Illusion

by Ashley Beale

  The next morning I was up and out the door before Emi had a chance to wake up and talk to me. I completely ignored Brice at work and if I did speak to him, it was to tell him I was busy. That continued the rest of the week. I'm not sure why I felt the need to pull away from the two people I had in life, but I did.

  It was Friday morning that Emi walked into the bathroom while I was in the shower and started screaming at me, telling me I was acting childish and selfish. I was obviously hurting them both, but I wanted to be alone. I wanted to process this without their advice or sorrow.

  I continued my sessions with Dr. Ross Thursday and Friday, but instead of going straight home, I walked around the city until dark. I just had to think about everything Harvey and I went though, all the places we visited, the times we kissed in public. Someone, somewhere, had to have seen him. Right? Or did I look like a lunatic in front of thousands of people? It's a hard thing to come to terms with.

  This morning, being a Saturday, is harder than I thought it'd be. I miss Harvey, a lot. My chest is filled a pain I can't describe and I feel like bricks have been laid on top of me. I'm glued to the bed as thoughts and ideas come spiraling through my brain. I'm almost contemplating going to the places we spent time together- that school where I dug for fossils, the tattoo parlor, the museum. One of those people I talked to had to have seen Harvey with me. But going in and asking them, that is hard, for a few reasons.

  What if they all say I was alone when I was there- then what? I'd really look insane. I'd have to explain that I'm going through my own version of PTSD, and I saw someone who really wasn't there. Not only that, I'd have to come to the terms that yes, I did indeed make someone up. Made him up! Who does that?! I don't care what Dr. Ross says, how much he encourages me that I'm not insane, I feel it. I have to be. Only insane people or people with brain tumors envision people who aren't there.

  I even asked him if I could have a brain scan. He said he'd set it up but it was pointless. I don't have any other symptoms, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

  Then I think about the fact- what if these people did see Harvey? Then that means he really did just up and leave me without so much as a word. He shut off his phone and wants nothing to do with me. He doesn't want to be found and he doesn't ever want to see me again. What did I do wrong for him to just take off like that?

  There is always the idea that yes, he could be dangerous, he could be crazy, he could be a completely different person than he told me he was. It'd all make sense, and that hurts as well. I started falling for someone who wasn't real. I either made him up in my imagination, or he lied to me about who he was. Real or not, it hurts. I hate that he is gone.

  Emi walks in without knocking and looks at me on the bed. "Get up, get showered, and look beautiful. You're not staying in the house today and you sure as hell aren't ignoring me anymore."

  "Don't tell me what to do," I grumble.

  "I quit my fucking job to be here for you Zoey Lynn LaRoche, so you better get your ass out of the bed, into the shower, and stop doing this to me!"

  I cringe at her words then look over at her with disbelief. "You what?" I don't mean to raise my voice but I can't help it. "Don't tell me that is true."

  "Yeah, it is. You're my sister." A tear falls from her eyes and she walks over to sit on the edge of my bed. She reaches over and grabs my hand. I squeeze hers, trying to comfort her but not sure exactly how to do it. "I'd do anything to make sure you're okay. I like you in this city, you seem happy. Brice is good for you to be around, too. I wasn't going to force you back home to where you seemed tortured everywhere you went, being reminded of Kirt. So yeah, I quit my job and flew up here."

  "Emi," I say with tears in my own eyes. With taking less medication it's become a lot easier to cry, so I've noticed already the last two days. It's strange how fast taking only a half-dose can affect you. I pull her into me and we hold each other, both crying.

  I whisper against her neck. "Thank you Emi, for everything."

  She sniffles against me. "I love you Zoey."

  "Love you more."

  "Impossible."

  After I get showered and get ready for the day, Emi and I do a day of retail therapy and grab some lunch at a local eatery that in no way reminds me Harvey. It's exactly what I needed. On our walk home, we take our sweet time, soaking up the rays of the sun while simply enjoying each other’s company.

