"Oh what a tangled web we weave / When first we practice to deceive."

-Sir Walter Scott

"Good morning," Daphne whispered to the birds and bugs outside on her balcony. She pinched a well-endowed joint between her fingers and lit it up. She had a nice hour and a half before Brandon got home. They were going to watch audition tapes of live bands to hire for their wedding until he passed out from working the night shift at the hospital.

She almost needed to be high to endure the auditions.

Brandon, bless his heart, needed a live band at their wedding. Daphne wasn't opposed to that, but the live talent available in Canard Grey versus the live talent available in Brandon's beloved Chicago was like asking for a popstar to play a county fair.

The county had good talent, but God, did this town love their lumberjack melodies.

And boy, were the spiders coming in fierce these last couple of days. She didn't see any, though their webs, stretched from the storm last night, wiggled a hello to her. They were abundant. Life, though arachnid, had returned to Canard Grey.

Daphne sat down in one of the pine chairs Brandon got her for a moving-in present two years ago. Back then he didn't mind her smoking weed. These chairs were made for balcony lounging.

Now it was Brandon's prerogative to have her quit by their wedding. He didn't want to move into a new house and smoke it up. We rent this place right now, Daph. I could kind of care less.

But he did care because he made a habit of asking when she last smoked.

Brandon was under the impression Daphne smoked only on the weekends. However, no long weekend had ever extended into Wednesday.

Daphne relit the joint. She needed this. As she noticed the ends catch flame and start to create a luscious char. She stopped worrying so much about bookings or menus and wouldn't give another thought to the colors.

It was freshly June. The wedding wasn't until September. She didn't want to count the days. She wanted to count the dew drops that had developed on the spiders' webs overnight. She would sit with the sunrise and be glad for the late-spring day. She inhaled the foggy, grassy air, exhaled, and brought in the earthy cosmic smoke from the weed. This was her meditation.

The spiders were out and proud when she slid open the balcony door. Because she had slept in, the sun was up higher than she was used to, as well. But she needed the sleep after working hard confirming the hotel rooms and planning out the menu, and squinting at invitation fonts all day.

Who cared that much about fonts?

Brandon was tied between two.

Her stomach dropped to her ankles when she spotted a lighter on the balcony table. She had left it there yesterday morn ing. Damnit. Thank God Brandon had slept and gamed all day. Had he noticed, Daphne feared she would be called out on the spot for smoking and she couldn't handle this pressure.

After her "tapering schedule" to quit weed reached the point where she probably shouldn't be seen smoking every day, Daphne had begun smoking at night after Brandon left for night shift. And while this weaved a tangled web, it was also the only hand she could play.

And, smoking at night offered privacy from neighbors in the building–-and probably a block over–sniffing out who was skunking up the place. Smoking was also more exciting than going over a seating plan. The delinquency was, however, getting her a little paranoid.

As Daphne toked on a blunt this time, she admired a new web zigzagging between the railing posts to her left. The spider was working at the bottom, crawling from one string to another and laying more below it. Normally she hated being in close proximity with spiders, but with a new dose of THC to her mind, she was enraptured. She squinted to get the right focus upon the delicate weaving. The spider was likely aware a human was around it, but that meant nothing when there was work to be done–a meal to be caught.

An artful ode to hunger.

Their webs were undaunted art in the presence of those greater than them. She respected their hard work. They were mesmerizing when the light of the sunrise hit it just right. She didn't get to see that when she smoked at sunset.

However, while the spiders could weave all they wanted along the balcony railing, Daphne picked off the webs that bridged themselves from the patio to her bedroom window.

Daphne was only halfway through planning. Brandon’s mother could weave herself into the wedding planning as much as she wanted to. Less for Daphne to do. A wedding cake had yet to be discussed and she had no idea what to wear for her shower or what thank you cards to buy or where to start with her vows or–

She slowly exhaled a delightful strain of sativa. She needed to relax.

