around me, melting on my jacket. My shoes stepped into a nearby puddle, soaking my socks. Its been almost a year since I;ve seen my brother. His name is Ethan and he is only 10 years old. The last time I saw him he had long shaggy blond hair, and soft turquiose eyes. He was tall for a 10 year old, lanky, and very pale. He had been sent to foster care when he was only 5, and a year later ran away. I found him on the steps of our childhood home, sobbing into his coat. I knew he would be there. No matter how many bad memories lie within that home, we always seemed to find some kind of safety there. We sat on the steps for a long time, crying softly but not talking. Then, as if understanding what I was about to say he got up and left. We walked back to the boys home in silence. He looked at me with pleading eyes, turnded around and walked inside. I've never been able to forgive myself. He never actually knew the true meaning of a family. I tried my best to take care of him, but my junkie of a mom seemed to always occupy my time, leaving almost none for him. I blamed myself for years, still do,  knowing that I was the reason he had to leave,
and that he ran away. I was loyal to my mom. Always wanting her affection and love, but in the back of my mind I knew that it would never happen. She only had place for one thing in her heart, and unfortunately it wasn't me or my brother. It was the love of getting another fix. Something I didnt understand until a few years later. 
         I walked up the steps of the boys home, turned the knob, and walked on in. I signed in, and slowly walked to my brothers room. I knew he would be in there. He always was. I knocked on the door and walked in, plopping into a hard rocking chair in the corner, and sighed. I always dreaded my visit with him, not because I didnt love my brother but because I could never look him in the eye. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. I could see a tear in his eye, and he wiped it away slowy. I pretended not to notice.
         "Hey," I said after a long silence.
         "Hi."
         "How have you been?"
         He didnt answer me for a long time. I understood why. I abandoned him, and then I realized, that he hadnt forgiven me either. I was pretty sure he never would. I got up and slowly walked to the door, but before I left I turnded around and quietly croaked out, "I'm sorry, little brother." I knew he heard me, but he didnt offer a reply. Instead he rolled over to his side, and cried into his pillow.

         November 15, 1995
         
         "Mom! Come on sit up." I stared at my mother, tears streaming down my face. She was overdosing, and I couldnt do anything to help her. If I called the ambulance, the cops would get involved, and she would surely go to jail, again. I couldnt let that happen. I just got her back, I couldn't lose her again. I already lost my brother. I just couldnt lose her. She needed me. I was her backbone. I was the only person she had, and I had to protect her.
         "Mom, please. Im begging you. Please get up. You have to!"
         "No cops..no..I cant..," she slurred. Her eyes were closed and her breathing had begun to slow, but I could hear her heart beating fast. This time it was bad. There was no turning back. I couldnt stand here and watch my mother die.
         I ran across the bedroom to the kitchen were the phone was. I dialed 911 and within seconds they were there, taking my mother away. But it was too late. I wasn't fast enough, and I failed her. I let her die. They took her out on a strecher, covering her face. By now, more junkies were out in the street watching with wide eyes. They knew my mother. Most had sold to her, and some had even bought from her. I hated them. I hated them with every ounce of strengh I had left. Which wasn't much. I ran over to the people I had grown up with, strangers, that had been in and out of my home for drugs.
         I summoned all my courage and screamed, "You did this to her! Your the ones who killed her! This is all your fault, all your fault." I sank to my knees, crying.
         Everyone was staring at me now. They all turned and started to walk away, but before they did I heard someone say, "Your the one who let her die. Not us. You let her die."
         Those words haunted me for the rest of my life. They haunted me day in and day out.

