REM

Junkie Jack

Not knowing who your father is, it's a horrible feeling. I grew up without him for twenty years, somehow managing to be a good person despite my mother giving up on me as well. She left one day for work and never came home. No note, no phone call, no good bye.

The day I found out my dad was still alive was bittersweet. He was homeless and living in an abandoned building on the outskirts of town. I was hesitant at first to go see him, but I knew I had nothing to lose since he had never been a part of my life to begin with, other than getting my mom pregnant.

I drove out by taxi, then walked the last mile into the deserted industrial zone. The buildings were crumbling, except for one. I knew he was there after reading the entire police report about him spending a night in jail for being drunk in public and charged for public indecency as well.

A notification of his DNA match was sent to my email when he was arrested. I was torn at first as to whether or not I wanted to meet my dad after twenty years without him, especially when the only reason we could potentially meet was due to him getting in trouble with the law.

Swallowing the lump in my throat I made my way through an archway and then weaved my way to a portion of a building where there was a door. I turned the knob and walked in, calling out, "Hello?"

I heard someone moving around, so I closed the door and walked into what used to be an office by the look of things. There was a metal door to the left. It sounded like my dad was in the other room and possibly didn't hear me.

I walked over to the door and knocked loudly, the movement on the other side ceasing immediately. Slowly pushing the door open, it creaked to reveal a man who looked just like me, except old, bearded, a bit grey, and shirtless.

"Who are you?" He asked, a few teeth yellowed, presumably from smoking.

"I'm your son," I replied calmly. "Your DNA was matched with mine when you got arrested last week."

"Oh, well I'm sorry you had to find out this way. My life hasn't exactly been easy."

I wasn't sure if he truly meant what he was saying, but I didn't want to write him off so early after finding him.

"So what are you doing out here?" I inquired as he shuffled around the room, kitchen cabinets present on a portion of the wall.

"Might not look like much, but I live here. If you can even call my existence a life."

That was obviously debatable, but I wasn't there to put him down.

"Do you mind if I hang around for a bit and chat, or would you rather me come back some other time?"

"No no," he waved his hand in dismissal as he opened a cupboard door and grabbed something. "I was just about to get high, no big deal."

"You're into drugs?" I wasn't looking to point out the man's flaws, but being addicted to drugs probably contributed heavily to his current living situation.

"I know, I know, drugs are bad. Your mother said the same thing when she found out she was pregnant. She told me to choose and well..." He spun around with a needle in his hand and opened his arms. "As you can see, I chose wisely."

Even though I just met the man for the first time in my life, I knew sarcasm when I heard it. He seemed to regret what happened, but with a needle currently in his hand, I wasn't convinced he tried that hard to seek help.

"So what are you still doing here?" I asked as his arms dropped to his sides.

"Clearly it's a hard habit to kick," he replied. "It's probably best you leave before I shoot up."

"Sure," I obliged. "I'll come back another day when you're already high so I can shave your beard off."

"Haha. Funny boy."

As I turned to walk through the doorway, I found myself looking back at my dad. I envisioned myself standing with my back to him as he plunged a needle into my forearm, a length of rubber tied around my arm. The needle slides in as I become just like him, a heroin addict.