Friday, December 31, 2010

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Samantha woke to the sounds of her husband, Alexander shuffling around at his desk by the window.

"Oh hi, you're awake."
"I'm just looking over the hits I've gotten on my eating cereal video on youtube. It's up to a thousand. One comment here says, chocolate milk is gross with off-brand Captain Crunch, haha."
"I have a video that's been getting a lot of comments lately. It's called cute albino kitty."
"Oh cool, let's watch it! I wanna watch Maru again, too. I wanna watch him jump into a box!"

Watches Maru.

"Is he Japanese, Korean, Chinese? What's that writing say?"
"Are you stoned?"
"You got stoned while you were out this morning?"
"So now you're like one of those fat chick sugar junkies with a secret stash of chocolate doughnuts. Where'd you get the pot?"
"...from Brian, Lester's friend, when I was in Hollywood last week."
"You showered right away when you got home so I wouldn't smell it."
"Yes, I guess so."
"This is why you've been acting strange. I thought you said you'd quit pot for good."
"I've been smoking it consistently since I was fifteen."
"You're just another stupid junkie. You can't even act right on it. You act like a dope head."
"Do you want to talk about it."
"No, I want you to leave. I can't stand you. I don't want to be around junkies while I'm pregnant."
"For how long?"
"Go away."

Alexander walks outside onto the porch and sits in a fold-out chair with his laptop. He's too stoned to go anywhere or do anything. Samantha gets out of bed and walks outside.

"I want you to leave the house."
"No, why, where should I go?"

Samantha, who was wide awake before, is too depressed to function. She shuts down and goes back to sleep. When she wakes up Alexander is in the kitchen on his laptop. It's New Year's eve, and they've been married for five months. Samantha's four months pregnant. And now she's contemplating divorce.

Not that she didn't have her fair share of smoking pot when she was experimenting with various psychedelic substances in high school. Samantha used to hang with a bad crowd, until she got serious for college. They'd take hits of acid before concerts, try powders and pills, and smoke pot every chance they got, sometimes ten times a day.

Then Samantha had to move on. The drugs and pot were paving the way for harder drugs, namely Oxycontin, and her friends were either dying off, going to jail, becoming dealers, losing their jobs, stealing from their friends and families, and collectively becoming ghosts of their former selves. They only had one priority and that was getting high. Samantha decided then to leave druggie lifestyle alone and move on; she found friends in a straight edge crowd, who imbibed the occasional beer at the bar during social gatherings.

As she watched from afar, her old friends, emaciated in their pale blue skin, disappeared one by one, some legends, the coolest kids around; others anonymous, falling--they all fell, and now Samantha had a warranted hatred for people with any semblance of a substance abuse problem. Addicts, junkies, they would never change, through their apologies, excuses, lies; it was a condition they wouldn't avoid, until it was too late, and they'd lost everything and had no choice but to start all over again, broken and pathetic, nostalgic for the golden years of naive immortality in youth.

They listened to the same songs, wore the same clothes, though they looked older now, weathered, puffy, talking about the good old days. These were the well-dressed rock stars in deluxe thrift store couture. And now they were stocking groceries at Kroger, selling cell phones, raising children without mothers or fathers.

Samantha had explained this a number of times to Alexander. How the events related to drugs had broken her heart over and over, how it relentlessly haunted her memories and hurt her. How she'd left a serious boyfriend in Austin because he'd gotten into pot too hard with his filmmaker friends, that he threw his career away as an acclaimed an oil painter, to pursue making sci fi videos for youtube with Legos.

Before the pot became a regular thing, it had only been occasional, it was a part of the editing process they said, it was to relax. But then it was there all the time, five times a night, and editing was replaced by reruns of Seinfeld.

This happened for a straight year before Samantha decided it was time to leave. After a young stoned girl named Tabatha asked her one night, "So why don't you like getting stoned like the rest of us? You're reeeally missing out." On top of everything else: peer pressure from a teen with no intention of going to college and a boyfriend trying to establish himself as a dealer in Austin, Texas?

Samantha moved to New York a month later with money she'd saved from looking after a brain injured man in Round Rock. It was in New York on Friday the 13th that she met Alexander, a seemingly nice guy who wrote books about video games for depressed teenagers. They met at a party in November and a month later he was driving her to Louisiana to meet her family for Christmas.

In February she moved out of her apartment in Williamburg. Two weeks later they were in LA, renting a house. He wanted to pursue his dream of becoming a Hollywood screenwriter. She came along because he asked her to. They knew a long distance relationship would be hard to manage, and after their first kiss in New York, they didn't have the willpower to be apart.

In August they were married in Vegas. An Elvis impersonator walked her down the aisle. One month later on their honeymoon in Montreal, on September 11th, they conceived a child. Since they were both the oldest children of their broods, their parents were thrilled.

This helped them fight the feeling of being terrified, though it was natural, inevitable being that they were both still young, they hadn't even been together a year, and now they were expecting a baby in June, a lifetime connection, and who knew if they barely got along aside from the initial chemistry that brought them together in the first place. It was too soon to know for sure. It was all too soon.

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