Fuck Jess for making me promise to do this.
“When my mom was in the hospital, my father wanted me to see her right after her surgery. The hospital had a policy that patients couldn’t be seen so soon. Policies didn’t apply to him; they never did. He wanted me to see. I hadn’t told him that I’d believed she would evolve into a superhero, but maybe he suspected. Or maybe he’s just an asshole.”
I leaned against the far wall, still staring at the ceiling with dead eyes. The cracks in the paint blurred into one large hole. I wanted to climb through it. I wanted to plan for weekend merriment.
Liddy cleared her throat and I resumed the story. “I sat in the lobby of the hospital. I can’t remember where Abbie was. Sometimes, I wondered if my sister actually existed. Was she a figment of my imagination? Was she me? Was I her? Or was she just too smart to let them fuck with her mind.” I sucked in some air, but my lungs felt empty. Empty air.
“‘No, I don’t think you understand,’ he said to the nurse. ‘I want my child to see her.’ He never said that she was my mom. He always said her. He demanded that the nurse wheel her out to the lobby since they wouldn’t let me behind the locked doors.
“‘Mr. Alexander, I don’t think you understand—’ the nurse started, but my father’s eyes stopped her dead. She gathered her strength and whispered, ‘This could be too traumatic…’ she didn’t finish the statement, but glanced in my direction.”
I saw the hole in the ceiling spreading open for me. I breathed in more stagnant air.
“‘I don’t think you understand—you’ll do as I say,’ he said. I can still picture the odd, calm expression on his beet-red face. I’d often marveled over his dual emotions. His words commanded respect, as if he were a Marine drill sergeant.
“For all I know, he probably donated generously to the hospital. Not because he was kind. He was never kind. His tax guy probably suggested it. I think it was around the time he started setting up offshore accounts. If it made fiscal sense, then my father would do it. The word charity sent thunderbolts through his eyes. Ingrates stood with their palms out, begging for money. No one gave him a leg up. He had to toil for his bread. I often imagined that my father was Dickens’s inspiration for Ebenezer Scrooge in a previous life.”
I stopped talking, not wanting to continue. What was the point really? How was talking part of the step-by-step plan to stay alive? Shouldn’t I focus on the good in life? Shouldn’t I climb through the hole and announce, “I want to have fun with the rest of you! Fuck this slitting my wrists bullshit!”
“What happened?” Liddy’s voice startled me. I was elsewhere, above, and I didn’t want to come back down. Not to her office.
“The nurse left the lobby in a huff, but she followed orders. I tried hiding behind a potted plant, but that didn’t last. I heard the buzzer on the door. The automatic doors creaked open. I heard a squeaking wheel and the pitter-patter of the nurse’s footsteps. My eyes darted up, against my will. Slowly, a hideous creature emerged from the shadows.
“She sat slumped in her chair, spittle dribbling down her front. She was ghost-white. I reached for her hand, and it was frigid. I was sure the doctors had killed her. She was a corpse. Had to be a corpse.”
I chuckled. “She was no Wonder Woman, I can tell you that. All of my hopes were dashed that day.”
“Why did your father insist on it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I suspect he wanted to prove something to me. He had a life plan. Everything, for the most part, was going according to his plans. The things that didn’t go exactly to plan, he could mold into a positive. Then the Lego piece sent his world swirling out of control. Everyone blamed me for it. He couldn’t salvage what the Lego did.”
“Your loyalty to your mother is impressive.” Her expression told me she was egging me on. She was trying to uncover something.
I shrugged. “I just wanted to feel human again,” I muttered.
“Did you feel the razor when you cut into your wrists?”
Her question left me speechless. I wasn’t sure if I should feel indignant or answer the question.
Several seconds ticked by. “No.”
“Where do you go when you don’t feel?”
“Into the past.”
“Your past?” She leaned forward in the chair, as if she were anticipating a big clue.
