Find You in the Dark

by A. Meredith Walters

  I let him pull me to his chest as he nuzzled my hair. “You smell so good. Like apple pie.” He buried his nose in the tender spot behind my ear, kissing the skin gently. My body responded instantly like it always did, but I resisted the urge to get lost in him.

  “Yeah, it's my shampoo. So, you were just listening to music?” I let my question hang in the air. I pulled away from him and walked over to his desk, where he had been sitting. I tried to be subtle as I scanned the items lying there. All I could see were his school books and bits of paper. And that small wooden box. I put my hand on the lid and Clay was suddenly at my side.

  He put his hand on mine, putting an end to my snooping. He pulled my hands to his chest and laid them there. I could feel the beat of his heart beneath my palm. A tattoo on my skin. “Yeah, I was taking a break from my Calculus homework. It's been doing my head in.” He told me, pulling my chin with his fingers. I held back, not letting him kiss me. He would not distract me with that tantalizing mouth of his.

  “Well, you're acting kind of weird. Like you're hiding something.” I said, getting to the point. I wasn't one to beat around the bush. I could feel him stiffen slightly and then forcibly relax himself. He pulled my hand toward his bed and he sat down. Scooting himself so he was leaning against his pillows. He crooked his finger at me and gave me his best come hither smile.

  “Come lay with me, Maggie.” He purred. Oh, he was playing dirty. Going all sex god on me so I'd stop asking questions. Well, he wasn't fooling me for a minute. I rolled my eyes, but moved to lie beside him anyway. I was so weak.

  “Don't think I can't see right through your tactics, Mr. Reed.” I said as he kissed the top of my head. “I'm pretty transparent, huh? Excuse me if I can't think of anything else but getting that shirt back off of you.” He said huskily as he played with the hem. I smacked at his hands. “Stop it.” I giggled as his fingers inched under my shirt.

  I elbowed him in the arm playfully and froze when I saw him wince. He quickly blanked his expression, but I saw it. “You okay?” I asked, sitting up. Looking at him closely I could see that he was a little paler than usual and there was a definite strain to his eyes. “I'm fine.” He said breezily, reaching for me again.

  It was then that I noticed a red spot on the underside of his sleeve. “What's that?” I asked, touching it with my fingertip. It was wet. Clay looked at it and pulled his arm away.

  “Oh, it's nothing. Maybe some paint or something.” He moved away to the side of the bed. Paint? I didn't think so. “That doesn't look like paint to me.” I stated, trying to pull his arm back so I could get a look. Clay frowned and jerked his arm away again, roughly this time. “What is this? The Spanish Inquisition? I said I was fine. You know, I've got a lot of homework, so why don't I just see you in the morning.” He sat down at his desk and pulled out his Calculus book, effectively shutting down our conversation.

  I pulled the book away from him and he looked up at me, anger apparent on his face. “What the hell? I've got shit to do, so why don't you just head home.” I shook my head. He wouldn't chase me off with nastiness. “No can do, Clay. You're going to tell me what you're hiding and you're going to do it now.” My tone was hard and I could see it was only making Clay angrier.

  “I'm not hiding anything. Don't be ridiculous.” He said flippantly trying to grab his book back. I saw a small movement in the dim light. Looking closer, I could see drops of blood drip down his right hand.

  I gasped. “You're freaking bleeding! Let me look!” Before he could react, I swung his desk lamp over so I could see and yanked up his shirt sleeve. I was horrified to see a steady stream of blood coming down his arm.

  “It's nothing, Maggie.” He tried to pull the sleeve back down and I recognized the panic in his voice. “That is a lot of blood, Clay. I need to see it. You may have to go to the hospital or something.” I undid the buttons on his shirt and pulled it off of him, manhandling him in the process.

  I couldn't control my look of horror as I got sight of the very deep and precise cuts along his right upper arm. “Oh my God.” I breathed, grabbing several tissues and covering the wounds. I went immediately into crisis mode, not pausing to think. I went down the hallway to the bathroom, grabbing some gauze, rubbing alcohol and bandages, and went back to Clay's room.

  He hadn't moved, as though rooted to the spot. The blood was coming thick now. “Shit, Clay, this looks bad. You might need stitches. I should go get Ruby.” I started to head to the door. “No, Maggie. Don't get her, please.” He begged me. I turned back to him. “You should see a doctor. Seriously.” Clay picked up the gauze and pressed it to the cuts. Then using the bandages, he covered it and held them in place.

  “This will be fine. The blood will stop eventually.” He said, as though from experience. I felt sick to my stomach. “You did this to yourself didn't you?” Clay didn't say anything; he wouldn't look at me. I raised my voice. “Answer me, damn it! You did this!” Clay flinched. “Keep it down would you.” He moved behind me and closed the door.

