A different form of love!

“What a perfect time to practice for your future,” you joked quietly in the pharmacy. I told you I didn’t know how to ask for what we needed. You asked me to try. Just to you, in an aisle quietly and that you would try not to laugh. All I remembered was that the Spanish word for pregnant sounds a lot like the English word for embarrassed and I was hoping in just a few minutes to know I would only be one of those two.

Your pharmacies are different. There weren’t even bottles of water for sale so you asked for one from behind the counter. That much I could understand.

When you handed me the brown paper bag and tiny airline style water bottle I laughed. I started unboxing the pills before realizing you didn’t expect me to take them right there. Standing in my latex boots I bought off Instagram, my first reaction was to take them and open my mouth to prove it, like I used to have to with my parents after I got caught doing drugs a few times, maybe between three and twelve. But drugs bad enough that it was enough to ruin the rest of high school and why I wasn’t allowed to take any pain medication after getting my three wisdom teeth removed.

I only had three, naturally. It’s no wonder I’m not that smart, I thought. If I ended up here standing in a pharmacy at 1am in Mahim Circle.

Before any other customers could take too good of a look, I stuffed the bag into my purse and took a few sips of water to wash out my mouth that still tasted like sex but would soon be filled with iPill, which I still honestly don’t love.

For a moment there, before getting into the Uber I called by tethering off your iPhone’s internet, I felt like you trusted me. That you knew that I would take them. Leaving potentially the rest of your life, and future, and mine, in my hands. In a small brown bag, in a cab on the way to a club and that maybe that is what love, the impermanent and sometimes just lasting a few hours type, feels like. 

Next blog will be out soon.
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Desai Thoughts MEdia.

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