“I would say people are more—high. Than drunk.” Daniel clears his throat.
“What, weed? Sir, I don’t know if you’re aware that marijuana has been legal here for quite some time,” I say with mock gravity.
Ellis pulls something out of his pocket. “It’s not weed.”
Part of me fills with trepidation. Then I see what’s inside.
“Oh, shrooms.” There’s relief in my voice which makes them both laugh. “Ah, I was scared you were going to hand me some kind of acid-laced wafer with a religious logo stamped into it.”
Ellis shakes his head, laughing. “That is so specific.”
We’re smiling at each other for too long and I open the bag. “Shall I?”
“If you want,” Ellis says. “Obviously no pressure. We’re not a cult.”
“The more times you say that the less I’m going to believe it.” I take one piece. I’ve done this before in the desert, on a crafting retreat with Marcella and a couple of her college friends. At the time, I couldn’t tell if the shrooms were there to make the crafting more interesting or if the crafting was just an excuse to take the shrooms. Either way, it was a good time and I could use a good time right about now—wedged between two men, one of whom I had lots of sex with, and the other of whom is my fated. Casual.
After I pop it in my mouth, Ellis hands me a cup of wine. I take it gratefully, the smooth red washing out the mild earthy flavor of the mushrooms. “Mm. Thisisgood.”
Daniel lights up. “Oh, I’m glad you like it. It’s an organic red blend that always tastes better chilled.”
“It’s perfect and I want to have it come out of a tap in my home.” I lift my glass to him. He lifts his, and that’s when I get a nice long look at his left hand and notice that there is no wedding band. Something I hadn’t even considered until this very moment, and a belated sense of relief rushes through me as I take another sip of wine.
Something passes between us—a low frisson of mystery. His eyes stay on mine for a moment, dark brown and thoughtful, before he puts his guitar down. “Take a seat andpleasedrink the wine.Some of the interns have been guzzling this like bloody juice and it makes me want to cry.”
Before I can look for a chair, one is procured for me by Ellis. He’s carrying two spindly yet efficient camp chairs under his arms. “Thanks.” I sit down, facing the fire.
Daniel gets up and hollers, “Everyone, this is Ellis’s friend Cassia. Be nice and be normal human beings, please and thank you.”
Everyone hoots and hollers. A woman who looks to be around Ellis’s age, with a cute French bob and perfectly slouched Kelly green sweatshirt, whoops, “Ooooh,thisis Cassia.”
The man next to her, the older one from the campsite I saw earlier, looks perplexed. “Wait, you invited her here? Already? After one date?”
Ellis is slouched low in his chair, taking a long pull from a beer bottle. “Please, everyone die right this instant.”
It’s endearing, if alarming. I wave with a small smile. “Hi. I just took a single mushroom.”
Everyone laughs and cheers. “One of us!” some young person far away from me yells.
And within half an hour, I am so relaxed I can’t remember how my birthday ever bothered me. Yes, my mother died. But Jesus Christ, woman, it happened thirty-two years ago! You’ve been in therapy for half your life, and you have the most loving family in the world. You have magical abilities that let you kinda time travel and help people find love. You have anincrediblelife.
And you are sitting between two very attractive men who seem to be giving off some very particular vibes.
End second-person mushroom narration.
“So, you are all, like, really into plants,” I announce.
There’s laughter and Ellis’s is loudest. This guy makes me feel like John Mulaney.
“Some of us were into plants since childhood,” a guy named Max says, pointing at himself. “And some of us are like this asshole who just showed a natural proficiency in plants and design.” He’s looking at Ellis.
“Really?” I look at him.
“Okay, he’s exaggerating,” Ellis says with a shake of his head, but his tone is good-natured. He is relaxed, stretched out in his seat with one of his arms lightly draped behind my chair. I feel his fingers brush against the back of my neck on occasion and it’s all just very nice.
“When I found you on the streets of Los Angeles, you were canvassing for an MP who later got caught having not one, butthreeorgies with various staffers,” Daniel says.
Everyone starts laughing, in this familiar way, as if this is not the first time this story has been discussed.
