UNDER THE CHERRY TREE
By
Rev. Jesse Penfield Gibson, MDiv, DMin
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters and situations are purely imaginary. Any resemblence to any living persion is coincidental. This story is primarily a romance but does contain some scenes of explicit sex, primarily homosexual but not exclusively.
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SIX
In FYS, we were discussing the Flannery O'Connor story "A Good Man is Hard to Find", which is probably her most famous story with the line at the end coming from The Misfit about the dead grandmother: "She would would have been a good woman, if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life." The discussion mostly centered on the nature of grace and charity and whether the Grandmother's final actions by touching the Misfit were an act of grace. In short, whether she had been redeemed or not. Everyone had gotten used to Xander not having much to say in the discussions unless called on directly. He never seemed to venture an opinion, although he always seemed animated and engaged. Probably it was just the mass of restless energy he always seemed to have. Then he surprised me, at least, by speaking up and saying that he didn't think that was the most interesting part of the story. For him, the Misfit saying that "there's no pleasure in life but meanness" is central truth of modern religion. To him, the Misfit was a religious figure, heartlessly dishing out punishment and grief because he torn by the apparent reality that God did not exist but still fearing him. In the ensuing uproar, he defended his position fairly well.
After class, Reed came up to us as we walked out onto the Quad. He wanted to know if we, and by that he seemed to mean Xander mostly, was planning to go to The Whigs concert at the Asylum. When he said he was, Reed said, "Well, you ought to come by my place. I'm having a pre-party."
"I don't know, maybe" Xander answered.
"Hey, isn't your roommate Erica's new boyfriend?" he said to me. "They're coming, you ought to too."
I nodded. "Yeah, I probably will."
"Great," Reed smiled. Ever since Xander told me that he was gay, I thought I noticed a subtle femininity about him. "Say, you don't think you could help me get hold of some that golden kush going around do you?"
Xander stopped walking and looked at him. He was stone-faced. "Why don't you get it from the people selling it? Because I'm not."
Reed nodded his head and frowned in an exaggerated way. "Come on, X. You know why I can't get anything from them. I thought maybe you had a personal stock and you could let go of a quarter, for old time's sake. Maybe something from your old man's experimental garden." Reed was smirking a little, almost taunting Xander.
Xander stepped close to him and said, "You don't know shit about my old man, Reed."
"Well how about this, I give you the money and you buy a quarter or a half. Plus a carrying fee, of course. I'm sure you could use the money."
"Yeah, two days after the cops searched my room, I'm going to buy you a lid. We're not that good of friends. Actually, we're not really friends at all. Still, I bet you could find somebody that would help you out but not me. And not him either." Xander said, pointing at me.
"Wouldn't think of it. The invitation is still good, though. You ought to come, Dylan. It'll be a blast."
As we walked away, I wanted to know what that was about but didn't ask. Xander didn't seem to be in the mood to answer questions in any event. He was steaming mad but trying to hide it. The next night, he knocked on my door and told me he had something for me.
"You can't show up at Reed's empty handed. That crowd is going to heavy with Lovett School, Westminster, Woodward pricks. Serious rich kids, real snobs. So, here –" he said, handing me a bag with a couple of big buds that were pale green with reddish, golden hairs but looked like they had been rolled in confectioner's sugar. Basically, it was white pot. "It's pretty good. If you want to share it, that's your business."
Turning it over it my hands, I asked, "How much do I owe for this?"
He shook his head briefly no. "Nothing. It's free. That's the way gifts work."
"So you're not going?"
"To the show. But Reed's? Fuck no. Go if you want, see how the other half lives. I'll see you at the show. Except I plan to be seriously fucked up."
"Okay, thanks."
It turned out that Erica and Reed had been good friends from high school even though Reed was 3 years older. I took it that when she was with Xander, Reed had been with Dex and they were all friends. But each breakup had been messy and bitter. Xander and Dex either were or had been stepbrothers and remained friends while Erica and Reed did too, at least to a degree. Reed, according to her, was rich but had been forced to leave the Lovett School when his dad's business had a downturn, settling in at public school. The rich part I was able to see for myself. He had a large apartment at Katherine Court downtown, which is a renovated landmark from the 1910's actually built for apartments, instead of being busted up into apartments, like Cass and Dex's place. It had hard wood floors, high ceilings, French doors and definite class.
