First
I get out my little iron skillets
I put the chorizo in the 8 inch one
and
turn the burner to medium
Then
I see his face, serious
as
he shows me how to milk
the
chorizo out of its skin
The
vivid orange meat oozes
into
the pan
Oops!
I’ve forgotten the onions!
So
I quickly peel and chop and
put
them in the 6 inch pan
And
the green pepper, same thing
He
had sautéed the onions and
green
pepper together, first
I
am a seasoned cook, I can
improvise
to catch up
Then
he used a slotted spoon
and
many layers of paper towels
to
daub the runny orange grease
off
the sausage
He
did all of this with great ceremony
like
a magician, sharing his tricks-
I
was so impressed
I
would not learn until months later
from
his parole officer that
he
specialized in impressing-
He
was a typical ex-con
he
was from southern California
a
real actor, that one
He
built a covered deck off my
trailer
and a covered porch
over
the back door
I
was so impressed-
Later,
he would tell that
he
had never built anything
that
he had researched carpentry
at
the local library
Inside,
he built a pantry
in
the hallway and a laundry by
my
stacked washer/dryer
He
knew how to match the
veneers
seamlessly, so
it
looked like the original
I
was so impressed…
When
my eleven year old daughter
turned
in rebellion, he knew
precisely
the words to calm her
after
all, his staying depended on
everybody
getting along
He
charmed my mother, too
and
soon was rehabilitating
a
basement room
on
her house
Later,
I would find out that
“His
price was a bit high”
When
I needed a vehicle that
I
could sleep in to do research
in
Montana, he volunteered to
trade
his canopied truck for
my
car-for a week
He
was so ingeniously accommodating
he
penetrated our lives
soon,
we were engaged-How much
Good fortune could come
from
answering an ad? I wondered
It
was the early eighties
I
was in my early thirties
Looking
back, I see how
Truly
gullible I was
Then
he began to disappear for
longer
and longer periods
of
time
Later
I would find out that
he
had made a connection in
was
strung out…
One
day we were Christmas shopping
and
suddenly he got violently ill
I
rushed him to the Emergency
dropped
him off and drove to park
Before
I could follow him in, he
stormed
out, crying: No insurance!
They will not take me!
Later
I would find out that ERs
do
not help junkies…
In
January he had been gone
two
weeks, when I decided to
go
talk with his P.O.
who
asked: What don’t you know?
I
teared and the parole officer
was
forthcoming: He is not just
a poor soul who was
imprisoned for
dealing marijuana like
he probably told you
(That
was exactly his story)
He is a bonefide heroin addict who
was busted as a mule and
my bet is he’s
mainlining again
His
words hit hard and true,
just
as he meant them to
I
went home broken hearted,
Then
I noticed things missing:
35mm
camera, microwave, VCR,
leather
valise, my box of gold coins
and
I was irate!
a
local pawn shop
I
went on a hunch
He
fingered his files and pulled out
half
a dozen tickets, saying, I doubt
he’ll be back to redeem these…
I
read the tickets: He stole that
stuff from me!
What would you like to buy back?
He
smiled, consolingly
Next
I went to the library and
checked
out an armload of books
on
heroin addiction, determined to
prepare
myself with the knowledge
I
would need
I
am eating my chorizo and scrambled eggs
enjoying
a toasted English muffin with
honey
slathered on
all
the while recalling the high price I paid
to
learn about chorizo
I
stacked all of his belongings in
the
middle of my living room and
covered
them with a quilt, so I
didn’t
have reminders while
I
waited
I
made calls everywhere I could think of-
Could
not find him
Then
two weeks later, he called, contrite:
Can I come home?
My
only reply was:
Come and pick up your stuff.
He
arrived, tears welling up in his eyes
I
had completed my research and
hardened
my heart
There
was nothing left to say
I
helped him load up his belongings
to
get him on his way
A
month later a letter arrived from
specifically
robbed a particular service station
committing
grand theft so they would put him
in
the federal system as a re-offender
where
he could get federally funded rehab
and
he loved me and, by the way, would
you send me my camera?
His
camera! I redeemed that pawn ticket
just
before it expired and I could not afford
to
redeem roughly three thousand dollars
worth
of the other stuff he stole from me!
I
was so incensed I tore the letter into little bits
then
burned the bits
A
few more letters came
I
never responded and
Then
no more
Out
of curiosity about a year later, I
asked
a friend of mine, who happened
to
be a parole officer, if she would see
what
happened to him
She
looked him up in an interstate
data
bank
His
file was marked: Terminated
she
said
So
I asked her what that meant
Her
reply: released or dead
Curiosity
satisfied, I let it go
He
had built porches and cabinetry
and
he was one helluvan artist, having
left
some incredible paintings behind
which
I gave away
As
far as I was concerned: debt paid
As
I finish of the last bite of my chorizo feast
I
smile, feeling, at last wise
Could
have learned how to scramble chorizo
with
green peppers, onions and eggs from
somebody
else, but then
I
wouldn’t have this story to tell…
from the Love Roulette Chapbook,
raintreepoet, reporting.
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