by Mallory Hill
I smiled. He was still so sweet, even with his brain fried. That was the Will I’d known. Debilitated as he was, there was something very childlike in his behavior. It was almost like no time had passed since our elementary days. We’d never grown up and were just a couple of prepubescent fifth graders without a care in the world.
I sat beside him as I ate my food.
“I’m cold,” he said after a minute.
I swallowed a bite and wiped my mouth. “You have blankets.”
“I know. My clothes are cold.”
I felt his jumpsuit. “It’s damp. Is that from work?”
He nodded.
“Okay… Next time we’ll make sure you have a change of clothes. For now, stand up. We’ll let your clothes dry overnight.”
He shook his head against the pillow. “My head hurts.”
I sighed. And this was where the mentality of a child got annoying. “You won’t get up. Fine.” I threw my food scraps back in their bag and pulled the covers off him. I unzipped him. He did lift his arms and help kick the pants off, but I had to awkwardly roll him on his side to get it out from under him.
I hung the jumpsuit over the bathroom door.
“Will you take this too?” He pulled the T-shirt off over his head, wriggling quite a bit in the process.
I got a little stupid for a second. He may have had a child’s mind, but that body was a man’s.
I cleared my throat. “Sure thing. But let’s keep the rest on, okay?”
He grinned. “Whatever you say.”
God! Was he a kid or not? I mean, obviously not, but what mindset was he in? How was I supposed to treat him? He was totally oblivious but all too aware at the same time. And he, in all his damaged confusion, was making me nervous, seemingly on purpose.
I snatched the shirt from him and hung it up. I changed in the bathroom with the door slightly ajar due to his drying clothes.
Then came the awkward part. I wished I had a separate bed for him or at least a bigger one. But no, we had to be snuggled up together, him all shirtless and beautiful and not in any position for me to be focusing on such things.
If I’d had my way, he’d have faced the wall and I’d have faced out so we could ignore each other. But when I turned away from him, he took that as an invitation to go ahead and spoon me. And, hey, if he’d been mentally stable at the time, I maybe wouldn’t have objected. But it was wrong like this.
“Will, could you not do that, please?” I asked gently.
“But I’m cold,” he whined.
Darn me and my sexual assumptions! I turned to face him, his arms still around me. There was such innocence in his eyes. He was thin but muscular, and, if he hadn’t been so abused, I could tell how crazy gorgeous he’d have been.
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so finally he just pulled me against his chest and said goodnight. Naturally, I had some trouble getting to sleep. But he was out in a matter of moments, which took some of the edge off our situation.
I wasn’t as worried as I’d been the first night. He wasn’t upset, and I knew what would happen in the morning. But that gave me so much more time to worry about myself. What was I getting at inviting him into my home and my bed every other night? Was I expecting this to stay platonic, or did I expect a reward? Was I so selfish a person that I couldn’t help him simply out of the kindness of my heart? And if not, why did I feel the way I did? There wasn’t supposed to be attraction in charity. Nor was there supposed to be attraction in death, which I’d accepted as my present state.
I guess I didn’t dream that night because I woke up suddenly and somewhat disoriented. In my box of provisions had been a little digital watch that served no other purpose in my life than to beep at a consistent time every morning.
Will moaned but didn’t wake up. He still had an arm slung across me, so I gently maneuvered out from under it and got up. He winced when I turned the light on.
“How you feeling?” I asked.
“Not good.” He squinted at me. “But I guess you found me all right?” It was crazy how changed he was.
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Good. Thanks. Any idea why my head hurts?”
I shrugged. “You mentioned it yesterday, but it seemed like you were just tired. Is it bad?”
“No, I’ll be okay. I’ll just get home and lie down for a while.” He sat up, obviously in pain.
“You can stay if you want. I have to go to work, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”
He hesitated, no doubt trying to appear tough, but he lay back down eventually. “Thanks. It won’t be long.”
I got my work clothes ready. “Actually, I think we should pick up a change of clothes from your place later. Is that all right?”
He grinned. “I remember that part. Laura Baily can’t handle the bod.”
Wow, fully competent, he was even more intimidating. He didn’t mean to be, but it couldn’t be helped.
I blushed. “What I can’t handle is you whining all night about how cold you are.”
“Whatever you say.” He very indiscreetly pulled the covers down. “Take your last look.”
This wasn’t fair. I had not signed on for this just so he could humiliate me with his hotness. I tried to be cool, fighting very hard to look him in the eye and nowhere else.
“Okay, let me tell you what I’ve got on you.” I cleared my throat. “‘I have a best friend,’” I said in the most drunken voice I could muster.
He sat up. “No.” But I continued.
“‘My best friend is so pretty, but nobody believes me.’”
“Oh my God, are you serious?” He turned red, all that confidence melting away. “I’m sorry. That was supposed to stay in my head. Can we never talk about this again?”
“Can we get you a change of clothes?”
He half smiled. “Deal. Can I stay until you get back then?”
I nodded. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. There’s a cafeteria down the street.”
