Chapter 7: An Ocean Curse

Opening up and building his first model rocket on Christmas Day, 2006. Having his father read to him from 'The Lord of the Rings' while his mother made him Irish Hot Chocolate. The eighth time he had read 'The Wasteland', the time he understood it. These were but shadows, pale and gray memories in comparison to the sheer ecstasy that raced through Alexander's body.

Hot damn this was good.

The rest of the brewery had become a bit of a blur. Alexander had all but forgotten the black-haired youth, the tender, the rest of the students. He stood at the bar, hands desperately grabbing the counter top in a subconscious reaction to keep himself from falling over. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to block out everything, everything except for what was happening to him right now.

Too soon, far too soon, the feeling faded. Alexander suddenly felt weak, and in his weakness, numb again. He felt himself falling over, but the tender reached out and grabbed his wrist and steadied him.

"Has a nasty drop, doesn't it?" the tender said. "I thought you were going to take it over to the couch and drink it there. Buddy, why the hell would you drink it standing up?"

"I didn't know," Alexander said. He felt like crying, or throwing up. Maybe both. It seemed that he had been punched in the gut. Obviously, he hadn't really, but that’s sure what it felt like. He looked around for the man who got him the brew, but could not find him. What was that man's name again? Alexander remembered that he had introduced himself, and vice versa, but it all seemed a distant memory, even though it was only... "Hey!" Alexander got the tender's attention again. "How long was I out?"

The tender frowned thoughtfully. "Eight seconds? Euphoria's got a fast kick and a quick drop, like I said. Listen, friend, can I give you some advice?" Alexander wiped the sweat from his brow, and nodded. "Take it easy," the tender said. "Try something with a smaller kick and a longer drop. You're gonna blow through it too fast. End the night with Euphoria, maybe, but start it? Sheesh. You're gonna be in for a rough time. Here, try Comfort. The kick is much weaker, but its drop ain't gonna be for at least forty five minutes or so."

Alexander could see the wisdom in that. Still, that was a hell of a thing for that black-haired guy to do. Slip a new kid the most powerful brain zapping brew on the menu and run away laughing, eh? What a prick.

Still… "I'll have some Comfort, then," he said, and thumbed the counter. The tender poured another small glass of liquid, this time it was yellow, and vaguely creamy. Alexander reached for it, but the tender held it back. "Find a couch," the tender said, "then drink. Got it?"

"I got it," Alexander said, and the tender gave the glass to him. Alexander looked over the sitting area, and tried to find a couch with an open space. He eventually found one, but sat down gingerly as the person occupying it with him was curled up in the fetal position, and rocking slightly, with a huge grin on his face, his eyes clamped shut.

“Don’t mind him,” a girl on the couch across from him said. She was holding a larger glass than Alexander was. It was clear and about half full. “He really, ah, gets into it. Most people aren't like that.” Alexander looked around; it was true. Most students in this area were smiling and laughing as they normally would. The girl continued. “What are you drinking?”

Alexander looked down at the glass in his hand. “Comfort,” he said.

The girl smiled. “That’s a good one. I’m having their home brew Happiness.” Alexander arched an eyebrow. “I’m guessing it’s just a tiny bit of Euphoria and gin,” the girl explained. “But I don’t really know. I don’t think any company has really come out with Happiness yet, most breweries have to make their own. The chemical makeup seems pretty complicated.”

“You’re a chemist?” Alexander asked. The brew was still in his hand. Part of him wished the conversation was over so that he could drink it without being rude.

“Best one on campus.” She smiled. “Name’s Elanor.”

“Al”, Alexander replied.

“The reason it’s harder to make is the chemical mixture,” she said. Alexander grimaced inwardly; she was responding to questions he hadn't even asked. Maybe this girl just liked to talk. He nodded, and tried to listen. “The emotions of happiness, euphoria, joy, they all come from the same chemical: dopamine. It hits pretty hard, and passes pretty quickly. You know; I saw you at the bar just now.” Alexander nodded. “But most people don’t want that fast of a drop. They want a more prolonged experience. So they dilute it with something, which still gives you the dopamine, but much less of it and for a longer time. Comfort, what you’re drinking, comes from serotonin, which is more of a good-feeling type of emotion. It’s not really a kick, so much as, ah, a push.”

“So you want the kick, but not one that knocks you over so fast. Like a slow motion kick,” Alexander said, trying to wrap Elanor’s argument up for her.

“Yeah, that’s a good way to put it. And, really, it depends on what you want. Everybody in here wants something.”

That sounded familiar. “What do you want?”

She shrugged. “Depends. Clarity, sometimes. My life just makes more sense when I’m here, you know? I got problems, sure. My mother doesn't really talk to me; she’s a fundamentalist Christian and hates the fact that I’m in the hard sciences.” Elanor looked down. “It hurts sometimes,” she said softly, and took another sip of her brew. She looked back up, smiling. “But I come here, and I remember that it’s all ok. In the end, it doesn't really matter. There are more important things than family, you know?”

“That makes sense,” Alexander said. No it didn't. He thought of Alexandria, and how terrible it would be if she truly hated him. She could be a really pushy sister at times, but deep down Alexander knew she had his best interests at heart. Didn't she? Suddenly he wanted to drink the brew in his hand very badly.

Evidently, Elanor noticed too. She laughed. “Go ahead, Al. I won’t mind.”

