It took only twenty-four hours for my life to change.
As the needle went through my veins and I took my first hit ever since that day in May, I realized right there and then that that was it. That was the day Marisol, Sofia and I seized to exist.
My day had started out the way it always did.
I left before dawn for my dish washing job down at the local diner while Marisol, my girlfriend, and Sofia our five-year-old daughter, laid in bed deep in sleep.
Every morning as I ran out our one bedroom apartment, I’d find a brown bag with my baby’s cooking and my angels drawings waiting for me for when I got hungry and missed my family, and today was no exception.
No matter how many times I’d tell her, “Marisol, mi amour, don’t worry about it. I’ll eat at work with the boys.”
She would always respond by making it a point to remind me who was the boss, “Now you listen here Diego, no man of mine is ever gonna eat another woman’s cooking you hear me!”
We would laugh and later I would remind her who was the king of the castle.
She was my Queen.
She was my everything.
The bus ride to work was always busy.
Sometimes it would be filled with the occasional prostitutes heading home from a hard night at work, other times the usual drunks staggering to their pads. But every now and then I’d see Johnny passed out at back like we used to be back down at the tracks.
As I said it was a normal day.