Dustin’s Fern

Two friends are in a cannabis-induced euphoria: the Poet writes with a girl-cashier's pen, while Dustin retells the story of how he found happiness in his ex-fiance's betrayal.

fernˈfərn

noun: a type of plant that has large, delicate leaves and no flowers

I . Poet

"He never was one to be the kind of guy who says no to a friend. He gets why things could happen and what the universe would do next. He explained to me once how molecules and metabolism work. All I heard from what he said was the word burn and gone. I found it ironic since the weed was hitting hard for the both of us when this was happening. He also brought up his brother's psychedelics and how available the most powerful hallucination known to man is. He was like, enzymes are supposedly attached to the DMT and it prevents your body from breaking it down for hours"yeah, I had the same look on my face about science, right?It's not harmful I heard, and I could be in a wicked powerful three hour hallucinations at a time. You know? A realm of space-visions that old priests and ancient wise-a*s-men saw the answers to questions we still have. He wanted to try it, he said to me. But he wanted me to join. And so, I said maybe"the only thing really to say to that kind of gnarly proposal. And so he said never mind, let's go to get burgers and fries. I said, okay. Then he told me a story that inspired me to take a pen from some drive-through girl, inspiring me to"wait. What was I"? Oh, yeah. I wrote it down."
"Are you going to tell me?"
"Don't play games with me." He looks at me nodding his head.
"Haha, no way. Alright, you are serious. But if you're really sure, let me take another hit." He passes me the highly-desired good. Huff. Puff. "Cool. The only way to tell this is to be smoked by dust."

II . Dust

I'm joining a train that I can understand where it's going"this time. Because back then I never was the kind of guy who would say no to a friend. You wanna go somewhere? I'll go with you. If you need a place to stay, I have an extra room in my house. If you wanted to have a kickback, I can make arrangements and we can get the gang together to have a nice time-out"I guess, time-in. Even if I wanted to workout and you said no, I would probably sit there with you just so you're not alone. That's the kind of power I think I have. I never learned to be the burden, at least I never wanted to.
But how can a guy who never knew how to be a burden deal with the things that keeps his heart weighed down? I think I know how. Cause the last few months have been the kinds that let you not eat; the ones that sleep is no longer a friend you can count on because even the words read from your phone screen flash even when eyes are closed. I never was one to be a story teller of drama. I refuse to be a burden. But the words need to go somewhere else. Maybe in paper, or some texts-typed by me or someone else. I don't know. Just away from making my sleep and my dreams whack. Let that be the case, when you write this down.

Everything started in the middle"in the middle of my house-cooling system shift. I was standing there like it was a normal day. People passed by and I recited what I needed to say. Do you want to hear more about the new high-tech, house-cooling system? It'll take a few minutes of your time. I always questioned if those who asked what I'm selling are actually interested or if they're just feeling second-hand embarrassment for me since no one even looks at me like I'm a human being. But it's whatever. There are other things to worry about, like what to eat that night, or if I should pull an all-nighter to binge watch sci-fi shows 'till I passed out. Ding! I tried really hard to make sure I smiled at the customers because he was there again, basically on my face, Mr. Manager. He always looks at me like I'm meh. Always waiting for me to do the right thing as I've led him to believe I would. Ding! But my phone is not on silent. And in my workplace that's not one of the things listed in the good-things-to-do list. Ding! Third time and I said okay, I'll look.
Get this. I got this message that said I have a promo code for make-up supply kits coming from my fiancé, no idea what it was about. Then right after, she said to me, "You always question me. I'm leaving you. I'm moving away and you're blocked on everything." So I look at this and think, there is no way that something like this is a joke. So I texted her saying to wait a sec cause my heart is sinking and I forgot how to be a human being. The message wouldn't go through cause I was blocked immediately. I checked social media, everything and anything"all blocked. So I dropped everything, and went straight to her house"yeah, this was during the shift, but I didn't give a crap.
I'm now at her house and she already left. No trace other than her mom who opened the door who I asked nicely if she knew what's happened and all she told me was, "This is between you and her." She closed the door and I was in a daze. The bugs that crawled under the ground found their way from my feet to my brain. I felt an itch, no, this tingle. It was a stupid-a*s tingle that makes looking at clouds and birds and trees so unpleasant and uncomfortable. Remember when you fell in love with that girl for the first time back in high-school and you messed up your friendship cause you were too into her? It's almost the same thing, but this time I have no idea what happened. I still have no idea what I got myself into or why I was in that situation in the first place.
I proposed to her because she wanted me to. Everything was perfect until the wind snuck inside slightly opened windows, tilting my rear view mirrors and everything else that was all around it. I sat in my car right, with this stupid dramatic mind; couldn't speak, just thinking. Everything was perfect. Perfect. F*****g perfect.
I get home and no one was there. I sat on the table trying to swallow the fact that my fiancé is off with some guy I don't know. I really thought that may be I deserved it. Maybe this is what I get for throwing a candy wrapper out of the car window when I was seven, even when my parents told me not to. I thought of trashing the place up; litter a million times more than I did then. But really I've never felt like this low of a garbage. Sorry to rant about s**t at but everything was perfect. I promise at the end of this it'll be, well, happy.

