F I NE G RA S S

Someone once told me that you are only as strong as the drugs you take. Surely, they botched the idiom, but I’m not above popping a Xanny to prepare for this trip to the Hamptons, sans husband. Mother Fucker. Everyone’s going to ask where you are.

I honestly can’t even believe I’m still going. Shit, I can’t even believe I got on the LIRR with a coffee in my hand. Cold brew, black? Who am I?

This is my first cup since you left. I was trying really hard not to wake myself up, if I’m being honest. Although, if there’s anything I’ve learned from this, it’s that honesty is just pain-realization. But honestly, I can’t spend the rest of my life going through the motions, so it’s high time I get out and do something, see people, maybe even meet someone to move in with me so I can afford not to move. Mother Fucker. There’s a lot I can forgive you for and I fell short on some promises, but I cannot forgive you for leaving mid-lease in NYC.

You know when something shitty happens and you replay it over and over in your head? I’ve replayed your last words so many times they no longer sound like you. They sound like me, telling myself I’m not in love with me anymore. How fucked is that? I legit have become my own worst enemy, cosmically breaking up with myself, daily. Maybe that’s the honesty in this. You were just telling me what I already knew and was avoiding telling myself. But then, why does it suck so bad if it’s what I needed? What I really need is to stop talking to you in my head.

Pluuuuus, there’s a super good-looking guy a couple rows up, facing my direction. I should talk to him... in real life. But I won’t. Ha.

Ok, we are de-boarding, and “hot guy” is getting off at my stop! I’m assuming this is the part where I’m supposed to say, “things are looking up”.

“Perry! Perry!”

And…. There’s my ride.

“Ash, how the hell are you? When did you get this whip?”

“Perry, I’ve had this car since we graduated college, just get in. And I promise I won’t bring up Ben… unless you want to talk about it. Which is healthy by the way.”

“Meh, not this weekend. I just want to kind of exist in a parallel universe for a little while, cool?”

“Cool. Oh, and hope it’s cool if Luke comes with us.

“Luke, hey! Come meet Perry.”

Typical Ash.

“Hey Luke, I’m Perry. Saw you were on the same train as me. Coming from the city, too?”

“Nice to meet you, Perry. Denver, actually, but passing through for a work thing.”

“Ah, the old work thing.” Hmm... shorts, T-shirt, briefcase. Poker? I should probably ask what he does, but, not sure I even care. “Ash, let’s hit the road.”

“Yeah, you need to eat something, stat. Lookin’ a little too slender for my liking.”

“Food hasn’t really been my friend these last few months.” Geez, has it really been months since you left, Mother Fucker?

“I made brownies. Interested?”

Oh sweet, dreamy Luke and your sweet, dreamy brownies.

“No thanks.”

“Perry, come on. Have one of Luke’s brownies. Would it kill you to act like you want to be here?”

Way to lay it on paper thin in front of strangers, Ashley.

“Ok, ok. Luke, by all means.”

Oh wow, this brownie is actually incredible. It’s like sometimes you don’t realize how hungry you are until you start stuffing your face. “What’s the recipe?”

“A secret”

Did he really just mime zipper-shut his mouth?

“We’re here!!!”

Ashley was never one to temper excitement. Wow. This house is beautiful, maybe as beautiful as that house we rented in Maine, Mother Fucker. And as expected, it looks like I’m late to the party. I really hope Ashley already told everyone about you, Ben. I am here to escape, not to relive.

“Perry! What do you want to drink?”

Everyone looks so happy. Why are there so many people here?

“Vodka soda, por favor”

Oh, that’s going down easy. Geez, I haven’t seen some of these people in years. Were we avoiding friends because it might force us to confront what we weren’t ready to, Ben? Err, Mother Fucker.

“Perry, come play with us!”

“Hmm, I think I’m gonna go check out the beach. I’ll be back soon.”

Ugh, my head is spinning. How do I get out of this house? Is that Mara from high school? Flirting with Joe? Since when have they been dating? I need some air. Ah, a back door. Oh my god, that breeze feels so good. Is this… fresh air?

I am walking, I am talking… to myself. Cool, cool, cool.

This sand is like silky heaven beads. Does the sun always set so fast? It’s like it’s happening to me. Like I’m setting. What the fuck is going on?

My feet are sinking into the sand. Shit, can anyone hear me from out here?

“Help!!!!!!!! I’m sinking”

The sand is actually quite nice, but my legs are fully covered. Mother Fucker, are you controlling this right now? Pushing me under?

I bet you’re watching from some perch somewhere pushing me deeper with your milk-chocolatey brown eyes.

I seriously can’t move. It’s weirdly warm and cozy and scary at the same time. Ha. Hahaha, this would happen. I’m dying 20 feet from a bunch of smiling drunk assholes who pretend to give a shit but are too focused on hiding from their own shortcomings and misconceptions to even hear my screams.

I have been screaming silently for years, Mother Fucker. I silently screamed no when I told you I wanted a baby but continued taking the pill. I wasn’t even sick when I skipped your family’s Thanksgiving, I just couldn’t bear to surround myself with people I no longer cared about pleasing. I didn’t even work late on Tuesdays! I fucking went to the bar across from my office alone. Ha. Alone.

Jesus, I’m sinking faster. The sand is inches from my mouth. The sun is almost gone. What if no one ever finds my body? They might forget I was ever here. I should have said hi to Mara. Who needs a body anyway, though? It’s just a burden, to be honest.

Uh oh, the water is coming closer. I could reach out and touch it… if my hands weren’t sand-plastered to my sides.

I’m sorry I lied to you. I should have said these things to you. I should have just said it out loud. To anyone. To myself. Did you even file for divorce? Was it my shaking hand that pushed the pen?

I’m a monster.

“Perry. What the hell are you doing?”

Eyes. Open. Please.

“Luke? … What are you doing here?”

“You screamed that you were sinking. Why are you burying yourself in the sand? Are you ok?”

“I… the waves are trying to drown me.”

“Not much of a pothead, I take it.”

“Pot?”

“The weed brownies.”

Denver. Secret ingredient. Briefcase. Got it.

“Wait you’re a drug dealer?”

“I guess you could call me a nomadic purveyor of fine grass.”

Xanax. Vodka. Weed. Great.

“Wanna fuck?”

“Yeah.”