I have been told by friends that the best thing to do when you don’t know what to write, is to just write and see where it takes you. So here is my attempt at some writing.
I’ve just entered backspacing hell! yes, that’s right, I’ve just backspaced through a whole paragraph in order to write what I really need to write. My Therapist has strongly suggested that I continue to write about my experiences as it might help me face my PTSD. I am willing to try this because I don’t want to live in my own personal hell anymore.
Judy introduced me to a new guy who’s name was Steve, Steve came from southwest Detroit, MI. We met in 11th grade and became inseparable when it came to hanging out and partying. Steve was the outdoor type, we’d go buy a case of beers and a bag of weed and take Judy and some other friends with us and walk down to the woods behind our high school.We’d even hang out together after school and shoot pool in the family room of my house. Steve was a BIG Ted Nugent fan, so we played lots of Nugent on my stereo record player.
Judy got a job working at a local 5 and dime over on Michigan Ave. in the next door city of Inkster Michigan. It was only 2 miles away from my house, and since Kirby was at work during the hours she worked he asked me if I’d mind walking her home? I didn’t mind at all. Most of the time I’d call Steve and we’d meet each other over at a half way point since he lived about a quarter mile away from me. Then we’d walk over to Michigan Ave. and wait on the corner of two main roads Michigan Ave. and Merriman Rd. I always had a few joints rolled for the trip and I’d spark one up for us to smoke while we waited for Judy.
Most of the time Steve and I would sit on the Bus Stop bench and just keep a look out for Judy through the little slits in our eyes as we were getting stoned. We’d see this little figure of a girl bobbing back and forth down the sidewalk until she got closer and Judy would wave to us. Other times Judy would thumb a ride when it was cold out and get dropped off at the corner and from there we’d walk her home.
One Autumn evening Steve and I were a bit late walking up to the corner and just as we got there a car was turning the corner. I looked into the car because it turned so fast and sharp that any closer it might have clipped us. Hey Steve I shouted, that kinda looks like Judy in the back seat, and she looks as though she’s telling us to follow her. Ok, Steve said, lets go. So, we turned around and picked up the pace and we thought we saw the car turn down the street that Judy lived on, I told Steve that whoever was driving must be someone she knew. As we were walking we talked about how scared Judy looked and we wondered if she might be in trouble, so we picked up our pace a bit more as we rounded the corner back to her street. We got a little closer and we heard her scream out STEVE! GORDIE! HELP ME! and just then someone opened the car door and she flew out on to the grass, the car peeled rubber and sped off down the street.
Judy was sitting on the grass crying and fumbling for a cigarette trying to tell Steve and I what was going on, all in the same breath while thanking us, as we kept looking at her in amazement and awe that we had saved her from being raped. Steve and I were Judy’s accidental heros. Kirby came home from work later that same night and Judy told him what had happened, after that Kirby treated Steve and me to all the free PCP we could snort and all the beer we could drink he was very grateful for what we had done, and all we had to do was show up and be there for Judy.