Chapter 13
Will looked at her suspiciously. They had both smoked occasionally at parties in college, but neither had done it since, nor had they experimented with marijuana’s suddenly socially acceptable cousin, the gummy.
“As soon as you said you were going to get a tattoo, I thought we should get you one to take beforehand,” Rachel explained. “You know, to help ease your nerves.”
“I didn’t say I was going to get a tattoo. It was part of a bet, and you’ve still got a way to go.”
“Oh, please. We both know it’s happening. I’m unstoppable.”
“So you say. But you still didn’t need to stop here. I seem to recall Ann Arbor embracing weed long before all these other places started making it legal.”
“That’s true. But I decided to stop here,” she said, pulling the pack of 10 out of the bag, “so you could take one right now. While we’re driving.”
“Excuse me?”
“C’mon,” she teased him. “You’re the one who said we don’t know when we’ll get to do stuff like this again. And when are you ever going to have the chance to take an edible in the car after we have a baby?”
“That wasn’t exactly an item on my bucket list.” He took it from her. “Although I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little intrigued.”
What intrigued him was how happy this seemed to be making her, like they had somehow been transported back in time to when they had been younger and had had far fewer responsibilities.
“Of course you’re intrigued,” Rachel said. “It’s a brilliant idea.” She ripped open the resealable package and dropped a gummy in his hand. It wasn’t much bigger than one of her Dots and was covered with flecks of sugar.
“Are you sure you’re not doing this just so I’ll be too stoned to tell whether you actually make it through z?”
“Possibly.” Rachel’s entire face seemed to twinkle with anticipation, and he knew resistance was futile.
“What the hell,” he said, going to pop it in his mouth.
“Whoa, hold on,” she said and grabbed his wrist. “This is ten milligrams, and the guy said since it’s your first time, you should only eat half. Or even less. I still remember how loopy you got when you overdid it in college.”
“Isn’t that the whole point of getting high?” he asked as she let go. “Getting ‘loopy’?”
“Hey, don’t air quote me. And yes, it is, but you got, like, paranoid a couple of times when you smoked too much. Like when you thought that dog was a wolf and it was hunting you. We’re just going for mellow. Like you’re buzzed at a wedding or something.”
“That dog was aggressive.”
“That dog was a twenty-pound cockapoo.”
“Look, if I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it. I mean, I’m not that old.”
She laughed. “All right. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”
“Noted,” he said, beginning to chew.
“How is it?”
“Pretty delicious, actually. Fruity.”
He swallowed as she put the car into reverse. They started the audiobook again, and despite the package’s promise that the gummies were fast acting, 15 minutes later, he was still tracking plot details and watching a seemingly infinite abundance of trees whiz by their windows just as he would’ve had he taken nothing. Rachel had managed to pick up an r and an s on two different HIAWATHA NATIONAL FOREST signs, which was also a bit of a buzzkill.
“I don’t think it’s doing anything,” he said when the chapter they were listening to ended.
“It will.”
Will picked up the bag again and studied it. He and Rachel had been together almost 15 years, they were about to have a baby together, and yet his urge to want to entertain her, to make her feel like their life defied the ordinary, was undeniable.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I could just have a high tolerance. It’s not like I’m actually smoking anything.”
“Everything I’ve ever heard or read about edibles says it will kick in. So did the guy at the store. You just have to give it some time.”
He pulled the two sides of the bag apart at the resealable strip. “If I take a second one, will you give me editorial control over the tattoo?”
“One, that’s a terrible idea. And two, not a chance.”
“Eh, you’re driving, and I’m sitting here doing nothing. What’s the worst that could happen?”
And before she could stop him, a second 10-milligram gummy disappeared between his lips.
Rachel gave him a side-eye. “Well, this should be interesting.”
“Just don’t get your hopes up about skating by on the back end of the alphabet. Because I am on it.”
“Can you get on the snack bag and pass me some of those peanut butter crackers?”
“Aren’t you afraid you’ll be depleting my supply for when the munchies hit?” he joked, turning in his seat so he could get to the Seurat tote in the back. After several seconds of digging around, he found the crackers, opened the plastic sleeve, and handed them to her.
“Thanks,” she said. “Now can you restart the chapter? I didn’t hear the last couple of minutes on account of your questionable decision-making.”
Will backed the audiobook up and glanced at the RAV4’s clock as he did it. 4:44 p.m. Triple fours, he thought for no reason in particular. He then resumed listening and taking in the scenery.
It was 4:53 p.m. before he spoke again.
“Rachel,” he said in a loud whisper through gritted teeth.
“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly bracing herself for whatever was about to come out of his mouth.
“I don’t mean to alarm you,” he said in a serious tone, “but I think that motorcycle may be headed right for us.”
“You mean that motorcycle stopped on the shoulder on the other side of the road?”
“Oh God—you see it too. I was hoping I was just imagining it. Okay. Stay calm. Preparing evasive maneuvers.”
Will rolled down his window and quickly unbuckled his seat belt so he could stick his head out like a dog.
“What the hell are you doing?” Rachel shouted over the suddenly amplified road noise.
They blew by the Harley and its owner checking something on his cell phone, and Will pulled his head back in. “Uh, saving our lives. It passed right through us. Didn’t you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“The draft of a cold breeze.”
