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"Everything but Love is a distraction."
"You think about it too much."
She rolled her fucking eyes. "Everyone that says that always has someone to love. It's so annoying. Stop calling me a love addict. If you didn't have Claire, you'd do nothing but try to find someone. Don't even pretend. I remember."
He demurred, "You're right of course. I'm sorry."
"Fucking thank you. I'm so fucking frustrated. Today, I made myself do meditation because I'm that bereft and empty, and even though I said - this never works - I did it and fucking cried for the first three minutes. And then it was over because I only set the timer for four minutes."
He threw her the baseball. She caught it barehanded. They were in her Macon house. Her best friend was visiting. She had once been in love with him, but now just recognized him as one of the few humans she could feel safe with. Her life was in turmoil. She had cared again, and flooded all the engines and now was stalled out - somewhere.
"Well, at least you did it."
"Aw thanks. At least I did it. You remember that group I joined where I only did it so I could meditate every day for an hour - and they got my ass out of bed to do so?"
"Of course."
"It was because I was so lost after Mark, and I had been so into Buddhism being a solution and all the research I did, it was all meditation, meditation, mediation....so I did it. You know what happened? Nothing."
"Do you want to get high?"
"Of course, but it's cheating. When I lived in California and pot was legal. High was my coffee - all day every day. It got me nowhere. In fact, here I am again - same place - no where."
"At least you try."
"Well, how are you doing? I could suck all the energy out of the room with the amount of drowning in the lake I enact."
He laughed at her, "Let's quote LCD, 'If you weren't, I don't know what we'd talk about'. My life is great. I'm just always kind of bored. I wish Claire would stop drinking so much. Besides that, it's all good in the hood. You never get to talk to anyone, go ahead spit it all out. That's why I'm here." He passed her the joint he'd brought.
She sucked and rolled her eyes, "I always feel so weak. Thank you so very much for caring." She started to scrunch her face into crying but then took it back. "You know what I got in my four minute meditation - 'go home!' was the only thing, and then I started crying again because I don't even have a home. I guess Wilmington but hardly."
"You know you're always welcome."
She sat back on the couch and relaxed a bit. The wave of mutilation came upon her from the thc. She loved this feeling of not caring so much about what she was saying. The cat jumped in the window, and she said hello.
Lance smoked on the joint a few times, and passed it back to her. They had done this probably thousands of times. It felt so very good to not be alone. It felt so very good to be stoned again.
She had always been a talker. He loved her brain. She was someone who always interested her, but he always felt a bit tragic about her. She had texted him once that she was the most likely person in their friend group to commit suicide - that no one would really be shocked. It hurt him that he agreed. She couldn't see herself anymore. She used to be the life of the party. Now she was broken again - another brilliant man. Lance had met him. He had a darkness about him. She loved that usually too. He was here because he was on the way to Florida, and he stopped in because he was kind of worried about her, and he loved her. It was simple. She complicated things in the best way.
She continued but less tense this time - less heavy - ah a smile finally!
"You know, I could get pot from my brother, but it feels kind of shitty - like I use him, so I don't do it. Besides, I kind of was happy to move away from Cali so I wouldn't be such a head. I wanted to see who I was. God, I'm not really that great."
"It's OK. None of us really are."
"You're wrong. I'm the only one who can't seem to do it. Everyone we know, they have lovely lives. Me? I fucked up." She threw the ball back to him. He missed it, and it made a huge thunk on the hardwood floor.
"It's OK. You're healing."
"I don't know what I'm good for. At least I don't want to die. But, that's my baseline here. There's got to be more. And the thought of just being too fucked up for a mate, well of course it's a bit daunting."
He passed her the joint, "Do you want any more of this?"
"Sure. I'll finish her up. I could use all the oblivion on offer. Did you know I used to vape this crap ass gas station pot called THC-P when I discovered it here. I was disgusted with myself and thought about lung cancer, and I gave it all up the day before my first date with Leon. I didn't want to be some douchebag who has to get high to feel safe. but I guess I am."
He stood up and started looking around at her art. He pointed to it, "I'm starting to paint again. This one is good."
"Thank you. It's therapy for me. Like writing. We can go get some bagels soon. I knew it would end from the first time I met him. I guess. I told you I woke up at 3am and listened to Vic Chesnutt's saddest album - the one with Chinaberry Tree on it - and drank two beers and just sobbed because I had loved him so much. I'd never done that in my entire illustrious career to find my mate. it was weird"
"Well you are weird." He threw her the ball. She caught it. She was great with it. She always was throwing it to herself anyway. She laughed.
"All the best people are". She turned off the crappy speaker thing she had and turned to him, "Everything but love is a distraction. Let's go eat."
"I know you don't believe me, but you're very incredible and awesome."
"Never stop telling me."
She went to the bathroom before they left and wept like a child.
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