Alexander put the glass to his lips, and drank about half. A few seconds later, a smooth and almost loving sense of calm washed over him. What Elanor said was true; it did all make sense. How could he have doubted Lex for a second? Or longer, as he remembered how numbly wretched he had felt earlier in the evening. Of course she had his best interests at heart. Of course she loved him, of course she wanted him to be happy, she just wasn't good at showing him.

And Miranda. Alexander realized, sitting there, that it was actually pretty likely that she really did want him. After all, why would she call him back if she didn't? But if she was going to date him, he needed to be his best. And this brew of Comfort made him realize that, yes, he really could be his best, if he wanted to.

And the young black-haired man! He wasn't being cruel, not at all. He was just being a Good Samaritan. Get the best on the house for his new friend, and then walk off before he could be thanked. There was a certain humility in that that Alexander respected.

He finished the rest of his brew, and as he did so, he noticed some tiny, almost minuscule part of his mind that was confused. But as the second half of Comfort took its effect, it completely disappeared.

He and Elanor talked, for about a half hour about families, about Archmatic University, about many different things. They talked about which of their professors they would murder if they had the chance, all in good fun, of course, and which ones they loved.

Alexander noticed that Elanor was opening up to him in a way that most people didn't. He suspected it was the alcohol; the brews themselves didn't seem to tinker with inhibitions at all. But gin would.

Their conversations came to a close. “I think I feel the drop coming,” Elanor said. Alexander couldn't feel it, but saw that it was getting close to the forty five minutes the tender had predicted. He got up to get himself another, but Elanor grabbed him by the wrist.

“Can I give you some advice?” she asked. Well, it wouldn't be the first time that night. Alexander nodded. “Leave before the drop hits,” she said. “Otherwise you won’t be able to leave at all until you get another one. You’ll blow so much money here if you’re not careful. What have you had so far?”

“Euphoria and Comfort.”

She whistled. “Damn. Comfort’s decent, I suppose, but Euphoria… big spender, eh?”

“Actually, someone bought it for me.”

“A girl?” Her eyes narrowed.

“No, a guy. Black-hair, leather jacket. You know him?”

“I've seen him around,” Elanor said hesitantly. “But no, I don’t.”

“Ah, well. I would have liked to thank him. Ok, let’s leave.”

As they left the brewery, with its neon lights and its bright atmosphere, they walked together back towards campus. There was no moon.

They did not speak. At a certain point, Elanor stopped. “Well, I turn here,” she said.

“This street?” Alexander asked.

“Yeah, Nimco Avenue, right?”

Alexander looked up. “No. It’s Hamilton Road.” He heard Elanor sniffle. He looked down, and saw that her eyes were starting to fill with tears. “Close enough,” she said, and wiped them. She started to turn down, but Alexander called after her. “Wait,” he said. She stopped. “Can I have your number?”

She turned, and Alexander could see tears streaming down her face. “Sure.” She gulped. “Why not?” Alexander pulled out his phone, and she thumbed it in. “Thanks,” he said. “You ok?” She nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “I just need some sleep.” She turned and walked briskly away.

Alexander continued walking down Lindon St towards his apartment. As he got closer, he realized with a sinking feeling that the drop was getting closer too.

About two blocks away from his apartment, it hit.

The sense of staggering loss wasn't as much as the drop from Euphoria, but in a sweeping rush of guilt, everything he had done that night hit him.

What the hell had he been thinking? Going out drinking, and drinking brews no less? Alexandria would be mad when she found out; he told himself sternly that he didn't have to tell her, but she would find out somehow, and never let him forget it. She could be such a brat that way. She always was.

He knew what Alexandria thought of people who took brews. She thought that they were weak, worthless, and completely incapable of anything. Dependent.

Well, screw her, Alexander thought to himself. That’s it. Last time. I won’t go back, and that will show her who’s dependent. But he knew, with a sickening certainty, that she was right, that he needed to go back. This numbness, this despair that had been plaguing him all evening, would come again. It had been haunting him again and again with regularity, and there was nothing in the world that could change that forever. What was going on? He didn't remember feeling this bad earlier in the evening.

Alexander stopped, and almost fell but staggered steadied himself against an oak tree nearby. He sank down, sitting against it. This wasn't the drop, not anymore, but the whole damn misery and shame of his current state pressing against him.

He pulled his knees to his chest, and laid his forehead down upon them heavily. He needed a plan. He needed to figure out someway to get home unobtrusively. Alexandria would be waiting up; she always waited up. But he was tired, he was exhausted, and he couldn't figure out how to do it.

No. He couldn't go home. Not in this state. But where could he go?

He called Elanor. To his surprise, she picked up. A part of him wished that she hadn't, but a small hope rose in his chest.

“Al?”

“Yeah... listen, Elanor.” He paused thinking. “I don't want anything, I just feel awful.”

“It's just a drop,” she said. “You'll be fine soon enough.”

Alexander thought about it. That may have been true, but he couldn't see how he would be fine for a while, feeling like this. “You didn't warn me it was going to be this bad.”

“Warn you? Why would I warn you?” Alexander said nothing in reply. Elanor continued after a moment. “That was your first drop?”

“Yes.”

“Damn,” Elanor said. “I gave you advice earlier in the evening, but I never thought... Look. I know what you're feeling--” Alexander doubted that. “--but I can't let you stay with me. I just can't right now. I don't know you, I'm really sorry, I just can't.”

Alexander hung up abruptly. He whipped his head back against the tree, so hard that the bark dug into his scalp. How the hell had he gotten himself into this?

He had never felt so helpless.

Chapter 7: 2,305 | 14,085/50,000

Author’s Note in Comments