CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Poppy comes to in Tracy's living room, just as it was earlier in the day. Walls covered in yellow and white striped wallpaper, floor an ancient shag carpet, the entire place having an air of being unkept. The coffee table is littered with magazines, dildos, a bong, and some complicated looking board game. She turns her head to look around the room further but it’s difficult. Her head feels like it’s been insulated with foam, and she has to push through to do anything. She manages to look at the side table, a lamp carved by hand with a shade printed with a lakeside complete with cattails. A blacklight shines under it, projecting the silhouettes of ducks and tall grasses onto the walls. Guitar music plays, acoustic guitar. The whole place is very tacky.

Tracy is walking in with a bowl of popcorn and something under her arm. Looks like it could be a bottle of soda or something? Who cares, not like she can eat it. She can’t move at all, she’s stuck in place. Could she move her head again if she tried? Why try, it’s hopeless. She wants to jump up and scream, beg for mercy from the only person in the world that can possibly help her right now. She tries it, though she knows it won’t work.

By some miracle it works fine, she gets off the couch and before she can go over to Tracy her vision goes blurry. She’s not seeing fast enough to move right, and she stumbles back to the couch. Her hand shoots up, reaching for Tracy as she sinks deeper into what can only be described as a permanent state of petrification. Medusa wishes she could affect people like this.

Tracy places the snacks on the side table and sits on the couch next to Poppy. She puts a hand on the rabbits shoulder and it’s like a sparks flying off metal. The only thing Poppy can feel is the touch on her shoulder, it’s filling her entire being. The deer speaks and poppy thinks she hears ‘hun, you’re having a bad trip, I need you to relax.’ If poppy can get up she can certainly still talk, she’s got that much.

“ No no I can’t relax if I stop moving and thinking I’m gonna freeze up and then I’m never gonna be able to get out of it and I’ll be trapped and I can’t slow down I’ll die.’ She barely even registers that she’s waving one of her arms in an attempt to stay cognizant. Music, she needs music. She starts to narrate everything she does to Tracy. Pick up phone, type in password, open music app, swipe away ad for a concert she’ll never go to, pull up playlist, play, volume up, too loud, volume medium.

“ Music helps, hun. You wanna put on a movie, too? Or you just wanna sleep?” Tracy is still next to Poppy, she can feel her breath on her neck. Mentioning sleep right now is like mentioning death to a dementia ridden grandparent. It’s not an acceptable topic. “I can’t sleep, if I sleep I won’t wake up. ” She turns slightly and looks Tracy in the face, tears in her eyes. “I’ve been scared of dying in my sleep since I was a kid. It always seemed to happen to people on the news, I thought it would happen to me. ”

“ Hun you were, like, eight! You weren’t gonna die in your sleep. ”

Poppy sinks into the couch further, looking embarrassed. “Yea, but what if? If I fall asleep right now I’ll die. I can’t die, I have so much to do.” Tracy looks to the side, thinking about her next words very carefully. “You know, I think worrying like that is why you shouldn’t be doing any more drugs. Or this radio show, for that matter. If it stresses you out that much than stop doing it, you know?”

“Look, there’s a term for what you’re going through, it’s called couch lock. And I can promise you that in the entire history of weed, nobody has ever died from it. You’re not even the worst case I’ve seen, you’re just reacting to it the worst. ” Poppy looks a little bit better, but not fully reassured. She finds her voice just enough to let out a pathetic, quiet “hold me, please. ” Tracy pulls poppy in close. She’s warm, and her muscular arms surround her. It’s very nice, like she’s protecting her from anything that might happen to her. She puts her whole faith into Tracy, she’s never trusted someone more. “Hun, you said you wanna keep your brain going? Talk to me, tell me what’s been going on with you lately. ”

Poppy spills everything that’s been happening in the last half year. Getting famous, running away from home, failed romance and frayed friendships. Every last detail, every ounce of her anxiety and stress she spills onto Tracy. She stops herself many times to make sure she’s not being too annoying, and with constant reassurance she opened up like she never had before.

When her mouth got dry, Tracy gave her water. When she got hungry, Tracy gave her food. She doesn’t know how long she talked for, maybe 20 minutes? But she kept finding more to mention, more to bring up. After a while she stops talking about her troubles and just starts talking about life, the things she’s seen and albums she likes and random facts about machines she worked on. Whatever came to mind, just to prove to herself that her mind still worked at all.

Poppy turns around at some point, so she’s facing Tracy, her guardian angel. She scoots forward and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek before losing strength and collapsing on her. “You promise I’ll be ok if I relax?”

“I promise. I’ll be right here the whole time, ok? You need to use the bathroom before you rest? Any meds you need to take?” She did, actually. Tracy helped her up and to the bathroom. She got herself all ready to relax and as she was walking (more like stumbling) towards the couch Tracy puts her hand on her shoulder.

“ Wouldn’t the bed be a bit more comfortable? I don’t mean to impose, but you’re welcome to join me for the night. ” Poppy obliged, but insisted that they didn’t do anything farther than cuddle. Tracy agreed, neither of them were sober enough to properly consent. As poppy fell into bed and Tracy draped the sheets over her she noticed the clock on the bedside table read 8:30. It was 7:15 when she checked on the hill, there was no way only an hour and change had passed? How much longer was she going to be this high?

As if on cue, Tracy spins her around to face her and smiles. “Don’t worry about the time, you’ve got nowhere to be. We’ll stay here as long as we need. ” Poppy snuggles in close to the deer, smiling ear to ear.

“You’re right, nowhere to be. And you’re gonna protect me, because you.. love me. ” Poppy drifts off, not to sleep but to a state of relaxation never before experienced. She’s given herself up to the drug. After a few moments even the worries about locking up fade away, shooed by the deers arms around her. Total peace. She couldn’t think if she wanted to. Tracy would do all of the thinking.

Poppy starts fiddling with the fleece on Tracy’s pajama top, a worn out hoodie from their university. The texture is lovely, she can feel every individual stitch and the bumpy raised letters, the ink chipping away as she does. Tracy pats the jackalopes head, tracing circles around her antler stubs. It all feels so nice. So, so nice.



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