So I let him go.

17

low

I tried to put their antics out of my mind. I ate dinner with my mom and my brothers, but the roasted yams were tasteless, and the chickpeas turned to dust in my mouth. In my room, I tried to read a memoir about a survivalist family in the wilds of Alaska, but I couldn’t concentrate. I wasn’t jealous exactly. I was angry at being used, at being sent away like an errand girl. It should have been me getting fucked up with Freya and Max, not boring-ass Jamie and her nerd husband. So maybe I was a bit jealous.

Around eleven, I gave up on the memoir and went out to my truck. I told myself I was just going for a drive, just trying to cool off so I could get some sleep. But I went through town, past the school, along the coastal road on autopilot. When I reached the secluded pullout, I parked the truck and got out.

I crept down Max and Freya’s tree-lined driveway. My pulse was pounding in my ears, adrenaline surging through my body. If they caught me—lurking, watching, spying—I would lose everything: my job, access to the pottery studio, and worse . . . my friendship with Freya. I had an excuse at the ready—I’d say I dropped my house key earlier and had come back to find it. That I’d parked on the road so I didn’t disturb their mushroom trip. But I wasn’t going to get caught, not this time.

Walking past Jamie’s Mazda sedan, I moved to the east side of the house. Massive windows were designed to let morning light into the living room and bedrooms, but in the darkness, they afforded me unobstructed views inside. I planted myself in the dense brush and I watched them. They were dancing . . . though the guys weren’t really dancing, they were more like swaying, their eyes on Freya. She was beautiful, sensually moving to the music. But where was Jamie? Peering into the bedroom on the lower floor, I detected a motionless lump under the covers. That would be her.

Abruptly, Freya stopped dancing. She moved to the speaker system and must have turned off the music. When she returned to the men, she spoke solemnly, seriously. There was some back and forth between Brian and Freya . . . perhaps he was reluctant for the night to end. But clearly, the party was over. And then, they disbursed.

I leaned back against a birch tree, and I watched.

18

jamie

I didn’t puke. Nor did I sleep. When I closed my eyes, colors danced behind my eyelids. When I opened them, the furniture swayed and moved. It wasn’t a terrible experience, but it wasn’t enjoyable, either. It just was, and I had to ride it out. And then, when I felt some semblance of my normal self, I could return to the party.

I could have been alone in the darkened guest room for a few hours or a few minutes—time had lost all meaning. Above me, Freya’s carefully curated music continued, the bass thudding through the floor. Other than that, I heard nothing but the occasional tinkle of her laughter. That’s when I wanted to get up and join the fun, but my body had other plans. It wanted to lie on the soft bed, the cozy blanket over me, and let the psilocybin work its way through my system.