âNothingâs ever been handed to me on a silver platter,â Greg says, his voice rising unintentionally, âI worked for everything I got, whatever itâs worth now!! Iâm struggling, just like you, Donny. Everyone has difficulties. We each deal with our own bullshit. But when you double-cross people, when you steal, when you do the wrong thing, it makes me not want to help others!! So few people are willing to give a hand anymore if it doesnât benefit themselves. Donny, what you did was for your own benefit. And you crooked me out of expensive medication, which I needed!!â

          Donny shrinks from Gregâs yelling.

          Greg is right. There have been events before and after Greg's arrival in Donny's life that point out the evident: Donny is a terrible person. He has wronged the innocent more than once. He deserves to be hung out to dry for all that has transpired.

          The bums hands are now shaking so badly he has dropped his hat onto the floor. Donny leans his narrow body away from Greg, making the Bears coat swish against the chair. The brand new coat contradicts Donnyâs belittled body. One is expensive and stylish, the other is worn and frayed.

          âGreg, please calm down,â Ben pleads, rising from his seat, âI know how upset you must beââ

          âUpset?!?!â Greg counters, âUpset ainât the word for it, Ben!!!â

Ben patiently leans forward and puts his fists against the surface of the table.

          âI donât apprectiate yelling in my place of business,â Ben says sternly, âof course you are allowed to be angry, but screaming never solves anything, my friend. If we should continue our arrangement, you should know this. Eventually you will come across unruly customers, as I have.â

          This caution stems the rising emotional tide. Boundries are being set, like posts in a combatants arena. Greg deserves his venting of outrage, but Donny is here, ready to admit wrongdoing. All three men were still alive, hearts beating, lungs pumping. As long as they carried breath, there was a way to settle things.

 

          âDonny and I have been talking,â Bens says softly, âAnd weâve got some ideas of how Donny can get help, and he can help you also, Greg.ââ¨Greg face contorts with doubt. In truth, Greg doesnât really want to deal with Donny anymore. So much effort had been put into refining Donny, with no results. Why should Greg continue wasting his time?

          âIn my AA meetingsâ, Ben says, âI hear former addicts talk about a methadone clinic in town. Methadone is a like a fake heroine, itâs from a family of drugs used to treat pain. It doesnât get an addict high, but just gets them normal.â

          âso, youâre trading one addiction for another?â Greg says cynically.⨠      âEnough, Greg.â Ben says with authority, âYouâre not helping things. Just listen, until youâve heard us out.â

Greg digresses, crossing his arms and staring at one of the vibrant canvas works on the wall.

          âMethadone is like supplement therapy.â Ben explains, âDonny relapsed. It happens. Heâs had enough Oxy pills now that he might have a mild withdrawel. Hopefully the methadone will prevent him from getting back on smack. I can be Donnyâs sponsor. and Iâm willing to rehire Donny and start paying him, so he can refund what he took. Youâve done enough, Greg. We donât expect you to do anymore.â

          Greg evaluates this silently. Donny picks up his fallen cap and stuffs it in his pocket.

          âIâm sorry, Greg,â Donny says. For once it is a volume both loud and clear. Donny is sincere. Greg sighs and his head leans backward tiredly.

 

 

          Greg is upset, but Donny remarks to himself how much weight the guy has lost. Greg looks to be doing much better, at least physically.  One thing about being poor is that you can always look forward to pounds being dropped. It was because you were near-starving for lack of funds. Donny hopes the success of the Pawn and Payday has empowered Greg, past his enfeebled ways that he carried before. Greg still looks livid, but now that some of the anger has been expressed, things can chug forward.

          âAllright, Donnyâ, Greg mumbles ,âI forgive you. As long as I get money back from you, itâll be allright.â

Ben clasps his hands together and smiles, obviously pleased. Ben must feel like a grand mediator, litigating the outcomes for all of them.

          âMaybe I can help around your store,â Donny offers, âfree help, you know?â⨠ Donny turns toward Greg, eager to repair their tattered friendship. A tightly pinched smile emerges on Donnyâs face.

          Greg laughs bitterly at this idea. âI donât need anymore of your help,â Greg replies coldly, âWith your kinda help, I might as well shovel dirt on my face and bury myself alive.â

          Donnyâs constricted smile dies away. He stares at Greg blankly. For some reason, Greg is still ready to hurl venom Donnyâs way. Kick em while theyâre down, theyâre an easier target.

          âNice jacket,â Greg comments, reffering to Donnyâs Bears coat, âWere you hoping to pick up another one from my store when I wasnât looking?â

          Donny is angered by this. What makes him all the more angry is that Greg is right. Donny is a thief. But today was a time for making amends. The coat is an object from Donny's bad old days. He would rather freeze than be continually reminded of how poorly wasted generosity is on Donny.

 

          Instantly, Donny is on his feet. With fierce speed, Donny unzips the coat, yanks it from his shoulders, and tosses it in a pile at Gregâs feet. Donny jabs a finger directly at Greg.

