Under Achieving – A Short Story by C. Marlowe | A Tale of Synthetic Highs and Real Inadequacy
Under Achieving
By C. Marlowe
The red button flashed at the end of my vape battery as I inhaled the poison mist and exhaled the short-lived cloud. The packaging on this new vape cartridge, which I had recently bought from a friend at work, bore a cartoon lemonade pitcher with a limp smile and drooping red eyes. I figured it could be trusted since someone had taken the time to make the artwork.
Shortly after taking my first hit, I found myself in the kitchen scavenging for food. After a few more hits from the pen, I decided to crack open a jar of habanero salsa that my mom had ordered from Austin, Texas. It wasn’t until after I had eaten half of the jar that this slowly developing flame ignited in my mouth and triggered a horrible state of anxiety. It became impossible to identify when the burning began, which made me panic at the possibility that it had always been and, therefore, would never end.
I began eating fistfuls of tortilla chips and, when that didn’t work, found myself with my head beneath the sink, drinking water directly from the faucet. The idea of milk entered my head. My body doesn’t process dairy well, but I figured nothing could be worse than my current pain. I walked to the fridge.
The lights in the kitchen began to flicker when I gripped the grooved handle of the refrigerator door. When I opened the refrigerator, all of the light in the kitchen drained from the room. In an instant, I found myself unable to see. Then the ground disappeared beneath my feet.
For a while, I drifted in nothing, wondering if this was death. But then, I saw light stretched out in long beams before me. The glow allowed me to see the outline of my hands. The fingers of my right hand began to stretch away from my palm. It didn’t hurt, which somehow scared me more.
The entirety of my right arm went next, splaying out from my torso in the same direction as the lights. Then the rest of my body followed until I became thinned like a ball of Play-Doh rolled between two palms. The light suddenly began swirling in front of me as if being flushed down. The light soon vanished, leaving me, once again, unable to see.
In an instant, I found myself thrust back into reality. Like a slinky finally reaching the bottom of the stairs, my body returned to its original form, and the light returned to the kitchen. I closed the refrigerator door, ran up the stairs, and curled into a ball beneath my comforter.
When I woke up the next morning, I knew that I would need to buy a new vape cartridge. I texted my friend Craig, who I knew had an eye for quality marijuana, and agreed to meet in the city after work.
I hung out with Craig about every two months or so. We became friends in high school and had stayed somewhat in touch through college. We were the type of friends who liked to talk about hanging out more often but never actually followed through.
I boarded the train at 5:15 PM, and at 5:30 PM, I found myself walking out the doors of the station onto JFK Boulevard. I immediately recognized Craig walking on the other side of the street. His short stature and overly confident walk brought me back to the days when we had played high school soccer together. I crossed the street to meet him, and the two of us shared a smile and a handshake-hug.
“Yo man! How you been?” he asked as we quickly removed ourselves from our friendly embrace.
“I’ve been good,” I replied. “How’s work going?”
“It’s been busy,” said Craig. “But I like it well enough. Do you want to come check out the office? It’s just across the street?”
We crossed the street, and Craig, using his keycard, swiped us into the building and led us to the second-floor offices. I pretended to listen while he explained what he did at the company. Instead, my focus gravitated toward the colorful and vibrant aesthetic of the office.
“So?” asked Craig. “What do you think?”
“It’s nice,” I admitted. “It’s not what I had pictured.”
“It is nice,” agreed Craig. “Work can be tough at times. It’s not a low-stress job like yours, but it pays well… Do you want a beer? The fridge is stocked.”
“I find the lack of stress in my job to be stressful,” I said while trying to pull the tab open on my Yuengling can.
“What do you mean?” asked Craig. He pulled out a spiked seltzer from the fridge.
“Stocking shelves all day stresses me out. There’s nothing rewarding about it.”
“I feel that,” said Craig. He quickly finished his seltzer and grabbed a second from the fridge. Trying to keep up, I chugged the remaining half of my Yuengling. When I finished drinking, Craig tossed me a second, which I opened and took a sip from.
“Why don’t you do something else?” he asked.
“I don’t know what to do with my life,” I replied as Craig took another massive gulp of seltzer.
“What was your GPA?” he asked, finishing his second seltzer, prompting me to down the rest of my second Yuengling.
“3.5,” I said, fumbling with the tab of my beer can.
“Oh, dude, what are you doing?” he asked. He finished his second seltzer, which prompted me to finish my second Yuengling. “You know, this isn’t a guarantee, but I should be looking to add to my team here in a couple of months.”
I looked down at my worn Adidas sneakers. “I don’t know, man,” I said, crushing my beer can between my fingers. “I don’t want to commit to Philly long-term.”
“That’s because you’re not in the city,” he said, opening another seltzer. “You should give it a shot. Try working and living down here for six months. You’d make more money and wouldn’t have to take the train all the time.”
I told him that I would think about it some more, knowing that I ultimately would turn down his offer. The two of us drank a few more beers until the sun began to set outside. We began walking towards Rittenhouse Square to test out the new cartridge he had picked up for me.
Once the office was far enough behind us, he began digging through his bag. He pulled out two small black boxes, handing one to me. Unlike my last one, which came in a small plastic bag, this new cartridge was locked in a plastic box by two yellow buttons on the sides.
After a short struggle, I managed to pry open the box and attach the new cartridge onto my battery. I took a drag before offering it to Craig, but he had begun smoking from his own. He laughed.
“See, that’s what I like about you,” he said. “All my buddies around here are a bunch of mooches. I’m good though. That’s yours.”
“You sure you don’t want to try it?”
“Okay… here. We’ll trade. This one’s an Indica.”
We continued to walk and smoke, trading cartridges back and forth until finally arriving at Rittenhouse Square. We sat on a bench in front of a pale tree. Craig placed his backpack onto the ground and opened it, handing me a seltzer and a t-shirt.
“Wrap them up so we don’t get an open container,” he said.
“I don’t get why you like these things so much,” I said, wrapping my seltzer can with his spare shirt.
“Listen, man. That’s a delicious, low-calorie beverage right there.” He motioned his drink toward me.
I laughed and drank from the shirt-wrapped seltzer can before taking my vape and inhaling from it until the light blinked.
“Jesus Christ,” laughed Craig. “That was pretty big.”
I laughed through waves of intermittent coughing.
“You know what, man?” I asked, giggling. He looked at me with raised eyebrows. “That’s some pretty good tree right there.” I pointed to the pale tree before us.
He laughed. “Yeah. That’s a good tree.”
“Yeah. There’s some sweet tree action out here.”
We sat on the bench, laughing about random nonsense until it became late. We walked through the cold night back to Suburban Station, smoking and laughing the entire way.
“I’m just saying though,” he said when we arrived back at the station. “I think you should consider moving here and getting a real job. You don’t want to be stuck at home forever.”
“I don’t know, man,” I said, looking at the jagged sidewalk beneath my worn sneakers. “I don’t know if this would make me happy."
"Because you’re so happy now?” he asked.
I looked up briefly at the clouded night sky. “Well, I guess that’s for you to decide,” he said. “Anyway, it was good seeing you.”
We shook hands, and I walked into the station. I took the vape from my pocket and examined it while standing on the yellow caution area before the track. I unscrewed the cartridge from the battery and threw it onto the rail below. I then put my empty vape battery back into my pocket and stepped back from the caution area.
