by Jay McLean
She gasps, then grips my arm tight, before releasing an all-consuming laugh. “This is amazing!” She practically runs past the registers and down the first aisle. “How did you find this place?” she asks, picking up a frame.
I take a look around. All I can see are aisles upon aisles of nothing but picture frames. “It’s like an overstocked warehouse I think...so this will be here for a few weeks. I know right before Christmas they fill it with decorations.”
“This place should exist for eternity!”
I watch her pick up a few frames; inspect the pictures inside, before setting them back on the shelf. “You better make some choices. We don’t have all day.”
Her eyes widen as if new life has just been pumped into her.
I laugh. “I’ll get a basket.”
“You better get a cart!”
Three hours.
That’s how long we spent looking at nothing but frames. Most dudes would’ve walked out after a half hour and her constant indecisiveness. Call me a chump, but I was just as into it as she was.
Now, came the best part.
The real surprise.
We drive a few miles east and as soon as she realizes where we are; she starts to fidget in her seat. We park the car and start walking toward the center of Logan circle, a park in Center City. She keeps her head down and stays quiet, right up until we’re a few yards away from the fountain in the middle of the park. Then she stops in her tracks and turns to me. “Okay,” she breathes, pushing back her shoulders and shaking out her hands. “I have to tell you something.”
I wait.
And wait.
Then I finally break the silence. “What’s going on?”
“This place—I’m just a little unsure of what I’m feeling right now.”
I take her hands and hold them. “Why?”
“It’s just that—you know how I told you about that stuff ?”
I watch a million different emotions flash in her eyes. “Yeah...”
“I’ve spent a lot of nights here—sleeping in this park.”
Shit. “I’m sorry. We can go. I just thought—”
“No.” She tries to laugh, but her need to cry is greater. “I’m not telling you because I want your pity, or because I want to leave. I’m telling you because until right now—this place—it held a completely different meaning for me. And until you came along, Ky, so did everything else.”
She places her hand on the back of my neck, bringing me down to her waiting lips. The warmth of her tears spread on my cheek as I eagerly return her kiss. The want to say what we can’t voice is beyond need, beyond desperation. She pulls back; her eyes glazed but her smile in place. Her arm settles around my waist as she leads us to the fountain.
I stay quiet. Because really? What the hell am I meant to say?
We remain connected as we watch the large streams of water shoot out of the three large sculptures. A few kids play in the bottom of the fountain, their laughter bringing out my own. “You know...” she says quietly, “. . . if you asked me a few months ago to describe this place, it wouldn’t be this.”
“How would you describe it now?”
Slowly, she turns to me. And even though she smiles to cover it up, I can still see the sadness, the struggle to admit what she says next. “I don’t want to feel trapped anymore, Ky. And I know that doesn’t make sense to you.” She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, letting the heat of the sun warm her face. “It’s kind of amazing when you think about it, though. There’s all of this to experience”—she opens her eyes and smiles wider, then circles her finger in the air—”and all you have to do is exist.”
I keep my eyes on her. “Exist? It’s that simple, huh?”
Her smile turns to a smirk. Then she grabs my arm, pulling me with her until her feet, shoes and all, are in the water. “And make waves!”
I laugh, stepping in with her. She releases my arm so she can spin around in the water, her legs kicking out, splashing anything and everything.
“You’re crazy!” I shout.
She stops, pouts, and steps to me. “I’m crazy?” she asks.
I hold the side of her face, tilting her head up. “You’re crazy beautiful.” I seal her pout with a kiss.
My ears fill with the sound of water running, of kids laughing, of the world going on around us. And I realize it now—there is one thing better than waking up to Madison in my bed.
It’s existing with Madison.
And, yes, it really is that simple.
MADISON
I used to close my eyes and try to imagine what it would be like...to feel a breeze through my hair...hear the sounds of existence...to feel unrestricted.
If I knew it would feel like this—this good—I never would’ve opened my eyes.
20
KY
A THROAT CLEARING has us pulling apart. Madison hides her face in my chest while I look over at the sound. I think we’re about to get scolded for our public display of maybe a little too much affection, but a middle-aged woman just smiles at us, curling her finger at me.
I take Madison’s hand and walk over to her. “I hope you don’t think I was intruding,” the woman says, lifting her phone for me to view. “It was just too good a memory not to capture.” I take the phone from her hand and look at the picture she’d taken.
And there we are, kissing in front of the fountain, arms around each other. And at that moment—we ignored everything else. There was no outside world. We were it. And it was just like the couple from the first frame we bought.
You know...the ones who met in the foyer of their building...
The ones who ended up living opposite each other...
The ones who used pizza as a way to get closer...
I laugh and show Madison.
She covers her mouth with her hand and flicks her gaze between the phone and me.
“Look at that,” I say, my eyes on hers. “We’re loving freely.”
***
The woman sent the picture to my phone, and Madison and I spent the rest of the afternoon taking selfies. She snorted when I said the word ‘selfie,’ like the word didn’t really exist. I was about to laugh at her and ask if she’d been living under a rock for the last few years, but then I realized...maybe she actually had been...living under a rock, I mean. It would explain why she seemed to have no clue what the hell Facebook was.
