The Son of Every Man

Chapter 4.5

That night, Miguel noted the new sedan's unusually cautious approach, so slow as to suggest the unease of its driver. But he couldn't be sure until the kid had finished pulling into the warehouse. The car's big engine rose to idle and then snuffed out. Miguel tried to get a look through the windshield. It was still too dark to see. He secured the place, flicked on the lights. The trunk lid was released, springing partway up. The kid stared straight ahead into nothingness. He wasn't getting out of the car.

So that's how it's going to be, thought Miguel. Mentally, he prepared his appeal: Don't forget, Eddie wants us to get more familiar. Is this about last night? If this is about last night, we can forget all about it. Not one fucking word about how you wanted me with you in bed, how you reached out and touched my hand... Nope, no sweat off my back.

Miguel resisted a powerful desire to walk over and bang on the driver-side window, to speak his mind. Instead he kept silent, began performing his duties like the loyal, steadfast worker he was. If he had figured anything out at all, it was that the kid didn't like to be pushed. Miguel could work with that.

Halfway through unloading, as he prepared to carry an armful of labeled goods deep into the stacks, he heard the sound of a car door clicking open. He looked over, and there Gabe stood.

"I was just wondering," came the kid's deep, slightly hoarse voice, "if you've ever tried it before."

"Tried what?"

The kids eyes fell to the package in Miguel's hands.

"Oh, this?"

"Well, have you?"

Why did he feel a sudden urge to lie to the kid? Maybe because the truth itself was harder to believe: In his entire two years of vagrancy, after all his brushes with users of every imaginable type, in every imaginable state of dependency, he had never once used the substance himself. The one he now handled in massive quantities, most days of his life. Alcohol, occasional bud and cigarettes were all Miguel had ever wanted or needed to get by. In fact, he couldn't even remember feeling tempted.

He cleared his throat. "It's not the safest thing around."

"I didn't ask if it was safe."

Damn, this kid was bold. No mystery where he got that from: Miguel caught the same flare of intensity in Gabe's eyes now that he had witnessed so many times in those of his mentor. He liked it very much. "I've never tried it. Haven't even given much thought to it, if I'm honest."

Gabe looked away. "That's hard to believe."

"Why?"

The kid sighed, looked back at Miguel. "Maybe we should sometime."

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind." Gabe reopened the car door.

He was actually about to fucking get back in. Who the fuck did he think he was? "Hold on a minute. What are you getting at here? You really want to try it?"

Gabe paused with the door wide open. "I just think it might show a little fucking accountability, considering how many lives we're...you know...affecting by being a part of all this."

So that was the kid's angle. Miguel couldn't pretend he hadn't thought about it before. A thousand times over. "Look," he said dryly, "if you're still questioning the ethics of getting paid to keep fucked up people fucked up, then I've got some bad news for you."

Gabe scoffed. "I'm not questioning anything. I know it's not right."

Then quit, he wanted to tell Gabe. No one's forcing you to do any of this. But he stopped himself. "Wait," he said, flashing a deliberate smile. "Is this your way of getting to know me better?"

"Fuck off," uttered Gabe in a breathy voice, and then he shut himself in the car, just like that.

"Oh, come on," Miguel groaned, setting down the package and circling around to the driver's door. He knocked on the glass, then gave up and spoke through it. "I'm just nervous again. Like before. I don't know what to say to you sometimes."

Gabe stared straight ahead for a long time. Then, without breaking his gaze, he reached out and pulled the interior handle. Miguel helped the door along. Gabe got out again and Miguel went back to work.

He talked loudly as he moved back into the stacks so that Gabe could hear him. "Look, I've thought about it too, all the time. But what's trying it going to help? You'll finally know how it feels for yourself, I guess. But you already know how it's going to feel. Pretty incredible is how it's going to feel—so incredible that once it's over, your whole life will become a waiting game until you can do it again. Nothing else with matter. Your family, your grades, your job, none of it will matter compared to getting high again." Miguel arrived back at the car. "It's going to ruin your whole life. You prepared for that?"

Gabe sighed. "I feel like I'm in a high school assembly."

"Scared straight."

"Do you really think that's how it is?"

"No. For every dox addict out there, there's ten people who've only tried it once. Shit, I've met a whole bunch of people who indulged more than a few times and still managed to stay away."

"So why haven't you ever tried it?"

Miguel paused. "Well, I guess I am a little scared."

Gabe looked at him sadly.

"I better finish up." He reached down into the trunk to gather up the last of the packages.

;-;