Poison Ivy

  By: Thomasina Redmond

  Prologue

  Poison

  Stacey hid the two small capsules filled with heroine, which she had just brought from the local dope boy. It was a frosty January morning and she could see her breathe as she hustled to the corner of Port Street and made a sharp right. A few seconds later, a car full of undercover cops, bent the corner behind her.

  “Please don’t notice me”, she thought to herself, filled with paranoia. (Sad to say, she had enough run in with the “knockers” to make her an easy target for random harassment.)

  Stacey was very sick that morning. Her drug addiction had reached the point that her bones and muscles would ache if she did not have any kind of drugs in her system. As soon as she was able to get dressed, she went out and roamed the streets until she found someone to buy her body for an easy twenty dollars.

  Shivers went up her spine as flashes of the perverted wrinkled, old man flickered in her brain. It was often she would subject herself to prostitution to get money, just to get her “fix”.

  Then the trouble of getting the drug dealers to sell anything to her was becoming harder and harder cause of her small round belly that sat in front of her. Ironically, they felt like it was immoral to “serve” a pregnant woman.

  For all Stacey had been through for that one pill, she was definitely determined to get away this time.

  “I really can’t keep livin like dis,” she thought to herself for the hundredth time, still walking through east Baltimore City.

  It wasn’t unusual for her conscious to slip in a good word every now and again, especially with the tiny kicks she was starting to constantly feel from the life she now carried.

  She certainly had no intentions of getting “knocked up”. Of course, it happened during one of her random tricks, but who or which was an absolute mystery to her. She was blessed to not have contracted HIV or AIDS, being careless enough to have unprotected sex with complete strangers for money. They were just a few of the inner demons Stacey Welsh dealt with from a history of a troubled lifestyle that haunted her day by day.

  She would struggle with her mental affairs later; for now she was physically ill and her main priority was to get high right now.

  Stacey stopped at a small two-story row home on Castle Street. She banged as hard as she could on the all white wooden door. The front was nice and neat compared to the other homes on the block. Its bright red-orange brick seemed glisten against the clear blue sky. The windows were still adorned with colorful Christmas lights and decorations and the silver garland wrapped around the step rails wrestled lightly in the wind. She yelled Miles name over again and again, while she continued to bang.

  “Damn Stace, you won’t even let a nigga get to da door,” her best friend’s hefty voice came from the other side.

  Miles drove a dump truck for a private waste removal company and was pretty fit to be shoving heroine in his nose. He stood over six feet and weighed about 250 pounds. He had a very dark complexion, which gave him the image of a modern day Shaka Zulu. He was tall, black, and masculine, which was why no one would ever guess he was gay.

  Stacey thought back to the first time, she had met Miles at a bar one night while she was wandering around Downtown, looking for some way to make ten dollars. She had been out for hours with no luck and no money. After stumbling into a small bar lounge, she spotted Miles shooting pool with some guys. She tried her best to pursue him, but he kindly turned her down. Even after admitting he had no sexual interest in women at all, Stacey still tried to persuade him with the temptation of allowing her to just give him oral sex. Miles was appalled by the fact she had to lower herself to such behavior just to gain means to support her habit. Never-the-less, knowing what it felt like to be ridiculed for your lifestyle of choice; he was moved in a more sensitive manner.

  Instead of cussing at her and making her feel like a desperate whore, he and his boyfriend offered Stacey an opportunity to join them for the night. Besides, they were on their way to get some cocaine before they turned themselves in and she certainly was invited. Since then, Miles became like the protector she never had and the two became like brother and sister.

  “You know whats up. Move outta da way; its cold as shit out here,” she demanded as she pushed her way through the living room.

  “Stace I told you to stop shovin dat shit in your nose before something happens to your baby. Do you even know how far you are now?”

  “Imma find out tomorrow when I go get my sonogram,” she lied.

  She’d been pretending to be getting prenatal care all along, but Miles knew better.

  “Don’t act like you ain’t gonna hit dis wit me either. I got dis from some lil black boy round the corner. He called it ‘Red Dot’.”

  “Stace I can’t keep doin dis wit you,” Miles admitted as he sat next to her on the couch.

  “Look don’t start wit me. I aint had nothin since early last night and I had to clean my nephew’s babymova’s kitchen and bathroom just to get dat one. Oh and guess wat! Do you know he had da nerve to give me ten dollars, den asks me where was I stayin da night cuz his daddy told him I couldn’t stay there. My own brova, Miles,” she broke down sadden by her family’s usual behavior.

  After a few hard sniffles she pulled herself together and turned her attention back to the pill.

  “So wat you gonna do cuz I can put all dis up in me, da way I feel right now,” she snapped.

  Miles rubbed the back of his bald head and sighed. He had heard countless stories of how she had been an outcaste by the only blood relatives she knew.

  Chapter I

  The Product of Abuse

  Ms. Gloria, Stacey’s mom, had just two children. Stephen, the oldest, was from her first marriage, but because of her ex-husband’s sudden abusive behavior, the union didn’t last more than two years.

