Cougar

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PRESENT DAY
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Ally rolled over and took up most of the bed, so now I’m stuck with the mistake of switching on the news at one a.m. out of boredom.

All the headlines from the previous day either had the words ‘rape,’ ‘kidnapping,’ or ‘murder,’ and all those lovely things in them.

I slanted my head sideways to see a sleeping Ally, half laying her back, half laying on her side. Her hands were placed just above her stomach.

I frowned.

There’s possibly a baby in her stomach right now. It shouldn’t be born into such a vile world. What if they grow up and get raped or kidnapped? I’d lose my shit. I’ve gone through that and it’s not that fun.

A thought popped into my head and I felt sick.

What if they self-harm?

Or…even worse…become the rapists or murders or bullies? What if they’re the reason someone wants to die and harm themselves?

Sometimes I wish I could get a glimpse at my future child’s life. If they’re the douchebags, I’mma whoop them.

Ah. Fuck.

Another realisations came to me.

If I turn out like my dad…in any way…no.

I’m not down with that.

My hand suddenly got a mind of its own and jabbed Ally on the side of her head. She grunted awake with a snort before she groaned loudly.

“Dude,” she whined, hands cupping her face. Her eyes snapped open to glare at me. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I can’t stop thinking.”

“About what?”

“Everything terrible and scary in the world.”

She rubbed the back of her fist against her eyes, causing them to grow redder, as she pushed herself up onto her elbows to squint at the TV. “The news?” she asked, tipping her raised eyes brows at me. Her right cheek had the imprints of the pillow on it.

I wanted to touch her face but refrained from it and nodded.

“It’s scary. All it is is ‘rape, rape, rape.”

“It’s not like…triggering you, is it?” She finally sat up, pulling her legs into the Criss-Cross-Applesauce position.

I shook my head. My thoughts this entire story have been triggering me like crazy. The news was just reaffirming fears and making me regret ever having sex.

I looked down at her stomach, hoping she’d understand. She did.

“Oh,” she whispered.

“Yup.” We fell silent and just sat there. My head turned towards the TV when the words ‘…sex offender…’ were said. On the screen was a man dressed in a suit, hands cuffed in from of his stomach as he stood in a court room. I strained to read the headline and unintentionally rolled my eyes.

‘Gym Teacher Sentenced to Prison for Having Sexual Relations with Students.’

Okay, one – Ew. How gross can you get?

And, two - I scoffed. - He wasn’t even that cute, what the hell. His hair was thinning and he had bit too much of a pot belly going on for being a so-called ‘gym teacher.’

Oh, God. Is that all I found wrong with this? That he wasn’t remotely attractive?

I dropped my head down into my hands. What’s wrong with me?

I mean, yeah. The ‘Ew. How gross can you get?’ was aimed at the fact that this forty year old man was boning his students, but…it honestly was because ew, he’s like forty.

Ugh. I need mental help.

“Are you okay?”

I shook my head, but when I went to answer her verbally, I nodded and said, “Yeah,” then changed my answer instantly. “No, not really.” I flicked my hand up towards the TV and groaned. His story was still being given, so don’t worry. It’s not like I groaned at an announcement about Veteran’s Day.

“Ew,” she mumbled as they did an unnecessary close up of his face. “He’s…wha – how did he manage to get students to sleep with him?”

“There is something seriously wrong with us.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” – my hands flew up into the air in utter exhaustion. – “That’s all we find wrong with this, that he’s gross.”

“Well, he is.”

“But there’s so much more that’s disgusting about this!” I realised I was shouting and grunted, falling flat on my back. My head now dangled off the side of the bed and I met eyes with Baby while she slept soundly on a pile of dirty clothes.

I whined into my hands, “What if that’s me in the future?”

Ally’s voice rose an octave. “Y-you…? Why you?”

“Well, I’m just saying –”

“You better mean old and fat.”

“Alllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyy.”

“No. None of that will be you in the future – you’ll stick to a diet. Top foods to avoid: fries from McDonald’s and little sluts from Brazil.”

“She’s not a slut.”

“Oh, so you’re defending her now?”

“No, I’m…” I screamed into my hands. Baby bolted up from the ground and barked at me. I pushed her back down. When she jumped up to lie on the foot of the bed, I sighed at the ceiling. “Maybe,” I started then sighed. “Maybe…we should…I should…get…help, like mental help.”

A weird sound popped out of her mouth. She asked with slight denial, “You mean like a therapist?”

I nodded slowly. “Before I do something dumb, like her.” I pushed myself up slightly to get a glimpse at her face. Ally sat with her brows furrowed.

Now she was whispering her question.

“You’re really ready to do anything now, aren’t you?”

“Yup.”

"But I trust you.”

“I don’t trust me,” I mumbled like a sap, picking at my nails. She sighed, looking down at her hands in her lap. She shook her head slightly, but shrugged at me.

“Alright. I’ll…I don’t even know where to find a place like that around here.”

