The Reveal

Standing in the brightly lit aisle of Target, surrounded by Hallmark cards bearing praises, Mike twisted the shopping cart’s faded red plastic handles and let out a sigh of irritation. Jess was holding two flamboyant cards she had narrowed down for her girlfriend’s party. Hearing Mike’s sighs she grew exasperated at his selfishness and wanted to reiterate the significance of a reveal party. “Mike, quit being immature,” she said, “we’re trying to encourage Meg and Brian in this next phase of life they’re about to begin. This is a big move in my friend’s life, and I want to be there for her.” The millennial couple of three years weren’t typically prone to bickering but lately, with the anticipation of the party, Mike had become a recluse in his mind. He was installing undiscussed expectations around what was next for Jess and dwelling mainly on his thoughts of what ‘the next phase of life’ meant. This was the third reveal party Jess had dragged him to, but he felt it was the fiftieth. All of them were facsimiles of each other. Even he thought he could plan one with the precision and execution of a professional party planner. Mike remembered when these parties began to trickle into social media feeds, slowly being consumed by the simple and the basic young adults of privilege. They inevitably made their way to Good Morning America in a shameful piece showing them off to many uninspired people in their late twenties across the country. For him, the absurdness of it all begins with a flood of yuppies in someone’s newly sodded suburban backyard in a pastel tidal wave wearing the new Sunday’s Best: women in flowing paisley sundresses with just as homogeneous compliments to pay each other while the guys in J. Crew shorts sported brown loafers and stood around like preppy delivery boys waiting for their next route. It was insanity to celebrate a couple’s new commitment in a parallel fashion as the last couple had done. Why should there be this egotistical display of tragedy? This was a party built off keeping up with the Joneses while ironically many in less affluent communities dealt with the same difficulties, often unintended and with far less resources for support. The reveal party was extravagant. Mike was left wondering how long it would be until he was the next sucker. Instead of discussing all of this with Jess, he became prone to agitation and let it show with brief remarks. He simply replied, “Just pick out a card. We’re going to be late.”

In the car, attempting to keep Mike engaged by stirring the silence Jess asked, “What kind of opioid do you think it’ll be?”

“Well it was conceived in March. Most winter addictions prove to be hard heroin given the warmth it provides. But I doubt Brian is ready to deal with the needle properly,” Mike answered.

Jess giggled and agreed Brian probably wouldn’t be ready but then again who really ever was? She adjusted the radio volume as the conversation dimmed when she blurted out, “Do you think you’d ever want an addiction with me?” With some regret, she knew if she didn’t ask it might be a while until the opportunity came around again.

Mike took in the question slowly as Jess nervously kept her gaze on the road. When he finally responded he chose to answer with a question, “Why do you think it’s even necessary? Isn’t the world already full of addicts?”

It wasn’t the response Jess had hoped for, and she shot back by saying, “Who cares about other people? I think it’s a good way to bring couples closer. Imagine the bond we would share as this thing grows?”

“Does that have to be the only solution? Can’t we focus on our careers and have pride in each other’s success? Can’t we develop together through experiences other than addiction?”

“Yes, but we are financially stable. It’s not like it would hold us back. It would give us something to focus on together.”

“I mean, I don’t doubt you, but I need serious convincing. Just thinking of the long nights you have to put into something that needy is enough to stop me in my tracks.”

“Sure, there may be some hard times, but you have to not think of it as a process but more of an identity. You’re not wrapping your arm up every single night to make it numb and fall asleep, you’re injecting smack and giving life to this chemical connection. You would be a proud addict first and foremost.”

“You know, maybe I’m just not ready for it? You said earlier I’m immature. And if that’s how you feel, and this is how I feel then where does that put us?”

“Well, you wouldn’t even be here today if it weren’t for your mother and father going unprotected and sharing the same needle after that garage concert in ’93. If that’s not immature I don’t know what is… and look at you now! I couldn’t imagine being on a path with you without us having an addiction. I mean who doesn’t crave some sort of addiction?”

“I’m not saying all addictions are bad. They sometimes lead to creativity and discovery which I understand leads to fulfilment. But I’m afraid we, like most of our friends, would be just becoming addicts because it’s expected of us. I’m just not sure. Can we just call it a stalemate and put a pin in this for now?”

“Oh alright, but seeing all my friend’s making this decision gets a girl thinking, ya know?”

“I know, and I can promise you I’ll think about it. I understand this is the time for a woman to consider these things. You are a few years from 30 and that’s when opioid addictions get dangerous.”

“Yep, thanks for the reminder,” Jess said sarcastically. “BUT, I do really appreciate you considering. Hopefully, this party will push you in my favor.” She said with a wink and he forced a smile back at her.