         November, 17 1995

         Back at the boys home to deliver the news to my brother. I wondered how my brother would take it. I wondered if he'd even care. I replayed the words over and over in my head of what i would say, how I would say it, and when to say it. But when I saw my brother's face when I showed up for the 2nd time in one week, I crumbled. He looked shocked, and small smiled played across his face. He was happy to see me, which was surprising to me. I thought he hated me, had resentment toward me for not being there. Then it finally hit me. All he ever really wanted was me to just be there. He didnt hate me, or resent me, he just missed me. Im pertty sure my face showed what i was about to say, because just then, his eyes weld up with tears. I said what I came to say anyways, determined to actually say the words that I kept locked away deep inside.
         "Moms...," I trailed off, taking a deep breath hoping Ethan would stop me from saying what I was about to. But he didnt. He wanted to-needed to hear the words. "Moms..dead Ethan. I tried to save her, I really did, but I just couldnt. I tried to protect her, but I couldnt. I failed her. I did. Im so sorry."
         He stared at me, and for the first time in 3 years I was able to look him in the eyes. They were rimmed in red, and there was sadness in them. Too much sadness for a 10 year old. He hugged me then, not saying anything. And honestly he didnt need to. His eyes said it all. Its not your fault. Dont blame yourself. There was nothing you could do. He let go then, the same time Adam, the boys group father, walked in.
         "Im sorry to interrupt, but visiting time is over." He gave a sad smile and walked back out of the room.
         "I guess I have to go. I'll come back soon. I promise." I gave him another quick hug, and left the room. As I was closing the door, I heard him quietly say, "I love you, sis." That made me cry even harder. I don't ever remember hearing somebody say they love me, nor do I remember saying it to anyone.

         November 26, 1995

         The day after Thanksgiving. Im surprised I even remembered it was Thanksgiving. Nothing to give thanks for, so whats the point. I havnt visited my brother since I told him the news about our mother. Another promise broken. I just cant find enough energy to go. We buried my mom 3 days ago. My brother didnt go. Im guessing he didnt want to. After all, she is a stranger to him. Just like he was a stranger to her. I lounged on the couch all day, thinking. Doing nothing, but wasting my life. Not like I had much of a life before. Its strange without my mother being here. Too lonely. Nobody had stopped by to offer their apologies for the loss of my mother. Nobody seems to have noticed she is even gone. I walked outside the other day, and walked right into a smoke cloud. I coughed and stared at my mothers friend. Or, at least I thought they were friends.
Maybe she had no friends at all. Just drug buddies. The man I was staring at had happened to be the one whos words haunted me. I still havnt forgotten them. I doubt I ever will.
Your the one who let her die. Not us. You let her die. I glared at him with eyes filled of pure hatred.
         "Well, hey there kiddo. Want a puff?" He looked down at me and offered me the ciggerate. He was thin, too thin, with graying hair. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. His eyes. They were red and dilated. They were buldging out of his eyes sockets, looking like they were about to bust. His eyes were dark. They looked black. Blacker than nighttime. His cheeks were hollowed out. He was still standing there with the ciggerate outstretched in his hand. I took the ciggerate from his hand and dropped it to the ground and stomped on it with my foot, never taking my eyes from his.
         "You little bitch!" he screamed. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the floor. He was on top of me, breathing hard and heavy. His breath smelt of cheap beer and smoke. The smell repulsed me. "Your mama aint here to protect you anymore you little brat. Not that she did anyway. She didnt care about you. She didnt even care about herself!" His words stung me, and tears were threatening to come pouring out any second, but I helled them back. I wanted to be strong.
         "Dont you talk about my mother! You knew nothing about her." I didnt understand why I was defending her. But I felt like I had to, since I was the one who let her die.          
                "Get off of me now! Or I will call the cops on you!"
         "What? Just like you did with your dear old ma?"
         I was speachless. Helpless. I didnt know what to do. I didnt know what he was going to do. We stared at each other a while longer, then he finally got off of me.
         "Somebody needs to teach you a lesson! Your mom didnt so I'm going to." And with that, he kicked me hard in my side, knocking the breath out of me. He kicked me again, over and over for what seemed like forever. But in reality I knew it was only a couple minutes. He was breathing hard now, unable to catch his own breath but the look in his eyes said this wasnt over. Not yet at least. He bent back over me and covered my mouth with his hand. I tried to fight him off but he was too strong. And I was too weak from being beaten. He smacked me hard on the face, almost knocking me unconcious. I had no fight left in me and he knew it. He took advantage of the moment, and unbuttoned his pants. He did his buisness and left me lying there, on the hard, cold concrete floor. Battered and bloody.
         