“I do,” I said, pulling myself back up to roll over onto my stomach, still hanging halfway off the bed.

“You do?”

“There’s one in Tipp. I went to him a few times when I was in college because of my mum and all that.”

“Why don’t I know this?”

I shrugged.

“I didn’t tell you.”

“And why not?”

“Don’t know.”

Why didn’t I? Yeah, it used to take a lot for me to open up to her, but over the years it got so much easier. But I hated her thinking I was weak. I couldn’t handle my own problems and had to pay someone to listen to me whine, instead of being capable of fixing myself.

“Well,” she huffed, scooting back until she was right up against the pillows. “Sleep. Think you’re gonna be able to sleep?” she asked, taking the blanket up and over her legs as she slipped down under them.

“Nah.”

She snorted. “That sucks. Goodnight.”

I hit her with my pillow.

“You get to sleep in, anyway,” I grumbled, plopping my pillow back down on the bed. I leaned up against it, over-dramatically pouting at her. She flashed a smile.

“Hey, not very long. It’s at nine-ish, so.”

She’s going to the doctors tomorrow to see how far along she is in the pregnancy.

“And I bet you’re still gonna wake up at five, right?”

She grinned. “You know me.”

I deepened my pout.

“Sadly.”

She stuck her tongue out at me, flopping back over onto her side, turning her back to me. She waved her hand aimlessly in the air, mumbling, “Turn that off, please, dear? It’s starting to depress me, too.”

“Oh, anything for you, honey,” I mocked, gripping the remote. The room went dark. I laid on my back, staring at the wall in front of me until my eyes adjusted. Then I did something lame. After a sigh, I shifted onto my side, facing Ally’s back and gripped a hand around her waist. In one swift movement, I yanked her up against me, propping my chin onto her shoulder. Her fingers instantly locked around mine before she let out a small laugh.

“You’re so corny,” she teased in a nasally voice.

“Nyyyeaaaaaaaaahh.”

-

“Participation points?”

“I’ll do it!” Gill announced loudly, popping her hand up into the air.

I passed the clipboard with the seating charts plastered on it to the boy sitting in the first desk of Gill’s row. I told him to hand it back to her, and once he did, I fell down into my swivel chair and wheeled closer to my computer screen.

I turned on the projector with the little remote and positioned my hands over the keyboard, tilting my head around the room.

“Name some cooking terms – uh, Shannon.”

Her hand retreated to rest under her chin.

“Mix?”

I typed the word into the blank Microsoft document, then called on the next volunteer. Gill.

“Boil,” she said, “as in Susan Boyle.”

The class lol’d while Gill’s friend laughed out, “That was a good one, Gillian.”

She tipped her a nod. “Thanks, Ashton.”

I added ‘boil’ to the list and focused on the new hand that came up. Rebeca’s. She had this…crooked smile, and when she said her suggestion, I understood why.

“Whip?”

I let it’s double meaning slip over my head and typed it thoughtlessly. We got through about ten more generic cooking terms until Rebecca was here to help again.

That smile returned as she said, “Harden.” I narrowed my eyes at her, hindering the word from becoming part of the growing list. The class bursted out with laughter. I kept my glare on her, but typed it anyway.

I said sternly, “Remember, these have to be school appropriate.”

“What is it even?” Gill asked.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you? A recipe poem. I have some examples.” Minimising the document, I brought up a folder and clicked on one of the files marked ‘Baked Stepfather.’ Not written by me this time. I got it from the Internet, so uh rights reserved to the author.

“Can I read it?” Gill requested in a very monotone voice, but when I nodded, her tone lightened up.

’10 cups anger
8 cups religious hypocrisy
8 cups rage
6 cups bitterness
5 cups fear
5 cups insecurity
Scant teaspoon love
Mix anger, bitterness, rage, and religious hypocrisy well. Spread
over fear, covering it completely. Let love sit until cold, then sprin-
kle haphazardly onto the pan. Stir in insecurity. Bake at 500 de-
grees until hard shell has formed.’

“What’s ‘scant’?” she asked immediately.

I shrugged, standing from my seat, grabbing the rubrics off the top of my desk.

“Hell if I know.”

Giggles spread around the room. Seeing the stack of pass-out-able papers in my possession, Gill hopped out of her seat, but when she tried to snatch them from me, I held them higher up in the air.

“You know how many points you have?” I asked her rhetorically. “Too many. Does anyone else want to hand these out?” Rebeca’s hand was instantly in the air. “Uh,” I scanned the room eagerly, “anyone else?”

Rebeca’s mouth fell open slightly. “Wha – I offered.”

Unfortunately.

I scrunched my nose in protest, but sighed intensely, forking them over to her. “I mean, I guess.”

For a split second, she grazed each fingertip over my knuckle before gripped onto the papers. She didn’t wait for me to step back to give her room before she stood up, purposely knocking her shoulder against my elbow.

