A California Halfway House

The halfway house sat on an unassuming corner of a suburban street. There were linden trees and a stone bird bath in the backyard. Everything about the exterior of the house suggested conventionality, cut grass, plucked weeds, white-picket fence. Lethe’s fellow residents included one gay hairdresser, one former steroid junkie/ex-body-builder, a newly-converted Mormon, a recovering heroine-addict/used car salesman, a motorcycle mechanic with ADHD, and various others. . . twelve residents in total.

Walter, the house-senior, was twenty-nine years old and worked at McDonald’s. There was a heavy awkwardness about Walter that gave one the impression he might be autistic. He was reserved and quiet and lumbered around the halfway house in his slow, heavy manner. You would never guess by looking at him that he was a recovering drug addict. He appeared too tame and defenseless to have ever picked up a dangerous substance.

For over ten years, however, he followed the Grateful Dead, selling acid in parking lots. He stayed in motels and trailer homes, and hitchhiked across the United States. He mixed drugs together, experimenting on himself. For most of his life, he had been a lonely, self-tortured individual. Few people stayed with him long enough to become his friend. But once Walter moved into the halfway house and got clean, he was introduced to the Church of Mormon. The boys in white ties and brown pants came to tell him about their religion every week. He was interested and so he went with them to church. There he met Elora Gladdis, the fourteen year old girl Walter fell in love with. After she pasted her picture on the back of his Bible, Walter took a vow of purity and abstinence.

The inside of the halfway house was shadowy and humid. In certain places, the curtains were taped to the windowsill to prevent the sun from seeping into the living room. The wall panels were imitation wood and the carpet a dull cappuccino color. Next to the kitchen, there was a payphone on the wall and an antique Apple computer with a green screen coated in dust.

Attempting a voice of authority, Walter said, “Before you come into the house you have to take off your shoes.” He was referring to the plaque of House Rules. “Also, there is no smoking. If you want to smoke, go into the garage.” The residents had built a makeshift smoking lounge with secondhand couches and a beat-up Zenith.

All of the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen were labeled. Each resident was allowed 1/3 of a cabinet and a section of the refrigerator. Walter stressed the importance of everyone having their own supply of food. Theft was obviously looked down upon. As they passed the rooms of the residents who had been living in the halfway house for a year or longer, Walter discussed seniority. Seniors were “chiefs” while newcomers were “little Indians”. If you wanted to stick around and get to be a chief, then you had to clean twice as hard on Sunday mornings. That meant the toilets in both bathrooms and the weeds out front.

Walter led Lethe up to his room. The newer residents slept in bunk beds on the second floor. Lethe counted six roommates total. The room looked like it would be a bit cramped.

“Everyone’s shoes are tucked neatly underneath the bed.” Walter highlighted.

Lethe nodded his head, following the house-senior back downstairs.

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