"Joe"

I have been describing some people of my past. This is 'Joe'**.

Joe captured my attention the second he walked through the doors of the hospital. He was not much of a looker but he wasn't disgusting or anything. He seemed a bit dim witted, but he was 18, and I was grateful for the youthful company.

Joe was borderline redneck...and in danger of becoming white trash. he wore dirty loose fitting clothing and the coat he wore on smoke breaks was a big camouflaged hunting coat. He smoked a lot of cigarettes, but I was surprised at how innocent he was the more I got to know him. He smoked grass and drank liquor, but he had no other drug histories. I had expected at least a little blow, but he was clean.

Joe was also a virgin. He had a girlfriend back home, but I guess he was bashful. Joe and I had very little in common except for our age. For some reason, that was all that mattered. I think at that point I realized how animalistic humans are. How the youth are drawn to reproduce despite the circumstances. Sex is survival, although it doesn't feel that way for a conscience animal.

Joe and I spent much of our time together. It was not beneficial to our recovery. Alone I was trying to figure things out, but alongside Joe I was a partner in crime. We talked of living reckless lives, of throwing caution to the wind. We tried to see how far we could push things.

I think the hospital staff noticed our destructive friendship. An orderly seemed to be assigned excusively to us. The only time I ever laid a hand on Joe was when I gave him an innocent shoulder rub. He then returned the favor to me, giving me a thorough back massage. It felt good to feel human contact. I felt like I had not even hugged anyone in months. Of course within 30 seconds our personal orderly noticed and ended the free massage session.

The next day Joe was gone. I asked where he was but the hospital staff only said that he had gone 'to another place'. It sounded like a eulogy to me. Later he called me at the hospital. He said that they had sent him to a half-way house. I heard from him every once in a while for about 6 months. It was almost never good news.

About a month later he called me, saying he had been kicked out of the halfway house. He planned on hitching a ride with a friend to his much-older sister's house. She said that she would allow him to stay with her and he wanted me to come with him (I politely declined). When I found out that his sister was a drug addict, I knew Joe would never get out. He was too vulnerable. This would be the death of him, figuratively or literally.

Joe was drinking all the time now; his sister provided him with alcohol. He somehow recieved a large sum of money that he used to buy lots of 'eight balls'. He planned to sell them to make more money so he could get a place of his own. I suspected that he probably did them all himself.

Eventually Joe was incarcerated for check fraud.

I never heard from him again.

**name changed