She peeked up through her lashes and smirked.

I ignored it, heading back over to my desk. The students immersed themselves into several conversations while she quickly passed the rubrics out.

I slyly went for my mobile to check the time. Five after nine. Ally’s appointment would’ve started a bit ago. In her place today as a sub was Mr. Wortman, who apparently subbed for me while I was out ‘ill.’

In the last second before my screen blinked to sleep, I realised I had an unread text. I swiped the lock bar to check the message. It was from Ally, came in around eight. She wanted me to know she had just woken up, very obviously rubbing it in. I texted her back the emoji of a purple eggplant.

Right as I hit send, my eyes drifted up to the shadow standing in front of my desk. Rebeca still smirked down at me, about ten or so rubrics in her outstretched hand.

“No phones in school, Mr. Williams.”

I involuntarily cringed at her calling me that. Yes, that’s the way students should refer to their teachers, cuz respect or something, but I knew that wasn’t her intent. She was getting more and more forward with everything lately. More ballsy.

I wasn’t exactly hating it.

I fabricated a smile, rolling my eyes. I slid my phone under a folder on my desk, saying, “What phone?”

Her smile grew as I tried not to snatch the papers from her.

I waited for her to just say ‘Uh-huh,’ then scamper back to her own desk, but she stayed put, flattening her palms on my desk. She leaned forward slightly to say, “I don’t understand…what we’re doing in Speech now.”

“It’s any topic you want,” I said simply.

“I’ve never written speeches.”

“Really? Never?”

“Not in American.”

“Well, what do you need help on?”

“My English. I’m getting better at speaking it, but I can’t write it as good.”

“Easy.” I picked up a pad of Post-It notes, grabbing a pen. I asked, “Do you have a Study Hall? You can come in if you really need help. I’ll write you a pass. Or in the morning.”

She shook her head, almost seeming genuine.

“I don’t have time. No Study Hall and I walk to school.”

“Well,” I pushed out a chuckle. “We’re gonna have to meet halfway on this somewhere. If you can’t write speeches, you’re not gonna have a great chance of passing Speech. Can you ask a friend to help you with your English?”

“I could, but…I just thought it would make more sense to ask you. You’re my teacher; you know what I need the help on.”

She had a point. Maybe. Or is that my hormones talking?

“What did you have in mind?” I asked, willing to at least pretend to consider any of her suggestions. “If you don’t have a Study Hall and get to school too late when can I help you?”

“They do tutoring outside of school, don’t they?”

Oh. No.

I did this weird mix of a scoff and a laugh, shaking my head.

“I – yeah, I don’t think that’s really appropriate.”

“But I need help.”

But I need to stay out of prison.

“I’m sorry, Rebeca, but I can’t help you outside of school.”

“But – why not?”

Though her tone told me she really meant what she was saying, there was a slight glimmer in her eyes, and the corner of her lips were threatening to smile.

“You know why.” The retort came out more…playful than I meant them to, creating a smile on her face.

“I’m only asking because I really need help.”

“And I’m willing to try to help you, but I can’t meet with you outside of this classroom.”

She was silent. Before answering me, her smile became more scheming and she leaned forward a bit more, now towering closer to my face. I sat back in my chair and focused on turning the projector off.

I let my eyes zip to her face momentarily when she asked deviously, “What do you think will happen if we’re alone –”

I interjected with another excuse, “I just think it’d be awkward.” She kept talking over me.

“What do you want to do to me, Mr. Williams?”

“Rebeca. I can’t help you anywhere but in school.”

“Because you want me?” She said it like it was more of a statement then a question. I looked around the room, hoping Gill or anyone, really, would suddenly have a question, then I would have to direct my attention away from Rebeca, but everyone was oblivious to what was happening. I checked the time and saw there was still fifteen minutes of class.

My head snapped back to Rebeca when she said, “I want you. Don’t you want me?”

Those words…they sounded so familiar. Then I realised it was because I had said them to Ally back when she was my teacher, and then we did the sexy time stuff.

My jaw clenched and I quickly shook my head up at Rebeca, but didn’t look at her.

“You don’t want me. You can't.”

“Yes, I do. There’s not much of an age gap between us. It’s not wrong.”

“It is wrong. I’m your teacher.”

“But I like you.”

Is this what I was like to Ally? Just so persistent and openly inappropriate? How did she put up with me?

“Rebeca,” I said more firmly. “Go sit down. Please. I’ll see what I can do about helping you, but it has to be in school. If you keep acting like this, I’ll refer you to another Speech class. Got it?”

And she smiled.

“Yes, sir.”

She finally turned for her desk, but kept her head angled back slightly towards me.

I promptly circled my chair around so the back faced her and stared wide-eyed at my computer. I really needed this therapy thing. Rebeca’s not letting up at all. If anything, she’s loosening up.

And I don’t know how much longer I can hold off.

