There’s Something You Need To Know About Me

There’s Something You Need To Know About Me

By Sandy Olson

 

“There’s something you need to know about me,” he said, glancing around and leaning across the table. “I’m a drug addict but I’ve been clean for three months. I have a sponsor and everything.”

He sat back, satisfied with his openness and honesty, feeling relieved. But he felt a pang of fear when he looked at her face, closed and expressionless.

She sat for a minute or two and then said, “Well, I’m glad you told me,” her eyes sliding away. She folded and refolded her napkin, getting the edges almost perfectly lined up.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. They could hear dishes and cutlery rattling at the nearby service area. The waiter came by and asked, “Is everything all right?”

He nodded. Everything wasn’t all right. He never should have told her about the addict stuff. His sponsor had warned him about too much truth too soon.

Finally, she shifted in her chair and spoke: “That is SO cool!”  Her eyes got brighter and her breasts even seemed to grow a little. “Tell me more about it.”

So he told her about chasing his best friend around the Haight Ashbury with a shotgun, trying to shoot off his foot, having felt a little tired and irritable from a long drive down from Mendocino. He told her about his seven cocaine seizures. He told her about faking a heart attack while in custody and sneaking out of the hospital.

She was enthralled.

They stayed together for the better part of a year before she went off with a Gypsy Joker from Spokane.