The Problem With Crazy

by Lauren McKellar

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I DECIDED to go to work, content in the knowledge that Dad wasn’t knocking on death’s door. Mum was curled up on Dad’s bed, asleep. They looked cute together; like a young couple.

  Would Lachlan get sick again?

  One day, will I curl up on his hospital bed? Or will he curl up on mine?

  The thought didn’t upset me like I’d thought it would. Instead, it was a morbid curiosity that plagued me for my trip from Sydney back to Lakes.

  I pulled into the parking lot beside Lachlan’s bike and raced in through the back entrance, hoping no one would notice how fifteen-minutes-late I was.

  “Sorry,” I muttered under my breath as I jammed an apron around my waist and tied the ribbon in a bow at my back. Lachlan just shrugged and smiled, throwing me a tea towel.

  “It’s okay.” He took out some milk and filled the beaker next to the machine as I lined up a few fresh cups. A string of receipts were lined up in front of him, and I wished I’d kept a better eye on the time. Clearly, he’d been busy.

  “I was visiting the hospital,” I offered, as I added tiny cookies to the two cups of coffee he placed in front of me. “I won’t be late again, though.”

  I placed my hand under the first saucer to lift it up and deliver it to its rightful owner when I felt a firm grip on my wrist. I widened my eyes as Lachlan pulled me closer to him, ever so slightly. The milk trembled in the glass.

  “Is everything okay?”

  The passion, the intensity of concern burning in his eyes went straight through to my soul. I shivered.

  “It’s fine.” I took a step backward. I had to break the connection of his flesh on mine. He was making me feel much more than I wanted to, much more than I was able to.

  I delivered the coffees, cleared a table, delivered more coffees, and cleared another table. Soon I’d fallen into a seamless rhythm. I was like an actor in a play, never once deviating from her script. It went something like this:

  “Hi, how are you today?”

  Insert mundane answer here; usually “Good thanks” “Fine” or, in some cases, complete ignorance of the question.

  “What can I get for you?”

  This is where they would ask for X cups of coffee and X sides, and please make sure it was low-fat/extra-sugar/came with a dash of caramel/weak-strength/double-shot/not too hot/scald-your-mouth burning.

  “Fantastic. That’s $X, thank you, I’ll be right out with your order.”

  I tried to stick to my script as well as I could, reciting word after word after word. After the emotional rollercoaster of the last month, I just wanted things to be easy.

  When we finally slowed down, Lachlan and Johnny were both at the counter. Johnny was drinking a coffee as he hunched his shoulders over the receipt book, his thin frame creating a hulk-like figure.

  “We need to start buying more beans,” he noted, to no one in particular. I walked over to the wall and straightened one of Lachlan’s framed pieces. It had been hanging on a slight tilt, ever since someone had come to check it out earlier that day. I took out my tea towel and polished the corner, removing the offending fingerprint from where the person had touched it.

  “Oh, and Kate, I have the art show down for four weeks from tomorrow still, is that cool?”

  “Yep, that’s fine.” I spun around to face them, making a mental note to chase the remaining RSVPs and confirm the catering.

  “Great. I’ve spoken with a friend about getting a temporary liquor license, but is there anything else you need from me?” Johnny consulted his notepad, checking items off as he spoke. I tried to think. I’d chosen a menu, and sent out the invites, and even hired security.

  “If it’s too much, you don’t have to do it,” Lachlan offered.

  “No, it’s fine. I said I would.” My pride held up, and I straightened my posture.

  Johnny nodded and gathered his things, saying goodbye to us as he left the café. Lach and I were closing.

  I checked my phone before starting the cleaning procedures. One new message.

  Hi darling, no change with Dad but they want to keep him overnight. I’ll stay here and see you tomorrow evening. Love Mum xx

  Observation.

  That was okay. Surely, that was okay.

  Still, the idea of sitting in the house alone, all night, by myself, really didn’t speak to me. The idea of driving back to Sydney for a night spent in a cramped hospital lounge chair held an equal amount of appeal.

