The Crack-Whore who saved Christmas By Russell S Little
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Not rated by the Author.
(An urban Christmas story)
The Crack-Whore who saved Christmas
(An urban Christmas story)
by R.S. Little
It had been 10 years since I last seen or had sex with Sheryl the crack-whore from North Philly. The last time we had seen each other we were caught up in smoking crack in Richard Allen Projects in that winter of 1995. There was a major snowstorm and on the coldest day of that year I was trying to smoke the crack that had frozen in my glass pipe. I was 25 years old, fearless and addicted. While standing on the corner of hopeless street a bus driver asked me.
“Do you believe in GOD?” the bearded man asked as he sat in the rickety blue school bus.
“Yes,” I replied as I exhaled.
“Come with us,” he responded as he opened up the door. Without hesitation and not questioning divine intervention I stepped on the bus and never looked back. Since that day I managed to stay clean and get a college degree in Social Work. I married a couple years later and we received a beautiful boy who gave me reason to go on.
After a life crisis I decided that I would pick up the crack pipe and smoke myself to death. I didn’t care what happened to me. Some how I made it back to north Philly and after a week binge I ran into Sheryl. Her teeth were missing, her eye was blackened and her smooth skin was now rough. She smelled of cheap wine and sweat.
We talked for a little while and before we knew it we was at her campsite smoking. She happens to tell me that we have a 9-year-old son and he was living with her mother.
My fatherly instincts kicked in and I realized that I had two sons that need their father (not like the other one didn’t me) I decided that I would go get help and enroll into treatment.
Thoughts of having a son I never seen haunted me and I needed to make amends to him. By doing some community work they donated some toys for my kids. I decided that I would drop off the gifts to his grandmother so I could get a look at him. I would have gone to see him sooner but I wanted him to see a healthy drug free man.
After calling her mother’s house and telling them I was a friend of Sheryl who wanted to drop off some toys on behalf of Sheryl. I gathered the toys and made my way over to see him. I wanted to see if there was any resemblance or favor to me. I had practically gotten my life together because of him. He deserved to have a father and I was going to be that. Poor baby I kept saying to myself and at least he could have one good parent.
I brought a person from church with me to provide some support. We walked to the door and I prayed this would go well. His grandfather answered the door and welcomed us in and immediately took the garbage bag filled with toys.
“Andre,” he called
When Andre came down the steps. He did not look nothing like me nor did he resemble my mother. He looked like his father that I knew Sheryl was also sleeping around with. I smiled and greeted the boy. I felt kind of foolish but I wished them a Merry Christmas.
It has been years later and now that I look back. That lie that Sheryl told saved my life and I am gravely in her debt. I haven’t turned back and the best gift I’ve given my son is his father. I still see Sheryl out in the streets and pray that she gets some help.