Self Medication
Josh Jones, a chocolate colored man sleeved in arm tattoos, patiently sits in a red Nissan Altima outside of an ABC store. He anxiously taps his fingertips on the steering wheel. The car is still running. Just drive off. You don’t need this tonight, he mumbles to himself.
Josh suffers from PTSD, which is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He served two tours in the Iraq War. The memories seem to haunt him with vivid images of lifeless bodies and fellow soldiers killed in combat. He isn’t sure if he is ever going to be “normal” again. Now, as a veteran, life seems to get harder with each passing moment. The ABC store is his daily vice. A pint of vodka puts him in a social mood. Cognac keeps him sane. Beer is his sleep remedy. Today, he needs Cognac. He trembles and grips the steering wheel while glancing towards the entrance of the store. Dusk is approaching. The sun sluggishly sets behind the clouds. Then, he takes the key out of the ignition and gets out the car.
Josh stands on the side of the building. His heart is telling him no, but his frantic mind is telling him yes. He starts to envision a cold glass of Hennessey on the rocks. Tonight, he doesn’t need a chaser. He imagines the cold liquid hitting his lips and the burn of Hennessey in his throat. That harsh feeling makes him feel in control. He paces back and forth. A young, male walks up beside him and stands with his hands in jammed in his pants pockets. He glances over at Josh and then quickly darts his eyes back towards the parking lot.
“Aye man, you looking for some gas?”
Josh turns his attention back to the young male with a confused look on his face and answers, “What?”
“Are you looking for gas? I got it if you need it,” the young male says.
“No thanks, I have gas in my car,” Josh answers with a chuckle. “Are you really selling gas out here dude?”
The young man flashes a bag of lime green marijuana to Josh and says, “This is the gas I’m selling man. You looking for it?”
Josh gives him a startled look and his eyes grow big. “Oh,” Josh responds slowly. “Um, well….how much?”
“$40.”
Josh is hesitant. He glances at the front door of the ABC store. It is set to close soon. “Uh…”
“Weed from Cali.” the young man interrupts.
Josh promptly reaches in his back pocket and hands the young man 2 twenty-dollar bills. They exchange items. He quickly hops back into his car and starts the ignition. Shamelessly, he speeds out of the parking lot while staring in his rearview mirror at the ABC store in a distance. Damnit! No cognac tonight.He pulls the bag of marijuana out of his pocket and sniffs it. Is this my new vice or my new remedy?