-

Ally didn’t come back to work for the rest of the day, like she told me she would. Instead, I walked into our apartment to see her sitting hunched over on the couch. She was staring blankly at the TV with a big, wool blanket draped over her. Her chin was propped up on the palm of her hand, her elbow on the arm of the couch.

Her eyes looked so…dead.

It took me a couple seconds to realise they were slightly bloodshot and her cheeks were puffy and red.

“You okay?” I asked warily, pushing the door shut behind me. I took a few steps forward to see what she was watching then flickered my eyes back over to her as she grimaced but didn’t look up to me.

She slowly shook her head before letting out a single whimper.

Her hand closed over her mouth when she pushed out another, finally bringing those suddenly glassy eyes to meet mine.

I lost my heartbeat for a second. Something was wrong. She was upset enough to cry and it felt like that killed me. I hoped it wasn’t something I had done.

I knelt by the sofa, crouching between her legs. I snaked my hands around her waist and pulled her closer, bending down to try to make eye contact with her, but she averted her gaze down each time.

“What’s wrong? Did you get hurt? Did you watch the news? I…” She went to the doctor’s today. My voice dropped along with my heart. “Is the baby okay?”

The sentence crumbled out of her mouth.

“It’s gone,” she whispered, scowling again. “And it’s all my fault.”

“Your fault? How?”

“R-remember…” She cleared her throat, finger fumbling with her cardigan’s buttons. “R-remember when I told you that I was spotting? I wasn’t spotting because of a period, but because…” She took a sharp intake of breath and shook her head again. She blinked up at me, frowning. Her voice cracked as she said, “I had a miscarriage.”

A miscarriage.

A…I suddenly felt empty. She was pregnant at some point…and now the baby’s gone. And I was missing something I didn’t even know really existed.

I’ve heard so many times the trauma having a miscarriage can leave on a woman. I didn’t want her to feel that.

“That’s not your fault,” I told her softly, pushing her chin back up when she dropped her head down.

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it’s not. Did they say what caused it?”

“Me,” she snapped. “Because I fucking smoked.”

“Wha - ?” She cut me off.

“It’s all my fucking fault,” she said again. I gripped her chin and made her look at me. She was breathing hard, her jaw clenching and unclenching.

“But you didn’t know…”

“It was laced with meth and ecstasy. They ran a drug test on me. Our baby is dead because of me.”

“Stop blaming yourself. You smoked because I had the weed out.”

“I don’t usually smoke just because you are. But this time, I did, and…” Her words disappeared into another whimper. She darted her eyes up to mine. They grew glossier by the second. “Do you hate me?” she asked quietly.

“Hate you?” I said. “No. Why would I hate you? It wasn’t your fault. Look,” – I tugged her closer until our foreheads touched. – “We can try again – if you want. Do you want that?”

She nodded solemnly.

“I do. I wanted a baby so badly. I really want to be a mommy.”

I pressed a kiss against her hairline, then one on her lips.

“Then we’ll try again. If that’s what you want, I’ll do that for you.”

“You would?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I want you to be happy. I-…” My mouth had three words it really wanted me to say, but they caught in my throat at the last second. I forced them out. “I love you. I know you probably don’t believe me, but I really would do anything for you.”

She tilted her head to the side and looked at me in shock.

“You…you love me?”

“Of course I do.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that. Do you love me?”

It took her a second, but she slowly began to smile, nodding.

“Yeah,” she whispered, smile getting bigger. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for a long ass time.”

“And I would’ve said it a long ass time ago, but…” I shrugged. “I don’t know why I didn’t. I just…love is scary.”

She laughed lightly.

“You could say that again.”

So I did.

“Love is scary.”

She pushed her hand onto the side of my face and told me, “Go away. You’re such an ass.”

I grinned at her.

“Ew, you love an ass.”

She rolled her eyes, mumbling, “Unfortunately.”

I mocked her in a scratchy voice, “‘Unfortunately! ’ – God, you’re so blah, blah, blah.” I bent forward to kiss her a few times on the cheek, getting her to smile even more. I pulled back a bit to run the pad of my thumb under each of her eyes.

“Oh.” She pulled her sleeves over her fingers and dragged them over her cheeks. When she placed them back in her lap, I took my hands up to cup her face, giving her a kiss on the nose.

“You gonna be alright? Maybe?”

“Maybe,” she said, shrugging slightly. “I’m tired. I think I’m gonna go cry myself to sleep.”

“Want a cuddle-buddy? I’ve been in need of a good cry.”

“Be my guest.”

-

I’m feelin’ depressed as shit right now. Along with Ally. Literally all we’ve been doing this lovely Saturday morning is lay in bed with the TV on in the background.

Ally laid with her head on my shoulder, legs bent over mine. I just had my hand lying limply on her knee.

Everything feels so unreal now. I didn’t like it.

“Tyler,” she suddenly whispered in her sleepy voice.

“Hmm?” I mumbled, not bothering to open my eyes. She sighed.

“Can we get high?”

