“Just ask them. They can answer your questions.”
“That’s far too practical a solution.”
But it’s more than that. I wouldn’t call Siraj a bigot, far from. He’s not awkward around his sisters because he’s scared of them. He just knows nothing about them.
“So back home,” I say to the twins, “what’s your favorite thing to do?”
“Sew,” says one. “Our brother kept promising to buy us our own sewing machine.”
“You used one before?” I ask.
“Oh yes, we taught a sewing class at the local center. We can use machines and sew by hand and embroider,” says the other.
“And we cooked all the meals,” says the first. “At home. Our brother is starving now.”
“He’s eating all his meals from the chip van,” says the other and they both burst into giggles.
“Why doesn’t his wife cook?” says Siraj. This revelation, it would appear, has upset him.
“She doesn’t know how, and she’s too busy.”
“Too busy? So what is your day like, what do you do when you wake up?” He gets out from behind his desk and comes to sit at the table with them.
The twins switch back into whatever language they spoke when I walked in, and I nod to let Siraj know I don’t mind being left out, and make my exit.
I push through the glass doors and step out onto the asphalt of the parking lot, right into Madison. I put my hands up to shield myself and she does an awkward sidestep to avoid collision.
For a moment we just stare at each other and I lower my hands slowly, unsure of what to say.
“Sorry,” is what she says. Those pale eyes of hers stay fixed on my face. Her hair’s still a little damp from the shower and the smell of her herbal shampoo perfumes the air. Those lips of hers are a soft pink and shine from a fresh application of lip gloss, and she scowls a little, like she always does when unhappy.
“No,” I say, “my fault. I didn’t look.”
She bites her lip.
Standing this close, she’s irresistible. I want, so badly, to put my arms around her. What’s worse is that encounters like this will happen, and keep happening as long as we both live in town.
She drops her gaze to the pavement.
Yeah, this isn’t working. “Can we talk?” I ask.
A wordless nod is her only reply and we turn and walk back towards her subdivision.
I touch her arm to make her look up at me, then regret it. Even just a touch sends electricity up my arm. “I’m sorry, okay? For ending things the way I did.”
“You sure there’s no chance for us?”
“I’m sorry.”
“How can you just throw away the last three years? I mean, that’s it? You’re not interested, end of story? I’ve waited two years for you, and it’s like you don’t even care.” At least she’s angry and not sad.
This is torture. My body aches, physically, for the feel of her. I want to taste those lips and run my fingers through her hair and feel the cool dampness of each strand. I want to take her home and see if I remember how to kiss her neck so gently that she tips her head back, eyes closed, surrendering to my touch.
Alex, I think, quit it. Not appropriate. I stop and turn.
She locks her gaze with mine. “I want to be with you. There’s no one else I’ve ever felt this way about.”
It feels natural to step in for a hug, but I stop myself and clench my fists instead. “I’m an unemployed high school dropout with a psychotic disorder. You can do better. In fact, it’d be hard for you to do worse.”
“But-”
“I never wanted to lose you, but there’s nothing I can really do about that. You’re out of my league.”
“We could try to work things out,” she pleads.
“All the trying in the world won’t change my condition.” And with that, I hit the limits of my control. I’m being gazed at by the love of my life and I need to get out of here. Worse, I sense the voices jabbering away on their plane of existence, and I have to remind myself, they don’t have any plane of existence. They don’t exist. Here I go again, though. I wonder how long I have until my next breakdown.
Like I said, I always knew I wasn’t the greatest guy, but walking away from Madison feels like a new low for me. I try to hold onto the thought that I’m doing this for her.
Anger rushes in my ears like a windstorm. Any second I expect to hear her run after me and feel her hand on my wrist or shoulder, but that never comes. I make it to the corner of Main Street and Ridge Road, and when I look, no one is behind me, which makes me even angrier, even though I know that’s not fair.
I want to go for another run, as far and as fast as I can, but another thought pushes that one aside.
The Pelican Bluffs Inn is just a few lots over and clearly visible from where I stand, and it reminds me of Kirsten Beale and her situation. As if on cue, Kirsten steps around the corner of the building, with its gray, clapboard siding, and makes her way to the garbage dumpster, two bulging garbage bags clasped in one hand.
I jog over to join her. Her posture is stooped and she walks with an exhausted drag to her step, then scowls as she hefts one garbage bag into the dumpster, which, even from a few feet away, reeks of hot plastic and rotting food. When she turns to grab the other bag, she sees me, lets out a choked off scream, and jumps back.
Right. I forgot to say anything, so I accidentally sneaked up on her. “Sorry,” I say.
“Alex. H-hi. How are you?” She gives me a wary look as I heft the other garbage bag into the dumpster.
It’s heavy enough that I feel the plastic stretch under the weight and it lands in the dumpster with a squishy thud. “I’m fine. How are you?” I ask. Doing reconnaissance for the Wilkstone Foundation is going to be a lot harder, I realize, now that I’m not in high school or employed in households all over town. Back then it was just a matter of listening to the rumor mill.
