My girlfriend dumped me today. Right next to my locker during the passing period between third and fourth hour. Not very considerate. I didn’t even have to tell anyone about the whole thing; they’d either seen it for themselves or heard about it from the guys who saw it. It kind of ticks me off, the way people at school treat everyone’s private lives like something they read on the cover of the tabloids. But I guess that’s just the way it works. If it’d gone my way, it’d just be a deal between me and my girlfriend. I like to keep things on the down low. The DL, I call it. It’s better that way.
I wasn’t too shocked or anything when she actually did it. It was pretty expected. I hadn’t talked to her at all in the past week. I mean, she’d probably called me about a million times, but I never answered. It wasn’t like I had the time to sit there and listen to her complain for six hours. She was crying when she did it, though, which was weird. Her eyes were all red from it. Not very attractive. I used to brag about dating her. Whenever one of my old crew was breaking my balls, I’d just remind him that I was sleeping with the hottest girl in our class. That usually shut anyone up, ‘cause they knew it was the truth. But now… Now I can’t really figure out what I was thinking back then. I mean, she’s pretty cute and all, but it’d be ridiculous to say that she was the hottest girl out there. There are plenty of hotter girls. I’m just glad that my vision’s finally cleared up after a year –and-a-half.
At first she didn’t really give me an explanation. She just kind of gave me on of those cop-outs, the classic “we should see other people,” or “things just aren't working out,” or maybe she even said: “we’re over, Max.” I can’t remember which it was. An explanation for it all wasn’t exactly needed, though. Everyone and their grandma knew why she was breaking up with me. Our relationship was sort of like a creaky old bridge – everyone knew it would break eventually, but nobody was sure when that’d be. I must’ve been pretty sketched out by the whole deal, because right after she said it, I let the word “why” fall out of my mouth.
She gave me her stupid, cop-out answer.
That stupid, cop-out answer made me so incredibly angry. I’m usually a pretty chill guy, so don’t get me wrong. I haven’t fought anyone in a couple years. I don’t cuss at teachers or cops or even my parents, usually. But when she said that, all the emotions just blew up inside of my gut, and my fist flew into my locker. She looked pretty shocked, and backed up a bit. I didn’t dent it or anything, luckily. I probably would have, back in the day, when I used to work out and had muscles and all. The passing bell rang right after that, and my girlfriend gave me one last pathetic little glance before turning around and heading to whatever class she needed to go to.
All she’d said was that I didn’t have time for her anymore, but we all knew it was a big ole lie. We’d never been one of those clingy couples. It didn’t bother her that we only hung out once or twice a week. The real reason was that she was jealous. Jealous that I’d found another girl.
I met Mary Jane sometime during my junior year, at one of those lame little bonfires that the underclassmen who aren’t invited to the exclusive parties have. I was immediately entranced by her exquisite, exotic beauty. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. As my lips gently caressed the glassy smoothness of hers, I knew I was in love. I inhaled her luscious scent, and it lifted the two of us far above the asinine bonfire, until we were alone in the world. Every nerve in my body trembled with pleasure at this inert connection, a connection stronger than I’d felt with any other girl.
As the months passed, our time together increased. I never came out and told my crew that I was seeing Mary Jane, especially since I still had that girlfriend to worry about. It was one of those DL deals. People started catching on after a while, though. My girlfriend probably thought that I was cheating on her with Mary Jane. If she’d ever straight-up asked me about it, I would’ve denied it ‘till the last. That would have been a lie, though. It was not the physical, in-and-out-again, sort of a cheat; it was purely an emotional one, filled with true love. My time spent with Mary Jane was better than sex, so there was no need for any of that trivial in-and-out-again crap.
I don’t know why I didn’t break up with her myself, since I was falling head-over-heels for another girl. I guess that I can divide my life into two parts: pre-Mary Jane, and post-Mary Jane. Part of me was still hanging onto that immature, pre-Mary Jane side of life. Part of me didn’t want to grow up, I guess. I just couldn’t do it myself.
A couple of guys came up to me after school. I used to be friends with them. Their faces were all sympathetic, and they were all: “I’m sorry, man.” One of them even reached up a hand as though to give me a little pat on the back or something. I didn’t put up with any of that. I shrugged the guys off, telling them that it wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’t riled up about it. It wasn’t like I was going to go around and cry about it or anything. The probably thought I was just putting on a tough-guy face, but that I was really crying my eyes out deep down. But they were wrong. It really wasn’t a big deal. Like I said, everyone, including me, knew it was coming.
My parents were kind of disappointed when I told them that my girlfriend broke up with me. They’d always liked her. They said she was a “nice girl.” The kind of girl that’d straighten out their boy Max, hopefully. I haven’t told them about Mary Jane, but I’m guessing they know. It’s kind of hard to hide the fact that you’re in love with people. They’d probably disapprove of her. It seems like they disapprove of everything I do nowadays. Like when I quit the football team this fall. They were plenty riled up about that. I just didn’t have it in me anymore. Plus I wanted to spend more time with my girl, Mary Jane. You can’t really mix girls and football. You just have to make a choice, and I chose my girl. I figured that I wouldn’t be playing football in ten years, but I’d definitely be with Mary Jane for the rest of my life.