“Yes and no. It feels like my past, but I don’t believe it either. I don’t know what to believe anymore. Sometimes it feels like I’m watching a movie, and I don’t know if I’m the star or in the audience.”
Neither of us shattered the silence for several seconds.
“What are you thinking so hard about, Paige?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just trying to figure out an escape route from this office.” I glanced at the ceiling, but the hole had snapped shut.
She laughed heartily. “There aren’t any. Many clients have tried to find one.” Then she added, “Besides, it’s your past that you want to escape from.”
I eyed her. “Oooh…that was a good one.” I gave a wan smile. “No wonder they say you’re one of the best.”
“It didn’t sound as corny in my head.” She shook her head, as if trying to knock the line out of her skull for good.
Again, there was a lull.
“It’s difficult for you to open up, isn’t it?” Her tone was kind.
“Jess always says I’m like an iceberg; I only share a tiny fraction of my life with people, just enough to skim the surface.”
“Who is Jess?”
“The one I promised.”
She looked at me as if to say, “Duh, you already told me that.” Instead, she said, “Jess must be a special person.”
“Yes.”
“Not ready to share yet?”
“Something like that.”
“I understand.”
My brain snapped awake. What did she understand? I studied her eyes. There was no malice.
Possibly she did, then. Perhaps not. Did it matter? I was one of her batty patients. When she looked at me, she saw a loon. Do crazy people emit a smell? I wondered. Or was it just a look in our eyes? Maybe I should conduct a study in the lobby here to see if I can determine who is mad and who is sane.
I tried to picture people’s reactions if I walked up to everyone and took a whiff and then clicked a pen to record something on a notepad. Would they say anything, or would they expect to find someone like me roaming the halls of the lunatic Mecca? What if I tried to lick them to see if I could isolate a taste? Squeeze them? Pinch them to hear them squeak? Would their pitch have a certain pattern? Was I missing a sense?
Liddy stood up and fetched a glass of water for me. I took a few sips and then went on my way. Weekend gaiety, here I come!
* * *
My cheerfulness revolved around escaping. Besides books, movies provided a way for me to escape. Jess did her best to take me to movies as much as possible, and I had a decent collection of videos on tape.
Since I actually had my room to myself, I decided to indulge. I put in my favorite movie, The Silence of the Lambs, made some microwave popcorn, and mixed Milk Duds into the steaming popcorn to make a delicious, gooey snack. I washed down the mess with Coke. I could feel the sugar coursing through my veins. I felt like a superhero.
The phone rang. I didn’t answer since it was probably for Minnie. College students started to freak out by 4 p.m. on a Friday if they didn’t have plans for the night. I was relishing my quiet time and the fact that I had the room to myself. Minnie was with her boyfriend and the duo next door had gone home to have their moms wash all of their laundry. I had thought about slipping my dirty clothes in, but didn’t think it would go over that well.
The caller didn’t leave a message.
Several seconds later, the phone trilled again. I still didn’t answer, but I paused the movie. I had the urge to throw my popcorn bowl across the room. Instead, I got up to use the restroom and to splash cold water on my face. Minnie and her myster
y caller were both starting to grate on my nerves.
Nestled back into the beanbag, I started the movie again. The fucking phone rang again.
I seized the receiver so hard that if it were human I would have snapped its neck. “What?”
“Nice greeting, Paige.”
Shit. It wasn’t for Minnie but for me.
“Hi, Mel. Sorry, I thought it was one of Minnie’s friends.”
“I really hope you don’t act that way around her and her friends. Not very nice.” She hesitated, but I didn’t take the bait. “What are you doing inside on this beautiful afternoon?”
“I’m watching my favorite movie. Why aren’t you outside, if it’s so beautiful out?”
“I’m at work. Let me guess: The Silence of the Lambs. You need to stop watching such morbid films.”
“It’s a morbid world, Mel. Wait, this is my favorite part: Lecter is toying with everyone. What a fucking genius!”
