Fish Didn’t Even Look Up.
The house where Kurt and I first “hung out” belonged to a guy they called Fish. I never knew Fish’s real name, or why they called him Fish.
I got to know Fish that day, just a little bit, from watching him create rocks from cocaine, and from listening to him talk. Fish was not a nice man.
I didn’t understand why Kurt would befriend him.
Fish talked a lot, and ridiculed everyone who wasn’t in the room. He demeaned his wife who was probably working to pay the rent. Fish demeaned all women. It didn’t matter that there were a smattering of women at the table.
At one point, two little boys came into the house. All the junkies were sitting at the table watching Fish make rocks, and those two little boys ran right over to Fish. They were maybe 9 and 11 years old.
Each boy stood on one side of Fish. “Daddy,” said the older boy, tugging on Fish’s sleeve.
Fish didn’t even look up. “Daddy,” the kid said again. No response from Fish. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” he said, pulling on Fish’s arm. “I have to ask you something.”
Finally, Fish sat up straighter without looking at the boys, seemingly annoyed to be bothered in the midst of his project. The boys lit up.
“Daddy, can we take our bikes to Rodney’s house?” said the older boy. Fish considered the request, shrugged, and nodded. Fish never looked at either of them. He never said a word.
The boys grabbed his shoulders and hugged him, then ran out.
My jaw dropped. This man had children and he didn’t even look at them. He didn’t even talk to them. And they were exposed to the use of illegal drugs the same way I was exposed to Oreo cookies.
This broke my heart in a way nothing else had broken it before. I’d never considered the effect my actions might have on children, because I never saw any children. There were no children in the bars. There were no children at my jobs. And while I knew children existed in the world, it never occurred to me that children were aware of, say, cocaine.
I didn’t know parents used drugs.
I wonder whatever happened to those boys, if they survived to adulthood, if they became junkies, too.
But back then, I said nothing. I did nothing. I tried to forget they existed. I tried to forget that the guy making rocks was also named “Daddy.”
I only wanted to be with Kurt anyway. After that first gas-station-to-house date, I went looking for Kurt every chance I got.
Kurt never went looking for me.
I didn’t drive anywhere except to work, but I would walk all over town. I would walk to the gas station and wait. I would walk through the neighborhood, looking for that long car. I would go into bars and have a beer, scan the area for Kurt, then try another bar. Kurt was a very hard man to find.
Then one day, Kurt appeared again at the gas station. He climbed out of the backseat of a car and there I was, just waiting for him.
I’d almost forgotten those beautiful eyes.
Kurt nodded at me. “Wanna ride with us?”
“Sure,” I said.
I had no cool when Kurt was around. I didn’t even care that Daddy-Fish was driving. I would have done anything to hang out with Kurt. I just wanted to stare at him and absorb his vibe.
“C’mon,” he said.
I jumped in the car and off we went.