NORWEGIAN WOOD

i was frustrated that avery could see our imaginary friends and i couldn’t. i have slight aphantasia, so it’s hard for me to picture things in my mind. i never really believed in any of it.

we straddled our playground’s red steel monkey bars like the spiked back of a dragon, but to me, they were never actually a dragon. they were just monkey bars. the blacktop basketball court wasn’t the large dining hall of our castled home. it was concrete.

but avery could describe it all in such precise detail—as if she really saw it—that a part of me didn’t mind my doubts. the other part of me envied her expansive imagination.

i straddle alexander’s chest like the back of a dragon and run my fingers through his dark curls.

“are you real? are you actually here right now?”

“no, i’m not. you’re just really high,” he laughs.

my phone buzzes at the end of my bed—a mattress on the floor. it’s a text from my dealer, checking to make sure i received the uber package. half a gram of ketamine. i have this stupid habit of buying small amounts of k, thinking it’ll make me want to get high less. instead, i end up spending more money on uber couriers.

“can i have a bump?” he asks, batting his green eyes.

“well duh. you paid for it.”

“it’s your ketamine. i bought it for you.”

how romantic.

i walk my fingers up his toned stomach and towards his collar bone. pointer finger. middle finger. pointer finger. they look like stripper legs. i’m so high right now that i almost can’t tell if he’s here. but he is. i check the palms of my hands, the time, and the text from my dealer. none of it falters or morphs. my thumbs and pinkies don’t stretch or spiral. i’m not in a dream.

“you know i drove past your house every morning. on the way to school.” he squeezes my waistline, digging into the rolls of fat around my hips. he tells me how nervous he was to talk to me. how it was easier to just not exist.

and in that same moment, i’m so angry with him.

“i wish you had just talked to me.” i wish you hadn’t robbed me of young love.

my long-lost childhood sweetheart, and his absence, which had bored an ice-cream-pint-sized hole in my heart. all the little heartbreaks and one-night stands and casual, meaningless sex i’d had with stupid strangers, all of which could’ve been avoided. it hits me all at once, and i fall onto my side, face the wall, and curl into a fetal position.

“you good?” he rubs my shoulder, concerned.

“i’m fine. let’s sleep. i’m tired.” i'm fighting back tears.

but he doesn’t probe further. he just wraps his arms around me, and we slowly doze off into the night, where my dreams are dark and twisted, like they were when i was small.

in the morning, alexander is gone without a trace. norwegian wood.