Jenni is at an indoor soccer game, standing beside a fellow Prov student. He's so stoned you can tell from a mile away. Two other guys across the room are also obviously high. It's not the first time we've talked about this. He says he can 'see in my eyes' that I've 'lived some life' and that's why he's comfortable talking with me.
A: Jenniiii! Whatcha know? (his 'gangsta/street style' how-are-you) You all done taking psyc now? (We've taken a few classes together, and he calls me his psychologist... my fave term of endearment).
J: Yup. I guess we don't have any more classes together.
A: Yeah, you all counselor and stuff. You can mess with people's minds...
J: I'm no counselor.
A: Yeah, but that doesn't mean you can't counsel me, you know. You know stuff.
J: I know I can smell weed on you. How much you got?
A: (Glancing around to see if anyone is listening) I don't got none.
J: So when did you smoke up?
A: Keep it down... keep it down. I told you! I haven't done that for ages.
J: Like two hours?
A: (Hangs head... laughs a little) Twenty minutes.
J: Them too? (indicating his two friends)
A: Jenniiii! (embarrassed teenager voice) See! you mess with people's minds!
...he redirects the conversation to something lighthearted to avoid the subject.
A: How old are you anyways?
J: 27.
A: No! (repeated statements of disbelief... finally confirmed my age with my roommate who was a few steps away). Okay, okay... I believe you. I mean, it's just that... dang, girl! You keep well! (Giving me a full head to toe). I woulda said 22.
This conversation ends with referrals to counselors for all three guys. Check that off my list of things to do...
6 days ago
