ETHEREAL

CHAPTER 8

I don't hear from Damien for several days.

He finally replies to the text message that I sent last Sunday, and says, heyyyy.

I invite him to come over to my house the next night, on Friday, and he agrees. I worry that maybe I don't really know Damien like I thought I did, but I can't shake the feeling that we are meant to be together, that we are essentially the same person. I wish that I didn't feel this way when he ignores me and makes me feel more like an option. I feel foolish.

Friday night comes around, and he texts me to say that he is outside. I open the door, and he stumbles inside, drunk and high. The reek of alcohol coming off of him is so strong that I resist the urge to gag. "I really have to pee," he urgently says and bounces a bit up and down, with his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, and I vaguely notice that his uniform seems to be a zip-up hoodie, skinny jeans, and Vans or Converse. "Oh... the bathroom's right there," I point to my right, and he runs in, closing the door.

I wait in the living room and take a sip of my grape kool-aid, feeling like maybe it wasn't the best idea to invite him here, to my conservative parents' tiny townhouse. It's starting to feel like the muted light green cracked walls are closing around us; choking me.

He strolls into the living room, and asks in his drawling voice what I want to do tonight. The way that he forms such a simple question sounds more like he's asking if I want to hook him with up now or later.

"Do you wanna watch Daria? You mentioned that it's one of your favorite TV shows, too, right?"

I sound like an rambling idiot.

He agrees and I put it on. A couple episodes in, I excuse myself to use the bathroom and secretly fix my hair, in case my scene mullet layers, all the rage in this year of 2010, have flattened from laying against the couch.

    I close the door and nearly shriek. What the hell?!

Damien threw away a Four Loko and a beer in my open-faced trash can that doesn't have a lid, since it's just a small, normal bathroom trash can in a minuscule room. Oh my god, I'm so relieved that I saw this before my parents, but I'm also incredibly angry and annoyed that Damien could care less about how much trouble I would get in for something like that.

I walk into the living room, and hiss, "Damien! You left something important in the bathroom?! Something that I had to go outside to throw out?! In the gutter?!"

I feel guilty already about the environmental ramifications of what I just had to do, to get rid of the evidence, and I'm still annoyed that he could be so careless and disrespectful. I start to wonder if he is especially, vapidly dumb or just extremely intoxicated, or if I'm the dumb one for expecting different behavior from him.

He just stares into space.

"Damien, are you always high?"

He turns to me and gives me his blissful, Nirvana-like smile complete with the crossed out eyes, and that smirk. "Yeah... I've tried ecstasy, acid, weed, molly... but I haven't tried anything really serious like cocaine or heroin, though. I don't want to do anything like that. I love Barcadi 151..."

I nod, slowly, and sarcastically think to myself that, at least you've got boundaries, even if you want to drink basically rubbing alcohol.

"C'mere, I missed you." his syrupy low voice gets to me. I roll my eyes and look at the tv. I hate the effect he has on me. I love the effect he has on me. The indecision will kill me, starting from the inside out.

The theme song for Daria plays over and over, and we make out for hours. He kisses my neck. I bite harder on his. His dick presses persistently into my thigh, and I feel drunk on him. "You're standing on my neck.... la la la" continually plays, loudly, in the background.

I hear my father wake up, as it is 5:30 AM, all of a sudden, and I abruptly push Damien off of me. "You have to go!" I hiss.

"Go?"

"Yes, my dad just woke up; you have to leave!"

He stumbles off of my couch and starts attempting to re-button his black and red plaid shirt in the pitch black darkness, save for the TV. I stare at his exposed, perfect six pack abs and feel too dizzy. He catches me staring and grins at me.

"You should come with me; come home with me."

"I can't..." - but it is the only thing in the world that I want right now.