Years ago, a landowner in northern California made his wealth planting vast fruit orchards. His kids grew up in the business. They rose early to irrigate and stayed up late, making fires to prevent killing frosts. Together, they’d gone through both lean years and bumper crops, and the business prospered steadily.
Early on, the father did all the planting and pruning. The son worked much harder than the rest, striving to be his father’s perfect child. The oldest daughter proved to be a lollygagger, dragging herself out of bed while voicing her complaints. She didn’t like the intensity of tending orchards. Her younger sister often picked up the slack, in exchange for borrowing clothes.
Over time, the operation grew, and the man hired a much larger staff. He put his younger daughter in charge of scheduling and administration. The son, now a young man, went into sales and distribution. But the other daughter wanted a different life. One night at the dinner table, she announced her move to New York to become an actress. The father’s cheeks lost their color, and his eyes became glassy. He stifled a deep sigh, knowing he’d have to let her go.
Her attempts to break into the theater world proved costly. Her father had given her a large sum of money so she’d have time to put out feelers and audition in different venues. The first week, she stayed at the Ritz-Carlton and ate at a different restaurant every night. A shopping spree for city clothes followed. Life was grand.
She landed bit roles here and there, but eventually her money dwindled. She’d need to make a living on the side and took a waitressing job. A studio apartment took most of her wages and tips. At night, she learned the art of dumpster diving near her favorite restaurants, concealing herself in a dark hoody.
She mingled in the bar scene to get out of her tiny quarters. That’s when she met the guy who’d become her dealer. He seemed friendly enough, passing out party favors—a variety of designer drugs. Heroin rapidly became her new solace, helping her escape failure, loneliness, and homesickness. Date rapes were easier to bear when you’re high. One night, a man handed her money, assuming she was a prostitute. Insulting, yes, but an easy way to keep the drugs flowing. She lost a few acting jobs after failing to show. Then, the restaurant manager fired her when she dumped a pitcher of ice water on a customer who put his hand on her inner thigh.
That night she texted her brother. “I don’t know what I’ve become.”Continue reading