         December 2, 1995
         I took a walk around the block, wanting to get away from my house. Wanting to get away from all the memories. When I got back though, there was a small note taped to my door. It said only one word. But that small word changed my life forever. Evicted. I tried to open the door but it was locked. My stuff, what little stuff I had, was placed beside the door. I banged on the door, trying despretly to get inside. I was yelling and I didnt care who heard me. I didnt care about much anymore. Nobody came though. I was alone, standing outside my home, with nowhere to go. I grabbed the 2 grocery bags, and headed down the street. I was thinking about going to visit my brother, tell him everything that had happened. But I felt like I failed him to. I didnt want him to think I was just as bad as our mother, though he probably already did. I dont know exactly how far I walked, and what direction I went in, but I knew where I was. Ive been there once before. A long time ago. Before my brother, before the drugs, and before my fathers adandonment.
          I was at the old ice cream parlor. It was closed now, much like everything else around here, but I could still hear the faint laughter of my mother and me cracking up over something. I was about 3. I dont even know how i remembered this memory. It was such a long time ago. But i guess i just tried to hold onto what little i remembered of the mother i knew once. We were seated at a booth, across from each other. I dont remember what we were laughing about, but I remember my mothers laugh. It was the last time I ever heard her laugh. When she laughed, it always reminded me of an angel. Her hair was a rich dark brown that felt like silk between your fingers. Her skin was tan, and she always looked like she was glowing. Her eyes were a light honey color. She was so beautiful. Men would trip over there feet just at the sight of her. But of course, that was before my mother ruined her life, and mine for that matter. She got mixed up with the wrong crowd of people. She started partying every night, leaving me to take of myself. I learned at a young age that life wasnt fair. At least, not to me.
         Soon, random people I didnt know walked in and out of my house. My father left my mom. And me. My mom didnt have a job, so we had to move in with one of her friends. To my surprise, it wasnt a guy. It was a girl. But she was just like my mom, maybe alittle worse. Men came and went. My mom got knocked up with my brother Ethan. And then it just went even more downhill after he was born. She was clean the whole time she carried Ethan, but once he was born she became depressed. She wouldnt hold him. She wouldnt even look at him. It was up to me to take care of him.
         By then, my mom had gone off the deep end. She got sucked into a lifestyle that she couldnt get out of. Not that she wanted to. Drugs, alcohol, men, and more drugs. She hardly ever slept, let alone eat. She became way too thin and she had lost her glow about her. The drugs had sucked the life out of her. She did alittle of everything. She could never be satisfied with just one drug. Instead, she did it all. She also could never be satisfied with just one man. She ruined my life, but I will always love her. And I dont even know why.
         I walked past the ice cream parlor, with tears pooling in my eyes. I came to a stop when I saw a brigde. It
was vacant. There was a nice hollow part that I could crawl under, and I did so easily.

         December 14, 1995
         I've been homeless for almost two weeks now. Wandering the streets looking for someplace new. I haven't showered since I was evicted, and I'm pretty sure I smell horrible. People stared at me with pity. One person actually felt so bad for me, they gave me 5 bucks. I gratefully thanked them, and ran to the nearest fast food place.

         December 25 1995

         Still on the street. Still alone. Still broke.

         January 2, 1996

         I ran into a familar face today. One I hoped I'd never see again. He smiled at me. My stomach did flip-flops.
         "Hey kiddo. Your beginning to look like your mom more and more these days" He was walking closer to me now. I tried to run but my feet wouldnt move. I couldnt move. I was frozen with fear.
         "Calm down. Im not going to hurt you."
         "S-screw you," I stammered out. I could feel my whole body shaking, but still I couldnt move.
         "You already did, remember?"
         That did it. Whatever fear I had was now replaced with anger. I could feel my face heat up and I balled my hands into fist. Im not exactly sure what I did next, or how I even did it, but I ran over to the man that had caused me so much pain and punched him right in the face. He stumbled backwards, surprised just as much as I was. But he didnt do anything. He just stared at me with a confused look on his face. Then he busted out laughing. That made me even more mad.
         "What the hell are you laughing at?" I asked.
         "Nothing. Hey listen, I hear your uh, on the street." The look he gave told him he heard right. "If you need a place to stay, you know where I am." His smile sent chills down my spin. He turned away and left tossing 10 dollars on the floor where he had just stood. I picked up the money, and ran away. I wanted to get out of there. As far away from him as I could.

