memento mori

06: not a drug deal

LIV

I don't know why I bought the cigarettes, knowing full well I would never smoke them.

My hands shook as I carried them out of the store, and they felt like a million pounds in my pocket.

All weekend, they felt like some burning secret. A feeling, not quite guilt but nothing too far away from that either, had been gnawing at me and I hoped that a transfer of the cigarettes would liberate me from this prison of my own design.

Now, sitting at a lunch table in the cafeteria, my eyes frantically search for Opal in the crowd of faces. It's almost like at the parties, managing to catch a glimpse of her smoking in the backyard or taking a sip out of a plastic cup while people talk to her but don't really notice her.

"Hey." The voice sounds from behind me and I jump, whirling around. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

It's just Opal, as if Opal could ever be just anything. Earbuds hang out over the top of her Nirvana pullover, her hair falling just above her shoulders in all of its light pink curly glory. Bags cling heavy under her eyes, but on her they just complete the edgy teen look she seems to be striving for. The world stops spinning for a moment as I take her in. It's almost like every action we take plops us right down in the middle of another party moment, another distorted memory.

"So, why'd you really buy these cigarettes?" Opal slides in the seat across from me, eyebrows raised and voice syrupy smooth. The world crashes back down.

"I don't know." I enunciate each word separately, hoping it will get my point across while at the same time injecting a little bit of venom. But I suppose I'm not much of a venomous person.

Her eyes rest on me so intently I think I'll burst into flames. "I don't buy it."

A beat of silence passes, neither of us sure what to say next. And then she continues talking. "I think you just wanted to see me again. You missed me, huh?"

"No!" I abruptly blurt, my face going red.

"I was just teasing you." She raises both hands, a sign of surrender. "No need to get so defensive about it. I wouldn't be eager to see me again, either."

"So do you want them or not?" It feels mean to ignore her self-jab, but I don't know what to say. I just need to pull the situation back to the part that I can control, the part of the script that I ran over and over in my mind all this morning.

"It feels weird to take them. Feels like a drug deal."

"Well, it's not!"

I'm already losing what little control over the situation I had, just like sand through my fingers; and then there's Opal, catching it and spinning it into her own designs.

"Sure, I'll take them," she says. I reach for my pocket, but she's not done. "If..."

"If what?" I try to stop my voice from shaking. Her eyes catch mine and I want to scream.

"If you tell me why you actually bought them. Because I think you do know. Every time I ask, your eyes glance anywhere but at me. And I don't know, it just seems like you're lying to me, Liv."

Nobody doesn't know why they are buying cigarettes, her eyes say.

One pack of cigarettes should not mean this much, but it does. What checks in my mind as an insignificant task is a monumental occasion to her. She perceives this situation as so much more than I do, and for a second I think she's not wrong. But then I grow defensive, and she's wrong again, and she isn't owed any more than what I've already given away.

"Why are you being so pushy?" Her eyes flicker, I've hit a nerve. In typical Liv fashion, that floods me with immense guilt. One stupid little thing, no words attached, has me ready to give up what would have been my biggest secret.

I sigh, looking down at my shoes when I start talking. It's easier that way, to not have to maintain eye contact. "Fine. Look, I had a really shitty shift at work. I was feeling bad. So, I went to 7-11. That's when I bought them. I don't smoke, but I considered it for a second, I guess. But I don't want them anymore, okay? So will you please just take the damn cigarettes?"

I've spilled out my guts, more than I came into this intending to, but once you start it's awfully hard to stop.

"Shit. Sorry." She mutters.

We fall into a lull again, no conversation to bridge the divide. I wrack my brain for anything to say, almost pulling out an apology or two myself. But I don't, and instead, I go with the most obvious choice.

"Here." I push the cigarettes across the table. She hastily shoves them into her backpack.

I suppose that, to the average onlooker, this might appear to be a drug deal after all. With the hushed tones and hasty movements, it's only fair to assume. Abruptly, I burst out into laughter.

Opal eyes me, amusement flickering across her features before disappearing once more.

"What?" She asks, leaning in like a little kid about to be told a secret. I begin to think she's not as mysterious as everyone makes her out to be, she's just another teenager getting through as best they can. She's only mysterious because we never bother to find out.

"It does seem like a drug deal." I manage to choke out between laughs and gulps of air.

Like a tidal wave, she gets pulled under and soon enough she's laughing too.

Everyone in the cafeteria stares. They've never seen Opal laugh before. Neither have I, and so I stare too, watching an ethereal occurrence that shines so bright it makes my eyes hurt.

In my mind, that moment marked the beginning of our friendship and all that it would turn out to be.