“Memorabilia”

“Is this your first time using?”
“Yes. Well, I used marijuana in college. Just on the weekends mostly. I’ve never tried hallucinogens or anything.” Morana shifted uncomfortably in the office chair as she spoke.
The doctor, though he lacked the credentials to be described as such, shook his head firmly at that. “This is not hallucinogenic. That is child’s play. Designed to make you feel something.”
Her brows knitted together. “Well, what is this stuff designed to do?”
“To make you go elsewhere, of course.” He picked up the first of five items that she had brought with her. His face is lined with wrinkles. His eyes are tired. The person that sits and watches through them is far away. Like something about him isn’t quite there.“Why did you bring this one with you?”
He holds the small red toy car between his fingers, peering at it through his glasses.
“It was Sam’s favorite thing in the world. We bought it at a rest stop on our way to see my parents. I think he looked at that car more than he did his grandmother on that trip. He never let that toy out of his sight.” The mother’s voice shakes as she speaks.
“And how did that make you feel?” The doctor asks plainly.
“Happy. Happy to see him happy.”
He nods as he reaches into his desk drawer and removes his medical instrument of choice. Morana’s eyes widen as she sees what he’s holding. A rock. A grey rock perfect for skipping over the waters on a family lake trip, but instead it is here. She knows what’s next.

He doesn’t even glance up before bringing the rock down onto the car and smashing it into pieces. Again and again and again. The plastic cracks loudly. Again and again and again. Until all that is left is a pile of dust.
The doctor repeats this with all of the other items Morana brought with her.

A ceramic piggy bank.
The boy put any coin he could find in it.

Dust.

A small little league soccer trophy.
The boy fell asleep cradling it the night after his coach handed them out.

Dust.

A Lego block.
The boy left them all over his bedroom floor. They were still there.

Dust.

A crumpled scrap of a blue button up shirt.
The boy was buried in that shirt. Morana had held on so strongly that it had torn.

The man sliced it to pieces. Again and again and again.

Dust.

He sweeps the piles together, and she avoids watching. Morana stares out the window. He continues to bring the rock down upon the substance. Again and again and again. He looks up finally.
“Are you ready?” Morana nods.
“Are you sure?” Morana pauses for a moment.
“How often do you use?” Morana asks the man.
The man brings the rock down upon the substance once again before meeting her eyes. “About once each day.”
“It doesn’t- does that not mess with your brain?” She inquires.
“No. My nose hurts sometimes, but nothing else ever does.”

Morana takes a large inhale of the thin air around her before looking back down at the table. The man takes his credit card from his wallet. Sliding the fine powder this way and that until it made a single line.

He trades his card for a dollar bill. Rolls it up. Passes it to Morana.

“Place that to your nose. Drag it across the line. Suck in through your nostril. Hard.”

Morana has seen it done in movies.

She just never thought she would be doing it herself.

She does exactly as he says. She drags the bill across the dust containing fragments of her son.

As she inhales, she swears that the substance hits her brain. She closes her eyes and feels her body turn to dust too. Just like him.

Morana wakes again. Light floods the room. Laughter echoes down the hall. Her legs shake beneath her as she stands from her office chair and takes off running down the hall.

“Sam?” She shouts after the boy. “Sam?”

Racing into the living room, she sees him sitting on the rug. She can’t get to him fast enough. “Oh my god,” She sweeps the boy up into her arms as she sobs. “Oh my god, it’s you. It’s you.” She holds him tightly to her chest as she kisses his head. Her knees buckle to the ground, but she won’t let him go.

She will never let him go.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Sam looks at her with shining eyes.
“No. No, nothing’s wrong. Mommy’s fine,” She wipes the tears from her eyes.
“Okay,” He reaches his hand up to her face, clutching something in his small fingers. Sunlight glimmering off the red plastic.

She takes the toy from his hand. “Car,” He smiles.
“Yeah,” Morana laughs through her tears. “It’s your car.”

Two months later, two men sit across from each other. The moon rises in the sky and lights the room through the small corner window. The doctor watches the customer closely.
“Who are you here to see today?”
“My son and my wife.”
The doctor nods. “And how did they pass?”
The customer clears his throat. “My son died in a car accident a few years ago, and my wife–she died of an overdose just two months ago.”
“Is this your first time using?”