A Neon Darkness

by Lauren Shippen

  “Oh, kid,” she breathes, and the diminutive endearment is so laced with genuine pity it doesn’t even sting. “There’s a huge difference.”

  Completely unbidden, I feel tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. I’ve never heard Neon use this tone of voice before, not even when talking to Indah.

  “Understanding is like love,” she continues. “You can’t tell someone else how to do it.”

  “Why not?” I plead, feeling like a little boy asking his mom why he can’t have ice cream for dinner. “Why can’t someone tell me how to do it? No one ever told me how to do it.”

  I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to dispel the moisture that’s gathered there, but all I succeed in doing is sending tears down my cheeks. I want to wipe them away but am loath to draw attention to the fact that I’m crying in front of Neon, the strongest person I know. I’ve never cried in front of anyone before and it feels like having my rib cage cracked open for everyone to see inside.

  When the water has cleared from my eyes, leaving tracks of salt on my face, I see my expression reflected in Neon’s. She looks lost and sad and all I want is to feel her touch again, to have her comfort me without needing to exchange words, but I know there’s nothing I can do—ability or no—to make her reach for me.

  It’s just occurring to me that maybe I can do something—take a step forward, reach out, pull her in close to me, let her either come into my arms or push me away, put the choice on her—when the front door handle rattles and turns and two laughing people pile into the loft.

  Neon and I both turn reluctantly toward the door to see Indah and Blaze, red faced and giggling, hanging over each other.

  “Oh, hey, you two!” Indah gasps for breath, spotting us. “What are you guys doing up so late?” Her eyes settle on me and guilt rises up in my throat like bile. Her soft, open expression—loving and trusting and far more than I deserve—is the same expression I saw on my dad’s face before he stepped off the roof to give me the Frisbee I wanted.

  “Uh, we…” Neon starts, but quickly gives up. I see her swallow, see her eyes shining before she turns her back and moves toward the kitchen. “Do you want some tea, babe?” she calls without looking over her shoulder at Indah, going to the stove, far away from me.

  “No, that’s all right,” Indah sighs. “I’m gonna go crash. Maybe you can join me before I fall asleep?” she adds flirtatiously, and my gut twists further. Indah so rarely flirts with Neon in front of us, always the more serious of the two, but whatever she and Blaze got up to seems to have put her in good spirits.

  Neon fiddles with the kettle and gives a noncommittal grunt in response, which just causes an affectionate smile to bloom across Indah’s face.

  “Me too.” Blaze yawns, stretching his arms tall above his head. His shirt lifts as he bends left and right and I see that he’s starting to put on weight, his skin no longer stretched over his bones like a taut canvas. For a moment, I hate him and his smile and his improving health and his easy way with the Unusuals so much that everything else fades away.

  Both Indah and Blaze walk toward their respective bedrooms, murmuring and laughing to each other as they go. I stand, unmoving, in between the kitchen and the living room, in a strange no man’s land both literally and metaphorically, and listen to the clicks of their doors shutting. I can feel Neon moving around the kitchen behind me, hear her fill the kettle and pull down a mug, like she’s the one who likes tea, even though she only ever makes it for Indah.

  “At least she seems to have forgotten about your fight,” I say, wincing immediately at how flippant my voice sounds.

  “Shut the fuck up, Damien,” she snaps, making me wince further.

  She walks past me, toward the front hall, and turns on her heel, somehow looming menacingly over me despite her tiny stature.

  “Not a word to Indah, you hear me?” she hisses. “She doesn’t know anything about this.”

  “Okay.” I nod. “She won’t know anything.”

  * * *

  That, of course, doesn’t last.

  The next morning, I’m sitting in the living room, having been too scared to leave the apartment. I want to keep everyone in one place. Marley came back late last night and rose sometime around noon before retreating back into his bedroom to study, seemingly oblivious to what happened between me and Neon but still clearly miffed about our fight, resolutely ignoring me as I sat still and silent in the chair he gave me.