There were about 25 people there, mostly guys and apparently mostly gay. Robbie, I could tell, was a little uncomfortable and so was I. And you could tell that they were all from pretty well off families. Even the ones who were dressed down were in fashionable, expensive clothes. I definitely felt self-conscious. There was plenty of drugs there in addition to bottles of Corona and Heineken, mostly pot and Ecstasy. There was a group of guys on the couch loading bong hits with golden haired marijuana, which was the golden kush. I had split the quarter ounce that Xander had given me and brought half with me to share. So, I pulled out my bag to load a bowl.
"Shit, where did you get that?" One of the guys exclaimed. Another guy took the bag from my hand and examined it. "Fuck, that's white widow."
I was stunned. I knew it looked unusual when he gave it to me but I had no idea that it was some sort of legendary pot. Looking up, I saw Erica standing there and I thought she was signaling me. I didn't actually need her to. I knew enough not to say that Xander had given it to me.
"I have this friend from high school who goes to SCAD," I said, indicating the art school in Savannah. "I got it from him. He has a connection there."
"How much did you pay for this?" the one guy wanted to know.
That was not a question I wanted. I had no idea how much a quarter ounce of high quality weed went for. I did know what Tommy paid for what he got. So, I took a stab at it. "A hundred bucks"
The guy whistled. "That was cheap considering. The kush was 80."
Reed had walked over to the couch and he took the bag from the guy's hand. "That's superior bud there. A first class high. I haven't had this in a while. Load a bowl and let's get baked," he said to me.
I don't think it was the pot that made me paranoid. Erica staring me down and the realization that Reed saw through my flimsy story about a Savannah connection was the real reason. But the others bought it, one of them telling if I chance to get more to get him a quarter. It wasn't as if Reed actually said anything, it was more the way he looked at me that convinced me. The amazing thing about this dope was that the high was different from the last that I had, the purple haze. The sensation was more like euphoria than giddiness. My reaction to what was going around me was more profound seeming than silly. Plus, I didn't feel closed in and heavy but rather social and energized.
As we headed out for the club, the night seemed different, alive with energy. Even the darkness around me seemed more like royal purple than black. The lights, in various colors and hues, popped with brilliance. Everything seemed more vibrant and vivid. It wasn't an hallucination exactly. It was an accentuation. The feeling was a little trippy.
Asylum is at the end of Cherry Street near the renovated railway terminal and the entrance to Central City Park. Rare for cities, Macon has a thriving downtown but it rolls up the sidewalks at 6 pm, leaving only a couple of restaurants and bars open and active. Asylum is one, taking up a large storefront area. I could feel the music and the vibe as much as I heard it as we walked toward the club. I was walking on clouds, high as a kite. I paid the cover and they stamped my hand for no alcohol and we entered the club, dark with stabs of multicolored light filling it.
The Whigs played an energetic, pulsating set. The music is hard edged rock and roll, three chords and drums and very loud and fast. It was perfect. One song, called Already Young, seemed perfectly attuned to where we all were in your lives. The lead singer practically screamed the repetitive line in the chorus – `I don't care what your old man thinks of me' – and it seemed right. I was pumped, and the faster and louder they played, the more I liked it. Robbie and I piled into the crowd in front of the stage and began to dance. It was dancing after a fashion. There were so many people piled in there that you mostly could only stand and jump up and down but we did with abandon. Surprisingly, you could smell the acrid scent of marijuana being smoked in the packed club.
Between sets, I saw Xander with the girl named Haley across the floor. He was shirtless and sweating, bobbing up and down. I made my way over to him and he seemed to still be dancing to music only playing in his head. Haley was hugging on him and rubbing against him. He had a broad, almost permanent grin on his face. I came up on him and he turned to me and said, staring into my eyes, "Wow, you're fucked up!"
His eyes were so dilated that you could barely see white. It was all pale blue. He was clenching his jaw and he was moving in a rhythmic but repetitious way. "So are you" I said.
