Bonafide Hustle
  By Jesse Bartlett

March 23, 2006
He’s doing it again. He’s always doing it. Every single day, locked in his room with the same goddamned song playing every time. “Bonafide Hustle;” I have heard this song every day for the past one year, seven months and 18 days. Yeah, I count.

He leaves the house only to get more. Every three days he leaves for anywhere from 35 to 47 minutes. When he gets home he goes straight to his room and plays that song behind his locked door.

He is no longer a part of my life. I haven’t told mom; I’m not sure that I will. He’s been to a therapist, but not for that reason. Rehab, no, he wouldn’t stand for it. I could call the police, but I could never do that to my own brother. Maybe there’s nothing I can do, only he can. But he doesn’t care enough to do anything about it.

March 25, 2006
I was getting ready to leave the house when I noticed Colin’s journal on the floor. It must have fallen out of his backpack when he left for school. I was just going to go put it on his bed, but a strange sensation came over me. I had the urge to read it. I’m not sure what it was, I don’t know, it’s kind of hard to describe.

I felt a strange feeling of betrayal when I opened his journal. But it was already open, so there was no reason to stop reading it. I looked over my shoulder numerous times to see if anybody was watching me. I knew that no one would be there; I was the only one home, but it made me feel safer if I kept looking. It’s back on his bed now. He should be home anytime now.

I can’t figure out how he knows about it. I’ve never told him. Was it that worthless therapist? No, it couldn’t be, otherwise mom would know. Maybe he doesn’t know. But he has to, he describes it so well. I can’t deal with this right now----

March 25, 2006
There’s that fucking song again. That’s the third time since I’ve been home. I’m really worried about him. If he keeps going at this rate he’s going to die. That’s exactly what happened to Robert. It’s only been a year since his girlfriend found him. It feels like it happened yesterday. The coroner’s words are still clear in my mind. Overdose. I don’t want that to happen to Jack, I care about him too much. I remember that time when I was little: Jack went running after the ice cream truck because I had missed it when it went by. What ever happened to that brother I once had? I think I’m going to go tell mom.

March 25, 2006—later
I just needed a little to settle my nerves; I’m better now. I don’t think that I have a problem. No, I don’t. Robert was the one who had a problem, not me. I’m not worried. I can stop whenever I want. I just like doing it.

March 26, 2006
I found his journal again. It was in the exact same spot as before. Does he want me to find it? I saw that he said he was going to tell mom. I really hope he doesn’t. How the hell does he know? I can’t believe he’s comparing me to Robert. I am nothing like him. Robert was fucked up all the time. Me, I just do it a couple of times a week. Not every damn day.

Colin is so judgmental. He thinks he’s so perfect. I swear, the things I could tell about him. Whatever...fuck him.

March 28, 2006
So I decided to tell mom. Surprisingly she wasn’t all that mad. Actually she was really sad. She couldn’t believe that he was doing it, especially after what happened to Robert. She wants to send him to rehab. They are still arguing about it downstairs. I really hope that he decides to go.

March 28, 2006
That stupid little prick, I can’t believe he told mom. I don’t have a fucking problem. Why doesn’t he see that? I can’t believe I said I would go to rehab. It’s only because mom started crying. Whatever. I hate both of them. I’m not coming back here when I get out. I’ll go stay with dad. His girlfriend might be a bitch, but at least he doesn’t judge me.

April 2, 2006
I just spent seven hours in the car to get to this place, and they tell me I can’t bring my journal. I’m going to die without it. Four goddamned months in this hellhole; this is going to suck.

April 3, 2006
Mom got back today. She told me that Jack didn’t say a single word to her on the whole car ride down to Arizona. I hope that rehab helps Jack, he really needs it. He’ll be back in four months, just before my birthday. I wish him the best of luck. I’m really going to miss him.

July 12, 2006
Great news! Mom just got off the phone with the rehab center. Jack is being sent home a month early. Apparently he’s made amazing progress and they feel that he will be able to live with us again. I am ecstatic. One more week and I will be able to see my brother. I wonder what he’s going to be like.

July 20, 2006
Oh my god, I am finally back. This is the first time I have been able to write for three months. So many things happened. So I guess Dr. Anderson was right when he kept bringing up Robert. I thought he was crazy. But I started thinking. It wasn’t until after Robert’s death that I started smoking crack. It was just a way for me to put my troubles behind me.

I’m getting ready to go bowling with Colin, his treat. Just kidding, I’ll pay.