“Most psychopaths are.” Her words sounded flat.
“Are you saying I’m a genius? Thanks.”
“Oh, I can tell what kind of mood you are in. Therapy didn’t go so well today?”
Actually, I didn’t really know how therapy had gone. I was baffled by the process. Each time I left, I felt crummy. Was that therapy? Had I signed up for a year of talking about difficult shit only to feel worse than I did before I started?
“Listen,” Mel said, raising her voice so I would not blow her off. “I’m calling to remind you about tonight. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten, Mel.”
What did I have planned?
“What time do you want us to pick you up?”
Realizing that I was supposed to have dinner with Mel and her asshole boyfriend, I made a gun with my fingers and pretended to blow my brains out. In a cheery voice, I said, “Ah, yes. Dinner with Wesley. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”
Wesley the Weasel. His name fit him well.
“Paige, knock it off. We’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Seriously, I can’t wait to see Weasel. I suppose you want me to be on my best behavior.”
“Like that’s possible. I’ve never known you to try. Just try to be normal, and his name is Wes.”
“Normal, huh. I may have to do some research on that. But the library is so far away, and I was only there earlier today doing research. I’ll have to wing it tonight.”
“What type of research?” Mel missed college and always wanted to know about my classes, even when I was taking college courses in high school.
I didn’t want to tell her about my project so I said, “Nothing special. Just a paper on why no one likes weasels.”
“Seriously, Paige. Behave.” She hung up.
How rude! After I was doing my best to act “normal.” And she was the one who interrupted my movie. Ingrate!
I grabbed a handful of gooey popcorn and shoved it into my mouth.
There was something odd about Weasel, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Jess had tried to be friends with him, but even she had backed off. When Jess was around him, she acted nice, but she was cool. I couldn’t get her to tell me what the deal was, which was odd, since Jess was so open about just about anything.
Some of you may be thinking, Typical dyke—man hater. But I don’t treat all men this way. I don’t hate men. I hate assholes. And Weasel was a bona fide asshole.
Mel had started dating him two years ago, at a low point in her life. After quitting college due to a lack of funds and horrible grades, she’d moved in with her parents and got a job at the local mall. Not an exciting life, but she was pulling things together. However, she felt like a disappointment. I’m pretty sure something happened at college to send her into a tailspin, but she won’t talk about it. I’ve never pressed her on the issue. I’m not the type to force people into therapy.
Well, Weasel scurried in. His type preys on the vulnerable. He saw someone who’d be afraid to lose him and boy did he take advantage. He always borrows money. He blows her off to hang with the boys. Then he has the balls to call her late at night to pick him up since he’s wasted and can’t drive home. And he has affairs. I think he knocked up one girl. I’m not positive, but I’m fairly certain Mel paid for the abortion.
Every time, he comes crawling back saying how much he loves her and that it would be the last time. Please! All of us know how it will turn out—all of us except Mel. I keep hoping she’ll wake up and smell the weasel in her bed.
Okay, he wasn’t Hitler. But did that matter? He still treated my best friend like dirt. And she wasn’t the same person anymore. I missed her. For months now, I’d been trying to overlook her aloofness because I couldn’t face losing a friend at the moment. But the outlook doesn’t look good. It doesn’t help that when I’m around him I can’t keep my own inner asshole in check. Mel always ends up in the middle.
The knock on my door arrived much sooner than I wanted it to. Mel stood there alone, and my hopes started to soar. Weasel-free!
“Where’s the weasel?” I didn’t even try to stop the happiness from creeping into my tone.
“Hello, Paige. It’s nice to see you.” She gave me a quick hug and walked into the room. Mel never liked to answer questions about her beloved. I supposed it might have been my approach to the topic.
She fidgeted with some figurines on my desk, her mood reminding me of a child whose balloon had just flown off into the wild blue yonder. She looked completely crushed.