  A few feet from the apartment she pauses and looks over at me. I stop as well and give her a questioning look. "Call Brice," she says softly. We have gone the entire day- since we left the apartment- without bringing up my situation or anything related to it. That includes anything to do with Brice.

  I sigh and give her a sad expression. "He probably hates me."

  She nods and holds back a smile. "Yeah, probably, but you have time to fix it. That is, if you try now. He just wants to be your friend Zoey, and you’re pushing him away. I know you're scared to get close to anyone, for obvious reasons, but I'm telling you that he is a good person to have in your life. You don't want to make the mistake of pushing him away and it being too late."

  "Why is it that my younger sister is so much wiser?"

  One of her eyebrows lifts and she actually does smile this time. "The younger sister who quit her very awesome job and moved to a city with no place to live. Yeah I'm wise all right."

  I know she is trying to be humorous and put me in a better mood, but it does just the opposite. It floods me with even more guilt. She seems to notice and shakes her head. "Sorry, mistake. Don't feel like that about me. It's a great city and I'm happy to be here, especially with you, and I can promise I'll find a damn good job in no time. Until I can afford a place to live I can be an attachment to your couch." She winks at me and widens her smile.

  "Or my bed. It's big enough for the both of us."

  "As long you don't kick like you used to."

  A small laugh finally leaves me. "Only when you steal my blankets."

  She grins even more. "You're the bed hog, I'm the blanket hog. It's a love hate relationship sort of thing."

  We get back to the apartment and with a little more encouragement from Emi I finally call Brice. He answers after what seems like fifty rings- probably only like six or seven for real though. "Hey," he says softly when he answers.

  "Hey, it's me, Zoey."

  I can hear the humor in his voice when he replies. "Yeah, so it is."

  "Look, I'm sorry I've been pushing you away this week." Might as well get right to the point.

  There is a long pause and I have to check my phone to make sure we're still connected. As I open my mouth to ask if he is still there, he talks. "It's okay, I understand."

  "No, it's not okay," I argue. "You've been nothing but wonderful to me. I'm just... I'm scared." My heart starts beating ever faster as I admit the truth I didn't want to tell him. I'm scared of so much.

  He sighs on the other end. "I get it, I really do. It's okay. I'm glad you seem to finally be feeling better. You have a good day?"

  "Yeah, went shopping and to lunch with Emi."

  "That's good to hear."

  Silence again. It's a little frustrating, even though I do feel better finally apologizing for pushing him away. "Want to come over?" I ask suddenly.

  "Are you sure you want me to?"

  "Yeah, I'm positive." My heart starts pounding even more than a moment ago and I can feel my palms start to sweat. Why is the idea of him coming over making me feel this way? It's too soon, Zoey, it's too damn soon.

  "I'll be there." It goes silent before I'm able to say any more to him. I walk out to the living room and tell Emi to hurry up and help me clean the apartment. She roars with laughter as I quickly run over and start washing the dishes.

  Before Brice is knocking on the door, Emi and I have my apartment the cleanest it’s been since I moved in.

  "Wow," he says looking around. "Has the workless life been boring you this much?" He looks at Emi. So he knew she quit her job? I
guess I really have been selfish this week.

  And wait, hey!

  "Hey, this wasn't all Emi, it was the two of us."

  He grins in my direction and Emi rolls her eyes, settling down on the couch. She grabs my tablet and I can hear the noises a few minutes later of people talking. Obviously stuck on another TV series. Brice walks over and quietly says in my ear, "It looks great."

  I smile in his direction, then I feel weird. It's almost supper time, but not quite yet. Until then, I'm not really sure what to do. Should we watch a movie? Talk? Play a game? Do people even play games anymore? I didn't really prepare myself for what we'd do when he got here, just occupied myself with cleaning until he did get here.

  We both stand here awkwardly, looking around the apartment. Emi's grunt catches both our attention. "Go play pool or something. Leave and don't come back until," she looks at her phone, "like ten." She waves her fingers and doesn't look at either of us.

  Brice presses his lips together, attempting not to smile. "Want to go play... pool?"

