Cackle by Rachel Harrison

Author:Rachel Harrison [Harrison, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-10-05T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

—

Sometime later, Sophie gets up and returns with a cup of tea.

“Drink this, and then go to sleep,” she says.

“Are you leaving?” I ask. The tremble in my voice makes me sound like a child.

She puts a hand on my cheek and nods.

“You’ll be all right,” she says, “though the tea tastes terrible.”

“What is it?”

“Mushroom. My own blend,” she says. “It will make you feel better. I promise you that. You trust me, yes?”

“Yes,” I say. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be back in the morning,” she says. “If I stay tonight, tomorrow night will only be more difficult.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Probably?”

“You’re right.”

She smiles without teeth.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “You were tired. You wanted to rest tonight. You must be so sick of me.”

“Don’t be silly. You were in distress. I’m here. I want to be here. That’s what friends are for,” she says. “Isn’t it?”

“I’m a burden on anyone close to me,” I say, thinking of Sam and every other person I’ve ever latched onto, squeezed and leaned on until they had enough. Old boyfriends, camp bunkmates, recess friends. I make someone the center of my universe until they buckle under the weight. It’s habitual. Now that Sam is gone, I’m doing it to Sophie.

“You’re not a burden to anyone but yourself,” she says. “Drink your tea. Get some sleep. Good night.”

As she leaves, I notice the spider from earlier is in her hair, its legs clutching the strands.

When the door closes, the silence rises up against me. It takes shape. I don’t know what time it is. It feels like I’m neck-deep in a nightmare. I wish it were a nightmare.

I want to look at the picture again.

I want to analyze the look on his face. I want to compare it to the pictures of us.

The stink of the mushroom tea distracts me.

I slip off of the couch onto the floor, stretch my legs out underneath the coffee table. My arms are slack. I can’t stiffen my wrists. I rock myself forward and sip from the mug.

Sophie was right. This tea is truly repulsive. It’s thick. It drags its nails across my tongue, squirms down my throat. But once it’s inside me, once it’s settled, it begins to warm me. Soothe me.

I take another sip. And another.

A brightness erupts inside my head. It splits into twin stars, one in each eyeball, twirling in my vision. Spinning, spinning.

Another sip and I’m up. I’m testing out my new body. It’s made of lightning.

I reach down and pick up the mug. There are little bits floating in it. Dark leaves. Tiny black seeds. Dried mushrooms. Flowers.

I finish drinking the tea. I swallow some of the flowers. The mushrooms. I don’t know if I’m supposed to.

I trust that I’ll be okay.

I dance around my apartment to music I can’t hear. But it’s there. I know it’s there. The spiders are dancing, too. They wave their limbs. I wave mine. I have just as many. Just as many as them.

Too many.

I raise my arms up.

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