Tracy's head pounded. Several of her bug bites still itched. And yet she could not begin to think of sleep. She had done something too bananas to begin to think of sleep. She had drugged the coffee. She had truly, actually, fricking drugged the coffee.
{Friiick,} she breathed under Mom's side of the covers. It smelled weirdly bad and good at the same time under here. Gross and homey. Eau de cabin life.
It had been a quick, harrowing decision. She had vaguely understood the risks. But Mom and Seay had been due back any moment, so she had cracked the pill bottle open, counted four of the little tablets into her sweaty palms, and then plunked them into the coffee pot mid-percolation. They had floated, to her pale-faced horror. She had watched anxiously as they dissolved in the boiling hot liquid, little swirls of dissolution spreading out from their centers.
She had been afraid of the drugs taking effect mid-conversation. That had seemed like the worst possible outcome. But it had been over quickly. She had been exiled to Mom and Dad's room. And now she laid there and waited, throbby, itchy, and unsleeping, to feel the effects of her own little dose. If nothing else, she was pretty sure this drug couldn't make her hangover worse.
The label on the little pill bottle had been in a European-looking language. But the formula had read: methylenedioxymethamphetamine. She still wasn't sure how to pronounce it. But she had put two and two together: this was a party drug that started with 'M.' This was Molly.
It was a hail mary. It was a stupid, stupid idea. But it was the choice she had made, and now she was living with it.
Now, to be clear, Tracy's intent was not to make Mom horny. Her intent was to intoxicate her, get her guard down, and then persuade her to let her and Seay off the hook. All they had done was go out in search of a little fun on their vacation! Mom needed to understand how normal that was. Not even Tracy-normal. How ACTUALLY normal.
She had a good feeling it was going to work. Their mother had a few quirks, but she was fundamentally a kind woman. Whatever had compelled her to rip out Michelle's belly ring, she hadn't been in her usual state of mind. Blaze had just walked in on her, naked in the bathroom.
She had been full of adrenaline. And maybe even feeling a little powerful, given Blaze's response to what he had just witnessed.
Tracy heard footsteps approaching the bedroom. She sat up, and saw her mother enter the room.
"Oh, hey," Mom smiled. "Didn't realize you would be up. Feeling any better?"
"Hey," Tracy said, and yawned. She stretched. It felt good. "Don't kick me out yet. Please?"
"And why shouldn't I?" Mom smirked. She sat down at her vanity and talked to her daughter in the mirror. "Your poor brother is up there cleaning all by himself."
"Didn't you say I'm supposed to stay away from him?"
"Good memory," Mom said. "Actually, what I said was you may spend all the time you want together, so long as it's where I can see you."
"You know, three's kind of a crowd up there."
"We're family," Mom shrugged. She closed one eye and began penciling on some liner.
Tracy rolled her eyes and laid back down on the bed. She stared up at the ceiling. There were cobwebs up there. A spider had built a whole little nest. Tracy wondered idly if spiders could get high on Molly. She giggle-snorted at the image this conjured. What a creepy thought.
Mom paused.
Tracy glanced over at her.
Mom was staring at her through the mirror.
"What?" Tracy asked, a little nervous.
"That was cute," Mom smiled. She turned around. She leaned back on the table.
Tracy blinked, unsure of the protocol. Should she smile back? Or would that be weird?
"I haven't heard you laugh like that in a while," Mom said.
"I laugh all the time."
"Do you?" Mom sighed. She had applied only a smidge of makeup. She felt prettier, safer, with makeup on. Less undesirable. Even if she wrestled, sometimes, with what this said about her.
"You're staring," Tracy grinned. She sat up on her elbows. She scratched an itch on her chin. She squinted curiously at Mom. Was Mom feeling the Molly?
Mom frowned.
Tracy laughed.
"What?" Mom said.
"Mom, I gotta know something."
Mom blinked at her.
"What did Michelle say to make you rip her belly ring out?"
"Oh!" Mom blushed. She grimaced, remembering. "She said something that... made me uncomfortable."
"Like what?" Tracy snorted. "Did she hit on you or something? I bet she did, didn't she?"
"Hmm," Mom hummed. "I guess I should check on your brother. Make sure he's not having too much fun up there."
"That was so wild, Mom," Tracy snorted.
"Let's not talk about it anymore, please."
Mom rose. She went to the bed and sat beside her daughter. She looked at her and tried to parse her own features in Tracy's younger, prettier, sun-flecked ones. But all she saw was love.
"Gosh," Mom whispered, warmth flooding her, relaxing her, as she gazed down at her daughter's cringing, blushing, face. "I know I'm upset at you, but I can't help staring at you. Always. I just love you so much."