I’m sitting on my bed right now, thinking about all the crazy stuff that went down today. It’s hard to clear my mind and think about it all. I probably should be working on my American Lit homework, but suddenly I get this itching to go and visit Mary Jane. She always helps me clear my mind.
I pull on my kicks and grab my jacket before heading out the door. “Mama?” I call. “I’m goin’ to work!”
“Alright.” I can hear her say in the next room. She’s just sitting there watching the tellie. That’s pretty much all she ever does. She doesn’t pay attention to much that goes on with me anymore. If she did, she’d know that I got fired from my job about six months ago. The people at that stupid store thought I was spending too much time with Mary Jane, but who were they to tell me what girls I was allowed to kick it with? It was probably because the manager was my girlfriend’s cousin, and he knew I wasn't treating her so good.
Mary Jane’s basically always available to hang out with me, and that’s another thing I like about her. She doesn’t spend hours getting ready only to decide that she can’t hang out because her hair won’t curl right. She’s just always there. We usually meet up in this little abandoned house down by the river. My old crew and I called it the Fermunda. We used to hang out down there together, but nowadays it’s basically reserved for me and Mary Jane. I like it that way.
I can spend an hour, a day, probably even an eternity with Mary Jane, but it always feels like only a couple of minutes. It’s like that old, stupid saying: time flies. Time really does fly with that girl of mine. It seems like we’ve just started talking when I pull out my cell phone and realize that it’s already eight o’clock – my parents’ll be expecting me home in only a couple minutes.
I give her one last little peck before heading out. I kind of stumble out of the door, ‘cause Mary Jane’s really left me in a daze today. She has that affect on me, and I ain’t complaining about it. That’s how a guy’s supposed to feel when he’s with the love of his life. I jump into my car. It’s a pretty nice car. I spent a shit-load of money on it, back in the day. It used to be my most cherished item. I guess that I don’t really pay much attention to it nowadays, ‘cause when I look at the little sticker on the window, I realize that it’s overdue on an oil change by over six months. I say to myself to remind myself to get that taken care of, but part of me knows that it ain’t going to happen. I don’t have the money for it, anyway. Mary Jane takes up a lot of money. I mean, I have to buy her the nicest things. That’s what a guy does for the girl he loves.
The car’s a stick shift, so it’s always a bit difficult to drive. I’m sort of an absent minded person, so I forget to downshift and upshift at some of the important places. And when I drive up the sketchy little hill on Meadowbrooke Way, I realize that I’m all the way up in third gear. I sure as hell ain’t going fast enough to make it up the hill, and so I try to downshift the thing, but accidentally but it in fourth. I’m cussing the hell out of the air as I floor the thing, trying to make it up the little hill. Then all this dark smoke starts coming out of the hood, and I know I’m screwed. The air smells horrible, like melting plastic or something.
Once I’m at the top of the hill, I pull the car over. I’m not quite stupid enough to try and drive it the last couple of miles home. I pull out my cell phone and start dialing in my girlfriend’s number. Then I remember that whole thing where we broke up, and I dial my parent’s number. I hold the phone up to my ear. All I get is this stupid, recorded voice telling me that my phone is no longer in service. “What the hell?” I say out loud, trying to dial all the numbers in my phone book. None of them work. I guess I forgot to renew my plan last month. Can’t believe I didn’t notice before now.
I’m pretty lucky, ‘cause right then this guy runs out of his house. He’s yelling a bunch of stuff like: “what the Hell happened out here? Is everyone all right?” He can probably smell the smoke from that stupid car. He finally reaches me. He’s one ugly guy, which acne scars and stuff. “Are you alright, son?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, but can I just use your phone? Mine ain’t workin’ so good.”
“Yes, of course,” he says. “Anything. It’s inside. Just follow me.”
He starts running again towards the house, and I follow him. I’m kind of stumbling, though. Probably from the fumes. They’re in my brain by now, poisoning me.
He hands me the phone once we’re inside. “You don’t look so good, kid. You want me to call an ambulance or something on my cell?” He’s looking real concerned-like.
“No.” I shake my head over and over again real fast. “I’m good. I’m just gonna call my folks. They’ll pick me up in a couple minutes and I’ll be outa your hair, promise.” I dial my parent’s number and hold the phone up to my ear and wait. It rings a few times, then goes to the answering machine. I hang up before leaving a message. “Shit,” I say.
“Didn’t answer?”
I shake my head. I dial in the number of my best guy from back in the day. He’ll save my neck. I’ve always been there for him. It’d be crazy if he didn’t show up to help me now.
“Hello?” Andre picks up the phone. His real name’s Andrew, but he changed it to seem like the rapper. It’s a pretty weird deal, if you ask me.
“Hello?” he says again.
I realize that I’d forgotten to even say anything ‘cause I was too busy thinking about the guy’s stupid name. “Andre? It’s me. It’s Max. I’m in a bit of a situation. Can you come pick me up and drive me home?”