It was good that she started the day with a smoke instead of finishing a night off with one. Smoking weed seemed much more motivating in the morning than when finishing off the day with a smoke. The spiders, also like the joint and the night, lost their delinquency at sunrise.

Somehow, to Daphne, these spiders had good personalities in the early hours.

It was likely the weed.

Daphne wondered if spiders tried to get high. Birds did, raccoons did, cats too. Why not spiders? She ventured to blow a little smoke the spider's way. If anything to chill him out and not cause problems.

Even through a closed balcony doorwall, Daphne could still hear the front doorjam’s lock turn over. She had five seconds–tops–before the other lock was undone and Brandon was inside to see that Daphne was not.

One: Daphne stamped out the joint. Two: she stepped inside–making sure the doorwall was closed–and hopped to the kitchen. Three and four: rinsed her mouth with mouthwash in the fridge and spit. And at the fifth second: “Hello, honey!” Daphne said from afar. “Can you go check the mail?”

Daphne was relieved to see Brandon sleepily nod and close the door behind him.

Before he made it back up from the mailbox, Daphne would slip to their bedroom on the other side of the apartment to hide the joint in a glass jar inside of another glass jar, brush her teeth, light some incense, smoke her hair in case the weed stuck, spray his favorite perfume and fucking distract him with that one position he was particularly fond of.

And then watch the audition tapes…

The next week, while pulling from an expertly rolled joint, Daphne observed the sparrows and grackles congregating on her neighbor's balcony. They loved whatever treats she set out. Daphne thought about leaving seed out on her own balcony for the birds, but she was already a hot spot for spiders and that was enough wildlife for one balcony.

While spying into her neighbors balcony, wondering if the girl was single or living with another, her eyes caught sight of something large in her closer vision. Daphne focused, in horror, on a big spider not five inches from her face.

This one looked like it would crunch if you squeezed it hard enough. Its sheer size was enough to make her want to swat and step on it. This was another reason why it was so nice to come out here during the day. She couldn't begin to imagine how many spiders went unnoticed when Daphne had spent her nights here.

To save herself and, by some measure, the spider, Daphne took her joint inside. Brandon was working a day shift today, so he would be returning well into the evening and long after the weed smoke dissipated. She left the screen door open because the air was newly fragranced with local pollinator gardens. No wonder the spiders liked the heights of the apartment–all the better to feast on bugs with.

They just couldn't come inside.

Daphne pulled from the joint and blew the smoke through the screen door. She would have to open the home office's window on the other side of the apartment to get enough airflow to clear the weed smell.

Daphne's gasp sucked the air out of said office. A spider, much like the big ones she saw on the balcony, had weaved a web around Brandon's records. The very records they were going to play tonight while practicing their first dance choreography. Daphne wanted to get better at her rhythm so she could step in time to Brandon's lead. It was so important to him. But she couldn't step in time unless she subdued her anxiety with a puff or two of weed.

Or, at least, didn't want to step in time without a puff or two of weed...

Daphne stared at the spider. Its web was more intricate than the smaller spiders. She wondered if they were able to communicate anything through their webs. She wondered how she was going to pull the artist away from its creation.

She hated to bring out the vacuum. But she couldn't stomach the cup method when they were that big. Now that it was dead into July, the heat was making these spiders grow way too big. Forget one or two insects, they were feasting on entire swarms of bugs now.

Daphne winced when she heard the spider sucked through the hose. She gingerly wound up the weaving of the artist who died without a meal. She quickly opened the window and begrudgingly pulled the record player and two records out to the living room to set up for their practice.

On a surprisingly cooler late July evening on an even more surprising day-off from work, Brandon suggested they enjoy a glass of wine on the balcony. It was nearing an entirely enjoyable evening for Daphne…until Brandon let one rip.

“Ope, barking spiders,” Brandon chuckled.

“Oh, and I ask you to stop farting those big ones around me but the second it smells like weed–” Daphne shut herself up. She shouldn't have picked a fight, especially not with weed. But she was tense. It had been days since she last smoked.