  “What are you up to tonight?” The words were out of my mouth before I had time to second-guess them.

  “Me?” Lachlan asked.

  “No. The coffee machine.” I rolled my eyes, referring to the only other object in between his body and mine.

  His body …

  I had to stop doing that.

  “Nothing, why?” Lachlan smiled lazily, one corner of his mouth twitching up.

  “My parents aren’t home, and I was thinking maybe you could come over and we could have a few drinks, and watch some movies,” I announced the plan as I made it up in my head. A few beers, some movies … things normal people did. That was what I needed; a quick dose of normality to take my mind off over-thinking everything.

  Lachlan included.

  “I’d love to come.” Lachlan nodded. “Do you need me to bring anything?”

  “Just yourself and some beers.” I picked up a chair, stacking it on the table in front of me. I felt Lachlan’s eyes on me and turned to look at him.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” His smile made me itch to lift my lips in return. I wanted to throw myself at him, but managed to retain some self-control.

  Maybe tonight would be the night. Maybe I’d finally have sex, with a guy who hadn’t suggested it once, but who I liked more than enough.

  Funny how you can be with some guy for two years, and love him, but not want to give him your all without ever really knowing why. And how, on a day like today, you can be so sure that the broken boy in front of you is the one.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I LOOKED at myself in the mirror for what felt like the thousandth time, studying my appearance. I’d gone from jeans and a tank, to a dress, to jeans and a tank again, and still I wasn’t sure about the final combination.

  I dusted some bronzer over my cheeks, looked at the ceiling and pursed my lips as I applied a think coat of mascara to my lashes. I wanted to look good, but not like I was trying too hard. My father was in the hospital, and I was having a boy over, for crying out loud. I felt like a naughty kid, sneaking around without her parents’ permission. Mum had always been fine with me having Dave over, mind, but something about me having a guy over while Dad was in hospital made me think she wouldn’t approve. Especially if she knew what I was hoping we would be doing.

  The knock on the door made me jump, and I shoved my mascara back in the top drawer. After a quick final pout in the mirror and adjusting of hair, I ran downstairs to answer it.

  “Hi.” I smiled as I swung it open.

  “Hi.” He grinned back. He looked good, his hair flopping over his face, highlighted by the moon. He was wearing a white collared shirt, pressed evenly, and blue denim jeans that hugged his body tight, but not too tight.

  I could smell his cologne, mixed with coffee, mixed with just … just him. I inhaled a deep breath and managed to stop myself leaning closer. It was intoxicating.

  “Can I come in?” He thrust a six-pack of beer toward me, and I realised I must have been staring like an idiot for far too long.

  “God, yes! Of course, of course.” I stepped back and let him through the door, trying to cool the red I could feel heating up my cheeks.

  “Thanks.” He smiled slowly, all dimples, and walked in. I could tell he wasn’t teasing me this time—perhaps he’d been just as lost in the moment as I had.

  “You’ve got a nice house.” He walked into the living room and I saw his eyes roam over our couches, the stack of magazines on the coffee tab
le, the big, black sound system, and the television in the corner.

  “Thanks.” I closed the door behind him. “Let me put those in the fridge for you.” I went to grab his beers just as he moved them away, resulting in this weird dance where he went to hand them to me, then take them away, then repeated the pattern again.

  “Sorry,” he said, as he handed them over eventually.

  “It’s fine.” I took them from his hands. “Just … sit somewhere.” I gestured to the couches then turned on my heel and fled to the kitchen, eager to escape this awkward moment as soon as possible. How had we gone from normal and flirty at the café to this uncomfortable moment here?

  I put his beers in the fridge after taking two from the pack and removing their lids. I pressed my back up against the door, studying the wooden panelled ceiling.

  Get a grip, Kate.

  You’re not a little kid.

  I forced myself to take a few slow breaths, then picked up the beers and walked back into the living room, a smile plastered over my face. Lachlan was sitting on one of the two-seater couches, somewhere near the middle.