          âI said I was sorry, and I meant it,â Donny says in a low, disgruntled voice, âIâm trying to make it right, but Iâm not gonna sit here and listen to you rag on me. You donât know what my life is like, you donât know what Iâve been through.â

          Donny turns and storms off towards the exit. Greg watches, startled, as Donny leaves. Greg turns back toward Ben, who has a somewhat helpless look on his face. Ben is a caring human being. Greg sees the vexation on Benâs face. Would this affect their business plans between Greg and Ben?

Greg lifts himself from his chair and hurries after Donny.

         

          Donny is trotting away from Digital Dreams. Like most instances, Donny's evasive instincts take precedent. Donny avoids the insults Greg wields. He weaves around Greg's words like a boxer in a title bout.

          âDonny, wait up,â Greg huffs, âJust stop a minute, will ya???â

Donny reluctantly does so, pulling out a pack of smokes and lighting one up. Donny had recently started smoking, as a distraction during his recovery. The smoke clouds around Donny, then disperses in the wind. Greg has the Bears coat in his hand.

          âListen, I was outta line for what I said.â Greg says, offering the coat out to Donny. Donny calculates for a few seconds before taking the winter coat back. The coat is too valuable for Donny to disgard. It was a momentary lapse of pride to take it back, but bums have to be realistic.

          âI said I forgive you, and I do,â Greg says, âI just think maybe those pills were making me loopy as well. After being on them so long, I got used to feeling a certain something.â

          Donny feels a pang of regret. Greg was not the one who should be sorry. Donny tries to say it plainly, without sugar-coating it.

          âI know, that feeling is all I cared about back in the day. Yup, the pills were lost,â Donny says sourly, âLost up my nose,â

          âIâm glad youâre getting help,â Greg says, âReally. Things can turn around for you. Look how Iâm doing now.â⨠  Donny says nothing, just puffs on the cancer stick. Greg sees Ben wandering around the corner of the store, with his hands in his pockets. Ben leans his shoulder against the side of the building, and watches the traffic flow by.

          âThey have a shelter,â Donny says in his trademark quiet delivery, âHere downtown. Ben said he would take me there to get set up. Ben also said heâd take me to the Methadone clinic in the mornings, before work.â

          âThatâs good.â Greg responds, âYouâd better get on that, before you go into withdrawal.â⨠     âI ran through those pills so fast.â Donny says sadly, âI was snorting four 10Mg tablets a day. I went through them all in about 2 weeks. Then, I started chasing Vikings, and Xanies. It just got away from me again, just like last time.â⨠   âVikings?â Greg says, perplexed, âWhatâs a Viking?â Greg was not privy to the new street lingo.⨠     âVicodin; Vikingsâ Donny interprets, âXaniis mean Xanax pills. They are both a type of benzodiazapam.ââ¨âRight, they increase the opiate effect, donât they?â Greg asks.⨠    âYeah,â Donny says, shaking his head, âYou have to lick away the time-release coating on the Oxy Contin, then you snort your dose, and take a Xannii chaser later on. Back in the day I took Klonopin, another benzo. With those two, mixed, itâs just as powerful as heroine.â⨠ Donny thought of his xanax and opana cocktail. He doesn't mention the overdose to Greg. They were on shaky terms as it is. If Greg, or Ben for that matter, learned of the OD, one or both of them might disown Donny.⨠ ânow that you mention it,â Greg says, slightly out of sync with the conversation, âI could use some help moving some boxes, and cleaning out a storage shed.â⨠         Donny looks warily at Greg. âI donât think thatâs a good idea after all,â Donny says dully.⨠       âLook man,â Greg says, âI know it doesnât seem too swell after what I bitched about. But I really do need help. And I can take it out of some of the money you owe me.â⨠         Donny does not answer, but looks over at the spot where Ben is leaning. Ben gathers that everything is okay, and meanders back inside his immaculate building.

          âI appreciate you spreading the word about the Pawn and Payday.â Greg says in a grateful voice, âYou really turned the place around with all the people you steered toward the shop. I havenât forgotten that.â⨠     Greg is merciful. Donny thinks back to Benjamin's quote: the merciful shall receive mercy. Maybe Donny could forgive himself. Or, maybe he couldn't. It wasn't a straight-cut topic. There were more reasons for self-hatred than self-acceptance.⨠  âI also need help ripping up the old carpet.â Greg elaborates, âI plan on hiring a guy to put in some new berber, but I figured it would save me some cash to at least do the prep work.â⨠         Donny ponders this thoughtfully, as he pitches his finished cig.⨠   âI know a buddy of mine, used to own his own carpet business,â Donny says, âIt went belly up, and now heâs doing odd jobs. He can help you, charge a reasonable price, too.â⨠Donnyâs nostrils stream out the remains of his smoke as he turns to face Greg.⨠        âI can help you,â Donny speaks, âYouâll just have to trust me, that I wonât steal from you again.ââ¨Greg broods over this.⨠         âOkay,â Greg agrees, âIâll give you some slack, but donât hang yourself with it.â⨠         Donny presents a worn grin at this, and begins to saunter back to Benâs shop.⨠         âmeet me at my store tomorrow about 10am,â Greg instructs. Donny nods and waves a hand as he departs. Well, it wasnât pretty, but Greg and Donny appear to be on good terms again. It is a shaky truce, but still a truce nonetheless.

