It's dark. The moon is full, shining down enough borrowed light to illuminate the toes of my boots as I trudge through grass, with a backpack slung over my shoulder and a baseball bat dragging behind me. I reach the top of the hill and drop my bag to the ground to breathe in the after-rain air of the August night. Arms reaching for the sky, I catch sight of the bat still in my grip.
Backpack opened, I select one of the brown glass bottles and hold it in my hand. I toss the bottle high up into the air, then swing, and grin when it explodes into tiny little shards on the side of the hill.
I take another bottle, this time an empty Heineken, and turn it into chunks of emerald green hail.
Another grin.
Another bottle.
Another swing.
SMASH!
I almost giggle as I feel all my anger melt into something resembling glee. I swing again. This time the glass is thicker. The crash is louder. I see lights click on in a nearby house. From an attic, a man with hair that stuck up above his head stumbled toward his bedroom window.
I squint into the darkness, only to see him squinting back. I recognize him. Upon seeing me, he waves. I salute him with my bat. The man opens his window and crawls onto his white wooden staircase. He darts down through the trees and to the top of the hill where I stood.
"Hey, Zack." I say, setting the bat on the ground at my feet.
"... Hi." He replies, taking note of the glint of the glass in between the grass's blades. "Rough night?"
"Not a nice one, no." I say.
"Want to talk about it?" I can hear concern on the edges of his words, and in the glow of street lamps I can almost see the worry in his eyes. But hey, there's no point in telling him shit that'll worry him more.
"Do you want to talk about the fact that you're outside in your boxers at 2 AM?" I joke, but doesn't miss a beat.
"Pajama time started hours ago, dude. Did you think I'd walk outside in a fuckin' three piece suit?"
I grin back at him. "Guess not... But I still don't feel like talking about shit. Life's have been a huge bucket of suck and all, but I don't want to bring you down." He nodded with understanding.
"Well, my door is pretty much always open... Speaking of doors, Dr. Carl opened his to me yesterday."
"...Are you seriously calling your brother Dr. Carl?"
"You betcha, baby," He said, in a rather blatant attempt to put a smile on my face. "you want a sample?" The thought is beyond tempting. "It's fine if you don't want to," he shrugs "we can just talk, if you want. Or I can leave you to, you know, this."
Within seconds my bag is zipped up and I'm following him up the white-painted staircase to the attic window. He guides me in and shuts it behind us.
"Let us begin." He says, with his eyebrows raised as he retrieves a bong out from under his bed. He gestures at it with utmost grandeur.
"Where the hell did you get that thing?"
"Carl gave it to me when he left for college. I named it after him." I giggle like an idiot. Zack's brother, Mr. Four-Point-Eight GPA turned into the biggest stoner I know. Classy. Zack packed the bowl and handed me his green Bic.
"But...I've never taken a bong rip before."
"Seriously?"
"Where would I even-" He holds up his hand.
"Shh, shh, shh, shh." He said, bringing his hand closer to my face with every 'shh'. "I'll walk you through it."
"Oh, okay..." He put one hand on Carl the Bong, and the other on my arm, then looked into my eyes with great sincerity.
"Let me be your Weed Yoda." There is no arguing with that. I sit at attention. "Okay, so... You put your mouth on the mouth thing, and then you light the bowl..." I light up, and the smoke starts slithering its way into the bong.
"Now suck the smoke in, and take the bowl out halfway through the hit." I do as he says. It makes the bubbling sounds as the smoke leaps from the bong into my lungs and tickles my brain. Zack grins as I exhale, then turns on his fan. "Any thoughts?"
"It's amazing."
"You bet it is, I'm Weed Yoda."
"What is it, exactly?"
"Hash." He says with a grin. I cough my lungs out, but remain thoroughly surprised.
"Where the hell did you get this?" I ask. Zack grins before regaling the tale.
"The code to Carl's safe is his name, on like a phone keyboard" His words send me into yet another coughing fit.
"Selling maryjane has never been his forte." He packs the bowl, takes a hit, and turns on Ren & Stimpy. When the theme starts playing his ever-present smile slowly falls into a frown. He turns it back off. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm great."
"BALDERDASH!" He yells dramatically "'Great' people don't smash bottles at 2 in the morning."
"Zack, I promise I'm alright."
"Darcy, you've been pulling this 'I'm alright' shit since grade one, could you just give me some fucking answers? Do you think I can't see that you're hurt?"
"Okay, okay, fine!" I yell. There's a silence. I listen for Zack's dad, but there's nothing but silence on the floors below. After I'm sure we're safe, I finally fess up.
"After, um, what Scott did, my mom wanted to take Jamie to live with my grandma, and Scott and I would live in an apartment with Dad."
"Your parents are splitting up? I thought everything was fine..."
"I think they still love each other, but they want to separate Scott & Jamie."
"...So she'll live away from you guys? With the Jamester?"
"I guess. I'm pretty sure it's an empty threat, but you know how my mom gets." An unwanted tear escapes my eye, and I don't bother to wipe it away. Zack looks at me, open-mouthed and concerned. He packs the bowl and hands it to me as consolation. I take a hit. He turns Ren & Stimpy back on. It's Space Madness, my favorite episode.
The subject of my mother does not come up again, and Zack starts bringing out snacks; half out of the munchies, and half for the comfort of soda and food stuffs.
I fall asleep with a bag of Cheetos in hand.
~
Day N' Nite- Kid Cudi