It was an eager, earnest attempt this time. Brandon deserved that and more. She was excited to be his wife. But the ceremony and sobriety may drive her off this very balcony.

"Come on Daphne, like I don't know you hide your weed jar in snow boots in the corner of our closet.”

Daphne could only sip from her glass. And she knew her stomach would get upset. She wasn’t a drinker. She feared she was going to give up one vice just to tack onto another.

Brandon leaned forward and looked at Daphne. “What’s going on, Daph?”

“I can’t talk about this.”

“But we already have talked about this,” Brandon pleaded and took Daphne’s hand to hold. “Quitting weed is important to me, and I thought it’d be important for us. It’s something I need before we start this next chapter.”

Daphne’s voice grew colder with every word: “Right. Because the biggest issue in our lives right now is me smoking weed. Not the fact that I’m the one drowning in wedding crap while you’re just... sitting there, reminding me to quit something that actually helps me deal with all of this.”

“That’s not fair,” Brandon said. His voice was tighter. He let go of Daphne’s hand. “I’m with you during a great deal of the planning. I took work off to meet with the florist! But you shut me out of the other things going on in your head. You just…retreat.”

Daphne couldn’t look him in the eye. “Maybe because every time I do, it’s like you’ve got a checklist of things I need to fix, starting with ‘quit weed.’ How about you let me breathe instead of adding more to my plate?”

"Do you even hear yourself right now?” Brandon asked. “I’m asking for something that matters to me, for us.”

“What matters to you,” Daphne corrected. She worried the spiders would get anxious that the humans were beginning to fight. “It’s always what you want, what makes you feel better. I’ve got enough going on without trying to meet some ridiculous expectation of yours.”

“Ridiculous?” Brandon clearly spoke out of hurt. “Wanting you to be clear-headed and focused on our future is ridiculous? You won’t even try, Daphne. And you never tell me what’s really going on—just snap when I try to help.”

“Because you don’t help! You just make me feel like I’m failing, like I’m the one ruining everything. Maybe you should stop adding more rules for me to follow!”

“Maybe if you actually communicated instead of hiding behind your habits, we wouldn’t be fighting right now!”

"You want communication?” Daphne asked. She slapped her hand on the balcony to lift herself up. “Fine! I feel like if you really loved me, you wouldn’t keep pushing me to give up the one thing that’s actually getting me through this wedding planning!”

Brandon was suddenly calm. “If the only thing getting you through this is weed, maybe we have bigger problems.”

It felt like February had befallen them. Frost settled on their silence. They were both too angry to say more.

Finally, with a flat voice, Brandon stood and uttered, “I’m going to bed. I can’t do this right now.”

Daphne simply nodded and sat back down. Brandon left with any good vibes left for the night. The spiders were her only solace. And they didn’t have much to say either.

She waited until the last light disappeared over the horizon before going inside. But even in the bathroom she wasn’t left alone. A spider, a big, mechanically divined spider was strolling around the sink’s basin.

Without a cringe or a whimper, she took her rinsing cup and set it over the spider. A sample pack of serum was big enough to slide under the cup’s opening and trap the spider.

It was promptly evicted out of the front door.

Daphne then settled into the bed that was unmade with anger and stewed in her own bitterness during the night.

Daphne had smoked just a little bit this morning to take the edge off of her post-fight anxiety with Brandon. But just a little and then she was done and then she was back to being sober for the rest of the day. She could ride out this season into her wedding with a clear mind and be happy. Once the fall chill was here to stay, her balcony would be clear of spiders, too.

Daphne had given up the contest for spotting the largest spider because she felt she had begun manifesting something terrible. A living nightmare would be anything larger than the one she had just locked all eight eyes with. That thorax would pop like a boiled cranberry. Man, oh man, nature was wild for creating this one.

A spider was 1/68 the size of her. She needn't worry for her life, yes, but there were also nearly 3 million spiders on this earth to just one of her in a heart stopping ratio.

