‘Are you on drugs or something?’
Her face was made up, too much. She was probably ten years older than me. Hadn’t seen her before.
‘Excuse me?’
‘I mean no one is that happy.’
I looked at the woman sitting next to me, a peacock feather in her hair. A familiar face. She wore turquoise earrings that night. They reflected the flames of the fire between us. She touched her hair and rolled her eyes away from the woman with the make up. Did I mention it was too much?
‘You’re either on drugs or you’re faking it.’ She went on, scolding me for my smile.
I was sober.
How could I tell this woman I could see through her misplaced anger without coming off self righteous? How could I show her my pain without offering her a vulnerability to exploit? She was practically foaming from the mouth waiting for it.
I said nothing. A silence fell on the once booming fire.
‘So, which is it?’
She was sloppy. Came into the conversation late. Uninvited. She had heard my laugh from across the patio and turned to see all eyes on me, away from her. So she came to inspect. I saw her approach, her fists up high, one in defense, the other landing soft blows. What she didn’t know was I saw her wind up, and her defense was as open as a window, weak as the breath mint meant to hide the Newports she had chain smoked before.
What she needed was a hug and a good cry.
‘I think you missed the joke,’ I said, reaching into my bag for my cigarette case full of spliffs. I popped it open, grabbed the largest one and lit it without looking up.
‘Are you even old enough to be here? Is someone checking IDs at this place?’
Ms. Peacock reached her hand out to me and I passed her the spliff.
I didn’t mean to steal this chick's spotlight, I didn’t even want it. I came to observe, not be observed. Sometimes people miss the point entirely.
‘I am both an infant and, as of now, elevated.’
‘Call me a pedo and get this child a drink!’ Ms. Peacock called out into the darkness. Somewhere behind the crescent bar inside Francisco was pouring a heavy hand of gin.
The woman puffed out her chest and faded into the background. The fire cracked loudly in applause.
I leaned back into the wooden chair and lit up again. A joint this time. I tried to sink away, become the observer once again. I watched the waves of people as Ms. Peacock took the wheel. Captain of our ship.
‘You guys see Wilder road is closed again?’
Murmurs.
‘Yeah, yeah. It was open for a week. We knew it wouldn’t last.’
‘Never does.’
‘That wasn’t no sinkhole. Not this time. Jackson said they found a body.’
‘A body? Ain’t no one missing.’
The ship got closer around the fire. The wind shifted and smoke filled my face. I took a final hit from the joint and tossed it into the flames.
‘Remember that couple that was at the Manor last week? The ones from down there in Sausalito? Well, word is they found the boy. Pretty beat up. The car was down in the river. Looks like he was tossed from it, not really sure how. Still haven’t found the girl.’
I leaned forward and warmed my hands.
‘People just don’t know what they’re gettin into driving around here. They ain’t locals that’s for sure.’
Ms. Peacock clasped her hands together and shook her head.
‘Good riddance,’ she said.
I reached for another joint.
If you liked this, you’ll like this.