In February of 2003, my beloved Zeyda died. I can’t say I had seen him that much after he had fled to Toronto, but I had seen him every summer, and he would sometimes come visit us in Victoria. He was definitely the most fun grandparent any kid could have wished for, and of course I loved him to bits, but after losing a nine year old best friend at the age of ten, it was hard to feel sad when people said my Zeyda was so “young” because he had died at the age of seventy. My Mom and aunts decided to bury him in Montreal, so off I went for another sudden funeral trip. “Here, take a joint in case you get sad,” Mitchi offered, and I just stared at him. “I can’t take a joint to my Grandfathers funeral Mitchi,” I said, and he shrugged. “I would,” he said.“Well that’s you, you take those things everywhere,” I said. “Not to dance competitions, which reminds me you’ll be missing the one this weekend I guess,”he said sadly. “Aw, well the next one for sure! What’s so special about this one? You look sad,” I said because indeed he did. “Well….Steph, that sixteen year old in my hip hop class gave me something, she said to try it before competition because it boosts your energy and makes you dance like ten times better,” he said. “But you dance perfectly already,” I argued, because he definitely did. “You could always be better Chelsea,” he snapped so I shut up,when it came to Mitchi and dance I definitely did not want to argue with him.“What’s the stuff called?” I asked him. “Speed, if it’s good I’ll let you have some,” he said. “NO WAY! That’s that meth stuff my Mom i s always going on about, I’ll never try that you get addicted,” I said frantically. “This type of meth isn’t addictive,” he said. “That makes no sense Mitchi,” I told him. “Yeah it does the girls at my studio do it all the time and they’re not addicted,”“yeah they are if they do it all the time you dumbass,” I said to him. “Well I’m still doing it, if it makes me do a more perfect job,” he said. “You are perfect Mitchi, you won’t be any more perfect with a drug.”
Even though I had gone to visit Montreal the summer before itwas good to be back, and see my godparents and Eitan again. He had settled intohis new life in Montreal quite well, and Essy was doing a lot better now thatshe was living next door to her Mother. I did end up crying quite a bit duringmy Zeyda’s funeral, but for the majority of the trip I was worried about Mitchi.I did get the chance to talk to him on MSN every evening and he kept going onabout how much he loved speed, and how earlier that week he had tried his firsthit of acid.
On my twelfth birthday I did my first hit of acid with Mitchi as well, which turned out to be terrible because I ended up hallucinating what happened to Alexis that day at the swimming pool. Mitchi was far from sympathetic and was laughing about how I had tried acid before I even got my period. “Or my first kiss,” I added, amused at his sudden bewilderment. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?!” he exclaimed.“Have you?” “Yeah I have, of course I have,” he said. “Okay big shot, with who then?” I asked him. “Maya,” he bragged, “SHUT UP! She’s so pretty,” I breathed.“Does she know you’re gay? Why did she kiss you?” “Uh okay no one except for you knows that I’m gay, and I kissed her because we got drunk at Cam’s party,”he said proudly. “You’ve been drunk?” “You haven’t? Okay well first things first, let me give you your present,” he said happily. “You did already, the Grease DVD,” I said to him (Mitchi and I were going through a major Grease faze). “No I am going to give you something way better, your first kiss!” he said happily and I stared at him in shock. “Ew no I don’t know how,” I said to him and he laughed. “That’s why I’m doing this, so I can teach you,” he said still giggling. “Come on don’t look so scared, I’m doing you a favour, plus you could do a lot worse than your best friend,” he said. I could do a lot worse period, Mitchi was one of the most gorgeous people I had ever seen, everyone who met him thought that. “Okay, go,” I said. “Close your eyes Chels, you have to close your eyes so it’s more romantic, okay…good, that was good no teeth good job!” “Can we try it one more time? With…like…” “Tongue? Sure! Okay…Wow you’re good, want to make out?” he asked me. “WHAT?!” I screamed. “Well it’s easy, also you’re blessed with a long tongue,” he said. “You’re gay though,” I snorted. “Who cares?” he asked, and I sure didn’t so I spent my twelfth birthday in the secret house Mitchi and I had built doing a hit of acid, and making out with my fourteen year old gay best friend.