“My face was bare and so was my head. I’ll interject to admit I could have been a little dramatic about  the heat but I felt like I was peering into the center of the sun and so did my skin. My forehead and face were streaked with sweat. Walking for miles, my knees hurt and my legs hurt. My back hurt and I was tired. Not just tired, but consumed, oddly barren but so heavy and so hot.  I carried nothing in my hand. I hadn’t drank anything for hours. Obsessed with the way my mouth felt, I was constantly opening and closing it, feeling how dry my tongue was against the roof. Opening and shutting my jaw to hear the click, to see how much I could open it, to feel it tense and lock near shut. Rubbing it with my hand, sort of humming, cajoling it to open, it was on the verge of close without my input. When I arrived at the hospital, I was on the verge of collapse anyway so the entire process went faster.
My knees buckled from over exertion and anxiety when I walked in. I could barely stand so the attendings swarmed me to help. They brought me water and that’s when I spoke, for the first time to anyone all day.
“I can’t. I’ll choke.”
I fainted. I was so proud of my body for fainting.  I can’t lie. I feel the constant need to confess so I had walked for miles until I fainted. They tried to ask my name. I whispered and they repeated back: Sadia? I could only nod. When someone has no ID, they use Doe or Smith as a last name to keep everyone separate. I was Sadia Smith. I was admitted to Pennsylvania Presbyterian Hospital for severe dehydration and exhaustion and later admitted to Presbyterian’s acute psychiatric unit for a dissociative fugue. The name on my file said Sadia Smith. “Manic. Possibly psychotic.”
“Wait,” Marisol held her hands out.
“No, you can only ask one question in between stories.”
Her counter was sharper than Marisol’s interjection. David grinned again. A robustness. I knew it. The flames had leapt from her shoulders to head to Marisol. I knew it. She’s the howler.

“And you will know the difference between the two?”
“The difference between a truth and a lie?” he asked to clarify.
“No,” she said. “The difference between how I got here and the weirdest thing about me.”

Part 3: The Act of Taming Things

“Being born again and again has ripped your smile into pieces.”

–Adrienne Rich

Saturday, and the sun is out:
you lick the salt from the crest
on the underside of my elbow
and ask
where I would like to live
next.

“throat pt 2.”

I value freedom most.
value the ephemeral in
our lives while also walking
tall, three inches taller than I am,
always on tiptoe
sort of dancing
sort of twirling and
touching things,
making threats in the air
when angered and
you say I am

for-mi-da-ble,
          a bit virulent
is how you say it and
before we seek the advantageousness
of everything, it’s Friday
and we are
processing hard truths.
tell me,
where do you keep
your pocketknife?

 life is rushing and swamps
with its shades of
blue; azure
  (you name things)
sky, or cobalt fluid
or nightmare
like a wall of nail polish
you’re reading every
dressed up inch of you.
your rehearsed malignance.
your cocked smile.

the moon moves
from womb
to waste
to task those
unsewn wounds
and you embrace things now
with reticence
but you’re open to the epitaph
scrawled across the rock hard
eyelid
temperance,
you made him carve across
your eyelids that night
on Jupiter:
I remember everything.

but you didn’t ask for anything
else.
you just opened a door
and walked in.

