“Your turn.”
I blinked a few times, and slowly the joint in front of my face came into focus, perched between Carrick’s long, thin fingers. I only vaguely remembered how I had ended up at this party, something our opening act had thrown together for my birthday at a friend of a friend’s house or something. I was pretty sure no one at the party really cared about my birthday at all, but by that point, I didn’t really care either.
“Yeah,” I finally replied and plucked the smoldering joint from his hand.
It popped and crackled as I took a long, deep hit and passed it to the nameless guy on the couch next to me. We continued in that fashion for what felt like hours, and I was sure at some point someone must have brought out another joint or two. It was the never-ending joint, it seemed.
As parties went, this one was fairly chill, in spite of the various controlled substances being passed around like candy. Weed was my only predilection, though not for lack of opportunities. I just didn’t see the point in trying anything else; the cons of most other drugs seemed to outweigh the pros. Aside from that one time someone convinced Ike that we should all try some magic mushrooms, my drug habits were altogether boring and predictable.
I was perfectly happy to be predictable, though. Even though I was probably one of the younger guys at this party, which was ostensibly in my honor, I felt like the oldest fuddy duddy of the bunch. I parked my ass on the couch and stayed there, nursing a beer and smoking whatever was passed my way.
The weed took the edge of the anxiety I had felt lately. I couldn’t put a better name to it than that. Just… anxiety. It was this itch right below the surface, crawling under my skin and struggling to break free. Inside my brain was an incredible, deafening roar, a static of thoughts swirling so fast that I couldn’t pin any of them down. I couldn’t even say why I felt that way. What was so urgent? What was it, constantly screaming at me?
I tried to exercise it away, run until my body ached so much I couldn’t even think. Sometimes that worked. Other times, the weed was the only thing that helped, but it started another sort of vicious cycle. If I smoked, I ate, and if I ate, I needed to exercise more. There was no way to win, but at least for the moment, when I was stoned out of my mind, I didn’t care.
Some guys were playing Halo, and I found myself immensely fascinated just to watch. I wasn’t sure how long I had sat there watching, but I was vaguely aware of the fact that I was sinking further and further down. I wondered if eventually I’d just end up in the floor. Someone would probably get a laugh out of that, at least.
What a way to spend my twenty-third birthday.
“Hey,” a voice said, and after a moment, my brain tuned in and recognized it. Carrick. “You alright, man? Cal said it was cool if we wanted to just crash here. I don’t think you’re in any shape to make it back to the hotel, and I know I’m not. Hell, I don’t even remember what hotel it was.”
“I’m pretty good right here,” I mumbled, but I wasn’t so sure that was true. I could feel the anxiety creeping back in, aided by the cliché paranoia that often came with potent weed.
Carrick just nodded and clapped me on the shoulder. “Alright, alright. Happy birthday, man.”
At some point, the party around me died down but I remained in my spot. The dull roar of stubborn partiers faded out entirely, and I drifted off to sleep. When I woke again, the sun was shining through the blinds and I couldn’t quite remember where I was. I had slept a dark, dreamless sleep, but it wasn’t without terror. Some nameless something seemed to threaten to pull me down every time I closed my eyes; it was a nightmare of sorts that had plagued me for years. And Kate wondered why sometimes I would rather stay up all night playing video games than sleep.
I stumbled into the kitchen, stepping over a few sleeping bags, both empty and full. Someone had brought over a cake I had been given at the venue; the night was such a drug-induced blur that I couldn’t even remember who but I recognized the cake. I fumbled around in kitchen drawers until I located a fork, and sat down the table with the cake, box and all.
I didn’t stop until a good third of the cake was gone and my stomach was cramping. It wasn’t that large of a cake, but there was no excuse for that. Was I still stoned? I didn’t feel stoned. I felt like I was going to be sick.
Not knowing where the bathroom was, I rushed to the kitchen sink and leaned over it. Nothing. I contemplated sticking my fingers down my throat, but I really didn’t think that was the best impression to leave in someone else’s home. At least our hotel had a nice gym. I would be spending a few hours in there before the walk, I decided.
A moment from the previous night flashed into my memory. It had the haze and unreality of a dream, but when I stuffed my hand into my pocket, I knew it was real.
The guy to my left, I thought his name was Drew, passed the small pipe my way. It wasn’t the best I’d had, but who was I to turn down free weed? After two puffs, I passed it on to the next guy, whose name I didn’t know at all.
Drew gave me a nudge. “You know what’s really good?”
“What?” I asked, in spite of myself. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, and the question—along with the weed, I was sure—left my mouth dry.
“This,” he said, opening his hand up to reveal a few pills like some comic parody of a drug dealer.
I stared at him, waiting for an explanation that I was sure was coming, whether I wanted it or not.
“Adderall. Kinda levels you out, but makes it all more intense, too.”
An ADD drug. I knew the name well, given how many times people had joked that I needed something for my hyperactivity. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard of people mixing it with weed, either, but I had never tried it.
First time for everything, I supposed.
I plucked the three little tablets from his hand and stuffed them into my pocket, mumbling a thank you. Would I take them? Probably not. But it shut him up.
Three little peach pills. They looked harmless enough, but I knew better than that. Still, I couldn’t quite convince myself to throw them out or flush them down. A voice in my head said save them. You never know when you’ll need them. For what, I asked myself, feigning innocence. But I knew. It was essentially speed, and I wasn’t naïve enough not to know what that could do for me.
So I saved them.
I stuffed them back into my pocket and made a mental note to put them some place safe and hidden whenever I made it back to the hotel.
Another test. Another failure.
In my other pocket, I found a roach and it took only a little work to locate someone’s abandoned lighter tossed carelessly onto the kitchen counter. It wasn’t much, but I fired it up anyway and sucked out the last little bit it had to offer. It soothed my stomach, at least.
“Hey,” Carrick said, stumbling into the kitchen and running a hand through his hair, which was sticking up in at least ten different directions. “Glad to see you survived the night. You wanna help me locate Austin and Mikey, and we’ll hit this little diner I love down the street?”
“Yeah, sure,” I replied weakly. I stubbed out the roach, shrugged, and gulped it down. The chocolate cake was already sitting in my stomach like a rock; I figured one roach on top of it couldn’t hurt.
Carrick just chuckled and walked out of the room, calling out to his bandmates.
I stuck my hand back into my pocket and fingered those three little pills. Would I take them? Was it even a question? The better question was when. How long would I be able to hold out before temptation won? I had a feeling it wouldn’t be very long at all.