“I thought you were done with drugs?”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Uh.” I pushed myself up onto my elbows. Ally sat up as a result. She was getting bags under her eyes now, which doesn’t really add up. All we’ve done the past couple days is lie in bed and sleep. I’m not joking.

But there have been times that I’ll get waken up in the middle of the night and hear her crying. Either she’d be in the bathroom or tucked under the covers.

Maybe getting high would make her feel better. Maybe it’d make me feel better.

“Do you know anybody?” I asked, extending my hand out to grab my phone from the bedside table. I probably had some people in here.

She shook her head after a second in thought.

“Not that I can recall. You always go get it.”

Flicking through my contacts, I sighed. “Usually Eric, but he’s at work right now. I could try his house anyway. Nakiah’s probably there.”

“Alright.”

I kicked the blanket off of me and dropped my legs off the side of the bed. My bare feet touched the growing pile of dirty laundry and I bent down to grab a pair of pants. Pulling them on, I asked her, “Ya gonna come with me or you wait to stay here?”

“Stay. I’m afraid if I try to stand, I’ll fall flat on my face. I’m knackered.”

“Knackered?” I laughed. She grinned.

“It’s been nearly five years, Tyler. I’m surprised I’m not an exact copy of an Australian.”

I smiled, bending down to kiss her forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” I said, pulling on a random hoodie. “Don’t completely go off the deep end without me, ‘right?”

“You got it, dude. Don’t get jibbed,” she shot back snootily.

“You got it, dude. Later.”

“Bye.”

I shoved my phone into my pocket and made my way to the door, dragging it shut behind me. On the couch was my Nike drawstring backpack, and in it was a twenty, maybe more. Enough to buy me a gram or two.

I unlocked the car door and hopped in, throwing my bag to the passenger’s seat. It had started to rain sometime this morning, now just drizzling. Baby loves the rain. I should’ve walked her.

Eh. Nonetheless, I turned the engine over and back out of the parking lot, only feeling a touch guilty.

The drive took about five minutes before I reached one of the most shadiest houses on the planet. You could tell just from looking at it that it was owned by drug dealers. And it was an ugly yellow, too, with splatters of dried up mud on the sides. There was proof of failed flower gardening laying out in the pots that were placed pointlessly on the front porch.

You’d think they’d afford a better set up all the shit he sells.

I trekked quickly from my car and up onto the porch of Eric’s house. I balled up my fist and knocked it against the horrifically red front door.

Red and yellow? Really?

After a few knocks, the sound of several locks clicked and the door opened a crack, then all the way as Nakiah Steele recognised who was standing on the other side.

“Well, look who it is,” she grinned at me through the little slits she called eyes. Her ginger hair was up in a high ponytail that failed to really hold it up. “Haven’t seen you in months. Eric’s not here.”

“Well,” I put on a big smile. “Think you could help me out then?”

Her smile matched mine but was more knowing.

“I could try – come in.”

I stepped in to be suffocated by the intense reek of dank and beer. Bottles sat on the coffee table next to crumbled sheets of foil.

“What did you want?”

I took the twenty from my pocket and held it in the air.

“Two grams of purple kush would be nice.”

Nakiah started towards the hallway, which I knew had a door that led to the basement.

“Take a seat. I’ll be right back with your order.”

I decided against her offer and stayed standing in the centre of the lifeless living room. I didn’t expect anyone else to home besides her. It’s just her and Eric. I’ve known them since college though they’re about ten years older than me. Meet them at Macca’s. Best friendship ever.

I blankly watched the TV until Nakiah came treading back up the stairs. I heard her close the door behind her then saw her come into the living room with a quart Zip-loc baggie.

“You’re an angel, Nakiah,” I said, taking the bag from her.

“I know I am. Is that all you wanted? No heroin?”

“Eh.” My eyes went to her stomach momentarily when I noticed there was a bit of a bulge to it. Like a pregnant bulge. Uh. Should I ask? What if she's just getting fat? I answered her first with a shake to my head. “No, thanks. I haven’t done that in years. Plus, I just gave you all my money. And I doubt Ally would be down with that.”

“How is she, anyway? Is any of this gonna be shared with her?”

“The weed,” I nodded, then cleared my throat. “She’s a bit upset lately. We, uh – are you…?” I gestured to her stomach. She crinkled her brows at me, but glanced down at and back up to laugh.

She nodded with a smile. “Yup, about four months. Why is she upset? Is everything okay?”

“Uh. She...” I was deciding against telling her. This was personal business. But I wanted someone to talk to. Maybe Nakiah could talk to Ally and try to make her feel better.

No. Seeing a woman who was succeeding so far with a pregnancy would probably depress her even more.

Still, what I thought was going to be so hard to say, still came out.

“She’s – she had a miscarriage about a week ago, apparently.”

Nakiah’s jaw dropped and she gasped. “Oh, no.”

