The Lost Girl, or How to Make a Grown Man Cry

Posted: February 15, 2012 in Humanity, Stories
Tags: , , , ,

Originally written Wednesday, November 24, 2010

I write this because it’s tearing me up.  This is what meth addiction can do.

I met her a few years ago when my “brother” invited me to Anacortes, WA for a visit. He warned me about her before I came up.

You’re her type, dude. She’s gonna really like you. And you’re gonna like her too.  He also said he loves her and wanted to be with her and asked me to be cool, in the way us men do when we’re courting a beautiful girl.   This agreement to “don’t go there please” (AKA “Bros before Ho’s”) is usually unspoken, so I took it pretty seriously that he asked me personally to stay cool.  He goes off a bit about her having a messed up family and being a runaway since 14, which is fairly believable.  Then he tells me, she’s damaged, badly damaged.  Her parents sold her to their friends for “fun” when she was fourteen. She lives on the street.  And she sells herself for money, drugs or a place to crash.  She’s hooked on Meth.  I take this with a grain of salt because my friend is schizophrenic  (ya, for real) and prone to hallucination and delusion when excited.

So I go up there and meet this girl he’s talking about. She is this slender waif, 5’4” unruly blonde hair, sky blue eyes sparkling with fun and/or insanity.  Turns out, the insanity is real, but it’s not the sneak-up with a knife kind. No she’s just manic/depressive with a touch of tourettes.  I can handle that.

And I adore her instantly.  In minutes we “click”. Dammit, she’s 19 and I made the bros-before-ho’s” promise. He can see it too, that we are having fun.  She’s vulgar and crazy, but … I like her. Can’t help it.

Within a couple days I notice something – she acts differently around me.

The foul mouth disappears, she stops talking about fucking strangers for drugs. We hang out quite a bit, and while on a beer run she boldly asks if I want to make out with her. I tell her I can’t cuz It would hurt my friend.

Next morning she snuck into the spare room where I was stayin and caught me in my boxers. She was supposed to just come get me to go out to breakfast…..I give her a little show while I got dressed.  Hey, I like attention as much as anyone.  She just giggles and then runs out.

You could almost think she was normal and happy.  That night I buy her a Seahawks hat to keep warm, and introduce her to Johnny the Homicidal Maniac- she loves it so much I give her my copy.  Few more days like this and I go home. I was good, never broke my promise, but I am rather smitten.

My friend calls up few days later – she’s gone again.  He remarked he noticed she acts differently around me too.

More news.  She has a kid who was taken away by the state.  Her “pimp” is now looking for me cuz she told him to fuck off  on my advice, and has a car full of hoods who were gonna jump me.  Fool never understood I live two states away.

Year later, my friend calls and asks if he can put her on a bus and send her to me, her being around all the same people, she can’t stay off the meth.  He says she is so much better around me it is like she’s a different person.  I look into the meth scene here by calling a clinic, and fuck, its all over the place here too, worse than where she is. I won’t be able to be with her 24/7, and I imagine what would happen in the part of town I lived in.  Then she tells me, in another call , that she has a kid that she won’t leave even though the state took custody- “If I was ten years older, and you know, not all… and I  had no kids I’d come to you” she tells me. She knows we live in different worlds. Then, months later, I hear she’s on it again. First round of rage at meth addiction.

Months later, she calls from the friends place, clean and sober, asks for a bit of money to start a small business – something I once did, and not a bad idea. My friend says she’s been doing really well and that he thinks it’s a good idea too,  so I send her $ (little more than pocket change for me) for start up for materials on her business idea… and …I don’t hear from her again.   For months and months and months. I am sad, and mad cuz I know what happened- confirmed by my friend.  Second round of rage at meth addiction.

Year passes with only occasional news.  I imagine her, sometimes, ten years older, taking some minor psych medicine, off the street, with me. It is bittersweet.

This spring I hear good/bad things- she’s straight again, but pregnant and homeless.  She stays clean through the pregnancy – talk to her a few times-and the kid is born healthy and- was taken by the state because she’s homeless.  Couple weeks later my friend calls. She needs $ for a deposit on an apt if she is gonna get the kid back, and he hates to ask, but he knows I have the money.  She calls me, we totally reconnect. – I wired her the $500.

She gets the money transfer, and I tell her to call with the address and I’ll send her more comics – she lost the copy I gave her.

She never calls me back.  I call my friend – she lost her phone, no cash to buy another.

I wait – what else can I do?  I get news she has a job and is still clean.  Then, nothing.

Then a month ago….I hear she’s evicted, wasted and hanging with the same meth heads and …at least isn’t selling herself any more.

Then yesterday this news- her last friends – besides my friend -who are NOT homeless or meth heads have kicked her out of their spare rooms and off their couches and she’s back on my friends couch cuz he couldn’t put her out in a blizzard, I talk to her. She’s happy to talk to me, almost giddy. And she’s so fucked up she can hardly form a sentence.

This is how you make a grown man cry without kicking him in the groin.

2/14/2012 She’s clean and no longer with the crowd that was killing her slowly.  She’s is going to be calling me soon.  Life is strange, strange, strange.


  1. Merely a smiling visitant here to share the love (:, btw outstanding design and style. “Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not one bit simpler.” by Albert Einstein.

  2. […] Fact is, the people who spend all their money on drugs are usually far to whacked out to complete the paperwork for welfare.  They need our help, too.  Here’s a third case. Shelby – has two kids in foster care, no home, no job and whenever she gets the money, she’s high on meth. She sells her body for drug money and will likely be dead by age 30. No public assistance for her. Did she choose this? No. Her parents sold her to scum for sex when she was 14, fed her drugs so she wouldn’t fight back. Now she’s hooked, and its pretty much too late to save her. She’s a good person, but there is no hope in sight. She’s the Lost Girl. […]

  3. jfeden4 says:

    This is a story waiting to be written…. a heartbreaker for sure. Lotta lost girls out there.

  4. Sahm Ataine King says:

    Your love for her… Palpable. It is not often I feel beyond the love I have for my own queen, then, somebody writes something that gives me pause…and causes me to hope that there is a happy ending…
    What is the rest of the story, if you don’t mind my asking?

    • Matt Johnsen says:

      I don’t mind you asking, but I can’t write it down what happened. I have the words but putting them out here ain’t gonna happen. I would kill the man who got her hooked again if I ever saw him.

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