And Kirsten clearly doesn’t trust me. She keeps her distance as I brush my hands together. “I’ve been better,” she says. Her gray eyes look pale and washed out and there are deep lines in her face. Her brown hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail, and her jeans and shirt are loose and ill-fitting. It’s obvious she hasn’t been able to update her wardrobe lately.
“Sorry to hear that,” I say.
“No, sorry. I shouldn’t complain. Are you back then? From your mission thingy?”
I nod. “Are you working here now?”
“I don’t know.” She presses a hand to her forehead like she’s got a headache. Her resigned stance makes it appear that she’s had a headache for weeks or months. Or years, even. It’s hard to watch.
If I were in her position, I’d be screwed, but just because I was born into a different family with more assets, here I am surveying the scene, deciding how to bestow the wealth of the Wilkstone Foundation, rather than taking out the garbage and trying to figure out how to get through the next week and feed my kids.
Yet another reason why I couldn’t be director of the Wilkstone Foundation. I’d just give all the money away, run it into the ground, and that’d be that. How can I say no to anyone just because they were unlucky enough to be born to the parents they’ve got?
“I need to work, but no one in town’s hiring and working for my dad…” She jerks her head back towards the door to the Inn. “That’s not turning out so great. My kids have preschool, at least. Thank heaven for Head Start, but do you know of a job with hours short enough that I can just use preschool for childcare, and earn enough to afford to feed, clothe, and house them? Didn’t think so.” She winces and catches herself. “Sorry, that was rude.”
“Nah, you’re right if you think I don’t seem like someone who knows a whole lot about being employed.”
She barks a laugh and I see her shoulders relax a notch. “Come on. You’re not so bad.” Pure politeness. She doesn’t even know me.
“I’ll let you know if I hear of anything. I dunno if Siraj still ne
eds an assistant at the library? That’s only a few hours a day, not full time.” And, I think, even if he doesn’t, he might feel he needs someone to supervise the twins, which is something Kirsten could surely handle.
“I hadn’t thought about that.”
The old me would just leave it at that and go. The new me, post-mission, knows that you have to ask follow up questions. “What else have you tried?”
“I’m trying to negotiate with my mom for some childcare, like, maybe if I cook dinners for them or something, and then I can work a full workday.”
“Well, good luck.”
“Thank you. And thanks for caring.” She gifts me with a weary smile.
Which surprises me. I wouldn’t have thought of my nosiness as a kind gesture. As I turn to go, someone whistles at me from above.
I know who it is, so I don’t want to look, but instinct dictates that I do, just to make sure the noise is real and not all in my head. Kailie Beale leans out of one of the second story windows. “Hey, Alex.” At least she doesn’t sing-song my name.
“You get expelled from college already?”
“Yes, but what do you mean ‘already?’ I made it to my junior year. Wait up all right?”
For what? I don’t want to talk to her, but there’s no time to get away because she doesn’t take the stairs. Rather, she climbs out the window and lets herself fall to the concrete below. I wince, but she does a knee drop and roll and bounds to her feet again.
“Aw, come on,” she says as she brushes off her jeans. “You were supposed to catch me.” Like Kirsten, she’s got blue gray eyes and brown hair, but she looks about ten years younger, rather than the actual two. Her body is fit and trim and twiggy and her hair is straight as a pin and parted on one side.
I turn and head across the parking lot.
“Okaaay, don’t laugh, fine.” Her shoes slap against the asphalt as she chases after me. “I hear you’re a headcase now too?”
At that I pause and pivot.
“Madison told me,” she explains.
Madison still talks to Kailie, even after the girl ditched her senior year and never returned a single one of her phone calls. Great. Just great.
“Listen, you really hurt her feelings this morning.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Wow, you are a jerk, you know that?”
No point responding to that one. I turn and resume walking, the wind off the ocean pressing my shirt against my back.
But Kailie keeps pace. “Why are you stiff arming her? She’s better than you deserve.”
“Yep.”
“So? What’s your deal?”
“She’s got enough headcases screwing up her life.”
“O-o-oh, so that’s it. Madison’s too stupid to make her own decisions. You’re going to be a man and tell her how it is.”
I roll my eyes.
“Get over yourself, okay?” she says.
Because Kailie is clearly in a position to tell other people how to live their lives. A sidelong glance shows me that she’s wearing a plethora of metal bangles on both wrists, which I know cover the scars from when she tried to take her life.
“Alex, stop walking. Talk to me.” Her fingers lock around my forearm.
In one swift motion I pivot and yank my arm up, breaking her grasp easily, then I turn and keep on walking.
“O-kaaaay,” she shouts after me. “Be like that.” At least she stops following.
When I get home and step in the front door, Hiroko darts into the room, sees me, and says, “I can’t find your mother.”
My mom wandering off is not a new thing, but Hiroko is beside herself. “I’m sorry. I was folding laundry and then I realized it was quiet and I went looking for her. She’s not in the house.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her.
“It is?” She’s agitated. This is new to her, at least. “Does she have somewhere she usually goes?”
