“Question. How can you be in love with someone as completely fucked up as me?” I take a long draw from my one hitter. I picked the lighter stuff so I could be clear enough to do this right. I’m slowly watching his disillusionment that I would stay sober disappear. It’s only weed, but it hurts him still.
“Because you’re not as broken as you pretend to be.”
“You’re naïve to think that I’m broken. You’re naïve again to think I’m pretending. You must think I am a wonderful actress. Who are you suppose to be in this scene? My lover? My psychiatrist? My father? How about the billionaire who pulls to my corner and decides I’ll transform this whore into a high class lady?”
“I’m just Alex. No acting right now. I’m serious. I thought you stopped?”
“I’m not going to be the girl you can magically fix. Alex, I’m past being broken. I’m destroyed. Blown to a million pieces. I’m nothing.”
“Rachael, please, you know you can do better than this. Don’t talk like that.”
“You know why people stop doing drugs? It’s because they have something to lose. Friends, boyfriends, health, money, kids. I’ve never had anything to lose. Only everything to gain from being the clichéd word – numb. Sometimes I’m more than that. I’m Ms. Life of the Party. No, I’m fuckin Dr. Party. I’ve worked hard for my education. Sometimes I feel emotions, but it’s a disconnected feeling. If it’s good shit, I feel hysterical or something close to happy or just plain horny.”
He lets down his guard and says the words that he knows that I don’t want to fuckin hear, ever. “You could lose me.”
“AAAAAANNNNDD…. Scene. You’re ruining my buzz. ”
This was his clue that I was done with him. He was dismissed, but he didn’t leave. Alex, I say to myself, why the fuck didn’t you just leave. So I lay it on thicker, hurting myself. Thinking to myself I will need to find some harder shit when he leaves.
“I think you need to work more on conveying your emotions. I didn’t really feel that you loved me. Where’s the hurt in your eyes? Where’s the passion. Let’s redo the scene again” I take another hit. “Question. How could you ever love someone as completely fucked up as me?”
“You’re a bitch, you know that.”
“Every fucking day of my life, but thanks for reminding me.”
He slams the door and I am left alone, finally. I take another hit and impatiently wait for the numbness to come. It never comes fast enough, especially not from weed.