2 Stories, 1 Lie

I had a major decision to make before I shipped off to basic training. My '85 Buick Riviera needed a home. It wasn't going with me to El Paso. I knew that much. I flirted with donating it to the Purple Heart or the Vietnam Veterans of America; but instead, I decided to sell it to my coworker, Buster, who was down on his luck. He needed a car and it wasn't like anyone else was beating my door down to buy the bucket. The next day at work, I gave him the keys and he gave me a few hundred dollars. I told him to leave the plate on until he got it home so he wouldn't get harassed for driving without plates. I wanted to save the guy some hassle.

About a week later I got a notice from the Garden City Police Department. Apparently, my license plate was linked to a robbery at a Garden City gas station. Perfect. My recruiter will love to hear that I have a felony warrant against me with only two days before my ship out date.

I decided to take a proactive approach so I called the detective assigned to my case. I told him I sold the car to someone in a Farmer Jack parking lot and played it off like I was a dumb kid who didn't know that he was supposed to take the plate off. I'll never forget what the cop said to me over the phone. "Well sir, you sound Caucasian and the videotape shows the suspect to be Black."
Before I could decide whether that statement was racist or not, the detective told me that he would take care of the warrant and to call him if I could remember who I sold the car to.

I immediately called Buster after I hung up with the detective. He told me that he lent the car to one of his buddies over the weekend. I told him that I was cancelling the registration so he needed to figure something out. Buster quit a few days after we talked and a friend of mine from the job told me he saw my Riviera a few weeks later, burned out somewhere in a Brightmoor alley. That car lived a full life!

I started dating again about 2 or 3 months after my divorce. In retrospect, I didn't give myself enough recovery time. If I HAD taken some extra time to get myself together before getting involved with someone else, I could have avoided some major heart and headache. I met Mimi in a Spanish class at O.C.C. Instantly we noticed an intense chemistry since we were both aspiring writers, the same age, and had attended the same concert the previous weekend.

We immediately started dating and the more I got to know her, the more I realized she was the "perfect woman."
We called each other at work multiple times a day and I couldn't think about her without smiling. We became the nausiating, new couple who couldn't avoid public affection. I was so happy that I had found love again so soon after a devestating divorce.

We went out pubhopping on St. Patty's Day a couple months after we finished our Espanol class. I was at the bar ordering us some more green beer as I watched Mimi skip off to the bathroom. After about 20 minutes of her being gone, I began to wonder what was going on. I headed towards the bathrooms and waited by the doors wondering if I should go in and check on her. A lady came by and I asked her to pop inside and check on my girlfriend. I was scared Mimi was sick.

"No one was in there," the girl reported as she walked out. I was confused. I KNOW I saw Mimi head this way. Since the bathrooms were close to the pub enterance, I decided to see if she had went outside. As I walked through the parking lot, I couldn't believe what I saw. She was in the passenger seat of some guy's car, reclining with her eyes closed. Fury built inside of me as I started pounding on the passenger side window. The automatic window started lowering and I began yelling.

It really sucks when you realize that the person you thought you knew so well turns out to be a complete stranger. Before I had the chance to find out what was going on and who this guy was, I saw a spoon and a syringe on the floorboard, a small trickle of blood on Mimi's inner arm, and a small, dimebag of powder in the cupholder. Oh my God, she just shot up. I couldn't believe it. Before everything registered, the guy in the drivers seat told me he would take her home. Immediately, it all clicked. I had never been to her house because she lived in Flint but worked and went to school in Farmington. I never saw her before dusk on Saturday or Sunday. She always took certain cell phone conversations to my patio when she was over. I always assumed the calls were work related. I was so blind.

I turned on my heels and headed back into the bar to get as drunk as I could. The car containing Mimi peeled out of the parking lot as I called my brother to come pick me up from the pub. What a day of revelations. Mimi was married AND a heroin user. Excellent. To this day, I can't believe I was so blindfolded by love that I couldn't put 2 and 2 together. I really wish I hadn't started dating so soon after my divorce.