The Quiet Parts Pt. 8
SEVENTH STORY
“I knew you’d ask about my new roommates. They’re doing great! In fact, we added three more since last session. That makes fourteen! Jason loves building lofts.
“Honestly, I thought there would be more problems with so many guys living together. Andre’s been a godsend for that. (He’s a sweetheart. We’re taking it slow.) He’s the coolest . . . I want to say . . . superintendent! You know, he’s always checking in with the guys, like, Are you okay, Do you need anything? (And he thinks I’m a total snack. He told me the other day I was looking thick. I’m like, okay, boo. You cute, too.) If I was like a landlord landlord he’d be the perfect building supervisor.
“My favorite is this guy Stephen. He’s just a cutup! He’s older, mid-thirties, ya know, always sitting on the porch telling stories about being in the navy. Oh. No, he isn’t active. I would never let a soldier in my home. Talk about toxic masculinity! Stephen’s like the house dad. He and the other guys play music and play cards. It reminds me of levee workers from back in the day. At nights it gets pretty rowdy! But they don’t party too late because they know that triggers my anxiety.
“The way I see it, black people are like dirt—”
“I’m sorry?” Dr. Kenya, a biracial woman in a kente dress and gele, sits lotus pose on the mat across from Leigh. Surprised by the interruption, Leigh reconsiders her words, which could be taken the wrong way.
“Let me clarify. Black people have to crawl through so much heaviness that it makes them heavy, spiritually. White people are sky. Dirt and sky don’t mix. But the only way we’re going to heal is to put all that bullshit aside and come together to create a new element. These guys I’m living with are doing. The. Fucking. Work. I am so proud of them. I know deep down I have oracular power. I envisioned this moment in my dreams.”
“Ashe,” says Dr. Kenya with a flash of her small, white teeth.
“Ashe,” Leigh agrees. “There was a problem with Mica. I knew him in college. I kinda broke his heart, heh. He’s sweet. But, ya know, he’s hella queer. And he brought in his friend Reggie who is just the sweetest queer boy. And they came to me one day saying they weren’t comfortable with the guys they were living with. And I flipped my shit. I’m a mama bear when it comes to my queerdos.
“I told them if somebody’s bashing they have go. And they said they love their roommates but they just feel crowded, and there is sort of a generational disconnect. It was my idea in the first place to bring in older guys. I wanted a multigenerational house. And that was a gamble. Guys in their thirties and forties can be hella on some toxic masculinity.
“But the elders in the community . . . They’ve just seen so much that the small things don’t bother them. They’re cool, ya know? But I listened to what Mica was saying and opened another room, so now we have the elder room and the millennial room. It’s hella chill.
“So, get this. With so much namaste and ashe in the air, I’m closer than ever to my roommates. Yeah, I’m still doing yoga with Sequoia. And the other day Jason asked me to help him come out to his parents. Not as queer. As a drug dealer! He’s been telling them he’s the IT guy for a nonprofit! And he told me he wanted me there for moral support.
“He’s a totally different guy on the clock. He’s got this whole dealer outfit with jeans and a leather jacket. And he carries a gun! Wild, right? He took me to this punk house and I got to watch him shake down a kid. I won’t lie, it was pretty gangsta.
“So we drove to the hills and his parents own this beautiful mansion! I mean, they had a butler! They thought I was his girlfriend and I‘m like, Ha ha, no, just a friend! (And we drank delicious cabernet. 1930s vintage.) We’re all siting on golden couches and they ask him, Have you thought about maybe not dealing drugs? But he held his ground! He said, No, this is what I do, Mom and Dad. I’m a dealer, and I’m your son. I always knew I was a nurturer and to help him come out was so affirming, ya know. It was hella dope!
“It just feels like I’ve discovered that balance between spiritual fulfillment and financial fulfillment. We’re making so much money with these new roommates, I might not even go back to school in the fall! I’m saving up for that ayahuasca trip.
“You still haven’t asked me about Joshua Tree! I’m still digesting the visions. It’s like for the first time I felt truly at one with the earth—”
“We’re at time,” Dr. Kenya interrupts. “But it sounds to me like you’ve opened a portal.”
Leigh freezes. She wonders if, in her heedless positivity, no doubt augmented by the shrooms she’s ingested, perhaps she messed up and told the woman she’s stashing men in literal portals.
“What work do you want to do going forward?” Dr. Kenya asks.
“Continue to microdose,” Leigh resolves. It seems her secret is safe. “It keeps my depression in check.”
Before leaving, she embraces her therapist. “Namaste,” Dr. Kenya farewells, and Leigh squeezes her tight, enveloped in good vibes.