Page 27 of The Other Half

I hear all three of them having a conversation around me, but I can’t make out the words. If I do catch a word here or there, I can’t fathom its meaning. It’s like all of the noises I’m hearing and the sights I’m seeing are somehow disconnected from each other. Like I’m here, but I’m not. Oh God, this doesn’t feel good. This is what getting high is?

I feel Oliver’s hand rub my shoulder protectively, and I suddenly feel slightly more grounded. More safe. He always makes me feel that way.

“Did you hear me?” He asks, leaning down so he’s closer to my face.

“Oh…no,” I manage.

“I said we should watch a movie.” I can’t figure out how to form a response, so I just stare at his handsome face. Which looks even more handsomer than usual. Is that a word, handsomer?

“Brooo, she’s gone!” Rodney says, cracking up like we’re at a comedy show. Who is gone?

“Come on,” he holds his open hand out for me, and I clasp mine around it, standing up shakily. It feels like my legs are made of Jello and my feet are made of concrete, but somehow I manage to make my way through his front door and into his bedroom.

“Are you okay, girl?” Amber asks, in a tone that almost sounds nice. Well, as close to nice as she can get.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” I reply, not looking at her, just trying to focus on walking. I plop down on his bed. He turns on the TV and pushes a VHS tape into the player. I didn’t even know VHS was still around.

“Alright, I gotta ask. Have you ever been this high before?” Rodney says, squatting down in front of me with a giant grin on his face. He’s not a bad looking guy, definitely rough around the edges as Oliver put it, but boyishly cute, with short dark hair and a rounded nose.

“Uhhhh… no.” I reply, unsure what else to say. Obviously it’s the truth.

“YES!!” He leaps up in the air like this is the greatest news he’s ever heard, and I can’t help but giggle. “I told you I could find good bud, you never trust me, Oliver.”

Oliver just shakes his head and laughs, not revealing that this is my first time ever smoking.

“It’s mid,” Amber says despondently, rolling her eyes.

“Ahhh, you’re such a buzzkill, Amber. Lighten up, babe.” Rodney says, elbowing her. She rolls her eyes again, it appears she doesn’t like that he called her babe. Or maybe she did, and this is just how she always acts? The dynamic here is confusing.

We all stare at the tv in silence, aside from Rodney’s occasional laughter. I can’t figure out what this movie is about, so I’m mostly just watching the different shapes and colors flashing on the screen. Pot is weird, it’s not at all what I expected. It makes me feel like I’m dreaming while I’m awake. It’s cool, but it’s also sort of scary. I don’t know how much I really want to do it again. It feels like we’ve been watching this movie for hours, but at the same time it feels like we just walked in from the porch minutes ago.

Rodney lifts a yellow backpack up off the floor, and he scrounges around in it with his hand for a while. Finally he pulls out a brown paper bag. I already know what it is. We have about 10,000 brown paper bags just like it sitting in our pantry.

He unscrews the lid and takes a swig of the clear liquid, I don’t recognize the label. Then he passes it to Amber and she does the same, but she drinks more of it than he did.

“Slow down,” Rodney says. He sounds genuinely concerned, which is different from his usual goofy tone.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and reaches the bottle out towards Oliver. I suddenly feel nervous. Why didn’t he let me know they’d be drinking? Is he going to drink too?

“I’m good,” he says, softly pushing the bottle away from him. “I’m just sticking with weed tonight.” Relief washes over me.

Amber scoffs. “You? Sticking with weed? Since when? You’re the biggest alcoholic out of all of us, Oliver.”

Is that true? I hope that she’s just exaggerating, but it doesn’t seem that way.

She takes another smaller sip before handing it back to Rodney.

“Oakley?” He asks suggestively, holding the bottle up in the air.

“Oh, no thanks. I don’t really drink.”

I hear Amber half-laugh/half-sigh. “Why not?” She asks.

“Why does it matter?” Oliver replies harshly.

“Calm down, Ollie. I’m asking her a simple question.”

Ollie? I didn’t know she had a nickname for him.

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