Fleeting

Because I Got High

25th July 2021

I woke in a panic, disorientated by the foreign walls, staring back at me. It took my groggy brain too long to process that I wasn't at home but asleep in my childhood room at my parents'.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling the day old stubble against my fingertips. The night before was coming back to me in drips and drabs.

I remembered going back to the party but avoiding Tori and Jaxon. I think I spoke to Hazel, and she was mad, only I wasn't sure who she was mad at. Then I had several colourful shots and the rest of the night was a bit of a blur.

I cursed myself and lifted the covers, realising I'd slept in the same clothes I'd gone to the party in.

The room spun as I trudged my way over to the door. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and felt like sandpaper against my teeth.

How much did I have to drink last night?

The rest of the house was suspiciously quiet as I stumbled down the hall and through to the kitchen.

I stopped in my tracks when I saw Hazel and Jaxon's Nanna rummaging around my parents' kitchen cupboards.

Her white mop of hair bobbed as she spied me by the door.

"Ahh, another one. Don't you worry, my boy, Nanna'll sort you out." She reassured me, though I wasn't sure what was talking about.

I watched her pulling the cupboards apart until she carried three large glasses of questionable contents.

"Come on, Raini's on the patio." She said, speaking about my abuela.

I followed her outside, cringing when I caught the smell of pot on the wind.

"You know Dad will kill you if he catches you smoking that." I pointed out, as my abuela let loose a large puff of smoke when she realised it was just me.

"Medicine use." She was quick to explain.

"Right." I drew the word out, raising my eyebrow.

"Us old ladies got to have a few things to keep these old joints in one piece." Nanna Pat placed the glasses on the table and took the joint from my abuela, placing it between her own lips.

"Drink this," my abuela demanded.

I took the offered glass gingerly. "What is it?" I sniffed and recoiled. It smelled faintly of rotten eggs, though I knew she hadn't put any in.

Nanna Pat smacked my knee and scowled. "That is my famous hangover cure, and don't be telling me you don't need it." She smirked at me as if she could see the way my skull was tap dancing on my brain.

"Like this." My abuela put one hand on her nose and the other poured the entire contents of the glass down her throat in one go.

I stared at her, speechless, as she burped and put the glass back on the table.

"Now that's the way," Nanna Pat commended before doing the same.

Not wanting to be outdone I followed their example. It was a mistake.

As soon as the first drop hit my tongue, I knew I was in trouble. If the smell was revolting, then the taste was a hundred times worse.

Forget rotten eggs. I was convinced I was drinking fish guts that had been left out in the sun with just a hint of tomato juice.

I spluttered and choked, leaving over half of the contents still in the glass.

"More. More," my abuela urged, but I resisted.