“Main Street.” Now I wonder if Kailie managed to distract me enough that I didn’t see my own mother heading the other way. Even if she was on the other side of the street, I should have noticed. Or maybe Mom passed by while I was talking to Kirsten. “Is she not answering her cell phone?”
“It’s on the kitchen counter.”
“Okay… um… if you call the police, I’ll start looking.”
“No, you call the police,” says Hiroko. “I’ll drive down to Wilkstone Road.” She darts upstairs to the back door.
I debate whether to call 911 or the non-emergency number, then remember that Officer Li gave me his card. I try his number first.
“Yep?” he answers.
“It’s Alex.”
“Hey, Alex.” He sounds happy to hear my voice. Weird.
“My mom’s missing.”
“Oh, since when?”
“I don’t know. Probably not longer than an hour.”
“Okay, I’ll head for Wilkstone. That’s her usual place, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So when I find her, what should I do? Talk to her first?”
“Right.”
“And if she’s scared? If she’s acting like I’m about to attack her?”
I lift an eyebrow. Who is this guy? The old Officer Li would just chuckle in amusement and head off to mock my mother and get her good and worked up before he hauled her off. Then he’d tell people around town the crazy things she’d said. It was real entertainment for him, or it had been.
“Hiroko’s on her way and she can usually deal with that.”
“All right, and do I bring her home to you or to the hospital?”
“Just home,” I say.
“Gotcha. Lemme go look for her. I’ll call you in a few.”
“Thanks.”
“De nada.” He hangs up.
Before I can even form a plan, the doorbell rings and I open it to find Madison with her arm around my mother. “Sorry,” says Madison. “I saw Hiroko driving the other way but I don’t have her cell phone number or yours. Grace, you okay or do you want me to stay with you for a minute?”
My mother looks up at her with trust and devotion, and I can’t help but be jealous that Madison gets a hug when I don’t. “I didn’t mean to wander off,” she says.
“I know you didn’t,” says Madison. “Everyone knows you didn’t. These things happen.”
“I was being chased.”
“I know.”
“But I couldn’t see them.” Just recounting this agitates my mother.
Madison pulls her in for another hug and pats her back. “I can’t imagine how scary that is.”
“You think I’m crazy?”
“I’d be terrified if that had happened to me. Come on, let’s get you inside.”
I step back as Madison escorts her through the door. “Do you have Hiroko’s number?” she prompts me.
That jolts me back into action. I call Hiroko and Officer Li to let them know my mom’s home and safe. Once done with that, I find Madison back in my mother’s room, tucking her in. Whenever Mom has a particularly nasty episode, it helps her to take a short nap. She wakes up half an hour later feeling much more calm and collected.
“You are a sweet girl,” my mother says. “So kind.”
Madison gives her a kiss on the cheek, then turns to leave, only I’m blocking her way. With a light touch on my arm, she moves me back into the hallway and shuts the bedroom door behind her. “I found her around behind Jackson’s, cowering. She said she was being chased and it took, like ten minutes or something to calm her down enough to come out of her hiding place. Sorry about that. I know you worried the whole time.”
“Thank you.” I hear the car pull into the garage and a breeze stirs in the hallway momentarily as the back door opens, then shuts.
“Alex?” Hiroko calls out.
“Yeah, she’s here,” I call back.
Rapid footsteps come down the stairs and Hiroko darts into view. At the sight of Madison she smiles. “How are you?”
“I’m good
, thanks. Sorry if she gave you a scare.”
“Thank you so much for finding her.”
“Yeah, no problem.” Madison holds out her arms and she and Hiroko hug.
“All right, I’ll leave you two alone,” says the caregiver.
Awkward. I turn back to Madison, unsure of what to say. Goodbye seems far too rude in a situation like this.
“Is that what it’ll be like for you?” she asks. “Or do you even know?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“So it might not ever get that severe?”
“Even half that severe is pretty bad,” I say, “and I’m not a ninety pound Asian woman. If I try to fight back…”
“I know as well as you do that the whole violent schizophrenic thing is mostly a myth, and you are a big ol’ wimp. Scary stuff happens and you run away.”
“I’ve been in plenty of fights.”
“I know, but you don’t scare me, all right? I know you.”
“Mental illness will change someone’s personality.”
“I know, Alex. I’ve read the articles. It’s not like I never thought that you might inherit the disorder.”
“Really?”
“No, I just was totally infatuated with a guy whose mother had a hereditary condition and it never occurred to me that he might have it too.”
“Okay, look, thank you for helping my mother. Really. I appreciate it. I just hate the idea of you doing this all the time, for her or for me. It’s not a fun job.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I know… I do.”
She looks me over, and I can see that she wants to be held. I can see that she wants it so badly that it pains her, and I have to admit, the feeling is mutual. She shuts her eyes. “If you need time to figure things out, I can understand that.”
“Okay.”
“But don’t make a final decision about us until you hear my side, because right now, you’re not even listening.”
“Look-”
“You can’t just break things off because of this, okay? You can’t. You can’t just push me aside.”
Love In Darkness Page 6