“You sure that’s how you want it?”
“Positive.”
“Because you don’t want to make her your caregiver?”
“Pretty much.”
“Okay, look. I hear that, I do. But I figured something out while I was in therapy after I almost wrecked Madison’s whole life. I couldn’t control whether or not she forgave me. She always did. I could control whether or not I deserved it.”
“You’re her friend, not her significant other.”
For a moment she says nothing, then she changes the subject. “Are you ever coming home?”
“Yeah. I can’t stay here with my aunt forever. I’ll be home in a couple of weeks. And then I’ll figure out what to do. I’ll find out the prognosis for my mom and make plans and stuff.”
“What kind of plans?”
“Whether I stay there or sell the house and move.”
“Do you want my opinion?”
“Does it matter? Would you actually not tell me if I don’t?”
She laughs. “Just come home. Things aren’t right without you. Kirsten and I are starting this business and it’s all kinds of scary.”
“I’m sure.”
“And I wish we could meet with you about it. I mean, you know respite care, you know the Foundation, and you’re a friend.”
“You can call me whenever. I can’t guarantee I’ll know stuff, but you can always ask.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks for cleaning out my fridge.” I just thanked Kailie Beale for breaking into my house, and meant it.
“Yeah, anytime. Just, don’t be a stranger. We miss you, all right? And call the hospital. I think they’ll want you to send in a signed form before I can go talk to them about your mom.”
“I will, thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Cool. Bye.” She hangs up.
“Alex, we need to schedule that meeting with your cousins.” Aunt Ellie finishes going through the phone messages for the Wilkstone Foundation.
We’re in the Foundation’s office on Main Street, and I sit behind the reception desk while she packs up her things. She’ll drive on to her other home in Crescent City, where she plans to meet with some clients over the next few days. I’ll stay here. We’ve already dropped my things at my house.
The reception area of the Foundation office is small but well decorated with a tile floor, a splashing fountain, and comfy chairs for people waiting to meet with my aunt.
“We need a new director and we need one stat,” she goes on.
“Sure.” I’m distracted, though, by being back in Pelican Bluffs. There’s no denying I love it here. Even just the way the air smells is perfect.
“Big changes are happening in town, specifically, the Madison Lukas factor.”
I look up. “What’s that?” I ask.
“She’s a local girl, you probably know her. Started a business with artists that has taken off. I mean, growing like you wouldn’t believe. We’ve had seven people who moved into the low income houses to work minimum wages in town quit and stay in those houses, doing art, which isn’t something we originally foresaw. They’re earning decent money too. She’s also started this monthly photoshoot thing where all her clients come together to get their wares photographed for online sales. The first one turned into a de facto crafts fair when people showed up to try to buy the wares before they went up on the internet. I mean, that’ll be a zoning nightmare from now on. In short, she’s creating a middle class and a local industry, and those are two things this town’s never had. Usually people’s eligibility to live in those houses ends when they stop working in town, but they’re creating new jobs in town now. We’ll run out of housing.”
“Oh.”
“So… it’s more than I can deal with. Three art galleries wanting to move in, when we don’t have the commercial space. It’s insane, and your cousins, either of them, would handle it much better than I.”
“Okay.”
“So when are we gonna have that meeting?”
“Set it up for the next time you’re in town.”
“Which of your cousins do you want to take over?”
“I still need to think about that.”
Aunt Ellie rolls her eyes. “Fine. Just decide by the time we have that meeting.”
“I promise.”
“I’m leaving. You coming out?”
“Actually, I’ll lock up. It’s okay.”
She gives me an odd look, which I suppose is appropriate given I have no conceivable reason to stay behind, but she also seems ready to leave me. I tried to be a good houseguest, but no one wants to look after a disabled relative indefinitely, especially not a grown man. Aunt Ellie gives me a hug, then exits without another word, the glass door swinging shut behind her with a soft swish.
I sit back down behind the reception desk and look around. My homecoming has made me sentimental all of a sudden. Once I turn over the Foundation to one of my cousins, my relationship with this place will change. I won’t be Roger’s grandson, the technical heir-apparent. I’ll be just another Wilkstone cousin, and one no longer in the line of succession, or whatever you call it when it’s a business and not a country.
A tap on the glass makes me look up and I see Officer Li standing outside. “You okay?” he mouths.
I get up and open the door. “Yeah. I guess.”
“What’s up, Alex? Long time no see.” He claps my shoulder, grins, and steps inside. The door swings shut behind us.
“Just saying goodbye. I’m turning the Foundation over to one of my cousins, and then I dunno where I’ll go or what I’ll do.”
“What does that mean, turning the Foundation over?” He takes off his sunglasses and hooks them over the front of his shirt. “You stepping down?”
“No, I’m just not stepping up. I was next in line to be the director. Obviously, I can’t be, but it still feels like I’m giving something up. I know. It’s stupid.”
He looks me over. “Why can’t you be the director?”
“That a joke?”
