𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧; conrad fisher

8

8 - Salt Water

Conrad was silent and still, in a state of peaceful bliss whilst he looked out at the evening sea.

The wood of the deck creaked underneath my feet, causing him to whip his head around to face me. The eye contact felt so sudden and intense, and I could feel blood rushing up to my cheeks. Coming to terms with the feelings I had for Conrad was the easy part, facing them was much harder.

I walked over and took my place beside him, leaving about a foot of space between us. He gave me a small nod before going back to gazing at the view in front of him. Sometimes I wished I could have read his mind, and figured out what he had been so steadily contemplating at the time.

After a bit of quiet time between the two of us, we each began to set up our sleeping bags on the boat, and took turns going to a nearby bathroom on the docks to change into more comfortable clothing to sleep in. He arrived back from the restroom, now dressed in a Brown crewneck and baggy black sweatpants, and rustled through a maroon Jansport bag.  He then pulled out a small plastic baggy from it, containing what looked like gummy bears.

"You brought snacks?" I asked.

He smirked, "Not snacks... Just something to make the long night ahead of us feel a little bit shorter."

Of course, Conrad Fisher had the brilliant idea of bringing edibles with him tonight. What better way to keep watch of an expensive sailboat than to do it high? I saw him pop a few of the gummies into his mouth and looked at him with disgust.

Noticing my expression, Conrad became slightly defensive, "Hey, no need to judge. They're not that bad, you know. You should try one, might take that stick out of your ass."

I gasped while he fell over in laughter. Eventually, I found myself looking at him with endearment. Sure his comment was crude, but there was some truth to it. I had been living my life in anxiety for as long as I could remember. It was about time I finally allowed myself to let loose for once.

"Fuck it, hand me the bag."

Conrad had an expression of pure shock, before it eventually morphed into one of pride. He cheerfully passed me the plastic baggy and, mirroring him, I took out two gummy bears as well.

I paused before eating them, wondering if I was about to make a mistake. The message of drugs being evil substances had been shoved down my throat as a child through different D.A.R.E assemblies I was forced to watch in elementary school. However, looking at Conrad, I found a sense of security and protection around him–enough to make me feel safe enough to eventually consume the gummies. Once in a while it couldn't be bad to do something like this, I just promised myself I wouldn't make a habit out of it.

Conrad took one more before putting the bag back in his backpack, "It's Indica, 15 milligrams each. 30 is a lot for a first-timer, why didn't you ask me how much you should take?"

"Oh, I –err," I stuttered, "This is my second time, actually. 30 is what I took last time, and I'm pretty tolerant to it. I don't feel anything at all."

That last part of my fib was actually true. My body had no reaction to the gummies. I figured I would need a few more minutes until they hit, but even still, Conrad was looking at me and trying to hold in his laughter.

"What's so funny?"

He snickered, "You sure this isn't your first time?"

I crossed my arms, "I'm positive of it."

"Alright, then."

I hopped over the sleeping bags and went back to the spot on the deck I had sat on earlier, letting my legs dangle over the boat. Some time had passed by, maybe five or so minutes, and I still felt no reaction to the edibles. Well, that was lame; and to think, I believed that this would have been the well deserved break from life I was allowing myself to have. Of course the universe would find it funny to make myself immune to marijuana, just so I wouldn't be able to have a moment of relaxation.