Penelope in Retrograde: A Novel(56)

“Looks like Nana Rosie is within state code.” Martin counts a total of six marijuana plants in black nursery pots. “It also looks like she partakes.”

Martin hands me a clear glass bong, which brings the total number of bongs I’ve ever held in my life to one.

“Are you seriously suggesting that Nana uses this to get high?” I ask.

“Well, she’s not using it to eat Twinkies,” Martin grumbles.

“What do I do with this?” I hold it like it’s a bomb or a baby. “I told you I took that DARE program very seriously.”

Martin takes it back and places it on the counter. “Hold up both of the flashlights.”

I do, and I watch as Martin maneuvers through the steps of bong prep as effortlessly as a Starbucks barista making their fiftieth Frappuccino of the day. Much like when I watch my latte being made at Starbucks, I’m clueless as to what he’s actually doing. There’s water from a bottle of Evian on the counter and there’s some ground up weed. That’s about all I can distinctly make out.

“Here ya go.” Martin holds the bong in front of me. “You’re going to cover this hole with your finger, and I’m going to light the bowl for you. Press your face to the mouthpiece and inhale. Got it?”

“That’s too many directions. You do it first.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m a visual learner, Martin.”

“I’m not going to be able to make it through dinner at this rate.”

“I’ll save you a piece of pie.”

“Twinkie pie?” His eyes widen. “God, why hasn’t anyone ever thought of that? It’s a freaking genius idea. I’m calling Hostess myself just as soon as—”

“Focus, Martin.”

“Right.”

Martin lights something and the bong starts bubbling like a beaker in a mad scientist’s lab. The smell is what gets to me. It’s so potent and rank that it makes my eyes start to water and my stomach churn. Just as Martin presses his face to it, I abandon ship. Senior year me would be so embarrassed of thirtysomething me. I make it out of the greenhouse just as Marie opens the back patio door.

“Ms. Penelope, your family is waiting for you,” Marie says. “Have you seen Mr. Butler by chance?”

“Holy shit, this stuff is strong!” Martin announces from inside the greenhouse.

Marie and I lock eyes.

“I’ll let Mr. Butler know it’s time to eat.”

“Mr. Butler?” He giggles. “When did my dad get here?”

“I’ll let your father know that you’ll need a minute.” Marie nods before slowly backing into the house.





By the time I convince Martin that his father is not hiding in my parents’ backyard and lure him back into the house with the promise of cornbread and pie, dinner is already underway. I plop Martin down at the end of the table as far away from my father as possible, and I take the spot next to him.

My phone buzzes with a text the moment I sit down, and the name Martin flashes across my screen. Of course, I know that this text isn’t actually from Martin. It’s from Smith, whose number I mislabeled, but Martin, who happens to be looking over my shoulder, does not.

“Holy shit,” Martin announces during an unfortunate lull in the conversation. He points at my phone screen. “How did I do that?”

He garners a few curious looks from around the table, but none quite as obvious as Smith’s.

“Eat your cornbread,” I whisper through a clenched smile.

I hold my phone underneath the table and open the text.

Martin: We need to talk.

Penny: Now isn’t a good time.

Martin: Before dessert?

Penny: IDK

I make a show of putting my phone on silent and turning it facedown on the table as Marie brings out the salad course. I shovel a few bites into my mouth and keep an eye on Martin to make sure he eats something too. My understanding of how marijuana affects the body is limited at best, but at least if Martin is eating, he isn’t talking.

A walnut flies across the table and hits me on the cheek. Across the table, Phoebe points at my phone and motions for me to turn it over. She’s about as subtle as a mime on acid, but my parents don’t notice. They’re too busy listening to my doppelg?nger to realize that a quarter of the table is completely stoned.

I grab my phone and once again make sure to keep it out of Martin’s view.

Phoebe: R U hi 2?

Oh, Phoebe. I only wish I could record this moment and savor it later on when I’m not in charge of stopping a grown man from making an ass out of himself in front of his boss.

Penny: No

“Do you smell that, Silvia?” My father lifts his nose in the air like a bloodhound trying to catch a scent. “I think that skunk is back again. You know, we’ve had the worst time with skunks lately.”

My mother’s face turns as red as a brick. “No, Carter. I don’t smell anything.”

It’s the worst lie ever. The dead can smell the weed on Martin’s jacket.

“Really? You don’t smell anything?” My father appears utterly befuddled. “Mother, what about you?”

Half the table shifts their attention to Nana Rosie.

“Oh, it’s definitely a skunk,” Nana Rosie replies without breaking a sweat. “I was talking with Alice next door, and she thinks there’s a family of them squatting in the neighborhood.”