The Cascading Waves of Caden Lee

05

CADEN LEE

I don't ever mean to, but I think at some point the whole 'walking zombie' thing got to me, and now I'm sitting in a room filled with pot smoke and the putrid stench of alcohol.

It's a house party, the ones thrown by seniors that you really only get access too if you play some sport or are popular in some way. Lucky for me, I'm in Varsity, so the invite is almost guaranteed on my spot. I came here alone. I wouldn't normally, but coming here was a split-second decision. I got the invite, I sat in my car, thought about it, realized I want to feel, and drove here.

They're blaring rap music I don't know the lyrics to, but I pretend I do. One second I'm sitting on the couch alone and the next it's filled up by people I recognize. People from the team, I see Matt—blond hair and blue eyes glowing under the blue lights, Robin—red hair and green eyes, she's from the softball team and covered in freckles, Lea—blonde, Junior, Popular. I think she's friends with Scarlett, don't quote me on that.

"Yo, man, I didn't expect to see you here!" Matt's voice is somewhat slurred, a beer in his hand and passing a pre-rolled joint to me. Lea passes me a beer, and I take a sip. It's disgusting, and it tastes like dehydrated piss, but I try to swallow my disgust and take a big gulp in order to get it all over with. The flickering of a flame greets me, and this time I know what to do, I inhale the smoke from the joint, let it encompass me, and slowly let it free.

It drifts away, becomes unseeing. This time I don't cough. "I didn't either, just wanted to stop by." I reply, a somewhat truth, I plan to stay here longer than 'stopping by'.

"That's Chill." Robin murmurs, she actually seems somewhat sober, only sipping on what looks to be a Vodka Cherry. I gulp the beer once again, this time it slides down my throat with more ease, and Matt claps me on the back as I continue to chug it.

It's disgusting, repulsive, even, but I see the people around me. The way they seem so carefree and the way they feel yet are so numb, I want to feel. I don't want to live life constantly wondering if I'll remember today. I don't want to live a life of caution anymore. I want to be me.

The last drop of beer slides down my greedy throat, and I feel the force of my fingertips clench the can so hard it folds. And I throw it. Onto the coffee table where dozens of other cans sit. I take a drag of the joint, I'm getting better at this every time, and this time I feel it. I can feel this familiar feeling kick in so deeply, the way my vision blurs, the way the sounds around me swim and vibrate within my soul, the way I can feel my body melt each and every time I take another inhale.

I'm loosening up, and the joint is turning into a crisp, and Matt's rolling another because what else is there to do? The light switches to red, and cheering encompasses the room as a table of beer pong is set up.

I take a hit of the new joint just as Leah pops up right in front of me. It scares me a little, causes me to flinch and my heart rate spike, and that feeling alone causes a grin to spread across my face. I never realized I would feel so happy to feel alarmed.

"Beer pong?" A singular, perfectly trimmed eyebrow is raised. I don't know how to play, so I say, "Sure, you gotta teach me though."

And she does, she guides my hand—her fingertips lightly gliding across my hand—where to throw. I miss the first few times, gulp the beer back, but then, I make it. 4th try and from then on, I'm a natural. We win, I feel hands from all around shoving me, clapping me on the shoulder and yelling encompassing my ears. I feel so alive.

The night continues in a similar fashion, and for the first time in days, I become someone else entirely. An all-seeing, wholly feeling human.

Later I buy an eighth ounce of weed from the money stashed in my jeans.

_._._._._._._._._._._._

I got home at 4 am last night.

I kinda expected my mom to care, for her to be sitting on the couch waiting for me when I got home like it always is In the movies, but she didn't.

What greeted me instead was silence. And I couldn't figure out whether I felt relieved or alone. Just how invisible am I if even my own mother doesn't realize her son never made it home?

I walk up the stairs quietly anyway, avoiding the 3rd step that creaks and removing my shoes so no one hears the thud of them. I have to open my door slowly so it doesn't creak, closing it lightly with a quiet 'click'. And then silence. I've successfully done it. It feels surreal, my first party. By now the weed has lost most of its effect, and I only sway slightly as I peel my jeans off my sweaty legs and stumble into my bed.

My fan spins above me, the motion blur causing a wave of nausea to rumble throughout my stomach, and I turn over with tightly-pressed lips.

5:00 AM: the clock reads. 1 hour and 30 minutes till I wake up for school. With that thought, I promptly feel my eyes flutter closed. And soon, the numbness encompasses me again.

_._._._._._._._._._

Waking up is harder than expected. I thought the supposed 'hangover' I've heard so much about wouldn't hit until a few hours later, but the minute my alarm sounds and I hear the chirping of the morning birds, I don't want to wake up.

My head pounds, mind foggy from last nights events and body heavy. I'm numb. That realization almost causes a groan to erupt. But it doesn't. And I'm left with my bleary eyes staring at the spinning ceiling fan, too drowsy to think about anything but my current predicament.

5 minutes must pass, because I hear the banging of my door—my mom's way of saying 'hurry the fuck up'—and I'm stumbling my way up and out of bed. The pounding of my head increases. This time, I have to push myself to get ready. I'm not on autopilot, I'm stuck with the ache of numbness flooding me yet fighting to ignore the pain of my limbs and the ache of my head.

This time it's a red hoodie, My Freshman year basketball one. I slide it on, ignoring the cold sweat collecting onto my skin. And shimmy my way into a pair of grey sweatpants. I look in the mirror, and this time, I know I won't be able to find myself alone.

So to subside the pounding in my head, my hand immediately grabs the bag of weed thrown into my drawer. Only then I realize that this time the joint hasn't been rolled for me, and I need something fast, and my thumbs click onto the keyboard hastily as I search google.

I end up with an apple, it takes me about 10 minutes and I ended up running late to school. But for what would usually be stress running through my veins, or the bone-deep aching hollow feeling inside of me, is gone.

And the best of all, my pounding headache and painfully sluggish body is long gone. Replaced with the foggy headspace I've come to crave.

And even though I know it's wrong, and that the weed is strong enough, safe enough, I can't help but find myself wishing for something stronger. Something to replace my weighted tongue and fatigued body as the high comes to an end.