The Truth About Life

-Chase: Chapter Nine-

I feel guilty as I walk across town. But I cannot handle my dad and Penny tonight.

I feel like my body is gonna kill itself off. This is my 9th week of being clean. And I gotta be honest, I truly thought with time this gnawing, painful, empty feeling would go away. But it hasn't.

This monster inside of me is sleeping, but I feel like he's about to wake up.

I've secretly been reading addicts stories online, and there are way more hopeless stories than there are hopeful ones. Reading these makes me super depressed, but I can't stop myself. It's like an addiction by itself.

I'll lie in bed at night, the glow of my phone like a warning beacon, and I'll read all of these horrific drug stories and all that happens with the taker of the drugs and what happens to the family, too. And let me just tell you, it's not good. It makes me think, is it worth it to even try? Because I'm missing the high in a bad way.

I eventually come to a fork in the road and hang a right, up ahead I see Milton's junkyard. I found out a while back that Milton was diagnosed with lung cancer. Which isn't surprising given that he smokes like a freaking chimney. Even so, when I found out about the cancer, I cried. Like, bawled, hard.

How can someone so good have something so bad. There are so many horrible people that probably deserve cancer, but not Milton.

The closer I get to the junkyard, the more anxious I feel. Since I hit rock bottom and started my downward spiral, I haven't been out to see Milton. I felt like I couldn't, like all the good stuff he taught me, I just threw back in his face. All the goodness he gave me I just threw it in the trash. I haven't even been out to ride my bike.

I get to the opening in the chain link fence and look up, shading my eyes from the setting sun. Attached to the top of the fence is a sign that reads, "Milton's Junkyard". The left corner hangs lower than the right, the zip tie that once held it up, broken and faded. I look all around the yard and see that it has an air of disrepair. And that's saying something for a salvage yard.

I walk through the opening in the fence and head to the office building to see if I can find Milton. I push the screen door open, the rusty hinges screeching in protest.

"Who's there?" Milton's voice is even rougher and deeper than before.
I barely recognize him when he comes around the corner. He's so skinny, like a skeleton. His cheekbones are sunken in, his hair is shockingly white, but his eyes are as keen and bright as ever. His grease covered overalls are literally hanging on his body, baggy like a tent.

Tears sting my eyes, I clear my throat and try to speak, but embarrassingly, no words come out. Like a 2-year-old I just start to cry. Hot, silent tears. Milton shuffles over to me and without saying a word, he hugs me tight. All my pent-up emotions just come pouring out.

"Son, I've been waiting on you," he says in a husky whisper. I just cry harder.

I eventually pull myself together and gently pull away, look into Milton's gaunt face. I'm taller than he is, I realize. I've stayed away far too long.

"Milton, I don't even know what to say. I feel like a jerk, an idiot, that I didn't come see you when you needed a friend the most." I swipe my arm over my nose and eyes. "I'm so sorry, I put shit before my family, and I know I'm the worst."

I feel like a piece of crap, my head is hanging down so low in shame, I swear it's almost touching the floor.

Milton just pats my back and says, "Come on outside, I have something to show you."

I follow him outside and around the corner of the office. Dusk is just setting in, and the colors are so vivid it hurts my eyes to look at it. Milton stops to stare at the sunset with a faraway look in his eyes. I wonder if he's thinking about his wife and daughter that passed away years ago. I wonder if he's lonely or afraid of this disease he has. I'm afraid for him, for me, when he goes.