I lift my hips off the couch cushion and dig inside my pocket, retrieving the plastic bag of weed and pack of papers Danny sold me after hours. Lobbing them onto the coffee table, an optimistic smile spreads across my face, stretching from ear to ear.
“This,” I announce proudly.
He stares down at the items on the table then looks back up at me, his forehead crinkled with confusion. “You’re gonna get her so high that she forgives you?”
“Nah, much, much better than that,” I chuckle, “but I am gonna need you to teach me how to roll a joint.”
I don’t bother going to my sisters’ place after I leave The Green Halo. I’m not sure I want to know any more details about how I acted like a fucking idiotic whore last night. Plus, I’m pissed at them for allowing Crew to haul me away from the party like I’m a small child who can’t take care of herself. It was their idea I go and try to drink and flirt him out of my system anyway.
Traitors.
Sleep is my only friend right now. My body is revolting against me. My mind is refusing to process information. My heart is an unrealistic bitch. And everyone else can go screw go themselves.
Clicking my phone into the off position, I throw it and my other stuff onto my nightstand and face-plant onto my bed, even passing up smoking. Maybe if I sleep for twenty-four hours, I’ll feel better. Maybe I’ll wake up to find out the past couple of months have all been a dream. A beautiful, heartbreaking dream.
Dark silence blankets the room when I finally open my groggy eyes, and as I twist to read the alarm clock, my jaw falls open, shocked. Three-fifty-five! I’ve slept for almost sixteen hours straight, not even bothering to eat or go to the bathroom.
I untangle myself from the knot of sheets I’m twisted into as the palms of my hands push down and back into the mattress, thrusting me up into a sitting position. I blink hard several times, clearing away the translucent film, and allow my vision to come into focus.
Clenching and releasing my fists, scissoring my legs on top of the blanket, and rolling my head around to pop my neck, I discover the sleep immensely improved the way I feel physically, though my head is still a bit foggy. As I swing my legs over the side of the bed, an incensed growl echoes inside my neglected stomach, causing me to move food to the top of my list, right after I brush and flush.
Fifteen minutes later, my now-satisfied belly is full of yogurt and granola, and I’m changed and ready to head out to the greenhouses. It’s been a long time since I’ve been awake early enough to enjoy a morning 4:20 spark-up. And I’ve neglected my babies for way too long.
With the first blissful intake of smoke into my lungs, I lean back in the lone office chair and scan the crowded contents of the glass-framed building. The efficient system Doug and I devised a couple years ago for growing and cultivating the plants continues to work perfectly, even now that our garden has grown tenfold, but we’re at production capacity for the space we have. And I want more green babies.
“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you up this early.” My dad doesn’t bother to hide the surprise in his voice as the door closes behind him and he walks over to me. “Is everything okay, sweetie?”
Rotating around in the chair, I extend my arm to offer him the joint. “Mornin’, Doug, and yes, everything is fine. I missed the girls, so I thought I’d come out and give them some love,” I reply with a hint of a smile while standing up to hug him.
“I’m sure they’ve missed you too,” he accepts the smoke, tipping his head in silent appreciation, “especially since they’ve been stuck with me for the last few weeks. I don’t quite have the gentle touch that you do with them.”
“Now that finals are over and I’m not dealing with—” My voice fades as the image of Crew at the dispensary appears in my mind, which reminds me that I’m upset with Doug. Propping my fists on my hips, I lift my eyebrows at him and grunt, “Wait a minute! I forgot I’m mad at you! Gimme my joint back.”
He chuckles and shakes his head, holding the weed high above his head so it’s out of my reach. “No chance. Not until you tell me why you’re mad at me. What did I do?”
Not wanting to talk about it, not wanting to talk about him, I stomp away from my dad, down one of the aisles. He follows, but doesn’t ask again, not wanting to press the issue, ‘cause he knows exactly why I’m cross with him.
Unaware of where my feet are leading me, it’s not surprising I end up skulking in front of my special project plants, causing me to think about Crew even more. I’m turning into some sort of emotional masochist.
“How much longer are you gonna let them flower?” he asks after several silent minutes, his voice soft.
Shrugging, I trace my fingertip around one of the buds. “Another four to five weeks I think. I’m anxious to test the final CBD to THC proportions. I’m hoping to get something close to 50:1.”
His head bobs as he steps up to get a closer look. “Have you named it yet?”
“No, not yet. I’m nervous to get too attached,” I snicker, pretending as if I’m not already emotionally involved with these plants.
He fidgets for a minute, awkwardly shuffling his feet around before whispering, “I’ve been calling them Lovesong.”
“Lovesong? Where did you come up with that?”
“Well, at first I was calling them The Cure,” he admits without looking over at me. “’Cause that’s what they are, right? Your attempt to develop something that will prevent seizures, and all but cure epilepsy?”
My tight-lipped non-answer is all the confirmation he needs to continue. “But something about The Cure just didn’t sound right, and then something in my crazy, middle-aged brain made the connection between the musical group, The Cure, and their hit, Lovesong, and I thought it was perfect. It was because Caleb had epilepsy that their family came here in the first place, and it was their coming here that ultimately led you and Crew to find each other.”
Tears spill down my face during his explanation as I struggle to keep my breathing regulated. “But Crew and I aren’t together anymore,” I choke out. “You know that.”
Turning to face me, Doug wraps his arms around my quivering shoulders and pulls me into a tight father-daughter hug. “But you will be,” he says like it’s a predetermined fact while smoothing my hair down. “I saw the way you both looked at each other across the table the very first day he was here, and I knew then you’d end up together. The spark between you two was undeniable, and even though it’s been difficult here lately, I have faith you’ll rekindle that fire soon.”
I squeeze his neck even harder while leaving wet streaks across his sweatshirt, and then I say something I haven’t said in a really, really long time. “Thank you, Daddy. I love you.”
After resuming my morning duties of preparing breakfast for the resort—a job Mel was more than happy to hand me back the reins to—I loiter around the office at the lodge, cleaning and reorganizing, anything to keep my mind off Crew. He was trying to apologize before Uncle Danny interrupted him—at least I think he was—and although I’m dying to know what else he was going to say, I have to wait for him to come to me. This is his wrong to make right.
By noon, I’m wearing the wood off the floors, pacing out of sheer boredom. Without classes and studying to keep me preoccupied, I search out Brighton and Cheyenne, hoping they’ll want to go to the mall or see a movie with me, but they’ve already left to go skiing with some friends. Too bad the one friend I made in my first semester at college turned out to be a fake, manipulative piece of shit, or I’d call Beckham and see if he wants to hang out.