Despite Delilah’s best efforts, Marissa, her daughter, still spent most of her time in her room. It’s not like she herself spent much time outside of the house, anyway. She didn’t have too many friends, and she did most of her work from home. Even her hobbies only took her to bookstores or libraries occasionally. She only worried that Marissa was lonely. Delilah had been feeling lonely herself, lately.
While reading the news in between projects, Delilah happened upon a study that claimed smoking cannabis could ease depressive symptoms. She snorted and closed the tab. She didn’t consider herself one to be taken in.
As the minutes passed, she found herself retracing her memories of when she last smoked. In her high school years, her friend had somehow, someway, found what she called an ‘ounce’. Delilah smiled and thought to herself that it must’ve been barely a gram. She remembered watching her roll it poorly into a joint, licking it closed, and lighting it in the backyard of her friend’s parents house. She felt the same pit of anxious desire form in her chest, a need that crawled her towards taking her first hit. We must’ve coughed more than we smoked, she thought. The dreamy haze of recollection blanketed her.
She remembered later that night when her friend had crawled on top of her, and gave her a nervous, trembling first kiss. Even now, remembering the feeling of her lips pushed against another girl’s made her flush red, almost dizzy with warmth. She pushed the memory away when she realized it was exactly the way she felt about her daughter when she hugged her last night.
As the day ran long, Delilah found herself haunted by the anxious desire to smoke weed again. Something about it allured her, though she wasn’t sure why. She found herself driving home from a nearby dispensary— she was glad it was much more convenient —with a capsule full of ten pre-rolled joints, and a opulent lighter she was talked into buying on sale. It was seventy five percent off, after all.
After much deliberation on Delilah’s part, she decided to wait until after Marissa had gone to bed to smoke. She figured that despite her room having the window to outside the apartment, she was probably in the clear after eleven. It wasn’t like she would look out the window anyway. She had heavy blinds specifically so she didn’t have to. Delilah realized she didn’t actually know that for sure, and suddenly felt bad for assuming it about her daughter. She wondered if she actually thought so low of her. She chastised herself for letting her worry get the better of her to the point of being so unfair to Marissa. Ultimately, she decided to wait until eleven anyway.
Delilah stepped outside in her slippers, jeans, and blue wool cardigan, joint and lighter in hand. Her apartment was on the fourth floor, and it’s front door led to a shared balcony that was luckily not a no smoking zone. She had checked multiple times just to make sure, walking up and down the stairs to see if any signage was posted. After she quelled her anxiety, she held the joint between her finger and thumb. She hesitated to light it, ogling the engraved metal lighter, but eventually got on with it. She took in a lungful of smoked, and exaggeratedly breathed in and out. The sound she made was audible, and she thought that if anyone else was around her, she would be embarrassed. Especially if they were a dyed in the wool smoker. She imagined her old friend standing beside her, teaching her how to smoke again. She bathed in the thought that they’d meet up and smoke together again. Delilah figured it was just the kind of night where she would think of doing a thousand things ‘again’.
“Mom?” she almost dropped the joint off of the balcony and she heard Marissa call from behind her. It was like the high was hitting her all at once then, and the joint wasn’t even halfway done. She froze, and slowly turned to face her. “Sorry, I just had my window open since it gets stuffy in my room, uhm… Are you smoking weed?”
Delilah wanted to slap herself for how stupid she felt. For all her preparation, she didn’t notice Marissa’s window being open. She considered her next options carefully.
“Yes, honey, I, uh… I am smoking.” She quickly realized how much consideration she usually put into her words when she spoke with Marissa, and cursed herself for her less than heightened faculties. She wished she was half as good at sobering up as she was when she drank. “Your mother was just, uhm, reminiscing, and, thought it might’ve been fun, to uh—”
“Mom, it’s okay,” Marissa smiled, apparently trying not to laugh, “it’s not a big deal.”
It was a big deal. She just didn’t know how to explain that to Marissa. It was a mom thing, this was just the kind of thing you weren’t supposed to let your daughter know about. Delilah felt a pain in her abdomen as she realized there were a lot of things she wasn’t supposed to be doing and feeling with her daughter that she definitely was. But then, Marissa stepped forward with a shy gait, and wrapped her arms around Delilah. She could barely help herself, holding Marissa against her with one arm, nearly crying. She began to think it was time to put down the joint.
“Sorry, you just looked so sad,” Marissa nuzzled her head into Delilah’s chest, and she stroked her hair, somehow almost as knotted as last night. She restrained the urge to work them out right now.
“You’re such a sweet girl,” she almost drooled from the sweet warmth that coursed through her like waves, radiating from her daughter, “Thank you.”
“So,” Marissa cleared her throat, “Can I have a hit?”
Before she could say ‘absolutely not’, Delilah started to worry that scolding her would only drive her away. It didn’t help that Marissa had such a sweet face on.
“Well,” she strained, “It’s not the most responsible thing to do, but, okay, you can smoke a little bit with me.”
“Yay! Thanks Mom!” Marissa exclaimed. Delilah didn’t regret anything.
Marissa took the joint from Delilah’s hand, put it between her fingers, and pulled for what felt like minutes. When she exhaled the smoke, her coughing spree took her to her knees. Well, at least I know she’s not doing this on her own, she thought.