There was no reason for me to be in such a good mood as I went off to work. I’d adopted a sick man-child who apparently enjoyed making me uncomfortable. He would be staying in my home unsupervised all day. But it felt real. It felt human. I was able to make a choice on my own, a personal decision that didn’t require me to swipe my card. It was almost like I was alive or something.
Chapter 12
<<<
Work was pretty standard. Mimi was still in a mood, so nothing really major happened. We were on corn duty again, so I was pretty much guaranteed to get all introspective and crazy. I tried to think of safe subjects, things that wouldn’t instantly trigger a psychotic breakdown. It was way harder than it should have been.
Eventually, I got to thinking about the whole Will thing. It was troubling, sure, but I seemed to be able to handle his situation a lot better than my own. I briefly felt a gnawing sort of shame that I preferred torture stories over my glorified temper tantrums, but I had to dismiss the thought before I could go spiraling into more self-loathing.
I tried to remember us before, back when we were in school together. Despite what he’d said on the train, we’d never been best friends. He’d been the kid who gave valentines to all the girls and invited the whole class to his birthday parties so no one would feel left out. He’d been a little sweetheart and, from what I could tell, not a whole lot had changed.
I felt myself smile. It had been nice of him to call me his best friend yesterday. Pretty was maybe a bit excessive, but I appreciated the effort. I had no idea what we were doing together. I knew I had no chance of really saving him, but I guess I just wanted to show my appreciation in some way. He’d been a real stellar kid and, though I’d known perfectly well what he was doing, it had felt pretty special to be included in his world of charm and popularity.
The hours pa
ssed, only marginally as gruelingly as in the previous day. Mimi’s support group started gathering in their usual spot, but I opted out so I could get home to Will.
Home to Will. That was weird. I’d only ever gone home to Mom, and even then I didn’t phrase it that way.
As it happened, I ran into Grant on my way to the trucks. I realized we hadn’t spoken since his falling out with Mimi and hoped he didn’t resent me too much for my stupid encouragement.
“No group today?” I asked.
He shrugged. “As a supervisor, it really isn’t my place. I’m sure they talk about me sometimes. I wouldn’t want to inhibit free speech.” He seemed rational enough to be telling the truth, but I’d gotten very good at detecting bitterness in people.
“Okay… Something’s wrong with Mimi.” I knew it wasn’t my place, but how many more days of awkward corn silence could I endure before I completely lost it?
He tensed. “Really?”
“Yeah. And you know what it is.”
He stopped and turned to me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Look, I just want to help. You guys are all about open discussions here, right?”
“Not with stuff like this. Laura, I’m sorry if this is affecting you, but there isn’t a lot I can do.”
“What were you trying to do?”
He laughed in this angry, sarcastic way. “What was I trying to do? Nothing. You know? Just win the heart of the woman I love… I love her. Okay? I love her like no one has ever loved somebody before, more than anyone should ever love somebody, all of that. But that’s why we came here. You can’t trust people. You can’t open up to them. You can’t expect people to understand what the hell you’re going through. Even the people who get you, they just…they don’t.”
I stared at him. For the first time, Grant and I were on the same page. That was bad. I was insignificant; I could be cynical all I wanted. He on the other hand was captain of the fun farm. He was the one who told us everything would be okay and inspired a sense of belonging. It actually scared me to see him this way. Were they all secretly like this? Was everyone as hateful as I was?
“You’re right,” I said nervously. “You’re totally right… What are you going to do about it?”
He shook his head, incredulous as to why I was still questioning him. “What?”
“You tried to escape. It got you here. What’s the next step?” I didn’t buy into that support group crap, but for some reason I wanted him to have a plan. I wanted my supervisor to have a way to work through this. Because if he couldn’t, then there was no hope at all for someone like me.
“Are you actually insane?” he asked. “There is no next step. Just go home, Laura.”
“No. The way I see it, you have two options. Don’t give up on her or move on to somebody worth your time… We didn’t die. I hate it, but it’s true. For whatever reason, we have to endure for a while longer. You have the ability to love in you. You have a chance. Believe me, love is all there is. If you can’t love something even in the smallest capacity, you get all suicidal and they ship you off to a farm. Don’t be a Laura. It sucks, and there are too many of us as it is.”
He just looked at me like I was stupid. I felt kind of stupid. But if what he’d said was true, he’d been given a gift. He had something natural that I was trying to force by pretending to be compassionate toward Will.
That killed me a little. This wasn’t about repaying him for his childhood decency. I was just using him to make myself feel needed. I didn’t care about him. I didn’t care about anyone but myself. I was probably the worst person I’d ever come in contact with.
Grant still hadn’t responded. It was for the best. I had no right to preach at him like that. I didn’t know the first thing about love. It was just another pretty fantasy my mind hadn’t gotten around to destroying yet.
“You know what? I’m sorry,” I said, realizing how worthless and unfounded my advice must have been to him. “I should go.” I headed for a truck.
“Laura?” I turned back to him. He still didn’t like me, but he seemed moderately concerned. “Are you okay?”
God only knows why I smiled. “Grant, we killed ourselves. How is okay even an option anymore?”
