Numb
by Nathan Perrin
Jeremiah woke up at 3:51 AM. He remembered the plans he made with his favorite sex worker, Stacie.
Shit.
He checked his phone: "Babe, sorry. I got distracted. I haven't seen you in a few weeks. I hope life is treating you well. Xoxoxo."
His back cracked as he stood up and walked to the bathroom.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He turned on the light.
His eyes immediately fell on the coffee mug with two toothbrushes: one pink, one green. His finger traced the pink toothbrush.
Lindsey.
Jeremiah splashed water on his face and stared into the mirror.
"Fucking hell," he whispered.
No answer.
It was usually that way.
Jeremiah sighed, turned off the light, and tried to go back to sleep.
Shit.
He checked his phone: "Babe, sorry. I got distracted. I haven't seen you in a few weeks. I hope life is treating you well. Xoxoxo."
His back cracked as he stood up and walked to the bathroom.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He turned on the light.
His eyes immediately fell on the coffee mug with two toothbrushes: one pink, one green. His finger traced the pink toothbrush.
Lindsey.
Jeremiah splashed water on his face and stared into the mirror.
"Fucking hell," he whispered.
No answer.
It was usually that way.
Jeremiah sighed, turned off the light, and tried to go back to sleep.
A few hours later, Jeremiah brushed his hair and put on green scrubs. Another night, another dollar.
He went downstairs and opened up a lockbox full of prescription narcotics. He smiled. A good load tonight.
He walked out of his apartment building. Another cold Chicago morning, Christmas lights everywhere. He still wasn't used to it after moving there for school. California was different. Brighter. Warmer.
He went downstairs and opened up a lockbox full of prescription narcotics. He smiled. A good load tonight.
He walked out of his apartment building. Another cold Chicago morning, Christmas lights everywhere. He still wasn't used to it after moving there for school. California was different. Brighter. Warmer.
The clients that night were the usual: depressed stay-at-home moms needing a little oxy, anxious college students needing benzos. He wasn't working the emergency room until the next shift, but his signature style was a nurse's uniform. Clients always knew him by his scrubs, and to meet him in an alley near Dearborn Street.
"Is it busy tonight?" asked a regular speedo client.
"You know the same shit," Jeremiah sighed. "You got the stuff?"
"Yeah."
The speedo client gave the cash to Jeremiah. He took the wad of cash and started to count it.
"C'mon, man… You know I'm good for it."
"This is the deal, friend. I gotta keep safe in this business, too."
"No one here is a saint."
Jeremiah nodded, "Okay, here's your Adderall."
"Thanks for not being a fuckin' weirdo. Last Addie guy was off his rocker."
Jeremiah forced a smile. "Not a problem. It's what I'm here for."
As the client walked away, Jeremiah nodded, looked at the ground: No one here is a saint.
"Is it busy tonight?" asked a regular speedo client.
"You know the same shit," Jeremiah sighed. "You got the stuff?"
"Yeah."
The speedo client gave the cash to Jeremiah. He took the wad of cash and started to count it.
"C'mon, man… You know I'm good for it."
"This is the deal, friend. I gotta keep safe in this business, too."
"No one here is a saint."
Jeremiah nodded, "Okay, here's your Adderall."
"Thanks for not being a fuckin' weirdo. Last Addie guy was off his rocker."
Jeremiah forced a smile. "Not a problem. It's what I'm here for."
As the client walked away, Jeremiah nodded, looked at the ground: No one here is a saint.
Jeremiah drank gin at the bar. Next to him was a familiar face, a sex worker named Shelly.
"I don't got enough in the budget for you tonight," Jeremiah answered preemptively. Shelly and he were used to starting business there.
"Are you feeling down, hon?" Shelly brushed her blonde hair back.
"I don't feel much."
"How about one on the house?"
"You'd do that for me?"
"Of course, I would. You're one of my regulars. Why wouldn't I give you a piece here or there?"
Brief thoughts of Lindsey entered Jeremiah's mind, dissipated.
"That's sure sweet of you, Shelly," Jeremiah brushed her hair back.
"I don't got enough in the budget for you tonight," Jeremiah answered preemptively. Shelly and he were used to starting business there.
"Are you feeling down, hon?" Shelly brushed her blonde hair back.
"I don't feel much."
"How about one on the house?"
"You'd do that for me?"
"Of course, I would. You're one of my regulars. Why wouldn't I give you a piece here or there?"
Brief thoughts of Lindsey entered Jeremiah's mind, dissipated.
