The Swap(20)

Even though Jamie and I were grown up, confident, and self-assured, it still felt like the prom king and queen wanted to be our friends. So we couldn’t turn down an invitation to blow off some steam, let our hair down, and take some recreational drugs in a safe environment. Why would we? We all had the luxury of setting our own schedules, except Jamie, but the store didn’t open until ten. She was planning to stick with wine, anyway. Max didn’t drink, so I wasn’t sure if he’d partake in the ’shrooms, but we were all adults; we all knew what we were getting into.

At least we thought we did.





16


jamie


I was jittery when we entered our friends’ cliffside home, a combination of nerves and anticipation. On the ride over, I had reconsidered my wine-only stance. It wouldn’t hurt to get high with some good friends. True, the last time I’d done ’shrooms I’d vomited vociferously, but I was in college then. I was older, stronger, wiser now. I’d take it slow, go with the flow, enjoy the change in perspective. The opening of my mind . . .

My lunch conversation with Freya had looped through my head until it became a sort of epiphany. Maybe I could have a great life without a child. A life of fun, adventure, and hedonism. It wasn’t what I had imagined for Brian and me, but I could change the channel. Psychedelic drugs on a Tuesday was only the beginning. With our cool new friends, I could envision travel and adventure: zip-lining in Thailand, swimming with manta rays in Australia, a safari in Africa. And it could all start tonight, with a different sort of trip.

Freya welcomed me with a hug, though I’d seen her only a few hours ago. When Max kissed my cheek, my stomach fluttered. I wasn’t lusting after my best friend’s husband—I want to be clear about that—but he had a physical effect on me. He was so large, so rugged, so aggressively masculine. My female body simply reacted. I handed Freya a bottle of chilled white wine.

“Thanks, hon. But we’re having tea tonight.”

I was momentarily confused until I saw the twinkle in her eye. Mushroom tea. I followed Freya into the kitchen, where she reached for a wineglass and then paused. “It’s not a good idea to mix alcohol and ’shrooms. You’ll have tea with us, won’t you?”

It was the moment of truth: wine or ’shrooms. Conservative or wild. The usual or the unique. “Yeah, I’ll have tea.”

“That’s my girl.”

We moved to the sunken living room, where a pottery teapot sat steeping on the low coffee table. Freya placed four handleless mugs next to it, and Max filled them carefully. We each took one and leaned back on the gleaming white sofas. I sipped the earthy concoction slowly, gingerly, as we chatted. Freya was entertaining us with the story of a high school friend who had taken mushrooms and went into a 7-Eleven to buy Doritos stark naked. While funny, it did nothing to quell my anxiety. I’d been afraid of puking; now, I could add public indecency to my list of fears. I looked at my husband. His face was alight as he listened to Freya’s story and casually drank his tea. He felt my gaze and met it.

You okay? his eyes asked.

I smiled and gave a slight nod of affirmation. I was fine. I was fun. This was the new me.

As Max talked about a music festival he’d attended while on ’shrooms, my mind drifted to Freya’s earlier proclamation. Sex on psychedelics was amazing, she’d said. Later, Brian and I would put that to the test. When the frivolity here had died down, we’d call a taxi (the island had a fleet of four cabs), go home, and make love while high on mushrooms. We needed a night of wild, uninhibited pleasure. Our fruitless efforts to conceive had taken a toll on our sex life. A renewed lust for each other was another perk of the indulgent life I was embracing.

“Are you feeling anything?” Freya was addressing me.

“I don’t know,” I said, and then I giggled. It just bubbled out of me. I looked down and found my mug empty.

“They’re kicking in,” Brian said, but I was too busy noticing how white the sofas were. So white they were almost blue. Like snow in sunshine.

Freya stood. “We’re going to need water. Jamie, come help me.”

Obediently, I got up and followed her to the kitchen.

It was brighter in there, but everything had soft, blurry edges. Freya ran the filtered water tap and filled four tumblers with the cold liquid. I stood by and watched, mesmerized by the sight of the water burbling from the faucet, filling the frosted glasses. When she’d filled the last one, she turned toward me.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good.” I smiled and found I couldn’t stop. “Really good.”

Freya smiled back. “Me too. I’m so glad you guys were into this.”

“I wasn’t sure at first, but you’re right. I should be more fun. And adventurous.”

Freya reached out and rested her hand on my shoulder. “You deserve this, babe. There’s no need to feel guilty.”

Guilty? I may have been more conservative than Freya, but I didn’t feel guilty about taking magic mushrooms with friends. “I don’t,” I said with a bleary smile.

“You’ve been such an amazing friend to me.” Her teeth were so white, as white as her couches. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I feel the same,” I said, perma-smile still in place.