  Was I supposed to sit next to him, up close?

  Or was he doing this so I’d sit somewhere else?

  I bit my lip as I weighed up the options, and realised he was staring at me again. I’d probably let the moment go on for far too long, like I had at the front door.

  Kate, snap out of it!

  I walked to the table as casually as I could muster and placed the two drinks down, then turned to the cabinet beneath the television and started yelling out movie names, waiting for him to pick one.

  “Your choice,” he interrupted, when I read out the third one.

  “I don’t mind.” I shrugged.

  “Me neither,” he said. I studied the stack of shiny cases in front of me. This wasn’t going well. Shouldn’t he just choose something? Why wasn’t this easier? Was this date a failure?

  Was it even really a date?

  I ended up picking the case on top of the pile and opened it, jamming the disc into the side of the television then walking over to the couch that Lachlan wasn’t on, curling myself into a little ball on the end of it. At least there I wouldn’t do anything stupid, like get so caught up in staring at him I forgot what I was doing again.

  I snuck a quick glance over at him, looking at his face, so intent and serious, focused on the television. One hand rested under his chin and I saw a faint tattoo line sneaking out from under the sleeve of his shirt. How had I not noticed that when we were skinny-dipping?

  I found myself itching to get closer, to roll up his sleeve and see more of the tattoo. Or to take the shirt off and see the ink on the complete canvas …

  “Can I sit with you?”

  I blinked. Lachlan had caught me staring at him again.

  Oh, red face, please don’t do this to me now …

  “Sure.” I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. I was so sprung.

  He moved over and sat on the opposite end of the couch from me, his body leaning against the armrest. I tucked my chin in closer to my chest, hugging my knees. It didn’t matter how far away we were. It wasn’t like this was a date. We were just friends, who knew the particular details of each other’s family health situations, and who had sometimes twice before kissed.

  There was nothing suspicious about that.

  The movie started, and we drank the six-pack of beer, not venturing to each other’s territory on the opposite side of the couch.

  I don’t think I heard a word of what was said by the actors on screen. I didn’t even really know if it was a romantic comedy or a slasher film, I was so preoccupied with this boy on the other side of the lounge and his distance from me, emotionally and physically.

  “That was good,” Lachlan said. The movie had stopped. The credits had even finished playing. I swallowed, trying to wash out the dry sensation at the back of my throat. Why couldn’t I act like a normal person?

  “Yeah,” I lied. “I really liked … it.” I settled on, unable to recall a detail in my favour.

  “Me too.” Lachlan smiled at me. Silence stretched out between us.

  “Is this awkward?” He finally broke it.

  “A little.” I nodded.

  “Or a lot.” He widened his eyes. He shifted his body a little closer to mine. “I don’t know why this is so weird. We’ve hung out quite a few times, and—”

  “You’ve pretty much seen me naked.”

  “We’ve almost been arrested for making out!” We burst into laughter and I slumped further into the couch.

  “Kate.” Lachlan swallowed, and the air was still again. I bit my lip. “I think you’re amazing.”

  “Ha!” I snorted. “Yeah right.”

  “Seriously.” Lachlan inched closer, scooting across the couch till his leg was touching mine. His eyes were dark, and I felt a shiver rush through me. “Dealing with everything; with things with your dad. You’re not ashamed of him, you know? You take him out in public, regardless. You’re amazing.”

  A feeling of guilt washed around in my stomach as I thought of how wrong Lachlan really was. How I did it, but I wasn’t proud of it, and I certainly wasn’t as “good” a person as he thought I was.

  “I’m not … I don’t like doing it.” Lachlan leaned closer to hear my words.

  “You’re not expected to like it,” he said, in that easy way of his. “It’s not about life being easy, remember? It’s about how you roll with the punches, how you deal with the shit.

  “I’ve had some crap things in my life, you know? Fuck, there’s rarely a day that goes by when I don’t remember, and feel, and just—just hurt, and get mad. What the hell did I do? Why me?