“Yeah, she went to the doctor’s Thursday morning, and…” I inhaled sharply. “It’s not there anymore.”

“Oh, god,” she whispered again. She held her hands over her mouth. Her eyes drifted down to her stomach and she shook her head sadly at me. “I couldn’t even imagine how…how she must be feeling. If I lost my baby now…” She trailed her sentence and shook her head one more time. She asked, “H-how are you?”

“Weird. We didn’t even know for sure if she was pregnant; that’s why she was going to the doctors to get the professional answer, and then…this is what she’s told instead. I just feel…” Dead. “Weird.”

She stood there, looking at me with eyes full of pity. I shifted my gaze to the TV, hoping she would stop soon. She did by holding her index finger up to me.

“Wait here,” she muttered, spinning around to go towards the hallway. I heard a door open and close. The basement, I think. She returned a few second later with an even smaller plastic baggie. It looked like one of the ones you get when you buy, like, a sweater and it has those extra buttons in them.

But this one didn’t have anything like that in it.

This one had a light brown-ish powder in it.

I recoiled away when she tried to drop it in my hands.

“Nakiah,” I said, shaking my head. “I really don’t need this. I can’t even pay you for it.”

“It’s on the house -”

I interrupted her, dropping my mouth open.

“That’s an ounce,” I noted out loud. They usually make about a hundred bucks off an ounce and she’s gonna give it to me for free?

“I know Ally’s not into it, but you are. Weed for her, heroin for you. Take it for yourself.”

It was so tempting. I only seemed to be remembering the good things about it. Nakiah ignored my refusing and slipped the bag into my hoodie’s front pocket.

“Take it. Pay me back later, if you want. You can’t stay sad.”

I ended up leaving that house at least $120 worth of drugs that I only paid twenty bucks for. I guess that’s the benefit of being friends with your dealers.

When I got to our flat, I hung back in the car for a few seconds to stare down at the baggie of heroin. I don’t even think I have any needles or a pipe. I haven’t needed them in so long. I shoved it into my bag and put the weed in my front pocket.

I hopped out of the car and went up to our home.

Ally was still laying in the bed, eyes closed. I said her name a couple times but she didn’t really react other than shifting to lay on her side. Well, at least she’s not dead.

I knelt by my bedside table and dropped the weed in the top drawer. I went through a couple drawers, inspecting each quickly, but didn’t find what I was looking for. Becoming desperate, I left our room for the guest’s bedroom and filtered through a few boxes.

I silently cheered when I found a grey bag in the third box I checked. I pulled it open and sighed. About five syringes were inside, but I aimed my eyes for the small clear pipe. I grasped the bag into my hand and sprinted to the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind me. I put the toilet seat down and sat, shrugging my bag off.

There was a lighter in the side pocket. I grabbed it and the heroin, setting them both on the sink counter.

I stared at them and asked myself if I was really going to start this again, but secretly hoped I remembered how to smoke it.

I was seriously considering breaking a six month clean streak.

But…Nakiah did sort of give it to me for free. I can’t let it go to waste.

“Just a little bit,” I reasoned aloud with myself, reaching for the pipe. If it’s not what I remember it being, I’ll sell it and be able to pay Nakiah back a lot sooner.

I shook out a small dose into the pipe then grabbed my lighter. I ran the bulb-like section of the pipe over the flame until it started to give off a wave of smoke and the powder began to fizzle.

I don’t understand why Vanessa never smoked it. She always injected it and I’m ten thousand percent sure she did it wrong, which is probably why she finally fucking died about a year ago. I’m just happy I never have to see her again unless I die from an overdose and meet up with her in hell.

Better than bunking with my dad in prison. He finally got caught for drugs two years back.

I gave my attention back to what was in front of me when I started smelling smoke. I flicked off the lighter and shoved it onto the counter. The heroin melted into a dark liquid, resting down in the bulb of the crack pipe, but still had small chunks of brown in it. I heated it with a flame for a few more minutes then brought the pipe to my mouth.

I inhaled a little, knowing I had to start out slowly, then work my way back up. Within minutes, I started feeling warm - and heavier. My arms were having a hard time holding up the pipe. But what I was feeling made me keep it from tumbling to the ground.

I felt good, like I was having twenty orgasms at once. Seriously. It was what sex used to feel like.

I got a few fuller puffs in before I heard a door open and quickly recognised it as my bedroom door. I heard Ally’s footsteps go pass the bathroom and out into the living room.

If she knew what I was doing…she’d flip. I don’t even think she knows I’m home –

My mouth grew dry all of a sudden and my throat tightened, then shot open. I was forced to double over as I hurled into the trashcan placed conveniently between the toilet and the tub.

The smell of puke wafted up into my nose and I retched loudly again. It was like a Family Guy episode.

“Oh, god,” a voice gasped from behind me. I was too busy hurling to hear the bathroom door open and Ally run in. “Tyler!” Her hands clutched onto my shoulders momentarily but released when I kept throwing up.

