I left off with Barbara being evicted from the house..
Barbara was evicted because Jerry had received word that Aunt Carolyn was soon to be paroled. She sent Jerry a letter detailing what preparations she wanted before her release, and number one on the list was "get that fat bitch out of my house".
When Carolyn got home, Jerry actually wept with joy. I am sure this had less to do with an emotional connection, and everything to do with the heroin gravy-train that he got to board. They began to re-establish their client base immediately. They got a room-mate named Betty. Betty was a narcoleptic AND a heroin addict, and was ,therefore, never conscious. She would wake long enough to pay for another hit, and drift into dreamland. They holed up in their room, nodding out and burning holes in everything, and taking visits from customers.
They lived together for three more years, until Carolyn went to the doctor for stomach pain. She was diagnosed with stomach cancer, prescribed Oxycontin for the pain, and sent home to die. She woke up to go to the bathroom, and broke her hip when she stepped out of bed. She was taken to the hospital, and died there several days later. I was over-joyed, because I felt she was the catalyst that caused my entire family to be junkies.
Jerry and my mom rushed to get her prescription filled before someone alerted the pharmacist of Carolyn's death. They locked themselves in a room and fought over the drugs, only emerging (glassy-eyed) for the funeral. I came home from Ft. Worth to gloat over the body, and Eric was introduced to my family. He almost cried from the terror he experienced. There were no hymns played in the church, only Rod Stewart songs. We went back to Carolyn's house after the ceremony. The pharmacist called to verify information on the refill that my mom stole, and my cousin Jereme told him "Carolyn died before that was filled. My fuckin' dope fiend daddy and trashy aunt stole it".
Mom & Jerry, afraid that they were now wanted by the feds, jumped in the car and began a life on the run. They skipped from place to place for two years. I would see them occasionally. I worked at a gas station, and my mom would come there to steal gas. To her credit, she always called to make sure I wouldn't get fired before she did it. I would not give them any money, but I always let them fill up. Sometimes I would give them disgusting gas station sandwiches to eat.
When mom would come to my house to visit my daughter Jerry would never come inside. He preferred to sit in the hot car, chain-smoking Dorals and reading pulp horror novels. Mom would take him cans of Dr. Pepper, and he would wait there for hours.
Eventually, mom and Jerry parted ways, and he teamed up with Barb again. They moved into a lop-sided shack, and continued their drug addiction in earnest. Jerry refused to leave the house more than once a week, so Barb had to hustle for their dope. She ran social security scams and worked odd jobs. They both received disability checks and foodstamps, so they scraped by. Eventually, Jerry only left the house every few months, and then, not at all. His health began to deteriorate. He wouldn't go to the doctor, because that meant leaving the house. When Barb finally convinced him, he left for the last time, dying in the hospital 2 days after he was checked in.
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