Jerry was an older brother to me. My sister had been dating him for a couple years. He was a big fun-loving Samoan man. Usually, he was slightly reserved at family gatherings. He and my brother-in-law Kenny stuck together and brought out the personality in each other.
One day we were all hanging out in the front yard. Jerry started joking around with me, playfully punching my arm, and teasing me about my recent scrapings with the parents and the law over my use of marijuana. I was taking it in stride, blowing it off. Then, he tosses me a pack of zigzag rolling papers. I looked at him with a questioning glance. "What's this?" I inquired with raised eyebrows. I smiled as he burst into a deep belly laugh.
"We're going to go pick up some tickets to Fiji, wanna come?" His sisters and some cousins were with him. Fiji is a Polynesian band that happened to be coming to town. I knew the invitation was a cover for what was really going on. I ran in and told my mom I was running an errand with Jerry. In the car, it all came out. We were going to meet some guy to pick up a sack then he was going to smoke me out. It was a truce, he said. He had been the one recruited to search my room for my naive parents when they suspected I was using drugs. According to my family, and as far as they knew, he had smoked weed, but had quit and was now a good church-going guy. I had assumed the same. Only now did I know this was not the case. Only now did I know that he was the one that had been snooping through my room. Pieces were falling into place.
We met his guy, then drove in search of a place to partake in our goods. We settled with behind a grocery store near my parents house. It was late and we were sure no one would see us. We parked the car and head for the shadows created by the building.
I had a new alliance now. I had a new go-to guy.
Over the next few weeks, I began spending much more time with Jerry. He would drop my sister off late at night and drive down the street and call me. I would sneak out and go out with him until the early morning hours. When he wasn't with Kara, he was with me. He introduced me to all his friends as his little sister.
I was untouchable. I was Jerry's little sister.
I was in.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Laced
I held my fingers into the slats of the picnic table and laughed-- letting my head fly back carelessly. The only thing keeping me from flying backwards off the bench were my fingers, gripping the slats.
It was summer. And we were alone. Work was done and Megan and I came back to my house to enjoy some breadsticks we had made special just for us. My parents were gone again, leaving the entire house to Megan and me.
I'm not sure why we were laughing.
Tim had only barely come by work to "check on us." He pulls up, walks inside the backdoor and peaks his head around the corner. He surveys today's crew and then asks, "what time you guys off?" We have only recently begun to work on Sundays, and they are excruciatingly slow days. We step outside to have a smoke break with him. This was not an ordinary smoke break-- this was one of our "Tim" smoke breaks, taking place in his car behind the dumpster. He was always taking care of us.
I take another bite of breadstick. Megan and I are conversing in our heads through looks and smiles and nods of approval. Words are rarely spoken during such times. Then, we catch eyes and laugh hysterically. This time, I throw my head back, and it rolls around at the neck for a few minutes. Megan is laughing at my inability to control my head. I am laughing, too, but I'm terrified. Something wasn't right. Not this time.
"Dude.... are you alright?" Megan is still laughing uncontrollably.
"I don't feel right...." My head is still spinning on the inside, I can only assume the outside is spinning, too.
"Your face is white.... you look like a ghost!" Still laughter. But this time, there is somewhat of a panic in it. "You should look at it."
"I think I need to go inside."
I somehow connect my brain to my legs and stumble off the bench. Staggering inside, I feel Megan on my heels. I stumble through the back door and towards the front room. I stopped only briefly to look in the mirror, trying to see if, indeed, my face was white. What I saw terrified me. There was no face. I could not see anything. I moved to the couch and collapsed.
"Krista, you're scaring me." Megan has finally stopped laughing.
I sat curled in a fetal position on the couch rocking. Her voice was distant. I was distant. I couldn't control my body, but could only watch from outside myself as the scenes unfolded. The voices started and I became frantic. I covered my ears. I could only faintly hear Megan's voice mixed in with the others and I was terrified.
"Fucking call someone!" I managed to get away from my hysteria long enough to suggest what seemed like a rational thought.
Megan sat by me and pulled me to her. She was not calling anyone. It was a bad idea. I needed to calm down. If only she could realize it was so much easier said than done. Something was definitely not right.