They had parked in the cul-de-sac a few houses down and walked side by side to the party. Any other day the house would simply be identified only by a number; it was absent of any distinguishing features from the rest of the houses on the quiet, manicured cookie cutter street. Fortunately for the foreign navigators, the house had a few balloons tied to the mailbox at the end of a short driveway signaling they were in the right place. Walking through the front door, Jess dropped their card off at a table overflowing with more cards for the determined couple. Mike wondered how much money was packed into these envelopes and became slightly concerned Brian and Meg would overdose within minutes from the amount of junk they’d be able to score from this haul. Landing in the kitchen Mike had learned the drill: grab a drink with the missus and join the boys for a bit of shit talking. He opted for just a soda while Jess grabbed the ‘Opiatini’, a specialty cocktail for the occasion consisting of silver tequila, blood orange spritzer and garnished with a fresh jalapeno. It had to have that harsh bite. She practically forced Mike to take a Jell-O shot out of the syringes that were normally found at these events. “I hope these weren’t used,” he joked to Jess. They gave each other a peck and he went to the backyard where he met up with Nick and Tim.

The three friends were tight since Mike had worked with Tim for several years and Nick had been friends with Tim since childhood. They caught up on work and happenings about town, but the conversation soon turned to Nick teasing Tim about dating Meg back in high school. Meg had been Tim’s first girlfriend and he told his buddies how the two developed a young habit together. It first began with booze and pot like most high schoolers meddle in, but the passion of the youthful romance had the couple rounding bases quicker than usual. They eventually began dipping into schedule three narcotics. Their relationship ended abruptly when Meg began a side cocaine habit with another classmate. She initially felt both dependencies cooperated well with each other because she could crash with Tim on downers after running hot with this new coke interest. Meg soon came to her senses and aborted both habits and both relationships when she reflected on the premise of how trashy it was to be a high school addict. Mike snickered and then asked, “What makes the difference between a teenage addict being frowned upon versus an adult addict being celebrated?” Tim suggested that the case could be made for responsibility, “Being more mature allows for an addict to handle little incidents a lot more patiently.” Mike didn’t buy it. The whole thing seemed irresponsible. He dropped that he had been having doubts about ever wanting an addiction. Nick and Tim both looked at him and asked if Jess was cool with that. “It’s been a point of contention between us lately,” Mike replied. Nick jumped in and said, “Well I for one would love to have a little heroin addiction one day that I could call my own.” Guys always preferred heroin because it seemed simple and familiar. For guys, pill addictions were more dynamic, constantly changing, keeping up with the next trends, and plus everyone seemed to be trying to steal pills so there was a measure of protectiveness inherent in being a pill-addict. They joked that women always wanted a pill addiction because they were cuter. You could dress them up as Fentanyl or Oxycodone or Hydrocodone.

The pals moved toward the main ceremony on the other side of the backyard as they anticipated the big reveal to come soon. The crowd of adult children enjoyed libations all while people were saying things along the lines of “Hope you’re done traveling. You know addicts can’t sit still on long flights.” Or “Have you guys interviewed at rehab facilities yet? These places are getting more competitive each day… and expensive!” The thought of responsibilities crept back into Mike’s head and he could only think about losing his identity rather than gaining a new one. Examining the party guests, he could see the folks that were already tweakers. They stood out wearing dark clothes against the colorful parade of optimistic eventual addicts. They all looked the same: bags under their eyes, shirts and pants stained with bodily fluids, and frail from skipping meals. That was when Mike noticed Josh, a guy he used to go to indie movies with. “Shit the guy looked like he hadn’t even heard of the new Paul Thomas Anderson film yet,” Mike thought. “What’s become of him? Is that inevitable for me?”

The hosts cleared their throats, and everyone turned their attention to the main event. Meg began her speech, “I want to thank y’all for coming out today and for the encouragement, and money, each and every one of you have given us – we are so fortunate to have you in our lives. We know the road ahead is going to be challenging, depleting, scary, obnoxious, unconstructive, emotionally terrifying, euphoric, violent, and full of doubt. At the end of it all you won’t be able to recognize us from this current moment because we will have transformed, physically and cognitively, due to the severe damage and stress we will inflict upon ourselves. We will be lucky to even remember this beautiful moment with all of you together. So once again…. we really appreciate you coming out today!” Upon finishing her speech Meg pulled out a circular balloon filled with either black tar heroin or a cluster of pills. She presented the little ornament to the guests in a posh display. Her and Brian walked to the end of the yard where she placed the balloon on a golf tee ready for it to reveal their new addiction once it was struck. Brian was setting the stage by taking a few practice swings. He was showboating like he had done all the work. Suspense mounted as friends and family looked on, ready to cheer over whichever substance came exploding toward them. The crowd began to chant, “Pills or powder, you’ll never be prouder!” And with the follow through, Brian made contact. All was quiet in that moment as people began to identify the surprise. It took a moment but soon the party was being showered in beautiful heroin twinkling in the air against the white sun. In the mist of the highly addictive drug, Mike glanced over at Jess as she was looking onward. She was jumping and shouting. Jess seemed genuinely happy for her friends. All he did was feel sorry for the poor bastards. The disconnect between his wants and Jess’s desires were glaring to him in this moment. If moving forward with her required anything of this absurdity he did not want it. Disgusted he began toward the back gate. As he stormed through everyone, the narcotic was sprinkling on the green, lush grass of the suburban backyard. He kept his stride as he got to Jess and muttered, “I’m fucking done.”