  "No," I say. He looks extremely disappointed. "Oh, I didn't mean it like that. I would like to go do something, just not play pool."

  He smiles at me and motions for me to lead the way. I grab my purse and double check that I have my phone. "We'll be back," I tell Emi.

  "Yeah, yeah." She waves her hand without looking up. I roll my eyes and walk out the door.

  Brice ends up taking us to a bowling alley. "Really?" I say when we pull in.

  He parks the car and looks over at me. "Really."

  With a sigh, I get out of the car and walk towards the bowling alley. I haven't been bowling since I was like sixteen, but it was fun, so I guess I'll give it a go.

  After we get the shoes and pick a lane, I find a ball that isn't too heavy that also fits my fingers. I've never felt self-conscience about my fingers before, but I swear they're fat because all the balls less than eleven pounds are tight around them. I don't complain out loud though, not wanting Brice to tease me. He walks over and grabs the ball I've finally chosen, setting it back down on the rack. He then tells me to leave it, that he already found me one. I don't argue, I just follow him back to our lane.

  When it's my turn, I stand up and grab at the ball he chose for me. Okay, so my fingers fit nicely, maybe I was looking at youth sized balls. Then "Oh," yeah, this ball is super heavy. I look at the number and it says it's fourteen. I turn my head and look at Brice who is trying very hard to hold back his laughter.

  "Do not tell me that is too heavy for you. I see ten year olds use that size ball."

  With a grunt, I pick it up and make my way to the line. I toss the ball down the alleyway and it goes straight to the gutter, rolling way too slow. I’m actually surprised it makes it to the end. When I turn back around, Brice is standing up and smiling softly at me. His voice is very amusing when he talks. "You're not a bowler at all, huh?"

  "Uh, that is a negative."

  He helps me the next time and my body heats under his touch. He adjusts my arm and wrist, making sure they line up a certain way, he then helps me pull back and shows me how my right foot should step behind my left. I didn't realize there was such a strategy when it came to something that I always thought was so simple.

  I ended up knocking down seven of the pins. After I jump for joy, I give Brice a high five. I'm all smiles and excitement until he rolls and gets a strike. Of course he does. "Were you on a bowling league?" I ask him.

  He shakes his head, completely amused once again. "No, I just know how to bowl."

  I glare at him before taking my next turn.

  He leaves me alone and orders some food. When he returns, he goes again, getting another strike, where I had only knocked down four pins.

  By the fifth frame, I finally get my first spare. Brice looks just as happy for me as I feel for myself. He hasn't gotten another strike since the second frame, but I'm not sure if he is just trying to make me feel better. It does though, so I don't say anything.

  His ticket number gets announced over the speaker and he leaves to get the food. I settle down at the table and wait for his return. He has a pizza, a basket of fries, and a pitcher of a dark soda pop. When he sets it down I can immediately smell the aroma of Root Beer.

  My mouth is nearly salivating at the smell of all the greasy, delicious food. I thank him before digging in, then we both eat while letting our game stay paused half way through our first match.

  When we finish our first round, Brice wins 163 to my 97. I try not to grumble about that fact, because it's obvious he goes bowling more often than he lets on. We play two more rounds and although I don't win any of them, my score gets better each time. Sadly, so doesn't Brice's, but not by much.

  "We have one hour and seventeen minutes before Emi will let us back into your apartment." There is so much wrong with that sentence. "So what do you want to do?"

  "I seriously have no idea. That was fun and I'm full. What else is there to do?"

  "What else is there to do in New York City? Hm, I have no idea," he says completely sarcastic.

  I reach over and punch his arm, which has him laughing even more.

  "Fine, fine, I'll find something more for us to do... again." He looks over and smiles. I smile back.

  We drive until we're in a more beaten down part of the city. It kind of gives me the creeps but I don't say as much. When we get out of the car, he walks over and takes my hand in his. I'm glad, because I feel less likely to get mugged by someone. There is a red brick building with graffiti all over it. A wooden door in the middle of it with a neon sign blinking above it. "S" is all the sign says. Weird.

