F Hemmingway - A family saga Volume One

"H-How do y-you know…?" she queried.

"Christ! I've been blowing grass for over a year!"

She was aghast… completely surprised at his admission. She could only gasp, "Donnie!"

"Yeah… Donnie!" he mimicked. "And, it's the most! There's no turn-on like it!"

"I–I didn't know… Y-you…"

"That's what I mean… it doesn't string you out… up or down! When it wears off after a couple of hours… you're right where you were before. No after-effects… no side-effects!"

"You make it s-sound… sort of… well, you know… n-nice…" she murmured.

This was it, he decided. He would lay it on her. She just might be ready, now. His selling job must be working. Casually, he arose from the bed, ignoring the fact of the distinct bulge in his jeans where his throbbing cock demanded release, and walked to his bureau. In a moment, he had one of the joints he had hidden there. Holding it carefully in his hand, he turned to his sister and said, "I'm going to toke up… You can blow some with me… if you want… but I've got to trust you! I don't want you to go spilling your guts about it! It's got to be secret… just between you and me… O.K.?" Her eyes widened in surprise and a fleeting look of fright passed over her face. "Y-You've g-got some of i-it… here?"

Swiftly, he checked the curtains at the window, making sure they were closed, then locked the door. He held up the homemade roach for her to see. "Yeah… right here!"

In wide-eyed fascination, Charity watched as her brother sat down, again, beside her, extracted a book of paper matches from his pocket and lit the marijuana cigarette, drawing the sweet-smelling smoke deeply into his lungs, holding it there for long moments before releasing it then exhaling the bluish-grey smoke with controlled slowness. He smiled at her.

"You ever try smoking, yet?"

She crimsoned. "Yes… I–I didn't l-like it…!"

"This's even easier… than regular tobacco, Sis," He drew a deep breath. "Want to blow a little?"

The rich smoke he had exhaled so close to her gave her a heady feeling. She couldn't help inhaling some of it; it was thick in the small room, already. She nodded her no.

He took another deep puff, going through the same ritual of deep inhalation, holding and slow exhalation, blowing the smoke, purposely, into her face.

"I–It smells funny…" she observed.

"It'll relax you…" he said, languidly. "It makes the whole world beautiful… for a little while. There's no problems… and there's nothing but love… The whole world is love… and everybody loves everybody. What Mom does… isn't important anymore! This's where it's at… the turn-on to love… and beautiful things… for beautiful people!"

Her brother's voice, somehow softer, more musical… almost lyrical, washed over her, mesmerizing her, and she saw that he was being influenced, already, by the narcotic effects of the marijuana. She realized, too, that he was seeing things that were presently barred to her. He was in a world far distant from hers… in a world of love and beauty. True, it was a world of unreality, but the reality of this world, the part of it she had witnessed only a little while before, had been too much for her. That was the reason she was here, in Donnie's bedroom. She had felt so alone that she had come to him. For solace? Yes. For sympathy? Yes… But, Donnie wasn't there with her, now. He had fled… or was he leading her? At any rate, she knew that the real Don was not here; he was experiencing another world, a world from which he was beckoning her, urging her to follow him there to bask in the pure sunshine of that other place. Oh, God? Dare she follow him? The bridge over which she must cross was a flimsy one. It was only smoke, and yet… it was the way. She could see it hanging in layers in the room. No… perhaps it was not a bridge, after all. The smoke from his roach was an elevator. She looked up into the dimness above the light. What was there? She didn't know. Could she reach out to the smoke, grasp it and pull herself, carefully, over to the other side where Donnie waited? If she did not… she would be more alone than ever, and he was all she had, now. She bad to be with Donnie. Oh, God… I've got to find Donnie, again!

With a trembling hand, she reached out to touch his arm. "D-Donnie…?" Her voice was small, the voice of a frightened little girl. "I–I'm so s-scared… and l-lonely…"

He gave her a bemused look. "Here's where it is… Sis! It's in the smoke! It's the smoke that sets you free! You want to turn on… now?" He extended the joint to her.

For a moment, she looked at it with next to loathing. The thing he was offering to her could be a monster in disguise. She was truly frightened.

"Here! Take it!" he said. "It's the only way you'll ever find out!" He put the cigarette between her fingers.

Suddenly, she knew. He was reaching out to her from that other, more beautiful place; he was reaching out to her and almost, literally, dragging her into it. Dear God!

She held the burning marijuana cigarette in her own hand and stared at it, unable to bring herself to put it to her own lips.

"You won't be sorry!" her brother urged. "You're sure… D-Donnie…? No after-effects… a-and n-no s-side-effects?"

"None!" he assured. "… And, it'll be everything I told you it would be! I wouldn't lie to you!" He stifled an urge to put the narcotic cigarette in her mouth for her, force her to smoke it, but he knew he couldn't do it that way. She would have to make that final move of her own volition. That final decision had to be hers.

Hesitantly, Charity raised her hand, the roach held awkwardly between her fingers, as she brought the wet end of the paper tube to her lips, placed it between them and inhaled lightly, drawing some of the smoke into her mouth.

Don watched her with a mounting sense of elation. Christ! She's going to do it!

She blew the smoke out of her mouth, experimentally, and Donnie said, "You've got to draw it into your lungs and hold it for a while."

Again, she tried; this time, successfully getting the smoke into her lungs and holding it there with determination, before she exhaled it. She coughed. "It feels k-kind of s-strange."

"It'll start taking effect… in just a little while," he assured her.

"H-How much does it t-take… t-to t-turn on?"

"You know… like maybe three or four deep drags."

She took another, deeper, longer puff on the joint, drew it deep into her lungs, and while she was holding her breath, extended her hand to give him back the cigarette. He took it from her and smoked in his usual, careful style, handing it back to her, again, as she slowly exhaled, clearly following his example and directions.

"I–I don't really f-feel any different… yet." She was still a little tense and frightened.

"Give it a chance, Char… but you'll know when it starts to turn you on."

They smoked, now, in silence, for several moments, passing the roach back and forth between them.

She recognized the feeling of euphoria as it overtook her. There was a feeling of well-being, but she noticed that now, although her movements must have been normal, it seemed to take an interminably long time to raise her hand to her mouth to take a drag. Time seemed to be standing still.

This must be it! Like Donnie says, "This's where it's at!" She looked at her brother long and hard, studying his face. Strange, she had never noticed the tiny mole just below his left eye, before, but of course, it must have been there all the time.

Her fears began to fade. The tenseness in her muscles was vanishing. She relaxed and lounged back against the headboard of the bed, as she watched the patterns of the smoke in the still air of the bedroom. The stub of the joint was getting shorter. She took a final puff and handed it back to her brother, watching as he dragged on it, then extinguished it carefully, saving the unsmoked portion of the dried hemp leaves and destroying the remaining paper by chewing it to a pulp and swallowing it.