  I’m just thinking about maybe seeing what’s in the fridge and figuring out if I can rustle up some dinner for everyone as an unspoken apology, when I hear a bedroom door slam and angry footsteps marching toward me.

  “You know, Robert,” Indah starts abruptly, voice trembling in anger, “you can be friends with someone without trying to get with them.”

  “That’s not—”

  “That’s exactly what it is, Rob,” she snaps. She’s wild-eyed and fuming—I’ve never seen her look so angry. “You clearly have lots of wires crossed in your head—you don’t know how to love, how to be loved, so you just go for the most obvious choice.”

  “It wasn’t just me that did it, you know,” I bark, defensive even though I know I’m wrong. “Neon was there too.”

  “Neon is committed to me,” Indah spits. “I know that she’s waffled until now and that she—she has her doubts from time to time, but she would never cheat on me. That’s not the kind of person she is. Once she gives her word about something, she means it.”

  “Clearly not, because she said she wasn’t going to tell you about last night, and yet here we are!” I stand, throwing up my arms in frustration.

  “What are you talking about?” Indah asks, eyes narrowing.

  “She told me not to tell you anything,” I say. “Which was fine with me—after all, I didn’t tell her about our kiss—”

  “Oh please.” She snorts. “You drunkenly lunged at me, that hardly counts as a kiss.”

  “See?” I shout. “What happened with Neon was different. I wasn’t doing the same dumb thing I did with you and you know that.”

  “No,” she says, shaking her head, “no, Nee said that you wanted it, that that’s why she kissed you back.”

  “Kissed me back? Is that what she said? She’s the one who kissed me.” I’m feeling like a broken record, unable to stop spinning, breaking into shards that will fly across the room and cut anyone in the vicinity.

  “Because you wanted it, not because she—”

  “No, she shocked me and then kissed me and then I kissed her back, and you know what?” I’m digging the knife in further and I’m not sure why. “We kept kissing! She seemed pretty into it.”

  “Don’t delude yourself, Robert,” she snarls, taking a step toward me. “I know Neon a hell of a lot better than you. She loves me. She would never, ever do anything to hurt me.”

  “Yeah, except keep one foot out the door,” I mumble.

  “Excuse me?” Indah demands. “Just because you don’t know what a real relationship looks like, it doesn’t mean there isn’t one staring you in the face.”

  “Oh, trust me,” I shout, laughing manically, “I know what a real relationship looks like. After all, I’m the one that put you in a real relationship!”

  “What are you talking about?” she demands, like I’m speaking a different language.

  “Why do you think she finally committed?” I ask quietly, my voice like smooth venom. “And why do you think she hasn’t been fully in it since?”

  “You didn’t…” Indah shakes her head. “No, you didn’t do anything. That’s not … no.”

  She’s started pacing again, shaking her head all the while, avoiding eye contact with me. I can see that she’s nervous, see that she doesn’t want to believe what I’m saying but that something in her gut is telling her the truth.

  “You’re welcome,” I sneer.

  “That’s not…,” she says again. “Okay, but even if that were true—which it’s not—then why would you try to take her away
from me?”

  “I didn’t! It was…” I search for a word. “Borrowing.”

  “Borrowing?” she echoes incredulously, and I wince. “She’s not a library book—”

  “She didn’t do anything she didn’t want to—”

  “How can you know that, Robert?” she spits. “How can you really know that?”

  “I know, okay?” I lie.

  We stare at each other in a tense silence, the air between us crackling with unease. I should be wanting Indah to be calm, to be forgiving me, but for some reason, I can’t muster up the desire.

  “I don’t…” Indah is shaking her head again. “I don’t understand you, Robert.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap back, my heart beating fast.

  “How could you want her to commit to me and then turn around and do that?”

  “A person can want two things, Indah.” Her face flinches at my condescension. “Neon loves you, she does. And just once, I wanted someone to love me like that. Is that so wrong?”

