The first time I dropped acid I had a vision of Sister Patricia. She was wearing a beautiful tie-dyed habit, kneeling on her stone floor, head bowed, praying to God. There was a light rattling, tapping, rustling sound at the window that startled her out of her meditations. She floated to the window and opened it up and when she did it let in a rainbow; pure and just as vivid as my crayons had once been. The beauty of it enveloped the cold, dreary room, and filled it–filled her–with the Love of God. I was nineteen–long after catechism classes and church and even prayer had been a part of my life–holed up in my one room apartment with some guy I’d met two hours earlier. I still can’t remember his name, but his hair was Goldenrod and his eyes were Sky Blue.
~ Prologue, WFS
“Listen to me, Brian. I love you.”
I put as much feeling and power behind the word as I could, but it still didn’t seem like enough. Because what I meant, of course, was that he was fire and music and life. That he was everything that was good and decent and strong. That his heart was so big and full that I couldn’t understand how his body could possibly contain it; why it didn’t just burst open and spill out all over the place, all that passion and wonder and heat.
Because love is a weak word. Just four little letters. But it was the only word I had, so I said it again, because I really did love him. Even though what I meant was all those words I couldn’t bring myself to say, all the emotions I didn’t even know the names for. The ones that meant even more.
~ Chapter 21, WFS
Rachel looked up at the ceiling so I did, too. It was a drop ceiling, a grid. Big white squares with yellowish water stains here and there that looked just like piss. The Doctor and Dusty Pink Nurse talked to each other in low voices, about whatever it is that doctors and nurses talk about. And then it was time.
Stirrups. Ultrasound. The screen was pointed mercifully away from Rachel. Even if it hadn’t been she wouldn’t have seen it, because she didn’t shift her gaze, not once. Still looked straight up and I wondered if she was counting tiles. Or maybe counting the tiny little holes in the tiles. What were those holes? Were they there just for looks? Ventilation? Air bubbles that formed when the factory cooked the tiles? What the hell were those tiles made from, anyway? Styrofoam? Plastic?
It didn’t matter, and now I had to listen to The Doctor again. She was saying something about sedation. Demerol for pain and Valium to help her relax. Rachel nodded. She was all for that. Until The Doctor mentioned the dangers of giving it to her if she’d consumed any drugs or alcohol in the past twenty four hours. And that’s when she had to tell us.
She’d taken Something last night. Right before she’d hopped into bed.
“Just so I could sleep, Tess. Just so I–”
I put my hand up. “It’s alright, Rach.”
I said it even though it wasn’t alright. It was as far away from alright as we could get. But it was a done thing and right now I couldn’t do anything about it. Right now she needed to settle down and not worry about Condemnation and Judgment and Consequences. There would be enough of that later. But when it came it wouldn’t be from me, and it wouldn’t be about the Something that had helped her drift off to sleep. It would be even worse. It would be Rachel judging Rachel. I knew it. I could see it in her eyes. Already.
~ Chapter 26 WFS
When I slipped into bed beside Brian he asked me–this time–if I was alright. And I told him no, but that will teach me for eating red meat. And he said yep I guess it will. Then I fucked him. Even though I’d just taken a painful shower and vomited out what was left of my soul; even though I was so completely exhausted that I couldn’t think of any profanity that was harsh enough to qualify it; even though I wasn’t horny at all, and neither was he. I fucked him anyway. I even managed to come. A vague reflex, a purely physical reaction; the same way your stomach will begin to digest your supper once you’ve eaten it. Even when you’re not hungry.
~ Chapter 27 WFS