 

          Could it be that Donny was taking steps to repair his life?!?! It didn't seem possible, but that was exactly what was happening. Donny had a place among things now. His ambition wasn't aimless anymore. Talking to Greg was a huge deal. It all stemmed from the night at Greg's loft. Not that Greg was in any way responsible for what happened. That's where Donny relapsed. That's what started his major problems again.

          Ben drove Donny back to the YMCA. Before hitting the interstate, Ben bought a chicken meal from KFC. They ate as they drove, making a huge mess. Ben was careful to keep one hand clean of grease, to prevent losing the grip on the steering wheel. They stuffed their faces right and truly. Donny couldn't remember being so full. Ben gave him the remaining 8 pieces of chicken, along with the biscuits. Donny integrated the chicken, macaroni and cheese, and other leftovers into the bucket. He would have a nice meal tomorrow. Maybe even a dinner after that, if he conserved.

          Donny thought Ben was avoiding eating alone at home. His wife Michelle was still gone. Now that Donny was out of the picture (at least out of Benjamin's home anyway), Michelle might be persuaded to return. Benjamin had tried texting her throughout the day. Though Donny couldn't read the texts, he could visualize the responses by Benjamin's reactions. The poor guy. He just wasn't a talker. The first customer for Ben should be at his home, with his wife. If he couldn't handle that much, how could he proceed with customers?

         

          Donny had gotten off lightly. The brow-beating Donny expected did not come. INstead, Greg was more than willing to wipe the slate clean. Donny surmised it might be guilt from Greg's aforementioned illegitimate son. Whatever the cause, Donny had skated successfully across the thin ice of their conflict, and reached the other side. This was a big deal for Donny. The shattered shards of his life were coming back together.

          Donny attended his first NA meeting. NA was Narcotics Anonymous. There wasn't much distinction in the two, Donny learned. Many addicts had problems with both drugs and booze. They usually got on the drink when heroine connections were busted, or when their pushers left town. Alcohol almost seemed worst than heroine in some ways. But, pain is not a contest, Donny decided. Everyone here had suffered from their uncontrolled urgings. Donny could read it on each and every one of their faces. There were pretty girls who were starting to fray at the edges of their good looks. Other long-term drug-abusing women were well past the curving arch of their beauty. Many looked tired and worn-out. All looked like they were uncertain about their future.

          "My name's Donny and I'm a drug addict," he starts.

          They follow this introductory with a chorus of "Hi, Donny."

          "Oxy-Contin was my drug of choice," Donny states, "I became homeless because of the drugs, and because I have no family to take me in. My mother is in Wellshire Retirement community. She had a stroke and had her house taken from her in a court battle. The only money I could get, I spent on the dope. I lived under the gazebo of Rutherford park for close to 3 or 4 years. I started on methadone, and I haven't had any Oxy for about a week now."

          "How are you handling your withdrawals?" the lead mediator asks Donny.

          "The methadone cut out my dope sickness," Donny replies, "but I've gone through withdrawal two or three times in my life. It was the most awful, painful instances I've ever gone through. I hope to never have to experience it again."

          "Can you tell us about why you're here?" the mediator, a 40ish hippy-looking chap asks. He strokes his wild brown beard as he asks the question. His inquisitive eyes study Donny from behind thin golden spectacles.

          "I hit the rock bottom, as you guys call it," donny says, clearing his throat, "I injected what I thought was Oxy. It turned out to be this new stuff called opana. Come to find out, it's several times more potent than Oxy-Contin. We crushed up a 5 mg pill, which was like doing a hit of a 20 millie of Oxy. I also snorted a Xanax before doing it. I think I was trying to kill myself."

          "How did you make it back to the living?" someone asks.

          "My friend came back to check on me," Donny explains, "we were sleeping in the back of his Blazer at the time. He took off to spend the night at his sister's house. He wanted to make sure everything was okay with me. My pal came back and started CPR on me. The next thing I remember after taking the shot, was being revived by the paramedics that came. If it wasn't for him, I'd be dead. No doubt."

          Donny smiles nervously. The expression is out of place with such a ghastly story. He must resemble something like a ship-wreck survivor, like a living corpse. Nobody looks upset by his tales, though. Donny figured if his tale was severe enough, it might actually make their lives seem so chaotic.

          Donny had to admit, it felt good to confess his misdeeds to others. He even said he was involved in theft. He didn't go into specifics, but others had similar plots to express during their own admissions. Donny was picking through the remnants of a life torn apart and crushed. Telling these people about the horrible acts he committed was more relieving than he ever would've given credit to.