Ecstasy

Zara

As soon as we get back inside Eli’s car, I turn to stare at him. “Take me for a drink now, please.”

He laughs, reaching for his seatbelt. But before he puts it on, his phone rings through the Bluetooth in his car.

I see a string of numbers flashing on the center screen, an area code I recognize as Raleigh.

He presses a button on the steering wheel, answering the call with a quick glance toward me.

“Dad,” he says, turning to gaze out the window. His tone is unreadable. I have no idea if he’s happy to hear from his dad or not.

It doesn’t take long to find out.

“Eli,” his dad breathes his name out like a sigh of relief. I stare at his clenched jaw, his white knuckles on the steering wheel.

He doesn’t say anything.

“I sent a few texts,” his dad continues, sounding nervous. I thought he was a lawyer. I didn’t think lawyers got nervous.

Eli still doesn’t respond.

His dad sighs on the other end. A sigh I know too well, because I’ve heard it from my mother enough times to recognize just what it means. I’m tired of your shit but I’m your parent so I’m going to keep trying here.

“I was just calling to remind you of your appointment tomorrow.”

I glance at Eli. He’s still staring out the window. But finally, he says something. “Got it.”

“It’s important you go, Eli, you’ve missed the last two and Dr. Shaw is—”

“I said I got it.” Eli’s voice is quiet, as it always is, but it sounds almost venomous.

I stare straight ahead, try to tune them out. Giving them some kind of privacy. I have the distinct feeling I shouldn’t be listening to this conversation.

I look at the brick walls of Crate & Egg. I imagine my own mother inside, flaunting around with her new nuclear engineer husband, imagining their combined wealth and her temporary rush of happiness.

We’re all addicted to something. Drugs just happen to be illegal.

“Are you feeling okay?” Eli’s father asks, bringing me back to this car.

“Goodbye, Dad.”

The call ends.

Eli doesn’t look at me.

He puts the car in gear, and then drives off, turning the music up loud.

Into the Dark by Point North fills the interior of the car and as we head toward my apartment.

I’m not sure what he’s addicted to, but I have this strange feeling that if it were me, that might not be a good thing at all.