  Indah sighs deeply and I want to shake her—grab her by the shoulders and rattle her until she tells me what’s going on in her head.

  “You really don’t get it, do you?” she exhales, her arms crossed in front of her like armor.

  “I clearly don’t,” I snap back, trying to use the truth as a weapon.

  “We would have accepted you,” she says, and her verb tense sends a shiver down my spine. “I think we all understand—it’s not that long ago that we were where you are now. Not a kid anymore, not really an adult, trying to figure it all out. Alex is still in that stage.”

  “Don’t pretend like you know what it’s like,” I say, getting up from the couch and stalking toward her. “You’re not one of us, however much you try to be.”

  She reels back at that, and I can tell that I’ve stunned her into momentary silence.

  “You’re right.” She nods, her voice soft and broken. “I’m not. But I’ve lived with enough Unusuals to understand that it can be difficult, to get your ability under control.”

  “Exactly. I don’t see you giving Blaze lectures about how to behave and he nearly burned down the apartment the other week.”

  “She does give me lectures, dude.”

  We both turn to see Alex standing at the edge of the living room, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

  “Thanks, man, but I think we’ve got this handled,” I say, trying to wave him off.

  “I’d like him to stay,” Indah says, taking a step back from me. At that moment, more footsteps shuffle into the living room and Neon and Marley join the party.

  “What’s going on?” Marley asks, bleary-eyed.

  “Damien and I kissed,” Neon says, and I see both her and Indah wince.

  “Oh … kay…,” Marley says, looking between the three of us. “Hey, Blaze, wanna go get a bite to eat?”

  Marley takes a step toward the front door, but Neon grabs one of his meaty arms and holds him in place.

  “No,” she tells him. “We should really all talk.”

  “Oh, is this just the ‘gang up on Robert’ hour then?” I scoff, taking a few steps deeper into the living room in an effort to get away from the four-headed attack dog.

  “We’re not ganging up on you, Damien,” Neon says, following in my footsteps, slowly, cautiously, like she’s afraid I’m going to lunge and bite her. Doesn’t she understand that she’s the one with the teeth?

  “Neon…?” Indah asks in a small voice. “Could you…”

  Without answering, Neon lifts up her hands, sending a strong bolt of electricity through me, making me double over in pain.

  “Ow!” I cry. “Goddamn it, why?”

  “Because we need to be able to be honest with you,” Indah tells me, a pleading edge to her voice.

  “Honest?” I parrot. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I look at the four faces in front of me—Neon and Indah have that twin look like they’re my worried parents and I’ve just gotten caught putting my hand in the cookie jar. Marley is characteristically hard to read, his jaw clenched, his statuesque frame unmoving. Blaze stands the farthest away, still in the liminal space between the living room and the entryway, looking strangely uncomfortable for the person who has lived in this loft the longest.

  “What is this, some kind of intervention?” I scoff, and there is a noticeable lack of smiles in the group. “Oh,” I breathe. “I guess it is.”

  “We’ve all had a lot on our minds recently,” Indah starts, and everyone’s eyes flit around as they all give each other significant looks. “And we haven’t been able to talk to you about it because, well…”

  “You don’t exactly ever welcome criticism, kid,” Neon finishes, and the glint in her eye tells me that the use of the hated diminutive is purposeful. She wants me to know that she’s in charge again, even though she always is.

  “So this is ‘gang up on Robert’ hour?” I snap.

  “No.” Marley speaks up finally, his light voice the only comforting thing. “But you have to understand that you’re a hard person to be honest with sometimes. You don’t often want us to be, especially when it’s something that concerns you.”

  “And you’ve been abusing your ability, Robert,” Indah says, her voice so much kinder than it was a few minutes ago and far more so than I deserve.

  “What? How have I been abusing my power?”

