The Night I Almost Killed A Man
“You are the type of writer who might need a drink or two.”
editor at Harper Collins.
Being the only parent available means that I have been the only adult in charge of hungry-for-everything teens in Los Angeles. It’s literally the most stress you can imagine.
Think about how much you worry about your dog or your cat.
I have a dog, I have two cats, and I have three children—all my responsibility. This is despite being in a contract with a partner when I took on the responsibility with them. Despite the contract made when we ended the partnership, which said we would be equal custodians and financiers of our children, No. I do everything.
So here I am.
I constantly check my phone for calls from my family, I check my GPS for their locations, I hustle to get them money, I stay awake at home until their days are done, and I make sure they go to bed before I do.
I have exactly three to ten days a year where I do not have to think about them because they visit their father. I do not have to check to make sure they are in their beds. I do not have to monitor their food intake and hydration all day.
During those days of freedom from motherhood, the Northern Canadian street rat impulses rises in me. I want to pick up long butts in the gutter and light them up. Every day loses its identity, and time evaporates. Pass me weed and let me scroll through my contacts.
It was during my last four-day break, in mid-December 2023, that I almost killed a man. There were witnesses. They can attest. The Edmontonian who was raised in a very beautiful but once local “body dumping” ravine—me—came out and lost her mind.
SZA playing through the house party I show up at with my girlfriend, Laura. We’ve been dating for a month or so and have never looked worse after sweating all night on the dance floor at Akbar. Dancing is euphoria.
Three in the morning, rye and weed pulsing through my still-vibrating body.
The type of guy who picks up the acoustic guitar at a party and starts playing is loaded on blow. Chad. Chad immediately recognizes Laura and flirts with her. He gets too close to her. He touches her arm and her leg; he laughs; he points at me.
Chad is now my appointed enemy of the evening. He seems to be everyone’s enemy of the evening.
Laura returns to me. She wants to leave. I’m shocked. I tell her I will introduce her to real people. She tells me to stay with my friends and enjoy myself.
Seeing Laura leave, the acoustic guitar guy hones in on me. I don’t want to talk to him, but he’s insistent.