Of course, I’m curious about what had changed—and how she’s managing to rent an apartment when she’s unemployed. But my feelings for her completely outweigh my curiosity.
It’s almost dawn when we leave the park. Madison’s been quiet on the drive home, so I figure she’s just thinking about the day...hopefully thinking about me, just like I’m thinking about her. We stop by a photo-printing kiosk to print off all the pictures we’d taken from my phone. “I can’t believe this is what I look like!” she’d said at one point.
I asked her how she didn’t know what she looked like.
She just shrugged.
Sitting next to me, she rests her head on my shoulder while she waits for me to go through them all.
“You okay?” I ask her.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “I’m just tired.”
I kiss her forehead, tasting the sweat that’d formed. She blinks a few times, trying to focus her gaze. “You sure you’re okay?”
She smiles and nods reassuringly. “Let’s just print them and take them home. We can look at them there.”
She sits in silence for a good five minutes while I curse at the photo machine that keeps fucking up and rebooting.
“Ky,” she whispers.
I stab my finger on the touch screen, annoyed at its lack of co-operation.
“Ky,” she says again.
“Yeah?” I answer, distracted.
“I don’t feel well.”
I quickly turn to her.
All color has drained from her and she’s covered in sweat. Her breaths are short and sharp. Her head d
roops like she doesn’t have the energy to hold it up. I jump out of my seat and squat down in front of her. She struggles to keep her eyes open. “Ky,” she whimpers.
And my heart stops.
“I need...”
“What baby? What do you need?”
She swallows—but it looks like a struggle. “I’m dizzy.”
“Okay.” I try to stay calm—for her. On the inside, I’m breaking. “Let’s just get you home, okay?”
She does her best to nod.
I grasp her hand and try to help her to stand, but she’s dead weight in my arms and falls back in her chair. “Maddy! You have to tell me what to do! What’s wrong? What can I do?”
“I need...”
I hold her head in my hands and search her face. “Need what, Maddy? Talk to me!”
She weeps and pushes my hands away. Then she tries to stand again. She only gets half way before she grasps her seat and uses it to soften her fall to the floor. She lets out another sob.
I link my fingers behind my head and look back down at her. She’s almost lying on the floor now. “I don’t know what to do, Maddy.” I pull out my phone and start to dial 911. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
Her hand shoots up. “No, Ky! Please.” She cries harder.
“Why!”
She shakes her head. “Just, please.”
The store clerk rushes up and stands beside me. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know!” I almost shout. My panic spikes as I see Madison’s eyes start drifting shut. “I don’t know,” I repeat.
The clerk squats in front of her and holds two fingers to her wrist, her other hand going to her forehead.
“What are you doing?” I ask, even though I knew the answer; she’s doing what I should been doing, but I’m too terrified to think straight.
“My name’s Paula,” the clerk says. “I’m pre-med over at Jefferson. I can show you my ID.”
I wave her off. “It’s fine.”
“What’s her name?”
I squat down next to Paula and take Madison’s other hand. I choke on my words, then regain enough composure to answer her. “Madison. Her name’s Madison.”
“Did she tell you if she had trouble breathing?” Paula asks.
“No. She said she was dizzy. She’s sweating though, and she keeps blinking. Does that that help?”
“Madison?” Paula croons, rubbing her hand along Madison’s forehead. “Can you hear me okay?”
Madison lifts her head, then lets it drop again.
“What the fuck is happening to her?”
Paula ignores me, instead ordering me to get a can of soda and an energy bar from the vending machine. I do what she asks, tearing the packet open on the way back.
“Madison?” Paula says again. “Are you diabetic?”
Madison whimpers a ‘yes.’ Then she mumbles something that makes absolutely no sense to me.
Luckily, Paula understands. “Insulin?” she asks, helping Madison sit up. Paula gives her the energy bar.
Madison chews it slowly.
Paula turns to me. “When was she supposed to take her insulin?”
My stomach drops to the floor, along with my knees as I kneel in front of Madison. “Maddy...what are you talking about? What insulin?”
Madison throws her head back, lifting the energy bar and biting into it.
“I didn’t know,” I mumble.
Paula takes the soda and uncaps it, offering it to Madison. “Has she eaten today?”
“I think so. I mean, we skipped lunch—”
“She can’t skip meals if she’s diabetic. This is what happens.”
“I didn’t know,” I repeat, looking back at Madison. “She didn’t tell me.”
Madison’s gaze lifts to mine, her eyes pleading. Her bottom lip quivers as she forces herself to swallow and take a sip of the soda.
“Where’s your insulin?” Paula asks her. “Is it in your bag?”
I turn my back on both of them.
“Apartment,” Madison whispers. And then louder, “Ky?”
“Yeah?” I say, still unable to look at her.
“I’m okay,” she squeaks. “This isn’t your fault.”
My phone sounds, giving me reason to pretend like I didn’t hear her.
Jackson: When are you bringing the car back?
Ky: I can’t. Madison. There’s something wrong with her. I don’t know what to do.
Jackson: Where are you?
Ky: Picture Perfect on Eighth.
