stayed up until like seven in the morning. Remember when I said good sleep is better than sex? Well it’s also better than meth. #DONTDOMETH
Leo and Andre had gotten into crystal meth at this point, and their meth-head friends were over all the time. Now that our apartment was crystal meth–land, Colleen and I realized that we should probably leave. We needed to start over.
One night out, Colleen and I met Paul, a sweet gay artist who was living in Marilyn Monroe’s old house—it was her house when she was still Norma Jean.
“That’s kind of like me, right, Colleen? I’m in my Norma Jean phase right now, but eventually I’ll reach Marilyn status. Right? Why are you rolling your eyes at me? Hey come back—”
Paul had an extra room that we could move into, and he seemed much less crazy than Leo and Andre. Those were our only two qualifications! Perfect!
We went home and Leo and Andre were sitting in the living room hanging out with their meth-head friends on the couch. Now was the time to let them know.
“Hey guys. Colleen and I are gonna move out.”
Andre was on something and feeling it. He squeezed us into a three-way hug. “Oh, my babies. My beautiful babies. I’m gonna fucking miss you.”
“Are you touching my butt?”
“I’m going to miss this butt.”
One of their very-high-on-meth friends looked at us, very wide eyed.
“YOU GUYS ARE MOVING OUT? OH WOW. DO YOU NEED HELP PACKING? I’LL PACK YOUR STUFF FOR YOU—”
“You’ll pack our stuff?”
“I LOVE PACKING STUFF. SO I’D LOVE TO PACK YOUR STUFF FOR YOU. GO HAVE FUN KIDS GO OUT I’LL PACK.”
Colleen and I looked at each other. Okay . . . a meth-head wants to pack our stuff. Meth-heads are notorious for stealing shit to fund their habits. She wouldn’t do that to us, though!
“That is so nice. Are you sure?” I asked.
“YES YES YES YES YES—”
“Wow, that is so nice! Thank you!” I said as Colleen and I went out.
You know, that Midwestern na?veté dies hard. Even after all the bullshit I had gone through in New York and LA . . . I still trusted people. Hey, don’t judge me! It’s a beautiful way to live, trusting the world around you, not seeing ulterior motives. At least, until all your shit gets stolen.
Colleen and I went out for the night and came back to our stuff smashed into half-zipped suitcases. Well. A quarter of our stuff smashed into half-zipped suitcases. The rest was gone.
We were going to get the freshest start ever.
CHAPTER 6
A Spoonful of Sugar
Colleen and I moved into a room in Marilyn Monroe’s old house with Paul the kind artist, and we tried to get into a new rhythm together. Yes, a junkie had just stolen all of our stuff and we were still reeling from Damon’s abuse, but this was our chance to have some peace of mind!
Things did calm down for a while, at least in comparison to what they used to be. And no matter what happened, Colleen and I were together. We kept each other safe.
At the house, Paul started bringing over his new best friend, Adam, who was also Leonardo DiCaprio’s completely wild brother. I guess these were the types of famous people we were rubbing shoulders with now. Side note: What kind of parents name one kid Leonardo and the other Adam? Like, I’d have a complex, too, if my sister was named something really cool like Cleopatra and I was just Laura.
Now, remember when my parents had told me that my grandma was dying in order to save me from my abusive relationship with Damon? Well around this time, she really did die. I was pretty skeptical of my parents at first, but after Colleen started crying, I realized it was the truth.
We were devastated. We had to fly home for the funeral. But first we had to get wasted at the Mondrian in order to not deal with our emotions.
While we were back in Chicago with our family, we got a call from Paul.
“Heyyyyy girls. Um. How’s it going? How’s your grandma?”
“She’s dead, Paul.”
“Right. I’m sorry. I just wanted to let you know that Adam offered me more money for the room you’re staying in. . . . So I’m going to pack up your stuff and rent it out to him. But I’m going to pack your stuff really nicely, though. I’m so sorry, bye!”
“Wait, what??”
*Click*
He hung up. Fucking Paul. And why was everyone always packing our