  “Look at all of us,” Neon says, her arms sweeping out to the rest of the group. “A month ago we never would have even considered living together—four Unusuals in one place is a recipe for disaster, especially with Isaiah on our tails—”

  “Don’t pretend like you haven’t been loving this,” I say. “You all didn’t seem to have any problem with me getting us an apartment or free dinners or backstage passes, or getting you out of jail,” I spit at Blaze, “or any of the hundreds of ways that you guys have been mooching off of me—”

  “Mooching?” Neon scoffs. “Have you noticed that none of us have quit our day jobs? We’re not relying on you to take care of us, Damien.”

  “But you don’t seem to mind,” I retort.

  “Yeah, when it’s dumb shit like furniture and rent and all the other trappings of civilized society that we’re forced to participate in—”

  “I really don’t need a lecture about capitalism right now, Neon.”

  “But we’re not things, Damien,” she spits. “And you can’t treat us like we are. It’s different. It’s different when you use your ability on us and I know you know that.”

  “Yeah, I do know that,” I say, wanting desperately to believe it. “And I haven’t been using my ability on you guys—”

  I don’t even get through the sentence before both Neon and Indah are shooting daggers at me.

  “I don’t mean to,” I correct. “I’m bound to slip up every now and then, I’m not perfect—”

  “No one’s asking you to be,” Marley says. “But you are influencing us, like … a lot.”

  “What are you talking about?” My voice is shaking in fear. I don’t understand why the only three people I’ve ever trusted are looking at me like I’m a wild, untamed animal. I haven’t made anyone step off a roof or drive away never to return. Sure, sometimes they tell me things more easily than they otherwise would, spend a little bit more time with me than they intend to, but what’s the problem with that? Other than making them a little late for work or knowing their secrets—which I would never tell anyone, who else do I even talk to—I don’t see how I’m doing any harm.

  “I never wanted to live here,” Indah says. “I loved my apartment, loved my job at Lubitsch. I haven’t seen my old roommates in weeks—I just up and left without saying goodbye and now they won’t take any of my calls. They were my friends. You’re not the only people on the planet I care about.”

  “I’m not stopping you from seeing them,” I say. “You could move back in any time you want to.”

  “Except I can’t,”
she tells me. “Every time I come back to the loft, all I want to do is be here. So I don’t go anywhere except work. And sometimes the fog lifts when I’m there, but sometimes you’re at work too and I never get back to normal.”

  “You’re keeping us here, Damien,” Marley says calmly. “Haven’t you noticed how much time we’re all spending here? None of us are exactly homebodies—”

  “And yet things have been distinctly domestic around here,” Neon finishes. Unlike Indah, I normally find the way Neon and Marley complete each other’s sentences charming—the sign of a bond between them that I’m inching closer to having myself—but right now it feels like nails on a chalkboard.

  “I’m not—” I sputter. “You don’t have to stay here! You could all move out if you wanted.”

  “Except we don’t want to,” Indah says. “Because you don’t want us to.”

  “What about Blaze?” I say, pivoting. “I don’t want him here—not that—I like you, Blaze—”

  I’m floundering, looking apologetically at Blaze, but he stares back blank faced.

  “I’m not your biggest fan either,” he says. “But this is my home. I actually want to live here. Why do you think I put up with those shitty roommates for so long? And this is definitely an improvement, as is the free rent—”

  “See? He gets it,” I say. “He knows how lucky he is—”

  “But, as nice as it is to live with my friends,” he interrupts curtly, “I don’t want them living here unless they want to live here. Not to mention, you’ve been fucking with me too.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I haven’t gone up in flames at all,” he says. “When you’re around, I guess you don’t want me to, so I don’t. I don’t know how your ability is overriding mine, when nothing else has, but it is.”

  “You’re welcome then,” I snap. Blaze uncrosses his arms and starts to stalk toward me, fire in his eyes.

  “Yeah, except it all just builds up,” he continues sharply, “so when you’re not here, it’s worse than ever. Why do you think I blew up that bar? I didn’t mean to but because I hadn’t used my ability in a few days, it just … boiled over. This thing has already ruined so much of my life and now it’s even less in my control. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”