  “But then I look at you, and how you deal. Whether you’re hurting on the inside or not, you’re still moving forward with your life, you’re still taking your dad out and buying milkshakes. And I think you’re doing it well.”

  We sat there in silence as I studied his face. I lifted a hand and pushed that floppy piece of hair back behind his ears.

  “I couldn’t imagine being you, doing what you do. And I’m nothing like that! Both my parents are still alive, but I’m struggling. You’re the amazing one here, not me. You’re just—” I looked at him, in awe once again. He had it so wrong about me. I was a fraud, wanting to be in control of my life, but struggling, one day at a time.

  How he got out of bed, ran a business, had a good relationship with Johnny. “—you’re everything I one day want to be. The thing is,” I paused. I looked at the cream suede beneath us, marred with those little scuffmarks suede gets. Guilty secret time. “Sometimes … sometimes I don’t like him. He’s like a kid I have to look after, but then, at the same time, he’s me. Everything he does could happen to me, and I think that’s why I’ve distanced myself. It’s when I dislike him the most. Because one day, that could be me, too. And I hate the idea of being that me.”

  Lachlan reached over and grabbed my hand, pulling it closer to him. He unstretched all my fingers from the fist they’d been making, and rubbed the little lines in my palm, caused when I’d dug my fingers in a few seconds earlier.

  “See this?” He waved my pinky finger in front of my face. I laughed. “It’s perfect. See how you have—” he paused, and counted, tapping each of my appendages in turn. “—one, two, three, four, five of them.”

  “You should see my other hand.” I gave a half-smile.

  “You have five perfect fingers. And these scars you’re giving yourself,” he said, running his finger over the little indents in my skin where my nails had burned me, and I shivered. “They’re temporary. In one hour, one day, one week—they’re going to fade. But nothing’s gonna change these perfect fingers.”

  “So you’re saying that, even if I have Huntington’s, I’ll still have good hands?” I raised my eyebrows.

  “I’m saying that, deep down, nothing will change your perfect.”

  In that moment, I forgot about everything. I could han
dle my future, whatever it may hold. Someone believed in me.

  And I was head over heels for him.

  “You’ve made me try new things,” I whispered. “Even if I do test positive, and you have cancer—I don’t know that I’ve ever been so involved, or felt so aware of my life.”

  And I did. Every cell in my body was buzzing as he slowly reached his hand over and trailed a finger along my jawline. I bent my head into it, wanting the moment to go on and on, to fall into his embrace completely. His lips were close now, so much so that I could feel the soft heat of his breath on my face, my lips.

  “I’m falling in love with you.” He moved his hand to the back of my neck and gently pulled my head toward his, closing the gap between us and pressing our lips together. It was familiar and yet different all at once, passionate yet romantic, as I felt the heat of our emotion and the stress of the past few weeks rush through my body. I clung to his shirt and pulled a fistful of it to me, enjoying the firm feeling of his chest as it collided with mine, his shoulders caving over me.

  I let my tongue explore his mouth and felt my chest heave against his as he gently sucked on my lip, and then swirled his tongue around its edge. His hands were playing with the hem of my shirt and I itched to be closer to his him, to feel him against me.

  I pushed him gently back and lifted my tank up, raising it over my head and letting it fall to the floor.

  “Kate.” Lachlan swallowed. I went to press myself against him and he pushed me gently back, checking me out from my hips, to my bra, to my eyes.

  “You are so beautiful.” He smiled sweetly as his eyes took in my body, his naked desire plain to see.

  I moved closer and pressed against him, my mouth greedy for his. His hands roamed up my body and lingered over the lacy edges of my bra, gently moving toward my breasts. His fingers teased my nipples and I arched into him, the sensation shooting heat between my legs.

  “Let’s … let’s go to my room.” I pulled apart from him for a second. Mum said she was spending the night at the hospital, but on the off chance that she came home unexpectedly, I didn’t want to send her straight back there when she suffered a heart attack induced by seeing her daughter naked on the couch with some guy she’d heard of, but never met.