The Hummingbird Kiss

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Published by: Prism Light Press
Release Date: August 21, 2021
Pages: 254
ISBN13: 978-0989806688



Precisely plotting the slippery slope of a heroin addict's existence, The Hummingbird Kiss paints a bleak picture but still manages to offer a ray of hope. The '70s are young, and 18-year-old Trish is a newlywed. When a Florida judge sentences her junkie husband to ten years for stealing stereos, she immediately seeks out a fix, and before she knows it she's hooked. There follows a long sojourn as she and her friends work small scams to score, head to California in search of better highs, move back to Florida, shoot up and nod off every chance they get — un-til death gets some of them.

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"Searingly honest, often funny, always sordid story of a junkie’s life in the 1970s."
—Chauncey Mabe, Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel


I stopped by the mirror to smear on some lipstick and was caught by the black holes inside my green irises—cat eyes, Charlie called them. I stood there for a moment in front of the gold-framed mirror like a portrait of myself: my long dark hair and the blond streaks I’d recently added out of boredom, framing my pale oval face. Something about my eyes looked just like Charlie did that time he told me he was dope sick and needed to pawn my watch for a fix. I dropped my leather purse, swallowed and leaned toward my reflection.
I had it. The jones. That’s what they called it. Charlie and his friends. The jones or the bear. I examined the pastiness of my skin and noticed the sniffling and the way my back ached. Well, what else had I expected? All this time, I’d never let him get high without me because it wasn’t fair. Not I--the chump who baked cookies at home and waited for her man to come back all stoned and feeling good. Now, everything had changed—in the blink of my weirdly di-lated eyes. A chill clawed its way down my back like little rats’ feet.

I slipped on a jacket and stepped out of my mom’s apartment into the empty embrace of the morning. Down past the end of the parking lot, the bare hands of the wind ruffled the river. A shower of brown oak leaves dropped onto the asphalt. But nothing felt normal.