The light comes on and they scatter
One summer, between my junior and senior year my first boyfriend from my freshman year is in college close by and living in the city, calls me up and asks me if I want to come over and hang out. And do some acid. For the first time for me. Ever curious, full-of-danger girl I eagerly accept the invitation. He warns me it might make my stomach feel a little sick because it might be cut with poison but it will pass. As the first hour passes and I don’t think I feel anything, thinking it was a dud he says, lets go sit outside and watch the trees and sky for a while, its better to be outside. We sit on the hill and waves form in front of my eyes, I can see every molecule of green chlorophyll on each leaf of each tree. It flutters and flirts and winks in a lovely and hypnotic way. My stomach does feel like there is a cold lead ball but its strangely not unpleasant because it feels so distant from me, my stomach and body.
Sometime later after laughing and talking we go back inside to his apartment. He puts on mood music, The Cure, The Banshees and Morrisey-whom I loathe and have always thought he should just kill him self and get it over with. The music sounds amazing. Really, but I can’t follow it. Its hot and stuffy and we slowly take off some of our clothes, sit around in our underwear wishing for popciles but too high to go outside or even into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Later its dark, hours have passed slowly as they do when you are high, and we extinguish some candles becuase I am getting paranoid we might set something on fire and we tried having sex but were too high so we just make out, laying around in our underwear.
Driven by thirst and desire to do something, anything than sit still anymore, no longer paralyzed by the force of the drugs on our small minds, we head into the kitchen to get a glass of water. My ex-boyfriend turns on the light and a thousand roaches scatter across his washboard sink, down the cabinets, onto the floor.
I flip the fuck out.
Like, yelling, stamping, crying…freaking the fuck out.
The ex-boyfriend, a genius, simply turns off the light and tells me a stern voice, you know that one, the one you use when you are scared but talking to a mean dog, he says, “Its fine. Look, they are gone. Get a hold of yourself. Stop yelling. Here, have a glass of water. Look the lights are out, lets go up on the roof and look at the sky. Calm down. Come with me, take my hand, its okay….”
We walk up on the roof and I persist with the “FUCK. THAT WAS FUCKED UP, HOLY SHIT…” rap for a minute and he says, “here have a cigarette, stop your yelling, you are bringing me down, look at the sky, its beautiful and that is over.”
I light my smoke and look at the city sky with a few stars shining, purple black sky with hints of dawn at its edge the cool breeze on the roof blows it all away and I look at the boy who changed my life, twice.