ETHEREAL

CHAPTER 18

"Skye, let me make it up to you." The next day, I read Damien's pleading text message and roll my eyes. I don't know what he could do, other than actually be sober for once and 100% honest with me, instead of lying, being secretive, and hiding things from me, as usual. "How?" I text back and wait while loading the barely working dishwasher that collects mold and leaks gallons of water onto the kitchen floor. Ugh. Soon, we will have to solely wash all of our dishes by hand, since we can't afford a new dishwasher, refrigerator, and washer/dryer. "Let's go to the movies tonight, I'll pick you up at 7?" I reluctantly agree. I don't know why I keep giving Damien a myriad of chances that he inevitably decides to light on fire and ruin, but I can't deny the connection and electricity between us.

    I change into my favorite (also my only pair) dark skinny jeans and black military-inspired jacket, with my UGGs and swipe on my NARS "Turkish Delight" pale pink lipgloss. I ruffle my straightened layered shag-inspired mullet and push my swoop bangs across my forehead. I hope that this night goes better than all of those other failed, disappointing outings. I feel like a fool for having faith in who Damien could be, rather than who he is.

    Damien texts me that he is outside. I open the door to his mom's silver Nissan, and immediately, I can smell the alcohol wafting off of him, mixed in with Dolce and Gabbana's "The One" cologne, and his menthol cigarettes. "So, do you wanna see Paranormal Activity? There's not much in theatres, now," his voice is slow and syrupy velvet, as usual.

I wonder if he is just a functioning alcoholic. "Um, yeah, that's fine," I look out of the window, and he drives us, slowly as he usually does, to the movie theatre. I zone out a bit and he is looking for a parking space, then all of a sudden, his car has completely jumped the sidewalk and the pedestrians that were walking or eating outside in the heated areas by the restaurants are screaming and running. I feel like I'm observing my life from faraway and I start laughing at how ludicrous this seems, to be in a real life version of the Sims.

    I snap out of my stance and jump up forward in my seat and reach across him to attempt to turn the wheel back towards the road. "What the hell, Damien!" It works a bit, and the wheels turn off the sidewalk.

"I wasn't going to run anyone over," he slurs, annoyed that I took over the wheel from him. People are still pointing at the car towards the restaurant employees, and some of them are shaking, and crying. He hits against the curb again, then violently turns the car back into the parking lot, rapidly speeds up, then slams the brakes to back into a random, incredibly faraway space. The silence in the car is deafening.

"So, are you high besides being drunk, or what? What is so bad that you're trying to escape from, daily? Can you be sober for like one minute?" I sound indignant, annoyed and disappointed.

"Sorry, I took some acid before-" He doesn't even sound apologetic.

"You took acid before picking me up?" I start to laugh hysterically, because I don't know what else to do. I want to scream at him to take me home, but I don't want to have a repeat of what just happened and endanger anyone else. Plus, the foolish, stupid side of me still wants to spend time with him, and hope that maybe he will sober up enough to take me home later. I should probably just call a cab, or one of my friends to take me home, instead. He has absolutely zero regard for himself, nor anyone else, including myself.

"I had it under control. It was fine." I think he actually believes his own lies, which makes him all the more dangerous to be around.

"So, you had it under control when you nearly hit like at least five innocent people on the sidewalk?"

"Skye, stop being like that, yeah, have you ever taken acid? It was on a sour patch kid."

Vaguely, I remember the taste of his mouth consisting of sour patch kids before, and his blackened pupils dilated and blown out. "Have you taken acid before?"