A couple of weeks pass by and I'm a few days into school. I had no idea that one day I'll be getting a text from a girl I thought I knew just a month ago would now be this awful stranger. But I loved her. I can never say I didn't. So I did what she asked and put her stuff on my porch for her to pick up. You've been to my place, you know how it looks. I kinda just put her stuff there. I ask the same from her cause she has my stuff too, and I actually need my stuff. I'm not just asking so I can poke someone further after I've stabbed them multiple times to make sure they're dead. Did she leave my stuff at the porch like I asked? What do you think?
I still laugh but I practically feel nothing about her now. The happy thing is that I wish she's doing her thing, happy where she is, where I'm not.
I'm gonna get me a beer real quick, you want one too? Of course you alcoholic s**t, haha. Let me do that, then I'll get to the ending.

Honestly, this is one of those stories that I hate to share. But it's like, at the same time, a need to share"oh, my key has a bottle opener, I got it. Yeah. So, last bit. Every time she texted me she was in town: when she got her stuff, when she came back to explain to me why she left. Oh yeah, I had to get my stuff at her place and had to tell her dad that I needed to get the stuff. I knew it was also bullshit that she said she can't be with me cause my mom hates her; trust me, I know my mom, and she loved her. She was so close to the family I don't even get it. She was so close to the family that she was best friends with my cousin. And it was the beginning of July, right before the fourth, when I found out she came back again; her guy was at Tennessee at the time.
She texted me and said that she couldn't stay here anymore, in town, because I remind her too much of my cousin. Like, what? Are you f*****g kidding me? My cousin died that day and you don't have enough respect to go to her funeral cause I will be there? Yeah! My cousin got into a car crash and he died, that day. I was really trying to figure out cause I just don't know what I did in this life to deserve this man"I just have no clue.
I think that this guy, whoever she's with has the means to travel. And that's all they've been doing. Going from So Cal to, I guess now, it's Texas, all over the place. She even had the audacity to tell me where she's going each time. I never understood.
I don't know man I'm over it. I'm so done. And now we're here. Smoking. Watching green turn to ash, from ash to ash.
I'm watching the world burn, and I can't even enjoy it.

III . Happy Night

"Damn. That's a stupid crazy story," he says to me.
"Yeah. When I heard it, the images kept popping in my head," I tell him as I vigorously yawn.
"Well man, I got to go. That's all story time is right now."
"Wait! Where you going man?" His face is full of concern. Stress marks and accents lift his skin.
"I think Imma head out. Been up since seven this morning. It's already three. I still have to drive." My reply doesn't seem to phase him. It is as if he expects me to stay and complete a full day awake, in misery. And to him that's okay.
"Um. You can stay if you want man. It's all good. You took massive hits and had a beer and now you're leaving. Not sure if it's a good call."
"There's a point my not-sober-a*s needs to hear." I calm myself and take a few breathes before deciding I do still have to leave.
"Yeah, just stay bro." His eyes wander up in the sky. The clouds are lighter, the moonshine says so. I don't remember how I got to be telling a story at three in the morning. I don't remember how I got here at all. "Hey!" He punches my arm.
"What's that for?" I ask.
"Wake up! Talk to me about your story. How'd you feel when you wrote it?" He places all his weight down his sofa-chair.
"Let me think of how I would answer that question." He waits. No words 'till me. "I felt bad for the character."
"Why?"
"He never wanted those things to happen. It's straight up a s****y situation."
"Do you think he'll forget all those things that happened to him?"
"Can't tell man. I guess it's up to him. Hard to forget when things are written down you know?" His eyes are fixed in the skyline.
"It's so late. You should get going. I'm too high to stop you and too high for this right now."
"You good?" I ask as I lean my shoulder forward with hands on my knees to get up from my seat.
"Yeah. It's whatever. Hearing it once is enough."
"No one will know," I half-whisper.
"No. Actually, everyone should know. Everyone should know that tonight I had burgers and fries, and how psychedelics are the way to go. DMT! DMT! DMT! Do you know where you are? I sure as hell don't!" His yawn is loud in image. "Count me in! The no-where boys and girls. Living paycheck to paycheck. Sinking. Smoking. Meditating. Life's coming down hard and all I wanted was to love somebody, haha. Not this." He shakes his head. "Not this, man." I stay silent and let the moment sink to the deepest roots of man's evolutionary need to cry. But there are no tears; only the lonely apparatus of a story teller: real, sad words and a willing listener.
"Do you want me to delete what I wrote?" I ask gently.
"No keep it. Because it's true. Every single word is true."
"Truth doesn't have to be a painful reminder," I tell him with the aid of the honest and fatigued mind.
"I'm that reminder. I am truth. Justice, that won't be a stupid-a*s burden. A friend who needs a train to leave this place and go somewhere else." I take the blanket folded on top of a chair to our left. It's meant for me but I didn't need it. I toss it at him. He spreads it across his slightly shivering body.
"Imma go now man. Sleep tight and just relax," I tell him.
"Choo-choo. Choo-choo. You should go. I can't say no to you."
"Take care man. Thanks for everything." I open the screen door.
"Hey!" I turn my head. He doesn't look at me.
"Yeah, sup?" I ask.
"I loved her man. I loved her so much," he says it slow, still with wandering eyes.
"I know dude. I know."
"And the happiest truth to have, I'm sad to say, is that she happens to be gone." He closes his eyes. And me-I let the whisper float with the wind, and rest by the dock of some cheerful echoes about to row outwards. To end the happy night.