I drove home just as fast as I could. When depression hit, it hit hard and brought the whole world down with it. How could I have so little compassion? For Grant, for Mimi, for Will? For Will who was actually suffering and not just throwing a perpetual fit. How could I subject him to my world, my insanity? Unstable as I was, I’d probably end up killing him. Even when I wasn’t freaking out, what did I know about taking care of another person? I was an only child. I’d never had to take care of myself before let alone anyone else. So was it cruel of me to give Will false hope? Was it cruel to let him think he’d stand a chance in my care?
I fought to blink my tears away, but it wasn’t happening. I didn’t care about Will, but that was nothing new. I didn’t care about anyone. That was who I was, part of what had led me to the terminal. But what hurt me even more was knowing there was no way he could ever care about me. Grant had a chance. Mimi knew what he’d done to himself; she understood him in a way so few could. But me? I mean, what could I do? I was a suicide now. It wasn’t just in my head anymore; I’d committed. No one could look past that; even I couldn’t look past that. I’d be alone forever with nothing but those same, diabolical thoughts that had wanted me dead.
I kept spiraling out, the immediate eventually getting lost in the bigger picture. Everything I did was so wrong, but what was the right way? Was there a right way? What did any of it even matter? I felt everything in me tighten as I lost myself to the vastness of our meaningless universe. Maybe if I had a severe enough episode, I’d simply veer off the road and never have to deal with anything ever again. But I made it home.
I crawled into bed and just started bawling. This was bad. This was get-a-train-ticket bad, make-it-all-stop bad. Why? Why anything and everything and everyone and me? Why hadn’t that train just crashed into a wall or something like it was supposed to? Why did I hate myself enough to want that?
That went on for a couple minutes before I realized I wasn’t alone. I remembered him suddenly and looked up to find him frozen in the doorway of the bathroom.
What a freak. What an idiot. He was trusting this to take care of him? He just stared at me, no doubt wondering how to gracefully exit our new friendship. I mean, he was literally tortured every other day, and I was the emotionally wrecked one?
I wiped my face. “I’m so sorry. This is seriously the most gloriously pathetic moment of my life.” Did the universe just live to watch me suffer?
He put his hands up. “No, by all means, do what you need to do. I’ll just…sit on the toilet or something.”
I shook my head. I had to get it over with. The sooner he knew the sooner I could rearrange my life around his absence. “Nope. We’re going to talk. I’ve got some crazy stuff going on, and you should probably know the truth.”
He nodded and cautiously came to sit next to me. “Spill it, Baily.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. So, you’re here because you’re a prisoner. That’s what working at the plant means. I work on a farm…because…” I felt like I was going to throw up. Shaking and stuttering, I was worse than he’d been the night before. I’d never said it out loud before, not to someone who hadn’t done the same thing. I felt guilt rising in my throat like bile. God, I just wanted to die!
Before I could force it out, he stopped me. “Laura, if you’re trying to tell me you’re a suicide, I already know.”
I stared at him. Was it that obvious? “How?”
He shrugged. “You had a V ticket. Volunteer… I have no idea what would make someone like you do something like that, and you don’t have to tell me… You’ve been here for me when I needed it most. If you’ll let me, I’d like
to be here for you.” He took my hand, transferring his magic energy into my body.
I couldn’t stop crying. His impossible perfection made me feel like even more of a monster.
“I’ve only been here because I thought it’d be good for me,” I admitted. “I thought I could force a purpose or a calling or whatever if I had something to take care of.”
He gently pulled me into his arms. All I could focus on was trying not to get snot on him. If I’d been in a less self-loathing mood, his nearness might have comforted me, but for now my stupid runny nose was my biggest concern.
“Laura, I don’t think you realize how beautiful that is. You actualize through transcendence. That’s the most compassionate thing I’ve ever heard. And I’d be honored to be your calling. God knows I’m using you too. You need to be needed; I need to be cared for. It’s a win-win.”
I did my best to sniff the snot away. “You know you’re just supremely unreal, right?” I muttered. “You’re not supposed to be nice to me right now.”
“Well, get over it… I’m not really very useful on my work days, but maybe we could work out a new arrangement.”
I pulled myself off his shoulder and looked at him. “You mean live together? You want to live with this full time?” I gestured to the hideous aftermath that was my face.
He smiled. “This just so happens to be my pretty best friend. We can alternate. You get a bad day, and then I get a bad day. We can take care of each other. What do you think?” He ever so sweetly wiped a tear from my face.
Much as I wanted to punish myself, there was something irresistible about the way he looked at me. I knew it wouldn’t end well. I knew accepting his acceptance was setting myself up for disaster. But I didn’t even care.
I smiled. “I think we’ll have to pick up more than a change of clothes.”
I was by no means cured. It doesn’t really work that way, after all. But he inspired a spark of courage in me. Maybe I didn’t have to be so alone. Maybe we could actually make this work.
I commandeered a truck that evening and we loaded up his stuff. There wasn’t much. A box of basics like the one I’d received and the mattress off his bed. He gave no indication of having any attachment to the place, and really it was nothing more than an exact replica of my own apartment, so we got the job done without a second thought.