“throat”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Marisol started shaking her hands. “YOU get to make a rule.”
She pointed at the woman.
“A rule?”
“Yeah, earlier I said best but I meant first. The first storyteller makes the rules of the game. Liiike, if you want a theme for the night, you know, only stories about worst firsts or a story about how you got here,’” she held her hands out. ”We can all do the same thing.”
“Ok. Umm.”
“We can make suggestions.”
“It’s ok. I have an idea. Since you’re guessing, I imagine you want a few extra details and to challenge me as well.”
“Definitely,” Marisol said, grinning.
“After the first story, I’ll let you ask me one question to get clarity. Only one question before you have to guess at the end.”
“As a group?”
“Hmm. I thought individually, but group is more pressure. Kind of fun.”
Marisol beamed and sat upright in a fawning position, leaning her body closer to the woman. Jack began to watch them.
“A group,” Jack said. “Then we would have to deliberate in front of you.”
“Well, then maybe you’d sneak a peek at my reactions and I’d give it away.”
“Something bit me,” David said.
“No, David, it’s the acid.”
“You’re on acid?”
“No, something bit me look.’
David began to lift his pants above his ankle.
“There’s a spider in the cabin,” Lilian said.
“What?” Marisol said.
“Wait, you guys are all on acid?”
“Look,” David said.
There was a tiny red welt, like a mosquito bite.
“It was warm earlier. Were you out?”The woman asked.
The assurance of the question was dominating.
“I think I will have a glass of wine,” the woman said. “Just to catch up slightly if everyone is on acid.”
She stood and Marisol mirrored her happy to pour her a glass. David looked at his leg and saw a scrape where there had been a bite. There was no welt, it was a scrape from when he had climbed the tree earlier. The woman stared at the empty piece of foil on the table. Nothing left. They’re all on acid.

“At the risk of sounding naive,” I began, “I was wondering if it’s all right if I break the tension in the room. I know I have to spend the night here and I am grateful but I am also having trouble with the silence.”
They had been sitting for ten minutes; a world record. I wasn’t sure what direction to go but I could not sit at this fireplace for hours while the world turned black. I needed entertainment, solace. His attention was held by the fire. I was surprised by his neglect of me, truly. It was as if I wasn’t even in the room.
“Of course,” he said, barely turning his attention back to me.
I was sitting up, hands folded in between my legs, a masculine stance. Swallowing hard, I began, “Maybe we can get to know each other.”
I was not used to such apathy. We are mourning, I tried to remind myself, but I also couldn’t stand the chill. Maybe this was just valor, but it felt stifling.
“Sure,” he began to snap out of it. “I didn’t want to pressure you.”
He shifted his direction away from the mantle, mirrored my position and smiled. Sometimes people think you have a plan when all you really have is a prayer.
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Ava? How you got here?” He waved his hands, “Here, as in today, Philadelphia, this room.”
And sometimes when the moment comes, the moment of action, the invitation, the way it feels when you wake up on a set or something, like this has been laid out before you
“Well, gee, how far back should I go?”
you leap.
“I’d love to hear the whole thing and we have so much time.”
He sat back on the couch and stretched his legs out. I stayed in my stance, murmuring little thank yous in my head. You leap and the net appears, or as I like to say, you can will anything into existence if you fixate on it daily and even in duress if all you pictured was one giant net, the tightrope will manifest first.

“Trap them in the room. The smaller the better. Repeat the story twice, slightly different to confuse them. lead them to believe you have some key. There are no windows. Begin to use an accent. Say it like this.

There is no Sarrrr- uh here. My name is Cot-treen Cos-rick.

If the candles blow out, laugh.”

“Ok, sooo start over, but from the beginning. Just exactly how it is.
“ I told you already exactly…”

“Yeah, you have, but you never, ever EVER tell it in linear order.”
“You always say lin..”
“I mean, you always fill in a detail way later, way after the accident, and then you start talking about what happened that day. It’s like a….what is it?” he turns to Marisol.

Marisol was fiddling with the papers on the love seat. Little green buds dotted her skirt. She raised her right hand and gestured to the air.
“Like, like choppy. Some kind of David Lynch daydream except as not as cool and nobody cares.” She licked the paper. “And you’ll never finish it.”
He waved his hand at her as if to say no way but he sipped his beer and didn’t continue the story. 

“Forget it, tell it later, let’s get drunk first.” Jack said walking over to get a beer from the fridge. 

David chimed back in, “You know I have that acid in my pocket too.”

Jack studied the fridge for a second before deciding which brand he wanted. They had brought so much beer for such a short weekend and small party. Hedonistic.
“I think we should wait,” he said. “Just a little bit longer.”