“No.”
“What?” I say, pretty shocked at the fact that he’s deciding to douche out on me in my time of need.
“No.”
“Why not? What’s the deal, man? I’d be there to help you in a second.”
He’s silent for a minute. “I told you months ago that I don’t want to be involved in your shit anymore, Max. I’m sorry, man, but it’s just too sketchy for me. And don’t ever say that you’d be here for me, ‘cause you ain’t ever there for anyone. You don’t even know what the hell’s goin’ on right in front of you.”
I don’t even have anything to say. Another jealous prick. “See you around.” I hang up the phone and turn to the ugly guy. “Well, I’m shit outa luck. I can walk, though. It’s only a couple miles.”
He tries to examine my face again, but I look away. I hate when people stare at me like that. People are always trying to get me in trouble for something, I swear, even though all I’m doing is spending my time with a beautiful woman. “You sure you don’t want me to take you down to the hospital? You really aren’t looking so great.”
I shake my head and start making my way towards the door. “Thanks for everything, man. I’ll see you around.” The walk down towards my house is pretty boring. Pretty lame. I don’t really exercise at all anymore, and so I can feel my heart just about beating its way all through my entire chest. Can that actually happen? I wouldn’t be surprised. ‘specially when people go through as much crazy things as I’ve been through today.
Things just get more crazy. I’m just walking down the road, minding my own business, when this stupid-ass cop pulls along side of me. He rolls down his window and starts yelling out of it. “Are you okay, son?”
I don’t even reply. I’ve never really been too keen on cops.
“I’m going to have to ask you to stop walking so I can talk to you.” That’s the last thing he says before pulling over to the side of the road and running up to me.
“What’d I even do? Is there some hair brained law about walking on the side of public roads now?”
“No, I just felt it necessary to ensure you were doing alright.”
Goddamned ugly guy must’ve called the cops on me. Everyone’s just against me today.
“Well, I’m doing fine.” I turn away and literally start running up the hill. The stupid-ass cop easily overtakes me.
“Max?” he says when he finally gets a good look at my face.
I stop walking and look him over, wondering if I actually know who the guy is. I can hardly get a good look at his face. The stupid fumes have really done a number on my poor ole brain.
“Max, it’s Mark Lawrence. Your neighbor? Are you sure you’re alright, son?”
I can’t even describe how much I hate it when I someone calls me son. I’ve only got one dad. But I’m not too riled up about that right now, I’m honestly just riled up about everything. My heads spinning all over the place, and all I can really think about is Mary Jane. I just sit down on the ground, my eyes started to fill up with tears. It’s weird, because I rarely ever cry, really. “Can you just give me a ride home, sir?”
“Yes, anything.”
As we ride over to my house in his nice, clean squad car, I can’t help but be thankful for all the people who’ve been nice to me today. I’m thankful for the ugly guy, for the stupid ass cop, my girlfriend, even Andre for being honest with me. But I just can’t figure out how Mary Jane really helped me out today.
Before I know it, I’m home, sitting in my living room, and everyone’s there: all of my old crew, my old boss, my old girlfriend, my parents, the whole lot of them. My mama’s crying all over the place. Everyone’s just a big ole mess, and I can’t figure out what the deal is.
I start talking. “What’s the deal here? What’s the deal? What’s going down here? Why’re ya’ll here? It ain’t a big deal, I’ve just been spending the day with my girl.”
My old girlfriend starts crying too, then. And I don’t really get the feeling that she’s jealous, either. Maybe she just doesn’t like Mary Jane. I notice Andre, looking angry, shaking his head.
“Ya’ll can just run on home, ‘cause I’ll be fine. I don’t need none of this…” and then my lips just start quivering all over the place. I look around, seeing all the people who still care about me, even though I’ve thrown them away in exchange for a new life.
“What is this? Some sort of intervention? Like on the tellie?”
My mother sobs even louder.
Andre speaks up. “We want to help you, Max. We just need you to help yourself first.”
“With what? I ain’t done nothen wrong!”
“You just gotta admit you’ve got a problem.”
I look at each of the sad faces, my heart beating its way out of my chest again. I start off by mumbling: “what problem? I don’t got no problem!” And then I start crying all over the place along with everybody else. “I’m so fuckin’ high,” I say. “I don’t even know what the fuck is goin’ on… I’m sorry, all of you, I’m so sorry…” For the first time, I kind of realize that it ain't just about me and Mary Jane. She isn't just spreading her love all through me -- she's poisoning the people around me, the people who actually care.
And I guess I do have a problem. And I hope I’ll be done with her, after I’m back from Sundown, this place where people go who’ve had one too many run-ins with Mary Jane. I’ll be stronger when it’s all over. I can’t believe how crazy I’ve been. I don't really know if I regret the whole deal, 'cause I suppose it made me stronger, in a way. The saddest part is that I nearly killed my own soul, all for the love of Mary Jane.
When I realised that 'Mary Jane' was actually a drug, I re-read the whole thing and started to see the other clues hidden away throughout the piece. Like when he's at the bonfire and he says -
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