He laughed. "Yeah, but that's a way of life for me. So, how was Reed's?"
"Good. It was fun."
He turned away and didn't say anything immediately. Then he leaned toward me and whispered in my ear, "Do me a favor. Don't go back there for the after party, okay? Just go with Erica and Robbie. Trust me."
I stepped back a half step. Was he jealous? "Yeah, okay. Sure. I think they're going to Erica's sister's place in the Village. I can do that. Why?"
"I'll tell you later. Have fun, okay."
"You too." I said as I moved away from him. He had turned his attention back to Haley and I assumed he was trying to get laid.
The encores ended just before 1 and Reed caught up to me as we were leaving and invited me back to his place. I said I was going back with Robbie since he was my ride. He spent a minute trying to talk me into it but I ended up going with Robbie anyway. Erica's sister shared a loft in the Village next to campus and the after party there promised to be wild as kids burned off the last bit of energy as night turned to day. We had been there for a few minutes when I saw Cass and Ashley come in, followed closely by Xander and Haley. Erica saw them too and moved immediately to Xander as he walked in.
"Come with me, Alexander," she demanded, her hands on her hips. "I want to see you in Ansley's bedroom."
"Sounds like fun." He said, grinning.
"It's not," Erica shot back. She turned to me and snapped, "you too. Come on."
Erica led us into one of the bedrooms and slammed the door shut. Xander jumped on the bed and patted the covers. I could tell she was pissed but he seemed oblivious to it.
"You can go fuck yourself, Alexander. Are you rolling?"
Xander laughed. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a lump of stuff wrapped up in a rolling paper with both ends twisted off. "Want a bomb?" he asked, holding it out for her.
"No, I don't want any molly. I want to know what the fuck you were thinking giving him white widow? The first thing anybody wanted to know was where he got it from. What if he had said it was from you? You would be so fucked over it isn't even funny."
He shrugged. "I thought he might like to have some weed. What'd you say, anyway?"
Sheepishly, I told him my story about the kid from SCAD. Xander laughed a little. "That's pretty good. See, he's smart. He thought of something."
"He isn't smart, he's lucky. I can't believe that you would be so careless."
Xander looked at me. "So, why'd you tell them that?"
"A kid at art school with pot seemed pretty believable. Savannah is close enough to be plausible and far enough away that nobody could check it out. Plus, those guys are all from Atlanta. They'll buy here or in Atlanta, they're not traveling to Savannah."
"So, he is smart. What's the big fucking deal?"
Erica walked over to where he was laying and stood over him. "The big deal is that if you're popped now it isn't like before. This wouldn't be juvenile possession and boot camp. This time it's the real deal. And they'll make it so that you have to roll over on people you care about."
"Yeah, well," he said, rubbing his nose and looking away. "Boot camp was on the second go around. And if you knew me, you'd know I would never roll over on the people I care about."
"Glad you cleared that up. So a long prison term awaits." Erica turned and walked toward me. "I'm going to tell you something and you need to believe me because I know. I was in love with him. He was the coolest guy around, charm and charisma oozing out of every pore of his scrawny adolescent body. You see his art and you can tell that he is super talented. Maybe even a genius. The sex is amazing, the best. But then you wake up one day and realize you've gone a long way down a road you didn't want to be on. He has that effect on people. People fall in love with him but he's off screwing behind your back. You're going to find out the sex isn't worth it."
"We're not having sex. We're just friends." I protested.
"You know I can have a friend that I'm not trying to seduce. It is possible, you know" Xander said, lying back of the bed, his hands under his head.
"I'll believe it when I see it. You didn't fool Reed, you know. He knows that particular strain is your personal stash, not available for resell. He smoked it and he knows that isn't the regular white widow, it's the super strain."
That's when it struck me. "Yeah, but you knew that all ready, though. You wanted him to know. I think maybe she's right. You can be a jerk. What gives you the right to mark me out as your property?"
He looked at me plaintively but didn't answer. I was furious that he was sending a message to Reed that I belonged to him. I didn't belong to anybody. I certainly wasn't going to be the prize between them.