I returned the stick shift Subaru to His Guatemalan Highness after four glorious months of keeping very close watch over it. Returning the car required me to spend some time with its owner, and our two and a half hour encounter between Denver International Airport and my apartment was the same as it ever fucking was.
I left Denver around 4PM and sat in rush hour traffic to pick him up at the airport, fresh in town for another one of his amazing American holidays. This one involves two bluegrass festivals, three nights of Widespread Panic at Red Rocks and then driving his car to Asheville, NC to help his new girlfriend and her four-year-old son prepare to move in with him in Guatemala.
When he got in the car at passenger pick-up he requested I keep driving and asked if I had a GPS.
“I need to meet up with the N2O guy,” he said. “I’m getting a tank, I called him on my layover.”
Of course he called the nitrous guy on his layover. I wasn’t surprised; I was actually partially prepared, as I had been meditating for two weeks in anticipation of events such as this. His Highness plugged in the address of the Commerce City motel we were to meet the dealer in the parking lot of, and I headed that way, which really was the only way to head at that time.
While still en-route to pick up the N20, but before Pena Blvd merged with I-70, His Highness made another call, to his “buddy” Jay.
“Hey Jay,” he said, “I just made it to Denver. Is it alright if I stop by?”
“No, we’re not going there,” I said from the driver’s seat, incredibly grateful to be there and not the passenger.
“Jay, my girlfriend says we’re not coming, but I just want to stop by and say hi really quickly.”
I was shaking my head no; one, because I wasn’t going to drive him to pick up crack, and two, because I’m not his girlfriend.
“We are not going there,” I said, fully aware that Jay is The Guatemalan Highness’s Denver narcotics connect.
He asked Jay for the address, and I got upset and began to cry.
“Ugh, Jay, I have to go, my girlfriend is crying,” he said, and hung up the phone.
“You’re so dramatic!” he said to me, with a look of hate in his eyes.
Dramatic? All I wanted was to go home. Apparently it’s dramatic to get upset when someone you care about and you tried to help get into rehab asks you to stop by the junk supply store within 15 minutes of arriving in Denver. There was no “It’s good to see you,” or “you look nice,” or “let’s get back to Denver, I’ll take you to dinner and pretend that you are of the slightest bit of importance to me as a friend and THEN I’ll go shoot dope and smoke crack with Jay for old time’s sake and forget you ever existed, thanks for watching my car.”
His Highness kept asking me to pull over for gas and to let him drive, but I refused. He got really mad. He said I’m too emotional and that’s the reason we never could have worked out; it had nothing to do with him being a drug feigning scoundrel who lies to your face and cares nothing for you unless you have a bag of something white in your pocket to share.
When we got back to my apartment he came inside long enough to pick up his camping table that had been acting as my kitchen table for one and a half years, and to ask if I had any more substances he could buy off me. I gave him back his father’s safari hat that he thought he’d lost but I held on to for him, even though I could have sold it on E-Bay, burned it or drawn on it with Sharpie, and then I said bye.
I watched him drive away from my window, and I didn’t cry. I felt relieved to see him go. Loving him has been one of the hardest and most un-fair things I have ever experienced, but it has taught me a lot about life, to feel emotions for a human who is possessed by a monster. No matter how much shit I can talk about him, I loved him then and I love him now and I’ll love him forever, but I will not allow him to be close to me. I need to surround myself with people who are positive and encouraging and who do not find faith in darkness.
It is difficult, but I know it is in my best interest to wish the best for him and know that I made the best decisions for me and that I am in a happy place where I am open to receive. For whatever reasons the Universe wanted me to learn these lessons of loving a drug addict, and I hope to get word that I have finally passed the test, because it’s been almost two years in the making.
I will always refer to His Guatemalan Highness as my friend, no matter what went down between us and no matter how crazy some of my friends may think I am for still communicating with him. He has been my greatest teacher, and for that I am forever grateful.
“Cat in a rain ditch, caught on a limb, you know better, but I know him. Like I told ya, what I said, steal your face right off your head…”