  He opens the door and pushes on my lower back to have me go first. I unenthusiastically do as he silently directs and find it to be a hole in the wall type bar. I turn towards him when we're a few steps in. "My doctor wants me to stop drinking, at least for now."

  "That's fine, we don't have to drink."

  "But we're in a bar, and we just ate, so?"

  He nods his head towards a table and starts walking, not answering me. Not wanting to be left alone, I quickly follow behind him and slide into the wooden bench seat that isn't nearly as uncomfortable as it looks. Seconds later a lady walks over and hands us two glasses of water and a basket of pretzels. There is a small dip inside the basket that looks somewhat like creamy mustard.

  "They make their own pretzels, they're really good. That's a concoction that I've yet to figure out but it's both spicy and sweet. I think you'll enjoy it a lot." So he comes here often? That is just strange.

  I dip a pretzel into the sauce, and oh my ever loving God it's one of the best things I've ever tasted. I'm about to have a food-gasm right here. When I open my eyes, after a long moan I didn't mean to do, Brice is staring at me with a dropped jaw. I clear my throat and grab another pretzel, pretending that did not just happen.

  His lips pull into a smile but he doesn't say anything as he eats his own pretzel. They’re soft and remind me of the ones you get from a street vendor, only smaller, and better. The sauce, like he says, is both spicy and sweet. I’ve found my new favorite snack, that much is for certain.

  I look around and see a stage only a few feet off the ground with one lonely stool and microphone placed on it. So it's like an open bar? I wonder if anyone will be singing tonight. Brice pulls out his phone and looks at it, then slides it back in his pocket. "It'll be starting in approximately two minutes."

  I don't answer, I just stare at the stage as someone approaches it. They do a mic-check and a stage light turns on. The guy looks to be maybe fifteen and he clears his throat in the microphone. "Hello everyone, I'm Ted." People's fingers start snapping instead of clapping.

  Weird, once again.

  He grabs onto the microphone, standing up and speaking softly. "Living in a lost soul, I was living out of control. Not sure if I should hide, not sure who was on my side. Falling further down, deep inside the ground. Living life all wrong, but wanting to be strong. There was something
in her smile, I wanted to stay a while. She turned and left me there, I could do nothing but stare. The pain broke me deep, I couldn't even sleep. She wanted me no more, a hole in my heart it tore. I felt the pain, the sting, the emptiness inside of me. She is now a ghost to me, it's more than I should see. The pain she caused deep within, I'll never see her face again."

  In so many ways that poem made no sense whatsoever but in so many ways I felt completely connected to this guy I've never seen before. And a poem? I thought he'd be singing. No, he spoke with deep emotion and sorrow while looking off into space. Nothing was written down, so he obviously memorized that. It was beautiful in the strangest of ways. More snapping of fingers go throughout the place and I find myself joining in.

  When he is off the stage and a lady probably in her thirties makes her way up, I turn to look at Brice. He looks unsure about this. "What is this?" I point towards the stage.

  "It's poetry slam."

  "Huh?" I have heard about it before but I never knew it actually existed. I thought it was something someone made up in a movie or book, but it's real. Wow. And it's beautiful.

  "I thought it was something you'd like to see. Don't worry, I don't read any and you don't have to either. Just listen to the things people say and the deep emotions in their words. I have a feeling you'll connect to some of them."

  My heart warms so much at his thoughtfulness. I smile at him, thanking him silently, and turn towards the stage. The lady is walking off and I didn't hear what she said but I snap my fingers alongside everyone else.

  When our hour is up, Brice asks if I want to leave. I tell him no and he laughs as I continue watching these people pour their hearts and souls out onto a crowd of people they don’t even know. It's one of the most therapeutic things I've ever witnessed. Brice ends up leaving his bench seat and climbs in behind me in mine. He wraps his arms around my waist and I find myself leaning back into his chest. We remain this way together for another forty minutes when I decide I'm exhausted.

  Brice walks me to my apartment door and runs his hand down my cheek, until it's resting on the side of my neck. "Thank you for everything," I tell him.