"That's sure sweet of you, Shelly," Jeremiah brushed her hair back.
Ten minutes later, Jeremiah slipped on his bottoms as Shelly adjusted her makeup in the mirror. Flatulent sounds and smells rose from the stalls behind them.
"What's your story, honey?" Shelly asked.
"Why do you care?" Jeremiah splashed water on his face.
"You're my saddest John, and that's sayin' something."
"I told you I don't feel much."
"Bullshit. There's somethin' under that outside—that professional hairdo, that halfway decent smile. You could be doing well for yourself. But you're not. Why's that?"
"Look, I'm not exactly the world-class expert in Sex Work 101, but isn't it frowned on to get your clients' identity?"
"I get curious! Can't blame a girl. I notice the tan line on your ring finger. How long have you been divorced?"
Jeremiah shook his head, "I'm not going to talk about that. You need benzos or prescriptions; you know where to find me."
"Alright, hon. It's fun doing business with you."
"Same to you."
"What's your story, honey?" Shelly asked.
"Why do you care?" Jeremiah splashed water on his face.
"You're my saddest John, and that's sayin' something."
"I told you I don't feel much."
"Bullshit. There's somethin' under that outside—that professional hairdo, that halfway decent smile. You could be doing well for yourself. But you're not. Why's that?"
"Look, I'm not exactly the world-class expert in Sex Work 101, but isn't it frowned on to get your clients' identity?"
"I get curious! Can't blame a girl. I notice the tan line on your ring finger. How long have you been divorced?"
Jeremiah shook his head, "I'm not going to talk about that. You need benzos or prescriptions; you know where to find me."
"Alright, hon. It's fun doing business with you."
"Same to you."
Jeremiah put out his cigarette as soon as he saw someone enter the alley.
"Got any benzos?" the voice asked.
"Yessir," Jeremiah replied as he reached into his pocket.
"Do I know you from somewhere?"
"I don't fucking know. That'll be $150 for thirty."
"Shit… Jeremiah? From NA?"
Jeremiah's heart skipped a beat, "Yeah?"
"You still sober?"
"Unfortunately. I'm going to guess you're not…?"
"Yeah, it's Ben. Remember me?"
"Vaguely."
"Shit, man… How'd you end up here? Weren't you in seminary—married?"
"We're not here to talk about my personal life, man. Do you want to get fucked up or not?"
"Yeah, yeah… But don't you feel weird pushing these things, knowing the harm they do? You're an addict and a nurse."
Jeremiah bit his lip. "I don't feel much anymore, man."
Ben sighed, took out some cash, and handed it to Jeremiah.
"I'm sorry that shit's not looking up for you."
"Same to you."
"We're all just trying to survive the night, you know? Life is so fucking hard. They didn't warn us of anything. You're born one minute and expected to know how to maintain all this bullshit. It's not fair. None of it is."
Jeremiah nodded slowly.
"Got any benzos?" the voice asked.
"Yessir," Jeremiah replied as he reached into his pocket.
"Do I know you from somewhere?"
"I don't fucking know. That'll be $150 for thirty."
"Shit… Jeremiah? From NA?"
Jeremiah's heart skipped a beat, "Yeah?"
"You still sober?"
"Unfortunately. I'm going to guess you're not…?"
"Yeah, it's Ben. Remember me?"
"Vaguely."
"Shit, man… How'd you end up here? Weren't you in seminary—married?"
"We're not here to talk about my personal life, man. Do you want to get fucked up or not?"
"Yeah, yeah… But don't you feel weird pushing these things, knowing the harm they do? You're an addict and a nurse."
Jeremiah bit his lip. "I don't feel much anymore, man."
Ben sighed, took out some cash, and handed it to Jeremiah.
"I'm sorry that shit's not looking up for you."
"Same to you."
"We're all just trying to survive the night, you know? Life is so fucking hard. They didn't warn us of anything. You're born one minute and expected to know how to maintain all this bullshit. It's not fair. None of it is."
Jeremiah nodded slowly.
Christmas carols played around Jeremiah as he walked towards the hospital.
Just get through the night. It'll all be over soon.
He entered the hospital and went to the billing department.
The receptionist recognized him.
"Here to pay your bill for Lindsey?" she asked.
"Yes, miss." Jeremiah nodded as he took out a thick wad of cash.
Just get through the night. It'll all be over soon.
He entered the hospital and went to the billing department.
The receptionist recognized him.
"Here to pay your bill for Lindsey?" she asked.
"Yes, miss." Jeremiah nodded as he took out a thick wad of cash.