My stomach was in knots, my throat burned.

After a few painful gags, the puke stopped coming out and I dry-heaved over the trashcan until I became aware of the horrible odour radiating out of it. Another gag and I pulled myself up, leaning my head back. It touched a hand towel hanging from the rack. I stared at it before grabbing a corner and wiping it over my mouth.

The crack pipe was suddenly inches away from my face.

“What the fuck are you doing with this?”

I stared indifferently at Ally and shrugged.

“I…” I could taste the vomit left in my mouth and I stopped talking to hock a loogie into the trash can. I flopped back into my previous position and groaned, closing my eyes.

“Tyler,” she snapped, gripping a wad of my hair between her fingers. She angled my head up. “Look at me.”

My eyes fluttered open, but wouldn’t focus. They wanted to close.

“Answer me,” she said, tapping her finger against my forehead.

I instantly got a headache and scowled at her.

“Fuck off,” I grunted, grabbing her hand to push it off. “I was just…” I couldn’t find the words, and didn’t really care. I went back to staring at the insides of my eyelids. Why does it matter so much to her? I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“No. You promised you wouldn’t do this again.”

“Well, I lied.”

The high was slowly starting to come back. It was like a sneeze; I could feel it creeping up.

My breath caught in my throat as the euphoric feeling inched over me.

It was so, so good.

If she knew how good it felt, she’d lighten up.

A bolt of energy suddenly pulsed to my brain. I sat up straight and grabbed the pipe from her hands. I snatched the lighter from the counter and flicked it on.

“Baby,” I said, running the flame under the bulb again, “you have to try some.”

“No,” she said like I was crazy.

“Wha – why not?”

“It’s heroin. That’s why.”

“But it’s so good.” I inched the lighter next to the sink and brought the pipe to my mouth, inhaling quickly because I knew she’d yank it away from me seconds later. Which she did.

“Stop,” she growled, locking her hands around my wrist. The warm sensation tingled through me, anyway, making me close my eyes to savour the feeling. I heard her set the pipe down on the edge of the bath, then she sighed. “How’d you even afford that?”

“Nakiah just gave it to me.”

“Why?”

“Because ‘we haven’t seen each other in months.’”

“Did you at least get the weed?”

I smiled and nodded. “In the top drawer.”

“Good. I get more than half of it, because you’re pissing me off right now.”

“Because I smoked?”

“Yup.”

“Can I at least keep the heroin?”

“No!”

“Ally,” I scoffed. “I can’t let it go to waste. She could’ve sold that to me for a hundred bucks, but gave it to me for free. I’m smoking it all.”

“No, you’re not. I’m not gonna let you overdose.”

I rolled my eyes. “I won’t O.D.”

“You don’t know that!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up into the air. “You’ve almost before.”

“Yeah, that was before.”

“Oh, what’s so different now?” she asked sarcastically. “You know…I get that this is hitting you hard; it’s killing me, but…don’t turn to hard drugs.” Her tone changed drastically. “Please. If I have to hang on, so do you.”

“I’m not letting go.”

“Really? Let me see your arms.”

“No,” I argued, flinching my arms out of her reach, hooking my hand together behind my back. “That’s not always an accurate depiction of how I’m feelin’. Sometimes I just do it to do it.”

“Have you cut lately?”

“No.” Truth. In place of cuts were cigarette burns.

“Then let me see.” She went for my wrists but I sat on my hands.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe me?” I countered when she huffed at me. “If I’m telling you one thing, you believe the opposite. You don’t trust me at all.”

“I trust you completely. I know you can’t magically stop thinking the way you do and acting out like that, so I…I’m scared…that you’re not telling me everything.”

“But I am.”

“I don’t know that. Please,” she began to beg again. Her eyes started to glaze over with a fresh layer of tears. “Please stop doing things that could kill you. I need you, especially right now, and it feels like you don’t care sometimes.”

“I care too much if you haven’t noticed.”

“Not about what you need to.”

That was kick to the nads.

I didn’t say anything back. How could she think I didn’t care about her?

“You hide so much shit from me,” she said quietly. “I know it, but I’m still here. I guess I just love you too much -”

“Stop,” I said. “Stop acting like everything I do and say is one big lie. I love you too, but if you’re gonna stand here and make me feel like shit, you know where the fucking door is. I’m not forcing you to stay.”

“Okay, you know what?” She struggled to finish her sentence and shook her head. “I’m sorry, alright? I haven’t slept properly in a few days, and…I’m sorry.”

Did I just…get her to apologise, though I’m really the one at fault?

Well, damn.

“It’s fine,” I sighed. She looked down at her hands, down at the crack pipe.

“It’s smells like vomit in here,” she mumbled. “What’s so great about this?” she asked, altering the subject slightly. “Heroin, I mean.”

“Feels good.”

“That’s it? People waste their lives on something just makes them feel ‘good’?”

“It’s like weed, but a thousand times better. Like a constant orgasm.”

