I poured sprite into an empty, to-go cup, and hummed to myself. Making sure my zebra-striped clutch purse was in my bag. It was an ugly, hideous purse and I hated animal print things, but my reasoning when I bought it was that it was so ugly, no body would want to steal it. At least that was my hope. It was my 'change purse.' In reality, it was where I kept pills, borrowed from various medicine cabinets. Triple Cs, painkillers, they all helped ease things. They made it easier. The purse was perfect, because it had fake pockets. When you opened it, you wouldn't notice the slit at the bottom. Unless you knew what you where looking for, which most people didn't. I swished around the ice cubes in the sprite, grabbed my purse and clocked out.
Outside, Ruby was exhaling, smoke drifting off into clouds. A cigarette dangled out of her lip. “Ready?” I nodded, playing with the lid on the Sprite. She unlocked the van, and we both jumped in. It was an old van, chipped maroon, and which made chugging and spluttering noises most of the time. She had got it as soon as she got her driver's license, many years ago. She revved the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot. Outside of the door of Tasty Subz, Rebecca glared daggers. She needed a ride to her boyfriend's house. She would have to wait awhile for her neighbor to come get her. Ruby pulled out of the parking lot, remorseless.
We came to a stop sign, and I leaned under the dash, sparking the flame held above the bowl and inhaled, harsh smoke filling my lungs. I passed it to Ruby, who did the same. The van chugged forward, slowly. I blew the smoke out the window, settling back in the seat. I looked at the clock. 1:24. Half an hour, I sang in my head. I tossed the empty Sprite cup out the window. Half an hour, then I'd be better. We were going, heading out to some beach, some party next to the ocean, in Winthrop, a couple miles away. I hated large parties, I hated a lot of the people there, the mindless people shouting and whooping, screaming, fist pumping. The cheap booze in the red plastic cups. Although I was all for cheap booze, sometimes the people weren't worth it. The pills would help, hopefully, and the Cannabis. Then I would be able to deal. Ruby knew a couple people throwing the party. She didn't like the beach either, the gritty sand, the seagulls attacking and screeching, the freezing water. She wasn't a big drinker, she liked pot much better, but she still went to these parties anyway, on occasion. I tagged along, looking for something.
Trees rushed past and became blurs, we were speeding down the highway. Rolling down the window, I checked the side mirror. My eyes were that familiar bright blue again. The sun bounced angles off of the mirror, rays of light. The heat beat down in waves, sweat drops dripped from my forehead. It would take an half an hour to get to our destination, roughly. The CD player screamed out something. Guitar riffs blended with vocals, songs about people trapped in their own heads.
Ruby and I were similar in a lot of ways, like how we acted around people we knew and didn't know. She was quiet too. I didn't know the reason for her silence most of the time, or what she was thinking about. Talking made me uncomfortable. Silence made me uncomfortable. I was still trying to accustom myself to having a friend like me, who didn't say much. There always gets to be a certain level of friendship, where you finally aren't afraid to say the stupidest shit, where you're comfortable laughing at each other's flaws. Ruby and I hadn't gotten their quite yet. But I was hoping I could get over my social incompetence soon. I didn't mind the silence too much, though. It was easy to get lost in my own thoughts. The pills where kicking in. I was floating again.
The thing about triple Cs, about Mucinex, was that your body builds up a tolerance. A resistance. You have to keep taking more and more each time to trip the same amount or more that you did before. This is a pain in the ass, but worth it. It's hard to describe the feeling you get when you trip. There's the body trip, and then the mind trip. Your body, it's weightless, it an amazing feeling. Your vision doesn't get clearer. It gets blurred almost, your eyes seem to constantly be out of focus. Walking becomes a difficult task, depending of course, on how many you take. You may need something to hold on to. There's no balance. In your head, in your mind, you can't concentrate enough to form sentences. It's useless to try and hold onto thoughts, the way your mind goes. You don't know who anybody is. Well you do of course, familiar faces, and your mind is able to connect them in your mind, to what relationship they have with you. Mother, brother, friend, enemy. You can connect that much. And their names, you know their names, but you don't know them. You start to wonder about who they were before they met you. About what they're really thinking. Because it's so easy to put up a front sometimes. You could be friends with someone for years, and still never really know them. And when you say it, when you tell them, your eyes out of focus, collapsed on some ratty couch, rolling your head around, it freaks them out. You'll reach out and grasp their arm with a sweaty palm and say with all the sincerity in the world, “I don't know who you are.” And they'll be shocked for a millisecond, confused at what your said, and then their brain will process it all and you see their heart going slightly faster, not too noticeable, but you know it's happening. Their jaws start working and they'll repeat their name to you, over and over, to remind you. And you'll lay your head back onto the stained arm of said couch, eyes half closed and smile. Which is what really gets them going. They have to leave the room. You laugh a little to yourself. Their name. Like you didn't already know that.