         January 4, 1996

         I finally gave in. I couldnt do this anymore. I couldnt live on the streets. It was slowy killing me. But then again, if i actually did take that creeps offer, that may kill me quicker. I wish i could remember his name. I only heard it once, and that was a couple years ago. The only thing I could remember about the guy was his eyes. And that one day, the day that is always on my mind. I walked slowy back to the neighboor hood I lived in. Back to the neighboorhood my mom died in. At least I wouldnt have to live in the same house anymore. But it still felt weird being that close to it.
         I walked right up to his door, more confident than I have ever been in my whole life, and knocked. At first there was no answer, and I thought maybe he wasnt home. Just as I was turning around I heard the door open. I knew what he was going to say before he said it.
         "Do not call me kiddo," I said with a certain edge in my voice. We stared at each other for a second, then I broke the silence. "Are you going to let me in, or what?" I had no clue where this sudden bravery came from,but I liked it. I spent too much of my life scared. It was time to put an end to that. He shrugged his soulders, and moved aside.
         I felt like I just walked into a crime scene. Except, it wasnt. There were no dead bodies. No blood. There were people everywhere though. Lying on the couch, lying on the floor, and they were all passed out. They looked dead, but I knew they werent. There were beer bottles everywhere, and a glass table with white powder spread in lines everywhere. The couch, was a faded violet color. There were bottles spread all over that too, along with tiny plastic bags everywhere. They were empty, of course. The house
smelled of smoke, and I coughed uncontrollably.
         "Welcome home." He sighed, and walked over to the table, but before he sat down I heard him quietly say, "kiddo." He grabbed a straw from underneath the couch cushions and started snorting up lines. He glanced at me, then went back to doing the rest of the lines. He got up, leaving two lines on the table. He walked to the fridge and grabbed two beers. Popped off both caps, and handed one to me. I just stared at him, and he just shrugged, and walked back to the couch. I followed. He offered the beer again,
and this time I took it. He smiled.
         "Sit down. Make yourself at home."
         I sat down beside him. On the other side of me, was a woman. She was asleep. She stirred alittle, and repositioned her self on the couch. He handed me the straw. I took it.
         "Go ahead," he said. I looked at him curiously.
         "Are you crazy?" I screamed leaping off the couch. "There is no way I'm doing that!"
         "Either do it, or get out," he growled. He was serious. I couldnt go back out on the streets again. I wouldnt. But I also didnt want to stoop this low. I didnt want to become my mom. I regret the decsion I made then, but I really had no other choice. I chugged my beer, hoping I could stall time. It didn't work. He grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me across the room.
         "NO! No, please. I'll do it. Please stop. I cant live out there another day! Please.."
         He let go of my arm, clearly amused. I crawled over to the couch, and sat down. I stared at the table for a long time. Then, slowly, I lifted the straw to my nose, and lowered my face to the table. I closed my eyes, and snorted the first line. A tear escaped and landed on the table. I wiped it away quickly. By now, my nose was burning, but I still had one more line. I switched to my other nostril, and snorted the next line. My nose was on fire. I sneezed 3 times, before I felt anything. Then, I felt it. My head was spinning. I felt like I was on a cloud. Floating, then I was flying. Soaring through the sky. All my problems faded. Nothing mattered. Nothing at all.

         Januray 10, 1996

         The rest of the week was a haze. Blurry. I didnt know what I was doing half the time. I didnt know who I was half the time. I spent most of my time drinking cheep bear, snorting up lines, smoking ciggerates, and sleeping. What has my life become? Im no better than my mother. Perhaps, I'm worse. I feel like a failure. I cant do this anymore. But i dont know how to stop. Its all I know now. I really need to get help.

         January 12, 1996
         
         I cracked. Im tired of living this way. I want to do something with my life. I want to live. Not die. And if I stay here any longer, I know I'll die. Sooner or later.
         "Jack." Thats his name. I finally asked. "I dont wanna do this anymore. I can't. I need help. I dont want to end up like my mother. I can't. I owe it to my brother." I waited for his reaction.
         "If you want help, then do it on your own terms. Dont get me involved."
         And with that, I left. I grabbed my coat and walked right out his door. Leaving my mothers lifestyle behind me. Not mine. I was going to get help. I was going to turn my life around. I had to. If not for me, then for my brother. Hopefully, he could forgive me, again.

         January 13, 1996

         I found a treatment center. They help people like me, and they do it for free. I was surprised how fast I found them. I thought it would take days, maybe weeks. Turns out, they were just around the corner from where I lived. I've been here a day, and I'm already going through withdrawls. My body shakes, and my joints hurts. I'm stiff, and I dont want to move. The people here give me medicine that helps with the pain. Only alittle though.

         January 17, 1996

         Somedays the pain is unbearable. The doctors here say I was lucky I got help when I did. The pain is slowly going away. The pyshical pain that is. I still have along way to go. Im in therapy. Im trying to forgive myself for the horrible things I've done, but its harder than I thought. I abandoned my brother, I let my mom die, and I almost ruined my life. I don't how see any of those things are forgivable, but I'm trying. I asked one of the doctors here if I could go see my brother. I just hoped he would want to see me. They said yes.
         