I began to think, "Oh my god, I'm going to die." This unleashed a new hysteria and a new sense of urgency and I began begging her. I'm going to die, Megan... this is it... I can't die... I can't die like this... call someone... call someone please... call 911... I begged and begged. Then, figured if she couldn't call an authoritative figure, Jerry was the next best thing. "Call Jerry."
She reached for my phone.
I could only hear parts of the conversation. Jerry was on his way to church with his family. He couldn't come. He asked to talk to me. He told me I'd be okay. He told me to drink some water and just breathe and relax. I told him there was something in that shit. I told him there had to be. There had to be. That just wasn't right. I had probably smoked through ounces and ounces of weed... possibly even pounds. And never, had such a horrific high occurred.
I felt the color return to my face.
"Let's get out of here," I felt the urge to leave.
We left the smell of stale smoke behind us and walked to Megan's house.
** Another couple of people had a similar experience from the same batch of marijuana. One of those experienced occurred at my house with us present. I never bought from that dealer again.
It was summer. And we were alone. Work was done and Megan and I came back to my house to enjoy some breadsticks we had made special just for us. My parents were gone again, leaving the entire house to Megan and me.
I'm not sure why we were laughing.
Tim had only barely come by work to "check on us." He pulls up, walks inside the backdoor and peaks his head around the corner. He surveys today's crew and then asks, "what time you guys off?" We have only recently begun to work on Sundays, and they are excruciatingly slow days. We step outside to have a smoke break with him. This was not an ordinary smoke break-- this was one of our "Tim" smoke breaks, taking place in his car behind the dumpster. He was always taking care of us.
I take another bite of breadstick. Megan and I are conversing in our heads through looks and smiles and nods of approval. Words are rarely spoken during such times. Then, we catch eyes and laugh hysterically. This time, I throw my head back, and it rolls around at the neck for a few minutes. Megan is laughing at my inability to control my head. I am laughing, too, but I'm terrified. Something wasn't right. Not this time.
"Dude.... are you alright?" Megan is still laughing uncontrollably.
"I don't feel right...." My head is still spinning on the inside, I can only assume the outside is spinning, too.
"Your face is white.... you look like a ghost!" Still laughter. But this time, there is somewhat of a panic in it. "You should look at it."
"I think I need to go inside."
I somehow connect my brain to my legs and stumble off the bench. Staggering inside, I feel Megan on my heels. I stumble through the back door and towards the front room. I stopped only briefly to look in the mirror, trying to see if, indeed, my face was white. What I saw terrified me. There was no face. I could not see anything. I moved to the couch and collapsed.
"Krista, you're scaring me." Megan has finally stopped laughing.
I sat curled in a fetal position on the couch rocking. Her voice was distant. I was distant. I couldn't control my body, but could only watch from outside myself as the scenes unfolded. The voices started and I became frantic. I covered my ears. I could only faintly hear Megan's voice mixed in with the others and I was terrified.
"Fucking call someone!" I managed to get away from my hysteria long enough to suggest what seemed like a rational thought.
Megan sat by me and pulled me to her. She was not calling anyone. It was a bad idea. I needed to calm down. If only she could realize it was so much easier said than done. Something was definitely not right.
I began to think, "Oh my god, I'm going to die." This unleashed a new hysteria and a new sense of urgency and I began begging her. I'm going to die, Megan... this is it... I can't die... I can't die like this... call someone... call someone please... call 911... I begged and begged. Then, figured if she couldn't call an authoritative figure, Jerry was the next best thing. "Call Jerry."
She reached for my phone.
I could only hear parts of the conversation. Jerry was on his way to church with his family. He couldn't come. He asked to talk to me. He told me I'd be okay. He told me to drink some water and just breathe and relax. I told him there was something in that shit. I told him there had to be. There had to be. That just wasn't right. I had probably smoked through ounces and ounces of weed... possibly even pounds. And never, had such a horrific high occurred.
I felt the color return to my face.
"Let's get out of here," I felt the urge to leave.
We left the smell of stale smoke behind us and walked to Megan's house.
** Another couple of people had a similar experience from the same batch of marijuana. One of those experienced occurred at my house with us present. I never bought from that dealer again.
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