“Do you want to talk about it, Mel? Or is it none of my business?” I never liked to push people. After all, I was horrible at talking about my own feelings, let alone anyone else’s. If Jess were there, she’d have whacked the back of my head for putting it so awkwardly.
Mel turned to me. “It’s none of your business. Besides, I don’t want to talk about it.” She looked around my room, focusing on the messiness on Minnie’s side. “Where are your roommates?”
“All of them are out of town for the weekend. Thank God.”
“What, you don’t get along with the masses?” she teased.
“They’re okay. They are always sticking their noses into my business, though. So where is Wesley?” I figured if I used his actual name, I might get an answer.
“Oh, don’t worry, he’s here. He’s waiting in the car.”
Not the answer I’d been hoping for. “Always the gentleman, I see. I bet he’s honking the horn right now.”
She looked miffed, but also conceded that I was correct. “Are you ready then?”
“Of course. And on time, I might add.” I wasn’t about to let her tardiness slide. It was probably Weasel’s fault. He was fastidious about his thinning hair. He actually curled it to add fullness. It didn’t work and just made his hair look even worse, from all of the split ends. “What’s the matter, did it take his curling iron too long to heat up tonight?”
Mel had shared this juicy tidbit with me when she’d first started dating him. She was really on the fence about hooking up with him on a permanent basis, so she had used this as one of the reasons why she didn’t like him. Now, I was using it against her. There’s something wrong with me. Obviously.
Her eyes bored into mine, warning me to back off.
“All I need are my keys.” I cursed myself for being a jackass.
“On your desk, bottom right-hand corner. It’s good to see you haven’t changed much. You should glue your keys to your hand, since you are always looking for them.” For the first time, she smiled.
“Maybe we can stop for some superglue. I can think of a few things I’d like to glue shut.”
“So can I, Paige.”
“Shall we go downstairs, where our chariot waits? All we need now is a gladiator. I think in Roman times men had curly hair.”
She slapped the back of my head.
“Ouch! I was just stating a historical fact.” I rubbed my head.
“If you don’t watch it tonight, I’ll glue your as
shole shut.”
As we walked down the hallway, I noticed how beautiful she looked. I towered over her five-foot-three frame. Weasel was over six feet. Her long golden hair flowed over her burgundy blazer. Her jeans revealed a body sculpted by hours in the gym. Her doe eyes glistened, so large in her face in contrast to her petite nose.
“You look nice tonight, Mel.”
“Thanks. Don’t say that in front of Wes, though. He’ll think you’re hitting on me.”
I laughed. Simple minds couldn’t believe that I didn’t have the desire to hit on every girl I knew. Mel was my friend. I would never hit on her. Flirting was not a concept that I even understood, and anyway, I would never betray Jess.
Weasel, however, hit on every piece of ass he saw, no matter what the woman looked like. But I was the freak, the social outcast, the downfall of human society.
A chill surged into the hallway as I swung open the door that led to the parking lot, and I realized I’d forgotten my sweater. Knowing that Prince Charming wouldn’t want to wait any longer, I forged on through the cold.
As I slid into the backseat, I saw Weasel adjust the mirror so it wouldn’t show his reflection, only the road. He was still mussing his hair. I casually looked around to see if there was a curling iron in the car, but all I saw was a bottle of hairspray.
“Hello, Paige.” His voice dripped with hatred.
“Hi, Wesley! How was the drive up?”
He hated driving, so I was trying to aggravate him in a non-confrontational way.
“It sucked.”
He had so much personality.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I rather enjoy driving myself, getting out into the open and taking in all the scenery. Did you see any cows on the way up?”
Mel reached around the front seat and whacked my shin with a fist.
“Paige, where’s the best restaurant in town?” asked Weasel.
I guessed I was picking up the check tonight. He never offered to pay, and I couldn’t let Mel pay for it. She was on her feet eight hours a day, dealing with teenage brats at the mall.
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