"Okay," Tracy fidgeted. "You can stop, though."
"Can't," Mom whispered, and grinned. "I'm in love."
"Gross," Tracy groaned. But her own tense innards were shifted, began to unknot, as she feigned obligatory disgust.
"I'm a good mom," Mom smiled. "Even though I'm strict. Right?"
"If I say no, are you going to maim me?"
"Yes."
"Then you are the best mommy who ever lived. Please stop staring like that. Go creep on Seay. He looks just like me."
"No he doesn't. He looks like his father. You look like me."
"It was a joke, Mom."
"Oh."
The two women shared a long, unexpectedly pleasant silence, in which they simply enjoyed each other's company.
"I'll miss this," Mom said softly. Her throat was parched. Her mouth was dry and tasted like cheap coffee. But she licked her lips anyway, leaned forward, and kissed her daughter's clammy, clayey forehead.
Tracy didn't recoil from the kiss. She didn't exactly lean into it, either. She was sitting on a secret that all of a sudden felt small and stupid in comparison to how big and brilliant her Mom's love was. Maybe it was just the Molly talking? But Tracy's gut, in that moment, told her to be completely honest.
"Mom," Tracy said. "I have to tell you something. Please don't get mad."
"No promises," Mom giggled.
"I, um, put something in the coffee," Tracy admitted.
"Mhm," Mom said. "What do you mean?"
"Molly," Tracy winced. The anxiety was still there. Diminished, and diminishing, but not all the way gone yet.
"Oh," Mom frowned. She looked confused. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. What is Molly?"
"It's... ecstasy. Um. MDMA. I think."
Mom sat very still as she processed this. She nodded at her daughter. Then she looked away, over at herself in the vanity mirror. There, too, was Tracy. From this far away, and with a little makeup on, Mom did briefly see the resemblance. It felt like glimpsing a rainbow. She couldn't look away. She didn't want the illusion to fade.
"M-Mom?" Tracy muttered.
Mom turned back to Tracy. The rainbow didn't disappear. The girl looked radiantly familiar. Not just baby girl. Her own young self. She saw the trepidation. The fear of repercussion. And she felt it all over her own older body.
"Honey, are you telling me you snuck ecstasy into my coffee?"
"N-not just yours," Tracy gulped. In for a penny, in for a pound. If Mom was feeling it - and Tracy, who was definitely feeling something, was pretty sure she was - then this would be the surest path to rectification. And to getting to spend more time with Blaze and Michelle.
Ohhh, frick. Her body responded emphatically to the thought of getting to see Blaze and Michelle one more time. And of getting to do more than simply see. Suddenly, Tracy did not want just to suck Blaze or finger Michelle. She wanted to know them better. She wanted to cuddle naked and listen to their life stories, their inner thoughts, their private worries. She wanted to love them. She also wanted to suck and finger them.
Tracy's stupid overactive vulva, well-hidden under Mom and Dad's covers, flushed with heat. Tracy's cheeks, out in the wide fricking open, did the same. She felt so, so guilty-looking. She pressed on at her peril.
"Are you saying I wasn't the only one you gave it to?" Mom asked. She blinked slowly.
Tracy nodded stiffly. She had not planned for, but since come to accept, the full extent of the consequences she had risked with this stunt. She had watched in powerless, giddy-making horror as Mom had poured an additional cup of tainted coffee for her som. And she watched now, with grim fascination, Mom process that her sweet, innocent, dim-witted boy was probably upstairs tripping balls while he scrubbed and tidied.
"Tracy," Mom said, a warning note entering her tone. "Are you serious, right now? This isn't just one of your jokes?"
Tracy pulled the covers up to her chin and shook her head no. She clenched her thighs shut. Stop it, body! She shuddered and braced for the worst.
"I see," Mom said. She took one of her long signature breaths. "That does explain this funny feeling, I suppose. And you said you took some, too?"
Yeah, Tracy nodded.
"Are you feeling it, then?"
Another nod.
Mom smiled.
"That was a very foolish decision," she sighed. "I am confident I'll be properly furious, whenever this wears off."
Tracy's eyebrow tilted curiously upward.
"It was also," Mom continued, "very noble of you to come clean. I think that's why I'm having a hard time feeling upset with you."
"R-really?" Tracy whispered. She began to relax her grip on her covers. It was so strangely easy to relax on Molly. Super, duper, all-the-way okay became her baseline.
"Well," Mom pursed her lips, "that and the drugs."
Both women giggled.
"You stinker. Why on earth would you drug your own mother? Are you hoping I ground you for the rest of the summer?"
"No."