When I return my attention to Madison, Paula’s talking to her, “You’ve been out in the sun all day, dehydrated, and you haven’t eaten or had your insulin. This could have been really bad, Madison.”
“I know,” she answers.
Her hands tremble as she brings the soda to her mouth.
Paula stands in front me. “She needs to go home. She needs to eat. And you need to monitor her sugar, make sure it doesn’t spike too high or too low. And you should probably get her a diabetes bracelet, too. Just so people are aware, if or when this happens to her again.”
I try to take in all her words, try to remember in detail everything she just said. “Thank you,” I rush out. “If you weren’t here...I don’t know what the hell I would have done.”
“Hey,” Paula croons, rubbing my arm. “If you don’t know what the signs are, you can’t be expected to know how to react.”
“You’re a life saver.”
She shoves her hands in her back pockets and rocks on her heels. And then she smiles. “You’re welcome...?”
“Ky.”
Her smile gets wider. “It was nice meeting you, Ky. I mean...under the circumstances and all.”
Madison clears her throat; her brow bunched as she looks up at me.
I sigh and sit down next to her.
“You scared me,” I tell her, linking our hands.
She doesn’t respond.
Jackson shows up in a squad car; sirens blaring.
“Why are the cops here?” she asks, clearly panicked.
“It’s just Jax.”
“He’s a cop?”
“Detective.”
“Oh,” is all she says.
I watch Jax walk in, and then squat in front of us. “How are you doing there, Madison?”
“I’ll be okay,” she says, resting her head on my shoulder.
“What happened?” he asks me.
“She’s diabetic,” I manage to get out.
He looks back at Madison. “You need me to take you to the hospital? You can ride in the squad car.”
“No!” She straightens up quickly and shakes her head. Then she takes a few calming breaths and adds, “Honestly, Jackson, thank you, but I’m fine. I just need to go home.”
He rears back a little, startled by her response. When his eyes find mine, I shake my head. I don’t want him questioning her, or pushing her too much.
I’ll be doing enough of that later.
I reach into my pocket and hand Jackson the car keys. “Are you able to give us a ride?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
He makes his way back to the squad car and speaks to the driver through the window. I watch as the car disappears a moment later. Then I look at Madison, sipping slowly on her soda.
“We need to talk about this, Maddy. I’m serious.”
***
I lean against her bathroom counter with my arms crossed while she shows me her medicine bag. “So how much do you use? I mean...are there different doses depending on...I don’t even know what the fuck to ask right now.”
“Ky, it’s fine. I have it under control.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. “Clearly.”
“Don’t be mad. We had a good day today.”
“Yeah...we did. And then you could have died.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
I throw my hands in the air and push off the counter. “What if Paula wasn’t there?”
“Oh Paula,” she says, her nos
e scrunching in disgust.
“What?”
“Yeah. She loved you.”
“Shut up.”
Her eyes widen in shock. “What!”
“I’m fucking serious right now, Maddy. Don’t joke around.”
Her shoulders sag, and she exhales a shaky breath while she continues to pack away her stuff. Then she turns to me, but she doesn’t speak.
And for a moment, neither do I.
Our eyes lock, waiting for the other to crack first.
I won’t cave—not this time.
“I’m sorry,” she finally says.
“You scared me.”
“I know.”
Taking a step toward her, I try for an even tone when I say, “You know that I’m not going to push you to talk about certain things—but stuff like this—I need to know about it. I need to know what to do if this happens again—or what I need to do to prevent it from happening in the first place.”
“I—”
“Don’t say you had it under control, Madison, because that’s a fucking lie.”
“I was just going to say that I forgot. I was having such a good time that I honestly forgot about it. And then we got in the car, and I started—”
“You should have told me right away.”
“I didn’t want you to worry!”
“Like I am right now?”
She groans, frustrated. “Can you at least yell at me after I eat?”
***
She rolls her eyes and makes a show of chewing and swallowing her food. I raise my eyebrows at her, jerking my head at her plate. “Keep going.”
“Ky, I’m not a kid.”
I cross my arms. “When the plate’s empty we’re going to sit down and you’re going to take me through everything. Step by step.”
She drops her fork and matches my stance, then mumbles under her breath.
I lean forward on my elbows, waiting until I’m calm before I speak. “Don’t you think you’re being unfair?”
She scoffs. “Me! Have you met you right now? How can you say I’m being unfair?”
“Because you are, Madison. You’re being unfair to us. You were right. We had a great day, and it could have ended great if you’d just told me what was going on instead of hiding it from me.” I pause, waiting to see if she’ll speak up, but she doesn’t. “You’re not being fair to us and whatever it is that we are at the moment—because you and I—we’re just beginning, and with what you did today—you’re not giving us a chance. And I want that chance. Don’t you, babe? Don’t you think we deserve that? To be happy. Because you do, Maddy—you make me happy. And seeing you the way you were today—” I push down the lump in my throat. My eyes stay on hers as she stares down at the table. “I don’t want to see you like that again. And I don’t want to be helpless with you. I want to take care of you, no matter what it is...but you have to be honest with me, at least with that. Please.”