She snorted out a laugh.

“Really?”

“Really, really. Did you want to try it?” I asked. If she tried it, maybe she’d understand. But then again, I didn’t want to bring her down with me. She could get addicted easily. That was scary, and she wanted to try for a baby again. Drugs are what stopped us from parenthood before. If she went through another miscarriage – I don’t think she could take it.

Thankfully, she started to shake her head. “No –…a constant orgasm, you say?”

I smiled. “It’s ace.”

“How would I even…smoke it?”

“Ally, you don’t have to do it.”

“No, no. I’m interested now. A little won’t kill me…right?”

“I mean, it shouldn’t.” I took it back from her and hesitantly grabbed the lighter. I peeked up her. “You really want to try it?”

“A little,” she repeated. “I’m curious about all the hype.”

“Well…” I got up and grabbed her hand, leading her out of the bathroom. “It does smell horrid in here,” I mumbled in agreement, letting her take a seat down on the bed when we reached the boudoir.

She laughed while I brought the lighter up. It twinkled on and we both stared at the flame. I glanced out the corner of my eye at her. She looked more transfixed by the flame than anything else.

“You want this?” I asked again, needing to be sure before I singlehandedly ruined her life. Though she took a second to nod, I hesitantly heated the liquid until it began to give off a stream of smoke one more time. When I felt like there was enough, I set the lighter back in my pocket and slowly pushed the pipe towards Ally.

“Oh, uh. You first.”

She was having second thoughts. I focused on the opening of the pipe and closed my lips around it, inhaling. The same wave of warmth fled through me, but it wasn’t as intense as before. The bit that was left was getting weaker. Good. She didn’t need to immediately get high off her ass.

There was no instant effect from the drug. I knew it would take a few minutes longer now.

I breathed out a small puff of smoke and handed to pipe to Ally.

She stared down at it as I grabbed the lighter to heat it again. When the vapour was produced again, I mumbled, “Inhale it.” She stalled a couple more seconds but slowly brought it to her mouth and kept her eyes on mine. She draw a breath in lightly. I waited for her to react, but she just sat there, exhaling the smoke cloud.

“Well?”

“I feel…warm – does that make sense? Tingly.”

I took the pipe back from her, seeing the smoke still pour out. I inhaled until the inside became transparent again.

The usual warmth…and then bam. Orgasm galore. Not as extreme as before, but - I dropped back and rested on my bed. My eyes drifted shut just as she she asked, “Orgasm?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why isn’t that happening for me?” she said sadly. I held the pipe back out for her and then the lighter.

“Remember what I did? Do the same. You’ll feel it soon.”

Something clanked down onto the bed. I blinked to see she had dropped the lighter. She sat motionless with her eyes closed, her fingers wiggling in the air.

“Oh, I feel it.”

“Is it good?”

“Mmm.”

“Told you.”

She laid down next me, pushing her head onto my shoulder. I slipped my hand under neck, lacing my fingers through her hair. She dropped her eyes closed and sighed. I pressed a kiss against her nose. She crinkled it and laughed.

“You need a Tic-Tac,” she giggled. “You smell like vomit. I’m gonna hurl.”

I laughed at her. “I did just throw up not even five minutes ago. If you throw up, I’m fucking bolting.”

She grinned real toothy at me. She sat up and felt her hand around the top of the bedside table. “No promises. Have a piece,” she said, throwing a packet of Extra gum at me. “You need it.” I let it land on my chest for a few seconds, my arms too heavy to lift up. Ally had the pipe in her hands again, lighter gliding under it. She breathed in deeply and took the pipe from her mouth. Eyes fluttered shut as she sighed. A couple seconds and then she set it back on the table, letting herself dropped next to me. She propped her chin on my shoulder before inching her lips towards my mouth. She stopped short and groaned, “Did you have a piece?”

“My arms are dead.”

“Dead?” She grabbed the packet and took a metallic rectangle out of it. She threw the pack down off the bed, unwrapping the gum. “Open,” she slurred to me. My mouth fell open and she dropped the piece in.

I slowly started to chew. My jaw was tired, but when she leaned forward to move her mouth over mine, it loosened right up.

Again, time sped up and blanked out for me. We were suddenly sitting side-by-side, passing a joint back and forth, then under the covers naked. I finally got my sex.

Oh my, was it good. But better than before? Yes. That may just be because I haven’t had sex in about a week and was also higher than a muthafucka, but we’ll just say because of our current relationship status.

It was intense – and amazing. This was all we needed all along. Drugs. It was like it was way back then. I didn’t hate myself after; I didn’t feel shallow and gloomy.

She was all I wanted and kept my attention the entire time.

If we got high as fuck before sex – for the rest of our lives – we would be just fine. If it stays this good, I didn’t need anyone else anymore.

It just sucks that it takes heroin and weed to make me feel this good after sex.

But what she doesn’t know won’t kill her…right?