Page 59 of Patiently Yours
Playing: When the Party’s Over by Billie Eilish
The air is saturatedas bodies flow through the crowded space. The still-winter air outside warranted layers, but now I’m sweating right through my outer coat.
I remember once loving this environment. The camaraderie between the sweaty dancers, groups forming together to socialize; loud laughter and drunken happiness. That side of myself is still there, lying dormant somewhere, but I realize now that it only ever came alive when I wasn’t sober.
And I am sopainfullysober right now.
I look psychotic as I wander around, looking at anyone with red-ish hair as I try to find the person I’m looking for. I give up on my search on the main floor and make my way to the basement.
I don’t know what I’m thinking anyway, Macron is never out in the open at these things.
I haven’t spoken to my drug dealer in weeks, not since the night I met Ciro, actually. He had given me that dose of LSDthat gave me the worst trip of my life. Although that was less the drug’s fault and more on my asshole of an ex.
For a second, I wonder if the guys have ever run into each other at Alpha Xi. Something tells me Sam probably wouldn’t approve of Macron selling at his parties.
After I arranged to meet him here, I almost had the sense to call it off. Then, I read the new messages from Derek. No matter how many numbers I block, he keeps finding ways to message me. It feels hopeless. Like no matter what I do, he will always be around, lurking around every corner and reminding me that I’m not good enough. That I will never deserve a pack.
I wish I could say it doesn’t bother me. I wish I was strong enough to know it’s far from the truth, no matter how it’s spun, but I’m not. There’s something there, poking and prodding. These same things have been spat at me longer than I can remember. Not just from Derek, but from my parents, so they must be true. There must be something wrong with me that evenIcan’t see.
My memory isn’t very good, and my awareness is even worse. How would I even know?
Then there’s my feelings to consider. Ever since my birthday, the realization that I’m actually falling for these guys has cut me deep. They’re so attentive, and way more than I deserve.
I’llhurtthem. I don’t know how, but I will, and then they’ll hate me like Derek does. Like my parents do. I can’t fathom the pain that kind of heartbreak will do to me.
The basement floor is cold even through my sneakers but it’s a welcome contrast to the sauna going on upstairs. There are circles of people, all playing different games. One group shamelessly spins a bottle around, which makes me smile. At least someone’s having some unrestrained fun.
“Stacia!” I turn to meet the eyes of the guy I’m looking for. His hair is close cropped and he has a beer neck hanging looselybetween his fingers. A few of his friends are on the couch with him, playing some amateur poker. The coffee table is covered with loose change and trinkets. There’s even little baggies sitting amongst the prize pile.
“I didn’t think you were going to show up,” he mentions as I come upon the group. I look at them and cringe, feeling out of place. The vibe isn’t necessarily unwelcoming, but I still feel uncomfortable, so I give him a polite smile and shrug.
“Almost didn’t. But I’m here. What do you have?”
“The usual. And some new type of molly. I think this batch is better than my last. At least, that’s what people tell me. I don’t do my own supply, you know.”
I tilt my head at him. “Better than the last batch you gave me?”
He raises his eyebrow at me. “Can you even remember that trip? You were candyflipping. I remember when it started to hit you, you galloped into the woods pretending to be a deer.”
The heat on my skin rose to my cheeks. I must be getting my trips mixed up because I definitelydon’tremember that. Gosh, how the hell did I get home that day?
That’s what I get for taking LSD and Molly at the same time.
I take out some cash. “I’ll take some of the new stuff. Only three points though.”
We do the trade and I look at the powder in the bag. There’s goosebumps on my arms from both nerves and excitement. The anticipation of the inevitable blissful state makes my mouth dry, like the serotonin in my brain is aware of what’s going to happen once I take the substance in my hand.
“Thanks, Mac,” I say, and he salutes me as I walk off. His nonchalance is one of the reasons I go back to him whenever I need anything. It took a bit of trial and error to find the right drug dealer. Most people think it’s so easy once you find one, but some are very weird. The first person I ever found would makeme do the drugs in front of them. Big no-no. Why does that matter? They must have been really paranoid. Or they got off on controlling others. Either is possible.
Not Mac, though. You get in and then get out. He has no ties to anyone he sells to. It’s a pretty equal exchange, and I’m certainly glad we crossed paths all those months ago.
As I step into the kitchen, I remind myself of my promise. I will wait to get home before ingesting this powder, Iwill… but then the sink calls to me. It’s shiny and there’s no one lingering. There’s even an empty cup right there! I could just…
I blink. I have a glass of water in one hand and the bag of powder in another. I look around. The kitchen is pretty bare sans a few people mingling.
Why am I itching to do it right this second? Why can’t I wait just a few minutes so I can get home safe?
I shake myself out of my weakened state. As I go to put the baggie in my pocket, my phone buzzes.
