Page 64 of Untouchable

Goddamnit, Parker, not again.

* * *

The movie isone of his favorites of all time—"Stranger Than Paradise." It had captivated him when he'd seen it at an indie theater in the 90s, and the artsy, bleak, black and white movie had stuck with him ever since.

It takes them a moment to find a comfortable position on the couch now that the movie is rolling. He's not sure how much room to give Parker, crowding his own bulk deep into one corner of the couch—but Parker seems to expand to take up whatever space is available, and somehow he ends up sitting close to Harp.

The movie is incredibly slow, which Harp has always liked. Each shot is so deliberate, like a painting, and the dialogue feels authentic and charming in an awkward way. The movie runs for seven and a half minutes before the main character speaks at all. Harp is enthralled—it's been years since he's revisited a Jarmusch movie.

At fifteen minutes in, when the trajectory of the movie is still a little unclear, Parker pokes him in the thigh with the business end of a spoon.

"Are you gonna eat or what? It's melting."

* * *

Harp has been captivatedby the movie, but Parker is a little distracted by the ice cream—and the prospect of trying weed for the first time. Harp seems startled, like he’d only just remembered Parker was there, and he nods and begins to dig in, barely able to peel his eyes from the screen.

Parker eats as slowly as he can, partially to savor the flavors and partly because he’s been insanely hungry every time he’s eaten in front of Harp, and he’d like to prove he’s capable of eating like a normal person instead of inhaling it like a starving animal.

He starts with the unicorn ice cream, which does taste like birthday cake, and Harp’s right—Parker wouldn’t have known there was anything in this other than ice cream if Harp hadn’t told him.

Parker tries to pay attention to the movie, but he has no idea what’s happening. It’s hard for him to focus on it, and he keeps feeling like he’s missing something important, as though he’s been plopped into the storyline thirty minutes into the movie.

“So, um, how soon do I start… feeling it?” Parker asks after a few moments.

"Probably 45 minutes," Harp offers, "but possibly up to two hours. It'll feel like it takes forever but trust me—there's no chance it won't eventually kick in. Did you like it?"

“Yeah,” Parker says, nodding enthusiastically. “It was, like—well, if you left me to my own devices I definitely would have eaten the entire thing.” He pauses, looking down at the empty tumbler. He’s trying to keep quiet, because it’s obvious Harp is very invested in the movie, but his mind is full of questions.

“Okay, so, I know I’m… really lame, but, um, what does it feel like? How will I know it’s working?” Parker says. Between 45 minutes and two hours seems like a large window of time, and Parker wouldn’t put it past himself to make the whole thing up, like a teen getting “drunk” off of margarita mix sans tequila.

* * *

Harp laughs fondly.He feels like some backwards camp counselor, teaching Parker a little bit about cooking, how to build a shelter for animals in a pinch, how to build a fire, but also sneaking him weed and whiskey behind the scenes.

I guess it really is the full Morton Harper experience.Fiercely self-sufficient and regrettably debauched.

Now that he's eating and remembering that he has a guest, Harp is less entranced by the movie. It is a little slower than he remembered. Normally he'd be annoyed to talk during a movie but... well, the whole point was to show Parker what it looked like where he grew up, and not to make him watch a movie.

He turns to invite more conversation, to let Parker know he doesn't have to sit in silence. Parker looks more disheveled than ever, and it's unbelievably endearing after seeing Parker in professional situations for so long.

"Well, since you've eaten it rather than smoked it, this ought to be more of a body high than a mind high. You won't get any visuals—it doesn't work like that—but you'll feel it... well, anywhere really. Personally I tend to feel it in my—my bones."

You were gonna say groin you complete fucking moron. He realizes that this wouldn't have been incorrect—being high does make him horny in the right circumstances, but he's far too nervous to be worried about that now.

"You'll probably feel just low-grade pleasure in your body, and you'll find yourself appreciating things differently. It's nice. Just lean into it and remember that you're in control."

* * *

There’ssomething about the way that Harp describes it that puts Parker immediately at ease. Harp sounds so confident about it, describes it so casually, that Parker feels as though there’s no option but to enjoy it. He selects his next ice cream and relaxes down into the couch a little more. Any nervousness he’d been feeling melts away, and he finds he’s looking forward to it. Even without the weed, he’s already feeling a profound sense of wellbeing, curled up on the couch, hyper-aware of the millimeter of space left between their legs, trying hard to comprehend this entirely incomprehensible movie.

"Have you ever been to Florida?" Harp asks him.

Parker shakes his head, his mouth full of the cherry-speckled ice cream.

“No,” he says. “I, um… haven’t been a ton of places. One time in high school we went to a championship thing for my soccer team in Atlanta, but we didn’t get to see it a lot. Most of our vacations were in Colorado, and we went up to the Black Hills to see Mt. Rushmore when I was ten. I think by the time I came around my parents were kind of… family vacation-ed out, you know?” He pauses and clears his throat. “Um, what about you?”

"I lived in Florida until about ten years ago,” Harp says, “and before that, I never traveled much. We didn't really do vacations outside of Florida growing up, and the family was just so stupidly big."

---