Alia and Natty smoke real cigarettes. They light up, breathe in smoke oh-so smooth and breathe out like old-fashioned pros. I wanna try. C’mon, guys, let’s have a go. Okay, says Natty. She hands me a smoke. I kiss my lips shut around it, eyes cross. It bobs out like a flag. Alia muffles a snicker—slightly. Natty hands me the lighter. Just so I’ll fumble, and I do. Snatches it back, lights me up. Smoke floods my mouth. Mmm mmm Eeea-sy! Inhale, says Natty. I am. No, she says. Inhale, breathe in and I breathe right in, all the way in, right down to the root of my lungs in! in! and I—blow bile on the pavement of 97th Street. Alia and Natty laugh at me sputtering, giggling with them.
Alia and Natty tear vampires from my closet. Pseudo tough-girl outfits purchased with a model slayer in mind. Tossed. Official series posters torn from my walls. It’s time, they say. And I guess—breath—the lunchbox, the action figures have to go. The quote I’d typed in Curlz and taped above my window: “You think you know ... what you are, what’s to come. You haven’t even begun.” Oh, the limited edition Faith with the real leather jacket, oh, the chalice, the red candles, the wooden stake. Gone. My wardrobe, halved. My walls, bare. Buffy VHSs boxed up and put away (easy access—shh!).
Alia and Natty are all about sex. All about it. And I am ready for a double-bed. I pick out red sheets red blankets red pillow cases (to go all the way in! Just like Buffy did, season 2 episode 13. Alia and Natty will approve! Of sex, at least—shh!). Natty and I wrestle with IKEA instructions. Alia appears in the doorway with a face all a-pinch. We take her down to the kitchen, wash cum out of her hair in the sink. She tells us about fucking under a running tap. You’re the first! Says Natty. We are just so happy for Alia. She got it on with some twentynine year old actor. How femme fatale, how mod, what a seductress! How hot.
Cheers to that, says Natty. Clank ‘n’ choke. We sip cheap wine. It chars my throat. Smoke a few— breathe in just. a. little. Getting good at this—we all are.
Julia Dillon-Davis is a screenwriter, playwright, and producer. Her plays have been produced in theatre festivals in Edmonton and Victoria. She co-produced Freshman’s Wharf, which won the 2011 Leo Award for Best Web Series. She was a finalist for the Sir Peter Ustinov Scriptwriting Fellowship the same year. She resides in Victoria, B.C.