“What are you waiting for?” Marisol got up from the couch, forgetting her previous project. She wrapped her hands around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. 

“We’re waiting to cut the dose. I thought Marco was coming. Elise for sure.” 

“Just do it, dude let’s do it. It’s still early and it lasts for hours. It’s already 6:30.” David repeated, motioning to his phone.

“Yeah, but…”

“No one else is coming, right?”
He walked over to the both of them and held his phone up to Jack’s face to show him the weather forecast. FLASH FLOOD WARNING in black bold letters. “The storm is getting worse and it’s a long drive. No one’s coming all the way to the trail to split two hits of acid among like seven people.”
Jack opened the bottle with his keychain, nodding to himself. Marisol held his waist tight, sort of purring next to him. David turned to glance at Lilian but she was completely checked out.
“Are you even getting service here?”
Stunned, she lowered her hand and looked at him.

“I was just playing the card game.”
David nodded, masking his resentment. Not just at her aloofness but having ever left Milah to begin with and for having invited Lilian on this trip or for ever asking what she was doing on her phone. They held eye contact briefly before she went back to her phone.  Jack and Marisol were whispering when David turned his attention back to them. Fuck this.
“Ok, I’m cutting it. Half a dose each.”
He walked past the couple to grab scissors from the counter, still there from when he set them down earlier ready to cut it at three.
“Let’s do it now, otherwise, we will be up all night.”
He had three tabs total. He pulled two out now and cut them both in half, easy, precisely. Not even glancing back at his girlfriend, he remarked, “Lilian, you can sit this one out if you want.”
Lilian tucked a strand of wispy dirty blonde hair behind her hair and stared towards the kitchen but still very much entranced with the graphics from her phone. She blinked and everyone stared back at her. Jack already had his hand out and Marisol was walking back to the love seat to return to rolling the joint.
“Ummm,” she began, clutching the phone but also letting it fall towards her thigh so she wasn’t looking at it.
David and Jack were peeling back the paper and sticking out their tongues. Marisol was back to spreading the flowers over the paper. Lilian was marked by indecision as a rule.
“You don’t have to,” Jack smiled, warmth radiating.
David turned to face the other direction so she didn’t see his visible irritation.  She nodded. Marisol glanced at her and smiled.
“Do you smoke?”
“Sometimes,” she dropped the phone and started running her fingers through her hair with both hands. “Tonight probably.” She glanced at David. “Not the acid though.”
David turned completely around to face her, stuck his tongue out and dropped the paper beneath his tongue. Spiteful, he snapped his mouth shut like a reptile, a crocodile. To the room, it appeared they knew their problems but they didn’t. They both carried distractions like moats blocking passage or transcendence of any real conversation between them. It had been like this. It would probably remain like this. Jack had also stuck his piece under his tongue.
“Marisol?”
. Letting her fingers tickle his abdomen first, she leaned over to kiss him as David watched. Outside the first loud thunder cracked.
“It begins,” Marisol said cheerily and stuck her tab under her tongue.

David put the last half tab back on the foil on the island. Lilian and the gang were separated by it.  The three of them talked amongst themselves as she excused herself to walk to one of the bedrooms. Tiptoed, actually. She made herself useful somewhere else unpacking David’s stuff. An act of gratitude or fear, it was unclear but as she began pulling his sweatpants out of the black duffel bag, she was the one that heard the rap on the door. The back screen door. She was the one that paused holding the gray pants in air.  She was the one that laid them flat on the bed, contrite with her boredom, adjusting the creases on the queen-sized duvet cover. Make up for your flatness. She was the one who left the task, walked out the bedroom door and she was the one that saw a hooded woman through the window. She was the one that opened the door without making a sound to see her, drenched and shaking and she was the one that said, “Please come in” and watched the woman traipse mud across the welcome mat onto the hardwood floors.

“Please,” Lilian gestured to the bathroom near the backdoor, “let’s get you out of those clothes. I will bring you some.”