“No, you’re the only Wilkstone who knows this place, and you really do know it. You’ve got so many connections to people, through the disabled community, through your church, through growing up here. I bet there isn’t a single person you wouldn’t recognize on sight.”
“So?”
“So? Come on. That counts for something. For a Foundation that is all about this town, you are the most qualified.”
“I’m-”
“Don’t bring up your schizophrenia again. Come on. I saw you, full out psychotic, carrying your mother to safety. You were covered in blood and all bruised up and talking about how voices had taken over her body, and you still rescued her. Parts of your mind are broken, but only parts. A lot of important stuff works just fine.”
“Thanks, but you haven’t even seen me in a month.”
“You look great. Seriously. You want help? You need someone for support? You’ve got people. You’ve got me, for one. What can I do?”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to be nice to me, you know.”
“I do know, yeah.”
“So why are you?”
He puts his hands on his hips. “Is it so hard to imagine that someone might want to be your friend? You’re a good guy, and you changed my life. When I was on the ropes, you showed me how to get back up again.”
I shrug. “Okay.”
“Come on. This Foundation have a mission statement or anything? I bet helping people out with service is in there somewhere.”
“Mission statement? No. I don’t think so.”
“A slogan?”
“Not that I know of.”
“A seal? A cool logo with some Latin on it?”
“Um, not on the letterhead.”
He steps over behind the desk and scrutinizes the labels on the filing cabinet. “Articles of Organization. May I?”
I get up to see what he’s looking at. It’s the top drawer, which I pull open. Insid
e is a binder and a bunch of folders. Officer Li grabs the binder and flips it open. The pages part to reveal a map of the town, only not really. The low income housing isn’t there. Instead there are high density condos. Main Street has more housing in units above commercial storefronts. There’s a neighborhood of single family housing between Main Street and Ridge Road.
“What the heck?” I say.
“Long range plan for Pelican Bluffs,” he reads off the caption.
“I never heard of any kind of plan.”
He flips a few pages, scans the text, then says, “The purpose of the low income housing is to foster local talent and a local economy. The wealthy who live here might be willing to invest in new startups, but are unlikely to be as motivated when it comes to doing the hard work of building a new business. People in the low income housing should see their situation as temporary. Any and all entrepreneurial spirit should be encouraged and fostered.” He looks up at me. “You never read any of this?”
“I’m not sure anyone has. Not lately anyway.”
He flips to the back of the binder. “Actually, no, here’s a signed letter from Ellie Wilkstone Baynes to the Board of Directors saying, and I quote, “’Roger’s long term plans for the town, while very inspired, are nevertheless unrealistic. It would appear that Pelican Bluffs isn’t a likely candidate for locally implemented economic growth.’ Basically, Alex, she wrote off the whole plan decades ago. Didn’t even try to build up the economy.”
“Well, she was just being sensible.”
“Am I not right that Madison’s becoming a little local tycoon?”
“So I hear.”
“And correct me if I’m wrong, but Kirsten Beale’s starting up a business too? Her and Kailie are going in together?”
“What’s your point?” I say.
“My point is that some of the stuff your grandfather wrote about is starting to happen.”
“Well… whatever.”
He shoves the binder at me. “It isn’t whatever. Read this thing, think it over, and consider stepping up to head this Foundation. If you really think it over and it isn’t for you, then fine, I can respect that. But you better think long and hard about it, because my guess is that your grandfather, if he were here, would be proud of you. Don’t be so sure that he wouldn’t choose you to take over.”
That is a blindingly new concept, anyone being proud of me. I’m not sure I buy it, but I do take the binder.
“You got dinner plans or you able to come to our place? I’m doing something revolutionary, totally insane. I’m taking EVOL Burritos and…” He lowers his voice for dramatic effect. “Cooking them according to the instructions.”
I laugh. “I don’t want to intrude-”
“And Mikey’s acting up again.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll come.”
He cracks up. “I lied about Mikey, but you’re coming, all right? I’m taking you at your word. Carla’s out for the evening. We can watch sports or something.”
What we end up doing is playing with Mikey, who had clearly planned to spend the evening lining up blocks. I show Officer Li how to interrupt his progress and force a little interaction, heaping on the praise so that Mikey understands the point of the exercise.
“I’m gonna head up the fundraising effort for a new group home,” Officer Li explains.
“So we might get a group home?” I say.
“We will. We have to. I don’t wanna leave Pelican Bluffs. Huh, buddy? We want to stay right here. And we want to talk Alex into babysitting for us sometimes, right?”
I shake my head. “I’ve had two pretty nasty episodes that landed me in the hospital.”
“I know.” Officer Li looks me in the eye. “I remember. I saw one of them. Honest to goodness truth? This is the first evening I’ve played with Mikey and felt like I’m actually communicating with him.”
“Any therapist should be able to teach you this stuff. Or books.”
“I’m telling you, you’re good at this. Better than average. Someday you’re gonna have to let me compensate you with more than microwaved burritos.”
I laugh and in that moment, I realize, he isn’t Officer Li anymore. He’s Justin, and we really are friends.
