Legal Medication, really
So that’s why he never hit on me…
We kept up the same routine. Dean doesn’t like change. We always stayed at Motel 6. Always woke up at 6:00 a.m. or earlier and drove till he pulled over at 7:11, stopped at every rest stop, and ate rest-stop junk food. He smoked, then back on the road again, listening to the radio.
“Dean, do you ever get bored?”
“Nope.”
“Dean, this trip is taking way longer than I expected and costing way more than I anticipated too. I’m worried that I’m spending too much and might run out of money. I’ve been paying for everything all along the way so far.” Dean reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a wad of cash the size of like I’d never seen before. Literally, a fistful of dollars. No not dollars. A fistful of big bills!
He handed it to me and said, “Here.”
“Dean! Where did you get all of that money?”
“From the VA.”
“The VA pays you?”
“Yep, $2148.00 monthly disability.”
“Wow! that’s three times as much as I made at the diner. “Every month, really, are you sure?”
“Yep”
“Dean, I can’t take this money.”
“I want you to, it will pay for the trip, and I don’t need money. Besides, they will send more.”
“Thank you Dean.”
I was so relieved. No money worries? I’ve never experienced that feeling before in my entire life.
“Dean, don’t you ever worry about getting caught smoking grass.”
“Nope.”
It’s illegal, you could go to jail you know?”
He replied, “It’s legal, I have a prescription.”
“Really? How did you get that?”
“The VA” he replied.
I said “No way Dean. I’m not buying that. The VA doesn’t sell weed!”
He replied, “Nope, they don’t, but they helped me get the prescription.”
“How?” I asked, “And why would they do that?”
“TBI.”
“Okay, what is a TBI?”
“Traumatic brain injury. Marijuana is the only thing that stops my headaches and controls my twitching. The VA hooked me up with an outside doctor who is allowed to prescribe the medication.”
I thought to myself. Medication? Really? I asked him, “What kind of doctor?”
“Holistic,” he replied.
“What is this holistic doctor’s name?” I asked.
“Dr. Mary J.”
My mind once again screamed out “Sure it is! And I’ll bet her last name was Wanna! Shut up Beatrice, I demanded of myself. Don’t say anything out loud. Don’t even ask about that!”
“So, you’re not just bullshittin’ me now are you Dean?”
“Nope, she’s a real doctor and I have a real prescription.”
“So, we can’t get busted for real?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“And since you are legal, if I let you smoke in the car, we don’t have to stop every 15 minutes?”
“Nope.”
“Well now that sounds good to me,” I said. “Just keep the windows rolled down. Okay?”
“Yep,” he said as he tossed me a bag full of weed and a pack of zig-zags. “Roll one up.”
“Come on Dean! You know I don’t do drugs. I don’t know how to “roll one up!” Jesus…. “
“You’ll figure it out with practice,” he said.
What the hell did you just get yourself into Beatrice? It took me a while but after several attempts, I managed to roll my first joint. Never in a million years would I have believed that I would do that for anyone. Who is this guy? I showed it to him and he smiled and nodded as he handed me his Zippo lighter. “Light it up.”
“No Dean! Now you’re pushing me too far. You know I can’t do that. I’m going to throw this damn thing right out of this window.”
“Okay, he said, let’s wait till I pull into the next rest stop then.”
“Never mind. Give me the freaking lighter.” I didn’t want to stop again; we would never get to New Orleans at this pace. He handed me the Zippo lighter and I noticed an odd-shaped cross with a boat engraved on it and the letters USN 1971 inscribed on one side. On the other side was a peace sign with the name James under it.
“Who is James?” I asked.
“I am.” He replied.
“I don’t understand.”
“Dean is my last name.”
“No way! James Dean? Really?”
“Yep. My mother’s Idol.”
“And you let me call you by your last name all this time?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Well James, I think I know you well enough now to call you by your first name. Right?”
“Sure, if you want to, but I like Dean better.”
“Well so nice to meet you Dean, I am Goode.” We both laughed. I flipped open the lighter and put the joint between my lips. fired it up, and quickly handed it to Dean.
He said “Thanks.” I can’t believe I just did that, but it was okay. I just got a little bittersweet taste in my mouth. Nothing horrible. It reminded me of when Jean and I used to sneak her mother’s cigarettes and smoke till we got sick. Which didn’t take long. This new routine could cut days off of our journey.
RUCKSACK GRUNT - A Vietnam Veteran's Memoir 