Living reflections from a dream

Where the Sunbeams End: Chapter 8

Photo by Mathew Schwartz on Unsplash

Dusk on a Friday in December. The steady purr of cars drifting by outside. My desk is in tatters in front of me. Spent cigarette boxes and empty beer bottles stand guard behind a mountain of books. More whiskey, another smoke. I’m getting closer to the dark place. Shit, we might already be there now. 

~~~

“We’ll put 'em on the pizza, ' cause they taste like shit.” 

The four of us sat in a circle in the basement. The house was an old brick rambler. Everything was on the first floor, at least initially. The basement wasn’t anything more than cinder blocks and cement when we first moved in. 

When I hit puberty I moved my stuff down to the cold dampness of the basement. I’d wake up at 6:00, same as Dad, take a shower and neatly moose my hair. Had to look sharp for the girls. 

Mom and Dad had eventually found the money to finish the basement as I entered the latter years of high school. There were problems with the contractors however, and the basement leaked, creating artistic mold spots at the base of some of the drywall. Dad claimed one of these spots resembled Jerry Garcia, the lead man for the Grateful Dead. 

As Bobby laid out the shrooms onto the glass coffee table I couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous, yet excited. I had listened to his stories about tripping and I’d read Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. So there was a bit of romancing when it came to this particular experience. 

Bobby was the only one who had experimented with the magic mushrooms. Doug, Shawn, and myself were shroom virgins. 

I didn’t say anything, but putting the little caps and stems on the pizza didn’t do anything but ruin the pizza. They did taste like shit, or what I imagined shit may taste like. We choked them down as fast as we could, chasing them with hearty gulps of water from the bathroom sink. For mushroom virgins it was quite a large dose. Each of us had our own eighth of an ounce portion. 

“Now we wait, usually takes about an hour,” Bobby explained. 

We sat and put on some music. I imagine it was country music, it always seemed to be in those days, especially with Bobby leading the way. 

Before I knew it, we were rushing through the laundry room and bundling up the back steps out into the warm July air. The climb to the summit of the mountain had begun, the shrooms had taken hold. 

My father opened the kitchen window that looked out above the back steps, “What are you guys doing?” 

He knows, I thought to myself. 

“We’re trippin!” I yelled back.

Euphoria firmly gripped me as I rolled around in the dew soaked grass. Each blade felt like a ropy strand of a large shag rug. The night sky was devoid of clouds, and as I settled on my back and gazed upward I was awestruck by a kaleidoscope of colors shining from each individual star. 

This state of extreme bliss only lasts so long, and then you find yourself swimming in the depths of your subconscious. 

“How could I break up with her? She loved me! She made me a pillow. A pillow, guys!” 

~~~

My friend Matt introduced us. I don’t really recall how he became acquainted with the girls from Handley, but I appreciated the fact that she couldn’t hide her feelings for me right from the start. Somehow we ended up alone, playing Guess Who and getting to know each other. She didn’t strike me as a complete hottie, but she was beautiful in her own way and exuded class and dignity. 

She was my first kiss, my first love, and my first lover. We gave ourselves to each other. We never rushed anything, we let it happen naturally. The electric fireplace below the T.V. was humming away, it was around my eighteenth birthday. It was on the couch where we’d spent so many nights cuddling. I noticed my hands quivering as a ripped open the condom wrapper, whether it was excitement or fear, I’m not sure I’ll ever know. 

For as long as we could, we managed to push through my fling with the other girl, the goalkeeper. We both went off to Radford and kept the flicker of love alive. Under the surface though, we were both cracking and snapping like kindling. I was desperately worried about the state of my parent’s relationship. Finding that my dad had committed the mortal sin of adultery had shaken me to my core. If he was capable of this, then what kind of man was I? 

A group of us had made the short trek from Radford to Virginia Tech to party. She and I left the party early and wandered over to the apartment where we would crash for the night. I had poured us strong screwdrivers throughout the evening and we were feeling quite toasty. I soon found her down on her knees, having her way with me. Something of a rarity for her during our three years together. The vodka and orange juice must have awakened something within her, and I felt grateful. 

As I began setting up the bed from the pullout couch she stopped me, pillow in hand.

“Did you cheat on me?” 

“What?” I said, trying to buy some time. So this was the moment I’d feared. Had someone said something to her? Was that blowjob just a way to avoid what was really on her mind? It didn’t matter, the moment had arrived. 

“Did you ever cheat on me?” She repeated, looking up into my eyes. 

“What are you talking about? No, I didn’t cheat.” 

“You swear to God?” 

“Jesus, yes. I swear to God.” 

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell her. Not only had I truly turned my back on her, but I’d turned away from God. As she dozed off, I sat up contemplating my lie. I almost woke her and confessed, but again couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on her face. So I pushed it all down and accepted whatever punishment or karma would come my way. 

I still ended up breaking her heart. After our first year of college, I told her I needed a break. In my mind it was either marry this girl or break it off. I’d never really been with anyone else and I thought I needed to figure something out. I thought I needed to grow up and experience life. But, it was really the lie that was killing me inside. 

~~~

“Pete, leave it alone. Try to get back with her if you want, but maybe you just need to get laid,” said Bobby. 

“Yo, where’s Shawn?” Asked Doug. 

The three of us were still laying in the backyard, gazing up at the stars. All of us sat up, scanning the area for our lost man. 

“Shit, Yo Shawn!” Bobby called out.

“Well, come on then. Let’s go find him.” I said. 

“He couldn’t have gone far, how long have we been out here?” Doug responded. 

After stopping to observe our enormous pupils in the bathroom mirror, we made our way back down the steps to the basement. We found Shawn in the laundry room, lying in the fetal position atop a large pile of dirty clothes. 

“Shawn? What the hell you doing man?” 

“Nobody loves me.” 

“What do you mean man, we love you.” 

“Yeah man, we love you.” 

“Everybody hates me.” Shawn wallowed. 

“He’s having a bad trip,” explained Bobby. 

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Let’s go outside again Shawn. The stars look sick.”

“Yeah, come on Shawn.”

“Nobody loves me.” 

“He’ll be fine, it’ll wear off by morning.” 

As I stood there, looking down at my friend, the fear began to take hold. What had I done? Love had shined down on me, but I cowered away, scrambling back into the cave of loneliness. Fearful of the fact that someone could love me and fearful that I was my father.