Lilian led her into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, grabbed a pair of sweatshirts, clean plain light blue underwear–granny panties, gray wool socks, and a hooded sweatshirt and lightly knocked back on the bathroom door without telling anyone a stranger had arrived to their house. She heard them in the kitchen, laughing, talking, not making out any words just jovial sounds. Her instinct was to help, nurture, ground on Earth. She was a Cancer. She was a mother. The woman stood on the bathroom rug dripping and Lilian saw the rug was ruined; the pale blue now caked in brown. The hardwood leading to the bathroom linoleum was dotted with muddy footprints. They could clean this place before leaving Sunday.

“You can catch pneumonia.”
The stranger took her hood off and stared at Lilian. Shivering, her eyes were wide, a little terror in her stare but glittering. The woman was pallid yet stunning. Even dripping wet, she was the mutt picked first, Lilian thought.
Setting the clothes on the top of the toilet seat, she stated, “Please take a bath or shower. Whatever you prefer.” Lilian opened a small closet next to the towel rack to pull out two big fluffy white towels. “For your hair too.” She set those on top of the toilet seat. “I’m gonna make a pot of lemon tea.”
The woman stayed silent. Is she in some kind of shock?
“I will come check on you if you want. Otherwise, we will be in the living room.”
The woman nodded. Lilian left the bathroom and David was coming towards her.
“What’s up?” he said, half smiling.
“I’m going to make some tea. Would you like some?”
“I have to piss,” he headed towards the door.
“No, go upstairs. There’s a woman in there.”

“What?”
“I let a woman inside from the rain. She was soaking wet and pale. She can catch pneumonia. She must have got caught hiking. She was wearing hiking boots and clothes.”

They heard the shower turn on. David looked at her with surprise.
“You let a strange woman in here without telling us?”
They could hear Marisol and Jack from the other room, still giggling, the tab of a beer opening.
“I am telling you now. She was going to catch pneumonia.”

“Lilian, we are in the middle of the woods,” his eyes moved over the hallway footprints, seeing, believing her.
She shrugged, “Yeah. We are.”
She moved past him without saying another word and he heard her say excuse me and he heard some dishes clanking and he heard the stove click, preparing to light the burner. He looked at the footprints. He listened to the shower run. He let his body undulate with warmth as the acid kicked in.
“You can’t be sure about anything, his friend has said to him the first time he took it. Only a half a tab then too. “When you take psychedelics just find a way to remind yourself  you’re on drugs. Don’t believe everything you hear or see.”
He could see the footprints. Lilian wasn’t lying. He could hear the shower running and feel his stomach churn a little; that first wave of nausea that hits when you ingest a foreign chemical. His guts rumbled. Too much beer. Fuck.
“Guys,” he yelled.
He heard more dishes clank and imagined Lilian, preparing the intruder a snack. Fucking dumb bitch. “There’s a stranger showering in our bathroom.”

“the woman who told the stories”

She heard screams as she passed Sunside Community Center. She knew it was some sort of retirement home and decided it was the least likely place for what she was looking for. Curious though, she paused to listen to the screams. She was trying not to walk on the sidewalk just in case so she was outside someone’s window, skulking around the back. There was a bunch of panic and yelling and she felt it.
“I do not envy those nurses.”
Decidedly, she kept walking. Her outfit was practical: big black parka, big black boots, black hat, black leggings, but her posture was suspect. She really didn’t want to attract any attention. Pursuant, she could walk for miles as long as she kept her mind occupied.
Alligator. Aardvark. Antelope. Anteater. Arachnid. Damn.
“Can I say Allosaurus?”
The snow hit her eyelids and stung.
Allosaurus. Albertosaurus. Ankylosaurus.
Thank god my mother bought me all those animal books.
No, mira, don’t think.
Ant. Alligator snapping turtle.
She watched her boots march through the snow pausing at the edge of the yard and the street.
Armadillo.
She began to traverse the neighborhood, leaving hers behind, meeting theirs and reciting.

“the woman who walked for miles”