  A few months after their divorce was finalized, Ms. Gloria began dating a deacon at the church she was attending. Mr. William Welsh was convinced God has blessed him to find his soul mate and the two were immediately joined in marriage. Gloria found out she was pregnant again, when they were still in the “honeymoon” stage. There were many complications throughout the pregnancy. The couple depended on their prayer and faith to bring good result, and eventually Stacey was born seven months later. Gloria was so traumatized from the difficulties of her last labor, so she thought it best if she had her tubes tied.

  The small family was living the average life. Bill was a social worker for the Department of Social Services and his wife was a housekeeper at a Holiday Inn. The two children attended public school regularly, maintained good grades, and participated in many recreational activities at their church. Gloria often cooked hot, home cooked meals; while her husband steadily maintained the up keep of their small home on the west side of the city. Stacey’s childhood was great up until Gloria was stricken with breast cancer.

  During the mid-80’s the medical world was trying to devise a method that would allow women who were diagnosed with the illness to have better long term survival, so high doses of bone marrow transplants were recommended, along with the usual chemo-therapy. Unfortunately, the method was ineffective and Gloria died when Stephen was only twelve and Stacey was nine years of age.

  The son moved with his dad to the state of Washington. Big Steve was in the military and was stationed there at the time. Stacey, on the other hand, stayed with her dad. Bill, more devastated then the kids, ended up losing his faith, and turned into an abusive alcoholic. He had despised God for not sparing his wife from death and therefore despised everything that was born out of their union.

  He stopped making the mortgage payments on their house and the bank foreclosed on it six months later. Stacey was no longer attending school like she was supposed to and began to fend for herself for clothes and food. Her dad spent countless hours at the local bar and when he returned home he would physically beat her for not cleaning the house, or cooking any meals.

  “Your nothing like your mother,” he often slurred.

  Stacey’s declining attendance record brought alarm to the school administration because it was such a dramatic change. It wasn’t long before Child Protected Services came to their home and found the poor child lying on a soiled twin mattress in her room, surrounded by filth and liquor bottles. The bruises on her back were fresh from the beaten she had received the night before and it was enough evidence to deem Mr. Welsh an unfit father. She was instantly a Ward of the State.

  Fifteen years later, Stephen finally came looking for his long lost sister. Their grandmother, who passed away, left them both a total of sixteen thousand dollars, in her will. The stipulations required them to manage the money together, (so neither one could touch the investment without the other).

  Unfortunately, when Stephen finally found Stacey, she was living an awful lifestyle filled with marijuana, ecstasy pills money, and sex. He was mortified. He didn’t even care that this was a result of suffering from years of abandonment, abuse and molestation.

  Stephen’s military upbringing and the progressive atmosphere he was raised in, was the absolute opposite of Stacey’s. The time they were apart had diminished his love for his own sister. She was now a stranger to him and he had no tolerance for who she had become.

  Sadly, he used her condition to devise a selfish plan to capitalize on their inheritance. Stephen’s own wife, who was a devoted Christian, wasn’t comfortable with the thought of getting Stacey to sign over her half of the money; except Stacey’s unwillingnes s to go into a drug treatment program only justified his way of thinking.

  In the end, he told his sister he wanted to start his own heating, ventilation, and air conditioning services. He said the cost of starting the business exceeded his half and if she was to “help” him out, she would be like a co-owner. They were supposed to split any profits the business made and Stacey would have to do nothing but sit back and enjoy the cash flow.

  Of course, Stacey agreed. She had little to no education in her background to make him put anything in writing. And after about forty months, “Heavenly Heating and Air Conditioning” was birthed in Harford County, even as Stacey still ran the slum streets of Baltimore.

  When she approached Stephen, after months of the company being in business, he kindly gave her thirty five hundred dollars and dismissed her from the whole ordeal. Legally, she could have sued him for breach of contract, but she was too focused on getting high, (and Stephen knew it). Instead, she blew the money in a matter of weeks, and resented him for the betrayal ever since. She even claims that is what led her to doing harder drugs like cocaine and heroin.

  Miles slouched back on the couch in silence. He could tell by the look in her eyes she was serious. Over the course of their four year relationship, he had developed a soft spot for Stacey, and though he didn’t agree with a lot of the things she did, he promised to always be there for here. He tried his best to be her guardian angel because she had times when she would get in some real bad predicaments, like owing people money, getting stranded in the middle of nowhere or even getting caught stealing.

  He let out another sigh.

  “I ain’t sniffin dat wit u but I’ll stay down here and keep you company. Besides, I hope he ain’t burn your dizzy ass. Do you even know what a ‘Red Dot’ is. And another thang, you better be ready to leave dis shit alone til you drop dat load. Imma personally take you to rehab.”

  “Come on boy,” she yelled with her straw in her hand.

  Then she bent over, shoved one end in her nose, and sucked up her half of the heroine she had aligned on the cherry oak coffee table in front of them. Miles waited a few minutes to see if she was okay. Stacey rocked back from side to side for a few, and then she leaned back until her head touched the fluffy peach pillows of the couch. Her eyes slowly closed.