“Your head was out the window, Mr. I Don’t Think It’s Doing Anything. And the feeling-a-draft thing is for ghosts, not motorcycles.”
“Wait.” He stared at her. “I need you to be honest with me right now.”
“Okay: yes, I am honestly regretting my decision to buy you edibles.”
Will didn’t have time for regrets. “Do you think it was ... a ghost rider?” His voice dropped, and his tone got even more serious than before. “Like the Nicolas Cage film Ghost Rider?”
“What I think is that you need to close your eyes and just try to relax.”
To his credit, he did close his eyes. Whether he relaxed was subject to interpretation. But he did feel less fearful about parenting for the time being.
“Do you believe in the multiverse, Rachel?”
“I believe I’m not going to hear any more of this book right now,” she said, turning the sound system off.
“Like, do you think there’s a universe where I’m having Doritos right now instead of at that Taco Bell?”
She wanted to be too annoyed to smile, but she couldn’t help herself. “Why don’t you tell me what you think, Will.”
“Thank you for asking. I want to believe it’s real. I mean, I want our son or daughter to live in a world where it’s real. Because can you imagine? Two planes of existence, coexisting, in a perfect harmony of existence, where I’m eating Doritos—what’s the word that’s like thrice but means two times instead of three?”
“Do you mean twice?”
“Right. Twice. So clever. And think of it: twice the Doritos. I’m ... I’m overcome with the sense of possibility.”
“Are you crying?”
“It’s just so beautiful, Rachel,” he said, legit sniffling. “Behold, I’ve gazed upon the face of the Lord, and lo, he said unto them, nacho cheese ... is ... good!” He put his hand on her stomach. “I can’t wait to tell the baby the news.”
“You know, if they had taught us about nacho cheese in Catholic school, I might be more religious today. I’ve got some barbecue chips in the bag if you want them, though.”
He moved to return to the tote. She was about to tell him he could open his eyes for this part since he had forgotten to do so and was groping emptily at the air, but he froze suddenly in the opening between their two seats.
“Everything okay there?” she asked.
“Right as rain,” he said—because, pot. “Hey, you know what I wish?” His eyes were still closed as he asked the question.
“What’s that?” Rachel said, once again unable to resist.
“That we could have the baby shower ... at Hogwarts.”
“Like, at Universal Studios?”
“No, the real Hogwarts.”
“There isn’t a real Hogwarts.”
Will’s eyes popped back open. “But there is! How soon you forget the multiverse!”
“Ah, right. I do have a habit of doing that.”
“We’d invite Dumbledore. Obviously. Harry and Hermione—but not Ron, he’d just make it about himself. Mario and Luigi.”
“Wrong franchise, babe.”
“Oh, it’d be a crossover sort of affair. It is our baby, after all. So Scorpion and Sub-Zero too. And I cannot stress this last part enough: every last Sasquatch we could find.”
“Sasquatches, got it.”
“Indeed.” His voice got serious. “They owe me after everything I’ve sat through for them.”
Will reset himself in his seat. He promptly engaged the dashboard in a staring contest.
“I still don’t think it’s doing anything,” he observed after a good 30 seconds.
“Yeah, you know, I think you might be right,” Rachel said, reaching over with her free right hand and grabbing the bag of gummies off his lap while he wasn’t looking. She then transferred it to her left hand and stuffed it down in the storage compartment on the driver’s door.
“Like, I don’t think I’ve ever thought this clearly in my entire life,” Will continued. “Picture it: our child, our progeny, will carry pieces of us both beyond our mortal limits. How wonderful. It’s like I can see the concept of time. Have you ever seen time, Rachel?”
“I can’t say that I have. But I do see a t on another HIAWATHA NATIONAL FOREST sign.”
“Curses! Promise me you won’t make me get this blasted tattoo on my buttocks.”
“I think now that you’ve referred to them as buttocks, I’m morally obligated to do so.”
For the second time in a matter of minutes, Will undid his belt, except now he got down on the floor and knelt. Or what passed for kneeling in the front seat of a moving compact SUV.
“Um, what is happening?”
“Rachel, I beseech you,” he said, donning an English accent and clasping his hands in supplication. “Mar not my hindquarters. Promise me.”
“This isn’t safe. You need to get back in your seat.”
“Not until you promise me!”
“Fine—I promise not to make you get the tattoo on your butt. Happy?”
“Huzzah!” he cheered before noticing he was stuck. His right shoulder had gotten wedged under the glove compartment, and he was having trouble extricating himself.
“Your beauty . . . ,” he huffed, “is exceeded only by . . . your wisdom . . . which is exceeded . . . only by your . . . oww! . . . mercy. Ah. There.”
When he had buckled himself back into his seat, Will looked at Rachel longingly.
“Psst,” he said.
“Hi there.”
“Want to know a secret?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“I’m the luckiest guy on earth. My wife is awesome. And she’s going to be an awesome mom.”
Even through his cloud, he could see this meant something to her. Maybe because he was too far gone for it to be anything but sincere. And he wasn’t done.
“Just don’t tell Rachel I got high without her. She’d be so pissed.”