Later, after Justin drops me off at home, I read the Foundation binder cover to cover. My grandfather, it turns out, had a lot of big ideas that sound more than a little fanciful. Pelican Bluffs to him wasn’t a static little town with the rich on one side and the poor on the other. That was just the seed that was supposed to germinate into something more.
He was kind of a kook, my grandfather, full of grandiose ideas about social engineering, but having said that, there isn’t a single word of this set of legal and other papers that I don’t understand. I’m not sure why I get it, but I do. Guess there’s more Wilkstone in me than I’d realized.
I have the sense of puzzle pieces falling into place. This is where I belong and where I need to stay. I can be useful here. Maybe even be content.
Three days later, Kailie drives me down to Pacific Psychiatric. A nurse escorts me to my mom’s room where she sits with her back to the door. Through the little window, I can see the gray in her hair is growing out, leaving just the tips black, and she looks as if she hasn’t washed it in days.
My heart lifts at the sight of her, though. It’s been over a month.
“Now, just so you know,” says the nurse. “No one’s been able to communicate with her all the time she’s been here. We’ll see how this goes, but be ready.”
He knocks twice, then opens the door. My mother twists around, and at the sight of me lets out a bloodcurdling scream, her face contorted in fear.
“Mom,” I say, “it’s me, Alex.”
“Get him away. Get away!”
The nurse grasps my arm and pulls me back while my mother covers her face with her hands and screams again.
“It’s me,” I say. I turn to the nurse and switch back to English. “I swear, I’ve never hurt her. I don’t ever abuse her. I didn’t mean to let her wander off-”
“Relax,” he says. “That’s just how she’s been ever since she was brought in. Medication doesn’t change it, therapy can’t even happen with her like that. I guess you’ve got a meeting with her doctor in ten minutes?”
I nod, knowing what the outcome of that meeting will be. I can’t bring my mother home like that. I’ll have to sign the papers to leave her here, for good, and she hates it here. I don’t know of any group homes or other facilities that can handle a patient this psychotic, though.
Not for the first time, I wish Madison were here. She’d understand why I feel worthless right now. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be what my mother needs, and now I’ve failed, completely.
At least Kailie’s here, asking staff discreet questions and finding out the real story about how my mom’s being treated. If there’s anything amiss, she’ll figure it out. Several of the nurses greeted her with warm hugs when she showed her face. I’m not alone in this anymore.
But it still feels like I am.
Kailie drives me back to Pelican Bluffs and respects my need for silence. It isn’t until we’re on the outskirts of town that she utters a sound. “Have you seen Madison, yet?”
“No. It’ll happen at church.”
“You going to be okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll deal.”
That evening, though, as I brush my teeth, I hear a voice mutter in my ear, “She was happy to move on from you. She’s embarrassed to remember that she ever dated you.”
That Sunday, I get up early and walk to church, arriving just as the congregation sings the opening hymn. My seat at the back of the chapel is still open and I slip right in. Madison’s sitting in her usual spot at the front, her platinum locks easy to see. Next to her is Carson, with his arm around her shoulders.
He isn’t hugging her, holding her, kissing her, or even talking to her. Even so, it’s too much. The graceful lines of her neck shift as she turns her head to look at him,
and I shut my eyes. I don’t want to see her gaze at him the way she used to look at me.
She isn’t mine anymore. I agreed to let her go when I broke up with her before my mission, and yet, my heart won’t obey. Even with new friends, life is lonely, and I want her more than ever.
When a hastily muttered prayer doesn’t gain me any relief, I get to my feet and make my escape.
When I get home, several lights are on and there are voices laughing in the hallway. The voices I ignore. The lights, I figure I left those on before I left. I need to be more careful. When the doorbell rings later on, I ignore it. I can only guess that it’d be people from church coming by to express pity. Or maybe to laugh.
A day later I feel a presence follow me on my morning run. I dart in the door as fast as I can, but I sense that it slipped in behind me.
That night I find myself wide awake, unable to sleep because of the voices throwing a party downstairs. They’ve slipped in through the windows and doors and won’t leave, and won’t respect my rules.
Some time later, one day or perhaps two, Kailie drops by, but speaks in a code that I don’t understand. I listen to a few minutes of it, then haul her downstairs and push her out the front door.
When the bishop calls to ask why I wasn’t at church, I let the call go through to voicemail. It’s then that I realize that I’m not even sure what day it is or how many Sundays I might have missed. I just don’t care to keep track.
My third breakdown doesn’t happen all at once, but rather as a gradual slide. The voices move into my house and take up residence. I disregard my checklists and stop living according to a clock or sunrise and sunset. I go on my runs when I want, eat when I want, and sleep when I can. One afternoon, or perhaps morning, when I return home from a run, I find an army of shadowy figures in my house. The creatures behind the voices are coming into this world from their realm. Half a dozen float in the front room, angry gazes directed at me. I’m Chosen, and they don’t like my kind. They’re humanlike, but made of a gauzy ectoplasm that flows like cloth underwater.
Love In Darkness Page 18