Jeremiah held Lindsey's hand in silence, sometimes brushing it gently with his finger. Coma for a few months ever since their car wreck. Around her bed were cards and stuffed animals.
He kissed her forehead, held her close as the machines next to her beeped.
"Jeremiah?" a doctor asked behind him.
Jeremiah stood up, "Yeah?"
"There's something you should see."
He kissed her forehead, held her close as the machines next to her beeped.
"Jeremiah?" a doctor asked behind him.
Jeremiah stood up, "Yeah?"
"There's something you should see."
"These brain scans are showing promising activity," the doctor said as he pointed to regions of the brain that lit up.
"What does that mean?" Jeremiah asked.
"It means she's coming out of it slowly. We don't have a timeframe for it yet, but it's certain. Your prayers have been working."
Jeremiah chuckled.
"What? I thought you were in seminary to become some kind of priest?"
"I was."
"So you haven't been praying?"
"Not since the night we had the car accident. God and I aren't on speaking terms right now."
"Gotcha. Well, keep showing up for her. We'll see what happens next. I haven't seen anything like this. Thank God you agreed with her last wishes to keep fighting. Must've been hard on you, financially and emotionally,"
"Thanks, doctor."
"Are you doing okay?"
Jeremiah shrugged. "I'm doing how I'm doing. That's all I can tell you."
"What does that mean?" Jeremiah asked.
"It means she's coming out of it slowly. We don't have a timeframe for it yet, but it's certain. Your prayers have been working."
Jeremiah chuckled.
"What? I thought you were in seminary to become some kind of priest?"
"I was."
"So you haven't been praying?"
"Not since the night we had the car accident. God and I aren't on speaking terms right now."
"Gotcha. Well, keep showing up for her. We'll see what happens next. I haven't seen anything like this. Thank God you agreed with her last wishes to keep fighting. Must've been hard on you, financially and emotionally,"
"Thanks, doctor."
"Are you doing okay?"
Jeremiah shrugged. "I'm doing how I'm doing. That's all I can tell you."
A few minutes later, Jeremiah held Lindsey's hand.
"Honey… I don't know if you can hear me, but you might be out of this soon. I didn't think I was ever going to see you again. It's been a dark few months. I've done things I'm not proud of. I'm just… surviving. I guess. But you lit up my whole life, and that light hasn't come back yet.
"I hope you can forgive me for what I had to do to make it… to make sure you got the care you needed. I hope we can go back to the way it used to be, before all this shit happened. Before the numbness and the grief."
Lindsey's right index finger brushed up briefly against Jeremiah's thumb.
He lay his head on her chest, listened to her breathe.
"Honey… I don't know if you can hear me, but you might be out of this soon. I didn't think I was ever going to see you again. It's been a dark few months. I've done things I'm not proud of. I'm just… surviving. I guess. But you lit up my whole life, and that light hasn't come back yet.
"I hope you can forgive me for what I had to do to make it… to make sure you got the care you needed. I hope we can go back to the way it used to be, before all this shit happened. Before the numbness and the grief."
Lindsey's right index finger brushed up briefly against Jeremiah's thumb.
He lay his head on her chest, listened to her breathe.
Morning. Another hard night's work. He had a hospital shift in a few hours.
He came into his apartment, undressed. Showered.
Afterwards, he sat on his bed and looked at Lindsey's side. Her Bible was still on the nightstand. He grabbed it, traced the cross on top with his fingertips.
No one is a saint… We're all just trying to survive the night.
A single tear fell down his face, onto the Bible cover.
He opened his nightstand, took out his wedding ring, looked at it.
As he put it back on, a warmth inside briefly flickered. A promise of better days.
He came into his apartment, undressed. Showered.
Afterwards, he sat on his bed and looked at Lindsey's side. Her Bible was still on the nightstand. He grabbed it, traced the cross on top with his fingertips.
No one is a saint… We're all just trying to survive the night.
A single tear fell down his face, onto the Bible cover.
He opened his nightstand, took out his wedding ring, looked at it.
As he put it back on, a warmth inside briefly flickered. A promise of better days.
Nathan Perrin (he/him/his) is a writer and Anabaptist pastor in Chicagoland. He is a doctoral student studying Christian Community Development at Northern Seminary. His doctoral work centers on creating a writing program for nonprofits and churches to use to help under-resourced communities process trauma. His forthcoming novella, Memories of Green Rivers, will be released in winter 2026 by Running Wild Press. He is also a screenwriter for an unannounced indie comedy series. For more information, visit www.nathanperrinwriter.com.