Step 12 - 1. Step 12

I've seen the needle
and the damage done
A little part of it in everyone
But every junkie's
like a settin' sun.

The Needle and the Damage Done by Neil Young

I was ahead of schedule. The outlet mall was supposed to open in April and I had my part of the job finished in February. I got the last stores computers, phones, fax machine and point-of-sale terminals done and knock off a little before three.

Visions of my sweet, sweet bonus were dancing in my head as I drove home. Life for a free-lance tekkie was like that: feast or famine. This contract had been a feast. Even the cold wind and steel gray skies couldn't damp my spirits. I stopped by Arby's to pick up their five for ten special- my version of fine dining.

The traffic hadn't picked up yet. I made it home with no delays. Sure, I lived in the hood but it wasn't the worst hood. Thirty years ago it was actually a pretty nice neighborhood. It was a lot more house than I really needed. It was home. It was enough and the gunfire at night wasn't too close.

I hit the garage door opener and parked in my favorite part of the house: the over-sized garage. This was my playground. It had room for three vehicles but I only kept my truck. Everything else were work benches, tools and my many various projects in different stages of completion.

There was some temptation to play with my favorite project, a huge HP server sitting on the workbench. It was old but could handle four 1.0 giga-hertz processors and a shit-ton of memory. I actually had it running and loaded with my favorite version of Linux but I didn't have the hard drives I wanted for it. They were expensive and that getting that puppy dressed for success would take a while.

Instead I grabbed my sandwiches and went inside. My two cats met me at the door purring, butting me with their heads and taking sniffs of the mysterious bag I was carrying. They followed me into the kitchen where I popped open a couple of cans of food for the felines.

My living room is decorated in what my friend Sasha calls post-modern geek. There's the traditional recliner and sofa but that's where it ends. I have modular office furniture set up with my favorite computer, a flat screen and a stereo. Everything is connected. I turned on the TV, booted the computer and walked out front to get the mail.

I saw him when I opened the front door. A dirty kid was rolled up in a ball sleeping on my front porch swing. I could tell he was shivering in the cold. His clothes were dirty, he was dirty, the small backpack under the swing was dirty and he didn't smell that good either.

I shook my head and sighed. Here we go again. So much for my nice quiet weekend at home.

I walked over to the swing and sat down beside him. Given a shower and a lot of soap and he would probably be a nice looking kid. He was out cold.

As I got a better look at him, I was alarmed. He was so skinny and pale. He was in a deep sleep and hadn't stirred at the noise of the front door opening or my sitting down on the swing. Jesus, this little kid is dope sick.

I pulled out my cell phone and called my friend Travis.

"Hello."

"Hey bud. I need you and Cheryl. I just got home and found a dope sick kid on my doorstep."

Travis said, "Hang on."

He obviously handed the phone to his wife Cheryl and she said, "How is he?"

"Out like a light. I haven't tried to wake him up yet."

"We'll be there in fifteen."

I put my phone up. I reached over and gently shook my visitor and said, "Hey pal. It's pretty cold out here. What you say we go inside?"

The kid woke with a start. His eyes were a little wild and his fists were balled.

He said, "Who are you?"

"I'm James, the guy who owns the swing you are taking a nap on."

He relaxed and tried to sit up. I had to help him.

"You're dizzy aren't you."

He nodded.

"Dope sick?"

The kid said, "Yeah. Jerry put me on a bus this morning and gave me your address. He said you would help."

The pieces came together. Jerry was another recovering addict. One of the members of our little circle of recovery. He had cleaned up and gotten his degree in social work and was now on the front lines in New Orleans. The boys accent just confirmed my suspicions.

I said, "I've got to hear it from you."

He said, "Please sir, I've got to kick. I feel like I'm dying."

"OK then. You're in the right place. Come on, let's get out of the cold."

He tried to stand and would have fallen if I hadn't caught him.

He started sobbing and said, "It hurts."

I picked him up and said, "I know it does but I've got you now. It's going to be OK."

I took him inside and put him down on the sofa. He just lay there glassy eyed looking at the television.

I stepped back outside and collected my mail and the kids backpack. When I got back inside my two cats were greeting my visitor. He gently stroked them and the cats returned the attention with purrs and head butts.

That's where he won me over. Dope sick and hurting, he was gentle. I would do whatever I could to help him.