  “Yeah,” she sighed.

  Miles slid the straw out her hand. After contemplating for a few, he slowly leaned over slowly to do bit, but then Stacey started shaking vigorously. He jumped up and tried to keep her from sliding to the floor, but she was going into heavy convulsions.

  “Noo, Stacey...no,” he started screaming’. He called up the stairs to his boyfriend, Lance, to bring him his cell phone. “No, no...Stace. I knew it dammit. I knew it...” He was able to get her head in the crook of his arms, as her eyes started rolling way back in her head.

  Chapter II

  Surprise, Surprise

  “We got two heartbeats here,” the paramedic listening to Stacey’s belly through his stethoscope announced. They arrived within fifteen minutes of the 911 call. The first thing Miles informed them of was that she was with child.

  “Get that stretcher in here fast,” another one yelled. “Sounds like she’s pregnant with twins.”

  Those words rang loud in Mile’s mind, as he envisioned the incident that took place hours ago in his living room.

  The commotion was vivid. All of his nosey neighbors lined the sidewalk, as they rushed his best friend out the house, and into the ambulance. He wasn’t even allowed to ride in the back with Stacey, while the EMT’s hustled and bustled to save her life. The red flashing lights warned everyone to slow down or pull over as they sped through East Baltimore. Miles, who sat up front with the driver, could feel his heart pound with every whirl of the loud siren. He prayed as he heard the paramedics yelling all kinds of medical terminologies.

  While at Johns Hopkins Emergency Room, Miles was informed by the doctors that Stacey was 30 weeks pregnant with twin girls. The babies were already in transition to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for further evaluation, treatment, and care. Johns Hopkins, being ranked in the top five nationally for its Children’s Hospital, was known for possessing medical expertise in premature and high risk births. Miles was somewhat comforted with knowing they were equipped with modern, state-of-the-art medical technologies to provide the best chances for the girls’ survival.

  As for Stacey, their mother, she had died in the operating room from an overdose of barium carbonate, (a chemical used in rat poison), according to the lab reports that tested the powdered residue left in her nose.

  Miles was so devastated that he cried like a newborn the entire walk home. When he had gotten there, he sat in his living room filled with guilt, pain, and regret. He had purchased a fifth of Paul Mason to ease his heartache from the liquor store, along the way.

  Miles was now mourning. Lance had kindly cleaned the living room, leaving no evidence of the turmoil that had taken place. Even though there was no physical trace that Stacey ever came through his door that day, Miles could still feel her presence through these intense flashbacks. He would let out a loud moan every so often.

  Lance had gone to work for the night and left him a tiny note in an envelope on the coffee table.

  “I know there is nothing I can say to make you feel better. Maybe this will help you make it through the night. I will see you in the morning, Love Lance,” it read.

  Inside the envelope were two unknown pills. Miles never really liked indulging in taking tablets, but in this case he was willing to try anything to help him cope with Stacey’s death. He tossed the two in the back of his throat and chased them with the Paul. Then he just sat there for hours gulping down the brandy, swollen eyeballs and all.

  Miles’ feelings began to focus on Stacey and the way she was out casted by those who should have loved her and been there in her time of need. He empathized with the feelings she carried of being rejected by her family.

  He was reminded of his junior year in high school, and he decided to reveal to his mother and father that he was having intimate feelings for one of the young guys in his class. He had hoped they would be accepting of the news, especially since he wanted the boy to accompany him to the prom.

  Instead, Miles dad became enraged and carried on with countless arguments about their son’s homosexuality. His father constantly blamed his mother for being so nurturing, claiming she wouldn’t let him become a man. His mother countered it with his father’s unnecessary aggression, protesting he was way too strict on him. Eventually, after a few months, his parents decided to get a divorce.

  Miles moved with his mom, who vowed to love him regardless of what he choose to do with his life, to Anne Arundel County and had to start his senior year in a brand new high school. It was depressing for him. He stayed to himself and hardly made any friends because he feared he would be rejected, if his secret got out, again.

  Being very athletic, he did decide to join the basketball team. It was a desperate effort to fit in and try to live a normal life.

  Miles still kind of kept quiet though. He came to practice and focused on the game, so he would not draw attention to hints that he was much different than the other males on the team. (For instance, he thought their coach was very handsome.)

  Things were coming along smooth until one day, after practice, Miles was showering by himself, (as he always did), when the team’s star point guard, Darius McCullogh, came rushing into the shower room.

  Darius was a very nice looking senior. His skin tone was a smooth caramel color and he had thick black curly hair. Miles tried not to peek at his team mate lathering up with soap. Suddenly, the point guard spurted out,

  “Yo, are you a pervert?!”

  Instantly, Miles knew the young man had seen his stiff penis underneath the wash rag and his secret was out. The outburst led to a bloody altercation. At first, the two were suspended for the fight, but it didn’t end there. When Miles returned back to school three days later, the nasty slurs and harsh name callings confirmed that his sexuality was no longer a secret and for that reason he definitely was not accepted amongst his peers. Miles dropped out of high school within two weeks of the whole incident.

 

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