I didn't start out this way, I had an honest upbringing and morals once. Where I went wrong? Maybe the first time I tried glass, giving into the pressure from the people I once called my friends. My name is James Bass, but people call me Lance. Can anyone hear me? Can you see me? Can you feel me? Is there anyone willing to help me find heaven when I'm in this hell? I've lost my way and can't figure out which way I go to get things right again. 

I was 17, worked at my uncle's studio part time, a senior in high school and had plenty of what people called friends. Working with my uncle paid well, but I got let go when I came in buzzing on glass. The monster had a tight grip on me and I was 20 when I lost that income, forcing me to find work at a factory. I have been working at Tyco for fifteen years now and I'm tired of being here, but until I feel ready for rehab, I refuse to call my uncle. 

The more I talk to this new girl that started last week, the more I want to get clean. She has a five month old daughter and a three year old cousin she has custody of, her ex having taken off for a floozy. Her name is Raylene. She's of Philippine and Greek descent, thirty-one with unruly black curls and beautiful blue eyes. She stands five foot four, probably weighs about 130 and keeps saying she will be my moral support if I get clean. She says she got clean for her little cousin to have a home, doing so when she heard the mom was pregnant with her and all on her own. She had just gotten fired from her job at Target, shut herself in for three months and got a job when the mom was about five months along. She kept it until she heard Tyco was hiring from the temp agency she signed up with months before starting at the retail position, jumping at it for the wage increase. She worked at the minimum wage job for nearly three and a half years. She would sponsor me even, having gone to NA meetings to fight the addiction off permanently. She quit dancing with my monster for a child to have a better life, for a selfless reason over four years ago. She has to get to her five year mark before DCFS stops randomly piss testing her, resulting in the case being closed. 

I park in the parking lot, killing the engine and put my head back on the seat. I have 45 minutes before work and I look at my cell phone, today's the day. I dial my uncle's number, having memorized it and not having a toot of the monster since Monday. Today is Friday. I press the call button and it rings. "Jeff Bass."

"Hey, Uncle Jeff," I greet the man I've idolized since I was a kid. 

"James. How have you been?"

"I'm ready to go to rehab. I need to, it's time for me to straighten out."

He releases a breath he may have been holding. "When do you want to go?"

"I get out of work at three."

"Have you had any this week?"

"I stopped Monday. I need to do this."

"Hold on, let me get somewhere private." I hear him tell his receptionist not to disturb him in his office. "Ok, so you've been straight for three days?"

"Yeah, it's getting hard to fight it."

"Break your lease, cancel your phone and let your job know you have to quit for a family emergency. You'll be living with me until you hit a year clean."

I nod. "Ok, I gave them my notice Monday that today I had to quit. I told them because a family member was in the hospital on their death bed."

"I need your landlord's information." I rattle it off and he thanks me. 

"Thank you. I will cancel the cell contract when we meet up after work. Where are we meeting? What time?"

I need to do this and he's proud of me for doing this, I hear it in his voice. "Once you get out of rehab, you need to get your diploma."

"I got that after I got fired. Two months after. I started at Tyco three months after I got it."

"Good. You'll be working with me. No slip ups."

He means business. "Understood."

"Meet me at my house at four, if it takes you that long to get there. I'll be home by two thirty."

"I'll see you then. Thank you again."

I walk in and look around, finding my supervisor talking to Raylene. I have to tell her. "Mitch, today's my last day," I remind my supervisor. 

"We're sorry to see you go, James. You're one of our best workers."

"I know. I'm sorry I have to go, but my family needs me. See you in GSA, Ray."

"I'll be over in a minute."

Once I get to my station, I begin taking count of the box, UL and quantity 1 labels. Ray taps my shoulder and I look at her, smiling. "Why are you quitting?"

"I have to get my life straight."

"I'm proud of you for making that choice. When did you decide?"

"Monday morning when I had the last of what I had at home."

"You want to make the labels?"

"Sure."

~*~Lunch~*~

I sit outside with her, our lunches in front of us. "How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know. We can keep in touch, if you want to."

"Definitely." She scribbles down her number and hands it to me, her address on the other side of it. "How many boxes have we done so far?"

"About 24 once I finish packing the one on the cart."

"We might get near forty."

"Yeah, normally we only get about 30, but I'm four days in and feeling more energetic."

~*~End of shift~*~ 

We clock out and I walk her to her Impala. She pulls me into a warm embrace. "You're doing the right thing. Call, text, write or email me if you need someone to talk to about this. I'm here for you."

"Thanks, Ray. I appreciate it," I tell her, squeezing her affectionately. "I'll keep in touch."

She gave me her email a week ago. "Talk to you soon, James." She refuses to call me Lance. I watch her get in and she starts her car, heading for my own as I walk backwards while waving to her. 

On the way to my uncle's place, I think about the girlfriend I lost a month ago due to my addiction to glass. I wonder if she's doing alright, how she's been because I heard through some friends she's pregnant with my child. I was with Laticia for two years before she got tired of my addiction. Just then, my cell rings and it says it's a blocked call, but I pick up anyway. "James Bass."

"You stopped going by Lance?" a voice of beauty questions. 

"Yes. Who am I speaking with?"

"Tish."

"Hey, girl. I was just thinking of you. How are you?"

"Pregnant."

I shake my head as I pull into my uncle's driveway, killing the engine. "How pregnant?"

"Three months, it's yours."

I nod, absorbing the info. "Ok, well. I'm at my uncle's and I'm going to rehab. I'll inform my uncle and let him answer your call later. What time could you call back?"

"I'll call around nine."

"I'll inform him. Do you have his number?"

"Yes."

"Give him a call."

"Ok." I pull the phone away from my ear. "James!"

I put it back to my ear. "Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you for getting clean."

"Thanks."

"I'm here if you need reassurance." She hangs up and I sigh. 

I collect my thoughts and walk up to his door, nervous as I raise my hand to rap on his door. I let the rhythm only I can do flow through my hand onto the door and wait patiently. The door opens and my uncle stands off to the side to hold the door open enough for me to enter his very humble abode. "You made it. I'm very proud of you for doing this. Are there any new issues?" He leads me to the living room. 

"Tish is pregnant and it might be my child. I like this girl I met at Tyco," I explain, sitting on his armchair. 

"Are they supportive of your decision?"

"Yes. They even said I can turn to them if I need support, Raylene said she would even sponsor me after rehab."

"Good. Will I be hearing from Tish?"

"Around nine."

He glances at his watch. "Not a problem. You go to the rehab facility in the morning, it's out patient. You are to go straight there and back, no stops between. My assistant, Kiara, will be sponsoring you until I reach this Raylene you say will do it." 

I fish the piece of paper out of my pocket and hand it to him, his fingers quickly adding her information to his cell phone. He hands me the paper, it going back into my pocket. "I also have her email address in my gmail account."

"I'll need the passwords for all email addresses and social media accounts."

My cell beeps in my hand and it's a text from my dealer, Justin. My uncle raises his eyebrow and I call him on speaker. "JT."

"I don't do that anymore, I'm getting clean."

"What? You've gotta be kiddin' me!" he shouts. 

"No joke. I start rehab tomorrow. I haven't had any of it since Monday morning. I'm done."

"You'll be back. Users always come back."