That Time We

So, fuck. There is this intense euphoria gripping me by the throat, screaming incoherent bullshit. Its words drip like sewage waste from its steaming hot mouth. I can only emulate a sense of it, nothing past its tight pus filled boils and stubbly chin. The rest, very much a deep fog glowing a faint green, blue and orange. And still, I stare at it, scanning its black slit eyes, and I make a conscious decision: fear it or embrace it. The answer seems clear as my stomach knots and my palms sweat. Tears swell in my eyes and I begin to speak, but I stop. Evan smiles, pulls me near and overwhelms me with the truth…

His eyes are black saucers outlined by amber yellow and his wavy hair he tucked behind each ear. I feel a calm ensue as his lips curve into a slight smile,
“It’s more than what we thought, but I’m ninety percent sure I know what’s happening. We need to seriously consider getting the fuck out of here. Drink this.”

I sip on the gallon container of Refreshe water and with unprecedented urgency start to gather our things. Its tingle I feel first in my fingertips, then just below my brow and in between the gaps of all twenty-eight teeth. The tingle grows thick and the throb in my temple pulses harder. Then the surge of tiny needles begin in my neon painted toes, pursuing my thighs, spine and shoulder blades.

I feel engulfed? I feel conquered? I feel frightened? No…I feel…gross. I start a shower I so sorely desired and begin to undress. As I wait for the water to heat up, I grip the sides of the sink and stare into the mirror. My eyes are saucers like Evan’s, but with a brown outline. As I examine the blue bags beneath my eyes, the mirror turns convex. I blink, and it turns concave. I try to steady my vision, but the mirror and my reflection begin to rumble.

Is it hot, yet? The water slips like grease in between my pale fingers. It seems fine. Upon closure of the bathroom door, confinement instills a breathy panic. The water is sputtering, and still far too cold. I hate it and stand aside, waiting for warmth. In my patience, I fix my eyes to the shower floor. The bat bat bat of each drop is like a hundred Hiroshimas, spreading their vengeance all across the bathroom floor- the same floor in which I stood.

It’s too much, my breath is quick and short, but I need to clean myself. I brace for impact, the god damn bat bat bat. I take a dime sized amount of shampoo and a bar of soap. I still stand in the furthest, driest corner lathering myself. I stall rinsing for minutes, running the bar along my belly and armpits. But the truth becomes clear: I’m far too soapy.

It’s too much; I furiously wipe the suds away, returning consistently to the dry corner. In a courageous act, I stand directly beneath the stream, scratching the shampoo out. It’s too much; I’ve flooded my face and am gasping for a breath. Blinking through one eye, I turn the dial clockwise and end the brutal siege.

I throw my towel on and flee with great conviction, trying to find Evan. He’s pacing the living room and dining room floor. Jake is on the other end of the phone; Evan had him pressed against his ear. His understanding at such an early hour is shot, but he gives Evan what he needs: someone to be on the other end of the phone. I hear them echo among the high ceilings as I stand in the empty room, dripping a cold puddle beneath my feet.

The puddle was sucking me in slowly, but I placed my eyes on the dancing colors that lit up the blinds in the room across from mine, almost as an attempt at leverage. I let focus shift from one moving blob to the next, the cracks in the blinds made them so, sucking them in and spitting them out. Moving, like my chest with each breath in and out. Then, I see from the corner of my eye, a black marble fall silently from the kitchen’s faucet. I lose it, but become engaged by the rave like light emanating from the lime green party cup on the table and Cleo, the gold fish from Pinocchio, swims in it. I lose that, but play Tetris with the geometrical design of the tissue box just right next to it. Then I lose that, but again am entranced by more blobs getting sucked in and spit out.

My eyes flutter wildly like that for a few minutes and Evan finds me deep in my puddle. He wonders if I’ll get dressed.

I wonder, days later after the initial shock had ebbed, if that was just a little bit, what's one hit?