syzygy part vii

i found an article that described a crime. a man had held a woman at gunpoint at a drive-thru ATM and demanded all her money. she took out $300 and he gave her back $20, explaining he didn't want to leave her with nothing. he then explained that he was going to take her car and that it would be down the road in a parking lot and her purse and everything inside would be untouched and he promised not to damage anything. the article continued to say that the car was found unharmed, right where he said it would be. a few days later the SWAT team had mike's mom's house surrounded and he tried to run, but they caught him, charged him with the robbery and he was sentenced to 9 years in a max. security state prison.

i read it again. 9 years.

horrified, i didn't know what to think. a million questions ran through my head: why would he do this? what would drive such a kind, gentle soul to do something so terrible? why did he need that money so bad? had he spent his millions already? why did he need her car if he has 4? did he sell those to buy heroin? did he spend his inheritance on heroin? has he done that many fucking drugs? is he even alive? he must have gone through withdrawals in county lockup, did he survive it with his weakened heart? please tell me he survived it. please tell me he survived it. please tell me he's alive...

i searched some more and i found his lawyer. i wrote to his lawyer and asked where mike was. i never got a response. i tried to lookup court records and all i found was traffic violation after traffic violation. i tried to find his mom's number, i tried to find his brother's number, i tried to find his girlfriend's number, but to no avail. finally i found the inmate database on the ohio department of corrections web site and i searched for him. i found him. i found which state prison he was in and i found out that at least at the time of the last database update, he was still alive. i also found a picture of him, something i hadn't seen in 3 years.

i called the prison and asked how to write to him and they gave me the address. then i spent about a week starting letters and trashing them, starting letters and trashing them. i finally sent one off that gave him shit for what he did but also told him that i love him no matter what.

i waited and i waited and i waited. i cried myself to sleep and poor john had to listen to all my stories and hold me as i cried, i could NOT have asked for more support from john - he was incredible in a situation where most men would be angry and jealous. he understood a friendship so odd and unbelievable. he even went so far as to tell me that he thought mike sounded like a great guy and he would like very much to meet him one day. he made me feel nothing but better when i spoke to him about mike and i don't think i would have kept my sanity if it weren't for him.

but he got tired too. it was draining both of us, waiting and waiting and waiting for a response. i talked endlessly of what i would do if there was a letter from him in the mail each day. i would choke back tears when there wasn't. i dreamed about him, i thought about him, i talked about him.

my birthday passed and i was angry. i was sad. no one knew i was angry and sad but i was. john knew, because i broke down crying. and in the middle of my teary crash, my brother called from london, he'd been away for 15 months in australia and then back for one month and gone again to europe. and in the middle of my meltdown he called to tell me he was coming home and i was happy about that but still i cried. i cried for mike. i didn't think i would hear from him. i didn't think he was ok. i didn't think he was going to contact me even if he was. i thought he took to absolute heart what i had said, leave me alone mike, i can't deal with this.

but he didn't and as the end of the summer neared i went out to check the mail and with my mom there and my dad there and john was there, i found a letter from mike and tears spilled from my eyes. it was the first time ever i had received a handwritten letter from him, it was always email, always digital, always cold and inhuman and now here i was holding a piece of paper that he himself had held not one week earlier and i read it and he was ok, in spite of being in prison he was ok. and i cried and i cried and i cried. mike was alive, healthy, clean and writing to me about his life on the inside, about writing about reading about going back to school and playing in a band and doing healthy things and good things and things that would seem almost impossible in the place he was in.

to be continued...

Labels: mike

posted by Courtney at 1:35 a.m.

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