“Let’s go inside, honey.” Delilah moved to take the joint from Marissa.
“W-wait,” Marissa choked, “Show me how to do it right…”
Delilah felt herself grow warm. This is wrong, a mother shouldn’t teach her daughter this!
“Here…” she couldn’t help herself. She took the joint, helped Marissa to her feet, and held her in her arms. She put the joint to her lips, “Now breathe in… keep going… okay, now, take it into your lungs, and,”
Marissa managed to breathe out the smoke without incident. Delilah felt her heartbeat quicken. She let her eyes linger on her lips, still pushed together from having blown out the smoke. Marissa’s face turned to a giddy smile.
“Did I do it right, mom…?” her words came out like she was drooling molasses.
“Yeah, baby.” Delilah finished the joint, put it out on the railing, and walked her daughter inside. “Let’s get you comfy.”
Delilah had to support Marissa while she walked her to her room. She tried to not get distracted by her daughters arms wrapped around her waist. After a small struggled, she laid her down on the bed beside her stuffed animals. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and before long, Marissa’s head was in her lap.
“Moommm…” Marissa sighed. The sound reached Delilah’s ears like a pleasant static blanket over her body. “Can we get a pizza?”
Delilah breathed out her composure and melted back down into the bed. She had put all the rest of her energy into sounding normal over the phone while ordering the pizza. Her entire body sank into the mattress beside Marissa, who stared at her from the other side of the bed. She took the capsule containing the nine other out of her pocket, and squinted her eyes to read the label. She quickly found what she was looking for. 27.3mg of THC in one joint. By the time she looked back to her daughter, she saw her loading up some kind of game on the computer monitor that faced her bed. Delilah watched as some kind of knight or warrior, controlled by her daughter, roamed a field of golden grass shrouded by fog. She almost felt like she was intruding on Marissa’s alone time. The longer she lay beside her, the more she felt out of place. There was a thick fog that separated them, too.
“Sweetheart, would you like me to leave?” as she finished her sentence, she watched as Marissa spun around, tears forming in her eyes. Without a second thought, Delilah pulled her daughter against her. She wrapped her arms around her waist, and snuggled her flush against her. Marissa yipped quietly, sniffled, and let her wipe the tears from her eyes. Delilah cupped her cheek, and…
And realized the look in her daughter’s eyes. They were glassy and red, much like the rest of her face. Delilah knew it must’ve been the high that gave her the half-lidded stare, but she swore to herself— and cursed herself for it —that she looked needy. As if to make things worse, Marissa smiled, and her pink and full lips seemed teasing to her. She realized this is how she must’ve looked before she had her first kiss. Curiosity burned inside her like a lighter’s flame below a polaroid. Would this be her daughter’s first kiss? Would she kiss her back? Delilah stopped herself just as she leaned in slightly, and adjusted her position to mask it. Had I really just accepted that I was going to kiss her? I’m terrible, she thought, she should have her first kiss with someone who isn’t her mother.
But the desire stayed. She focused her curiosity on something else as Marissa returned to her game, seeming to have sunk further into the mattress like she was trying to force herself through it. Delilah honed her curiosity in an attempt to expel it entirely.
“Have you had your first kiss yet, Marissa?” she asked, and almost immediately regretted it.
“Mmmn… no. Well, kinda, but, it doesn’t feel like it counts.” she snuggled back into position to play her game. “It was before I came out, so it barely even feels like it happened to me. So, I dunno, I guess I have, but, not really, it still feels like I’m waiting for my first.”
“Mhm, I understand,” Delilah spoke into Marissa’s hair, “I think I had something similar all those years back. It’s like someone else’s memory of you, but it’s in your head, right?”
“Yeah. Kinda.” Marissa cursed herself silently for having died in her game. “Thanks for uhm… letting me smoke, mom.”
“Mhn…” she tried to strain against herself to come up with a response, but her entire brain was obsessed with the scent her daughters hair. She moved her hands from her waist to her hip, foggy with absent thoughts. “Your mama loves you, you know that, right?”
“L-luh, love you too Mom,” she stuttered.
Delilah caressed her thigh while she pressed soft kisses into her hair. Marissa seemed to continue to lose focus on her game, muttering ‘d-damn’, and whimpering quietly. Eventually, she put down the controller and turned around to fully hug her mom. Delilah moved her hand in turn. She gently placed it on Marissa’s hip again. Delilah figured her daughter must’ve already been asleep, as she whispered soft noises into her chest. She felt at her thigh mindlessly, unconcerned and loving. Curious, she ran her hands along her side to see what kind of curves HRT had brought her. She was proud of the result, assuming Marissa would be satisfied. Her hand lingered on her ass, what she convinced herself was her naturally stopping point. She felt her heartbeat in her ears, quickened at her own audacity. She told herself it didn’t mean anything if she just gave it a light squeeze. When she did, she realized how pillowy and soft her daughter had become. She was a little chubby, which Delilah appreciated as a mother happy for her daughter’s health. She didn’t think about how it satisfied something else in her. Delilah kissed her forehead, her cheek, lingered at her lips once more, but then she shook her head, and fell asleep, Marissa in her arms.
