In The Tenth...

ANTICIPATION

"...is there?"
"Huh... what?" The irritation dripping from my words like hot wax.
"Is there any more weed or not?"
"Wee-- yeah, yeah. Yeah."
"Where?"
"It's in the freakin' box! Where the hell do you think?"
"Don't get pissy with me. It's not my fault."

It was never her fault. No matter what the current situation happened to be, the one thing upon which I could always count was she was not responsible. Unless of course it happened to be a good thing... then Amanda was always more than willing to take the blame. When I quit smoking for a few months Amanda was right there explaining to all our friends how she had told me that I had to quit that nasty habit or my lungs would blacken and one day simply cease to carry out god's plan. Actually, they are not our friends. They were never our friends. They are hers. Her upscale, uptown friends from work. How she keeps that job will always remain a mystery to me. I guess they are so impressed with all the good she never lets anyone forget she does for me, to notice she is bombed out of her mind seventy percent of the time. Then again, alcohol is the accepted drug. Even though it tends to make the user violent and pretty much unpleasant to be around, somehow people still accept some drunken slob beating the shit out of someone in a local bar and look down their nose at some smack freak crawling into a dark room to bother with no one but himself for a while.

"There's nothing there." She was whining now.
"So I was wrong." I did not particularly care if we got high or not.
"Figures." She said, picking up the phone book.
"I don't think Central Bell has a listing for 'Cannabis'." I said.
"Screw off! I'm trying to find Jackie's number. She'll be able to spare at least a dime."
"You're pathetic. How can you care so much about something that isn't even a real drug?"
"Oh yeah," I could hear Ms. High-And-Mighty creeping into her voice. "I know what you mean. I'd much rather have something I could just stab into and open vein and then be dead to the world for the next ten hours. I guess a little weed is gonna have to do though since someone's got to go to work in the morning and pay the bills." Now she had me and we both knew it.

This was the point in the conversation where I usually told her I knew she was right and we both dropped it and got high until she faded off to sleep (leaving me to slip into the aforementioned unconscious state). To be perfectly honest, I only get high for her. There are so few things we actually enjoy doing together now that I always figure even if it is not my favorite high at least it is something we can share. Drugs are drugs, really... no matter which ones you choose to use, the bottom line is the same. I sure as hell never fancied that mix of paranoia and disorientation one gets from smoking pot. Well, I probably liked it at some point but I really cannot remember when. Do not get me wrong. I have enjoyed many a night of bong hits and intelligent conversation. At least it seemed intelligent at the time. Some people just bomb out, sit around, and enjoy the feeling of being stoned. There is nothing wrong with that but it is not what I want to do when I get high. Unfortunately, that is what Amanda does. She is always giving me rations of shit because I want to discover, debate... argue. I want to explore the parts of my mind that may not be available when I am sober. I want to wave my arms, pace up and down, to be a lawyer arguing the philosophies of life before the court of the stoned. Amanda wants to watch "Friends" and eat ice cream.

"I said do you want anything?"
"Wha--- oh, nope."
"Where the hell is your mind tonight?"
"Christ knows." Sometimes it is just easier to agree.
"Well," She bent down to kiss me, "I'll be back in a few and I'll join you. Wherever you are." Her smile reminding me why I still choose to wake beside her more often than not.

"Need any cash?" I asked.
"And just how would you be able to help if I did?" She was smiling but I knew damned well it was only skin deep.
"I'm sure I could scrounge something together." Even though I knew I could not. It was simply the gesture and she knew it.
"Nah, I've got it. See you in a few." and she was out the door.

In The Tenth...

ANTICIPATION

© D. Zimmerman, 1997 - 2003