              January 18, 1996

         My brother is sitting on his bed, head in his hands. He doesnt look up when I walk in. Instead he stands up and walks out the door, leaving me by myself in his room. Alone. I wait an hour for him, but when he doesnt return I leave. I take my time on the walk back to the treatment center. I just want to be alone, but of course I never get what I want.
         "And we meet again. Is it just me or are you following me?" I stopped abrubtly and spin around. Once again, im staring into the eyes of a man I once feared. Why do I have to keep running into him? Cant that chapter of my life finally be closed for good?
         I tightly close my eyes and suck in a deep breath. I do not want to deal with him right now.
         "What do you want?" I say bitterly.
         "I want you to come back with me. I can tell your itching for another fix. Its written all over your face." Truth was, I actually did want one. I was craving it, but I wouldnt let that happen.
         "No." I turned around and walked away.
         "No? Your lieing. You just like the rest of them! No different. They all come back. You will too. Your the same."
         I tried to ignore him, but he just made me so mad. I turned around, but he was gone. A small hand landed on my shoulder. I turned around starlted. It was my brother. It was Ethan. He looked so sad. He gave me a hug, obviously not wanting to let go. But he did. He mouthed, "I still love you." Then he walked away. Back to the boys home. I tried to hold back tears, but i failed miserably. I sat down on the edge of the curb and sighed.
         "I love you too little brother. And I'm sorry."

         September 12, 1996
         
         "Welcome home." I said. We did it-my bother I-finally did it. We were going to become a family. Not a normal family, no normal lives, but we were on out way to achieving that. I went back to high school, and about two months later I got my diploma. The Lady who gave it to me told me I was very bright, and that made me smile. It make me thing of mom, and how she use to glow. It also made me think of mom because I have what she didnt. She always talked about getting her diploma, gettting a job, and buying us a nice house. A house that was filled with toys, and stocked with food. With big king size beds in every room, and a flat screen TV on every table. She said we could have horses. We could go riding and we could groom them, and love them. She said, "You can show the horses the affection I could never show you."
         Me and my mom had heart to heart conversations now and then, usually when things were really bad, but before i had a chance to speak, she had alreay pasted out on the couch. The house isnt a big, huge, mansion, with a TV in everyroom. No king size beds, no toys. Instead its a two-story house. Ethans room is upstairs. I wish our rooms were next to each other. Something could happen. But too late for that now. Hes already walked ahead, ran up the stairs to his room. The bathroom is bare. The walls are all white, along with the floor. But for the first time, beer bottles arent laying on the floor, or the sink, and there's nodoby in our bathtub.
         The kitchen is my favoreite part of the house. I dont know how to cook, but its like im being drawn to it. We have food neatly stocked in our pantry and fridge thanks to food stamps. I try to cook up new foods, experiment and see whats good together. I got a cookbook the other day, and hopefully I can make an actual meal. My brother came down then, leaning aross the kitchen table. I wish he would help me cook. But he just shrugs his head and walk away.
         "Im going to go outside for a mintue. Is that okay?"
         "That's fine. Just dont go to far please."
         He smiled. Anybody else would have said "thanks mom." Except him. He doesnt have a mom. He has me.
         He walked in later that night, and headed for bed. I went in to check on him about mindnight and he was awake. We sat in silence for awhile, then we both walked out to our backyard, and watch the stars for the first time in out life. We were together, and nothing was going to seperate us, again. The backyard was dimly lit by a over head light. We walked bare foot in the soft, green grass that covers our whole yard. The grass felt wonderfull. It was soft, damp, silky-- my mothers hair. Silk between fingers. I wonder if shes up there watching us now. If she's a star twinkling above. If she is proud of me for what I did.
         I heard Ehtan gasp right behind me. I turnded and saw a large animal standing in front of us. It was a horse. Like the ones me and mom use to talk about and describe for hours. It was a white horse, with one single brown spot on its tummy. Its ears perked up, and I notcied there was a scar running down the horses' long face. Just like me and momma described. I smiled, and reached out my hand. The horse trolleped over to where me and Ethan were and looked at me and him in the eye, gave us a small push, and then took off. Before we went inside, I slipped back on the porch, and silently said to myself, "I love you mama."