Silver Isn't a Real Color
Fantasy: Part Three
Lights from the moon and street lamps spilled through the blinds and onto their unclothed bodies. Their limbs lay entangled in each other. Her hair was sprawled across his chest like wildfire on snow. She awoke before him and slowly, as not to wake him, she moved to the edge of the bed and reached inside her purse. Quiet as possible, she fumbled through the bag and finally retrieved what she had been searching for. In her hand, she held two small objects. A lighter and a blunt; her relaxers. She silently lit the smoke and inhaled deeply. Soon thereafter, River’s body began to stir. Victoria felt a soft hand touch her bare lower back. In a groggy voice, he uttered, “What time is it?”
She looked at the digital clock’s red numbers and mumbled, “4:06.”
“I have to open today at seven,” he grumbled. She glanced back at him and smiled. “What’ve you got over there?” he asked.
“A smoke,” she replied. “Want one?”
“What kind of ‘smoke’?” She showed him the joint and he laughed, “Thought so. No thanks.”
“Why do you laugh?” she questioned.
“Because you’re bad.”
“Am not!” she cried and shoved him playfully.
He rolled over. “No worries. I’m worse than you.”
She took a final hit and watched the bud slowly die before she lay down next to him and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. Her breath skimmed the back of his neck causing the fine hairs to stand on their toes. “How?” she asked after a few moments of nothingness.
“How what?” he spoke in a tone that indicated that he was already falling asleep again.
“How are you worse than me?”
“There are things that I have done…” his voice trailed off. “Some things that I do…”
She kissed his shoulder blades delicately. “Show me how.”
After another quiet spurt he asked, “How do you even know?” he murmured, almost to himself.
“I just… can tell.”
He sat up and faced her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
He sat up again and stretched before he stood and walked over to the kitchen, still nude. After fumbling around in one of the bottom cabinets he came back over with a few items in hand. He paused for a moment and stared into her eyes again. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked again.
“I’m sure,” she said with a slight jitter in her voice.
He placed a small mirror, no bigger than six by six inches, on the bed between them and poured a small amount of a white powder onto the glass. Victoria watched in awe as he began to cut the powder into even finer grains with a razor. Nervously, his hands trembled. “God!” he shouted as his fingers tripped over one another and he accidentally slit the tip of his index finger.
She grabbed his hand and spoke softly before sucking the blood out of the wound, “Don’t be nervous.”
With a new found confidence, he began cutting again and finally spoke, “Watch me first.” Her eyes wide with excitement and anxiousness, he brought his face down to the mirror, held one nostril, and snorted the larger one of the lines he had created. She watched intently as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he coughed. After a second, he regained his composure and motioned for her to go. He held her long hair behind her head as she bent down to inhale the smaller line. In one awkward sniff, she had done it and her body quickly tensed up followed by violent and intense breathing. River took her body and cradled it until her muscles loosened and her heavy breathing subsided. He used his thumb to wipe away the hair that clung to her forehead from her sweet sweat. When her eyes opened again, they were no longer gray, but silver. A perfect silver that River fell into. “How do you feel?” he asked.
“Perfect,” she laughed.
She looked at the digital clock’s red numbers and mumbled, “4:06.”
“I have to open today at seven,” he grumbled. She glanced back at him and smiled. “What’ve you got over there?” he asked.
“A smoke,” she replied. “Want one?”
“What kind of ‘smoke’?” She showed him the joint and he laughed, “Thought so. No thanks.”
“Why do you laugh?” she questioned.
“Because you’re bad.”
“Am not!” she cried and shoved him playfully.
He rolled over. “No worries. I’m worse than you.”
She took a final hit and watched the bud slowly die before she lay down next to him and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. Her breath skimmed the back of his neck causing the fine hairs to stand on their toes. “How?” she asked after a few moments of nothingness.
“How what?” he spoke in a tone that indicated that he was already falling asleep again.
“How are you worse than me?”
“There are things that I have done…” his voice trailed off. “Some things that I do…”
She kissed his shoulder blades delicately. “Show me how.”
After another quiet spurt he asked, “How do you even know?” he murmured, almost to himself.
“I just… can tell.”
He sat up and faced her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
He sat up again and stretched before he stood and walked over to the kitchen, still nude. After fumbling around in one of the bottom cabinets he came back over with a few items in hand. He paused for a moment and stared into her eyes again. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked again.
“I’m sure,” she said with a slight jitter in her voice.
He placed a small mirror, no bigger than six by six inches, on the bed between them and poured a small amount of a white powder onto the glass. Victoria watched in awe as he began to cut the powder into even finer grains with a razor. Nervously, his hands trembled. “God!” he shouted as his fingers tripped over one another and he accidentally slit the tip of his index finger.
She grabbed his hand and spoke softly before sucking the blood out of the wound, “Don’t be nervous.”
With a new found confidence, he began cutting again and finally spoke, “Watch me first.” Her eyes wide with excitement and anxiousness, he brought his face down to the mirror, held one nostril, and snorted the larger one of the lines he had created. She watched intently as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he coughed. After a second, he regained his composure and motioned for her to go. He held her long hair behind her head as she bent down to inhale the smaller line. In one awkward sniff, she had done it and her body quickly tensed up followed by violent and intense breathing. River took her body and cradled it until her muscles loosened and her heavy breathing subsided. He used his thumb to wipe away the hair that clung to her forehead from her sweet sweat. When her eyes opened again, they were no longer gray, but silver. A perfect silver that River fell into. “How do you feel?” he asked.
“Perfect,” she laughed.