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“And what about your face feeling like it’s made of really heavy …” Chase scratched his chin, “heavy stuff?”
Rayma snorted again and Jordan could tell she was trying to hide her smile, but it was tough. It was tough for him, too.
However, this seemed to be exactly what she needed to brighten her spirits which had unfortunately been darkened by him. Some uptight people high as fuck.
“Yeah, really heavy, heavy stuff face is a side-effect, too,” Rayma replied.
Chase’s eyes widened. “How long does it last? I’ve never been high before. Will my face always be this heavy?” He started pawing at his face. “My brain is cloudy, too. Feels like someone took a bunch of dog hair clippings and pushed them into my ears until they hit gray matter.”
“Why dog hair clippings?” Jordan asked, giving Chase a weird look. “Why not cotton? Or… anything but dog hair clippings.”
Chase rounded on him. “Because that’s what it feels like, man! Dog hair clippings.”
Rayma rolled her eyes and groaned. “Oh God, don’t tell me you’re all going to be the super anxious type of high? Please no. Just go outside, lay in the grass and stare at the clouds, you fucking stoners.” She turned to Joy. “How are you feeling, Nana Joy?”
Joy was grinning. “Now that you mention it, my face does feel a little heavy. And I can’t stop smiling.” The giggle that followed was adorable.
“I’m thirsty,” Grant added. “And hungry.” He opened up a cupboard behind him and went“yessss”before pulling out a bag of potato chips. “Jackpot!”
“Oh, fuck yes,” Pasha said. “Spread the love, Grantpa.”
Grant nodded at her and ripped open the bag of chips, shoving his hand inside and bringing a giant mound to his mouth.
“Well, let’s not turn into complete savages here,” Jordan said, shaking his head and wandering over to where Grant was munching. Pasha had joined him. He took the bag from Grant, which made the older man growl. “Outside, all of you. Just like Rayma said, go lay in the grass and count the clouds. You’re all much too paranoid, thirsty, and hungry to be of any use to us.” He ushered the adults outside where they did as they were told and all found spots in the grass to lay down. Grant snatched his potato chips back from Jordan with a scowl before he disappeared outside.
Heath was still drinking water from the hose which made sense if he had ten brownies. The man was probably higher than everyone else. Even if he was the biggest person there—his muscles had muscles—if he didn’t normally get high and ate ten brownies, he’d be pretty far gone no matter what.
Jordan closed the sliding glass door once everyone was outside and Rayma came up to stand beside him. “Oh fuck,” she breathed.
“What?”
“Look.” She pointed to the beer bottles on the picnic table, then glanced into the house to see wine glasses scattered throughout the kitchen as well as more beer bottles. “They’ve all been drinking, too.”
“So?”
“So, they’re mixing alcohol and cannabis, and they probably drank before they ate, which means they’re going to be so fucked up with the crossfade.”
He turned to face her. “What’s a crossfade?”
“Otherwise known as agreen out, it can lead to the spins, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, and sweating. Alcohol can increase the effects of the THC. But the weed also minimizes the effect of the alcohol, which can lead you to drink more, then ultimately end up drunker—and higher—than you intended.”
“I take it you speak from experience?” His mouth lifted on one side.
She lifted a shoulder. “Don’t play coy, Lassie. It’s not a good look. You know I have. You know my entire past, so let’s move on.”
That was true, he did. She’d shared everything with him, even if he hadn’t been able to share everything with her. He knew back in Baltimore when she’d hung out with the Destroyers, she’d partied hard. Drank a lot, smoked a lot of pot, done coke, ecstasy and magic mushrooms. She said she’d turned down heroin, crack, and meth, though. Thank God.
“Right,” he said with a nod. “Moving on. What do we do now?”
“You go out and watch the children and the dogs, and I’ll finish up in here. It’s up to us to put on this dinner until all the High Harts come back to earth.” She retreated to the kitchen, taking Joy’s apron with tiny vulvas on it and tying it around her neck and waist.
Joy was a sex and relationship therapist and had many phallic and vulva-shaped objects in her house. Her entire fridge was covered in genitalia magnets. Apparently, it was an ongoing gift schtick between her and another therapist friend. They bought each other genitalia-inspired gifts for birthdays and Christmas. He assumed the vulva apron was one of those gifts. It was veryrealisticand no two vulvas were the same—which is accurate for life.
“I’m sure the kids are fine out there for a bit,” he said, joining her in the kitchen. “I mean, it’s not like the adults are passed out drunk, they’re just a littleoutof it. And Zoe and Connor are eleven, so they’re pretty responsible. Zoe’s babysitting now, isn’t she?” Without bothering to ask her, he picked up the abandoned peeler and started peeling the potatoes.
“She is, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have sober eyes out there.”
“I can see out the window what’s going on. Kids are playing, dogs are laying down and the High Harts are staring at the clouds contemplating their life choices.”