Numbers mattered.

Was Brandon gaming up with the spiders to get her to confess? No, that was high talk. She gave a clean, healthy exhale–not a wisp of smoke.

When hearing the lock turn over, Daphne didn’t have anywhere to run but towards Brandon. But, with only one gleeful step his way, she stopped herself. They were still fighting.

“Hey.” Brandon didn’t look her in the eye. “I’m going to hop in the shower.”

“Okay,” Daphne said. Meek. She tried to weave an anecdote together to get more of his attention, but–

Brandon looked at her. “Join me?”

Daphne smiled. This was a truce. They weren’t going to solve the argument tonight, but they were no longer going to be opponents. “Okay.”

It was quiet between them, but no longer tense. Daphne felt caught in a web, waiting until Brandon, the spider, decided what to do with her.

Daphne gently scrubbed Brandon’s back and said, "Male spiders die for sex, you know that?"

"Oh yeah?” Brandon asked and turned around. He was generous in soaping Daphne up. “Maybe we don't have too much difference between us."

She would wash his hair and enjoy him doing the same for her. Only after getting squeaky clean did they both leave the shower and towel each other off.

He kissed her. "Come to bed."

"I've got to take care of something first."

"Then come to bed?”

That spider was approaching mygalomorph sizes. She would die to have that tarantula sleeping anywhere within a three foot vicinity of her. If she survived this, she would look up if they were able to jump. She didn’t want to know now while she captured it under a cup.

It looked the same as the one she relocated last night. Had it been able to return so quickly?

Had it grown fangs since then?

Instead of putting the spider outside the door for a soft landing on the balcony, Daphne held the cup but pretended to overhand it just to ensure the spider was out, far, and away from Daphne.

Now she could go to bed.

Daphne should have thrown the cup, too. The spider was back.

It had to be the same one. Otherwise, she should call Michigan DNR to track a huge population of mutant spiders.

After she smoked a little bit.

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” Daphne asked the arachnid.

It hadn’t begun weaving a web yet, but she wasn’t going to let it stay to scope out a spot.

Daphne toked from her joint and pondered her options. The only one she liked involved putting on a bra and shoes.

And so she did. And afterwards, she put her friend under a cup for the journey.

They were going to the park.

Daphne gasped once when the paper left an opening for the spider to exit through, but it seemed the spider had gotten comfortable for the ride. Daphne had no issue descending the stairs and beginning the sidewalk trek.

But she did have an issue when seeing Brandon walking up to her. She still had the joint hanging from her mouth!

"I got this guy and he needs to be relocated,” Daphne quickly explained. “I didn't have time to set him down and put this out."

"Is it out?"

"I may have puffed once or twice in the staircase."

Daphne prepared for Brandon’s disappointment to manifest into another fight. But instead, he took the joint from her lips, pulled a lighter from his pocket, and lit it like a professional–all the way around.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"To the park."

"Great, and then I think we ought to talk about a little smoking spot in our backyard for you. You might want to marry me for that."

"I never didn't want to marry you," Daphne said in earnest. "I just...it's daunting and I felt like I needed to hide from you instead of share from you. I'm going to keep my habits. And I'm going to communicate with you. And you can fart all you want."

Brandon chuckled and held the joint out for her to toke hands-free. "I felt like I needed to change that about you in order to know for sure that you wanted to go through with marrying me. That wasn't fair of me for not properly communicating."

Daphne exhaled the smoke. "Can I share with you?"

"Only if I can share with you." Brandon pulled from the joint. "Will you marry me?"

"I'll marry you today," Daphne said. "We can take this spider to the courthouse as a witness. But maybe we should sober up beforehand."

"That thing needs to be as far away from us as possible. But I can hold it." Brandon carefully took the cup from Daphne. "As for sobering up, I think we ought to relax and enjoy the walk."

Daphne graciously accepted the joint from her fiancé. "Lead the way."

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