  “What did you use, Clay?” My voice had gone cold. Clay sighed with resignation. He lifted the lid of the wooden box on his desk and pulled out a razor blade. I could see his blood on the blade. I shivered with revulsion. I snatched the blade from him, opened the window and threw it out. I was so mad and upset and scared. How could he do this to himself?

  Clay seemed remarkably calm, given that I was the one about to lose it. I stalked back over to him, putting my fingers to the skin of his chest. He hissed a quick breath as I touched the rigid scars crisscrossing his skin. The destruction he caused on himself was painful to look at.

  “Why would you do this? I thought you were taking your meds.” I whispered, backing away from him. Clay closed his eyes. “I still hurt, Mags. All the time. Even with the medication. It's not a magic fix you know.” He told me sharply, opening his eyes. “This is scary, Clay. I don't know what to do here.” I was at a complete loss and more than a little hurt; which was really selfish.

  I thought he was happy, that I made him happy. But it was obvious that I wasn't enough to help him. Not by a long shot. And that broke my heart.

  “You need help.” I said, feeling extremely tired. Clay's answering laugh was a bitter one. “Been there, done that, got the certificate of completion.” Clay roughly put his shirt back on. His fingers shook as he did up the buttons.

  “Well, you need to do something. Do Ruby and Lisa know you're doing this again?” I asked him. Clay's face grew dark. “No, and don't you dare tell them.” The threat clear in his voice. I drew myself up straight. “Don't you take that tone with me, Clay. I'm just worried about you. Maybe they need to know.” Clay just shook his head. “There's nothing they can do.” He muttered with that aching sadness.

  He sounded so helpless. So utterly destroyed. How did I possibly think I could help him? That I could do this on my own? His issues, what he needed, was so beyond what I was capable of providing. “I can't do this by myself. I don't know what to do, or what to say. I can't help you if you don't want to help yourself.” I said matter of factly.

  Clay looked at me for a second, then crossed the room toward me. “That's where you're wrong. You save me every single day. You are the one thing that makes me happy. You are the only thing I need.” His words were so passionate and I felt myself being pulled along by his conviction. “But, you're still cutting.” I argued, fighting the Clay haze that threatened to overshadow my better judgment.

  “That was a one- time thing. I swear it. I was just upset about what happened with your parents. About not being the guy you need me to be. I just got depressed. But now that you're here, I'll be fine. We're fine. I promise.” There were those words again. I promise.

  I had just said those same words to my mom as I assured her I would be fine. That Clay and I were fine. What a freaking lie.

  And here was Clay saying the exact same thing. Was he lying too? What was the use of those words when they were so often untrue?

  I kne
w I shouldn't let this go. Clay was sick. He needed to see someone. Ruby needed to know what he was going through. But I stupidly let him pull me into his arms, his breath teasing my lips as he leaned into me. I loved him so much. But was it enough?

  “I love you, Maggie. You're all that I need.” He murmured as his mouth captured mine and I forgot everything else. Stupid, stupid girl.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The week and a half leading up to Thanksgiving break found me stuck in a weird balancing act. I continued spending every free moment with Clay, which then forced me to lie repeatedly to my parents about what I was doing and who I was doing it with. They continued to make their dislike of Clay very clear and nothing I said seemed to change it.

  I felt like I was living my life in the shadow of everyone's disapproval. My parents', Rachel's and Daniel's. I saw it when they looked at me. Heard it between the lines of their words. They could mask it in concern all they wanted, but it didn't change the fact that they wanted me to forget about Clay and our relationship. To find my way back to the person I was before.

  Well, that wasn't going to happen. Because I was different now and I didn't want to be the girl I was before Clay. She was boring. Disinterested in life. That girl had never known what it was like to love someone more than herself.

  I didn't like that girl anymore. She was my past.

  And Clay, for all of his flaws, was my future. Whether my family and friends agreed or not. And honestly, I didn't give a damn.

  But I couldn't ignore the gigantic elephant in the room. Clay's arms had healed after I had found him cutting. I tried not to touch the rough scabs when he held me. I avoided being reminded of that scary place I had found myself in with Clay by my side.

  We never talked about it. Not once. There were times when it sat on the tip of my tongue to ask him about the cutting. To find out more about what triggered him. I wanted to understand that dark part of him. Because if I loved him, I had to love every part of who he was. But I was a wimp. Instead I refused to address it, choosing instead to bury my head in the proverbial sand like a damned ostrich.

  I had decided to look up bi-polar disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder on the internet one evening while I waited for Clay to call me. I didn't know much about mental illness, having never known anyone, before Clay, who suffered like that.

  When he threw around words like cycles and mania, I had no idea what he was talking about. So I sat myself down, intent on solving at least part of the mystery that shrouded my boyfriend.

  A few clicks later and the words started swimming in front of my eyes. Manic and depressive episodes. Heightened mood. Hypomania.

  Okay, having had enough of the bi-polar research, I had moved on to the Borderline thing. That wasn't any better. I skipped over statements that read, pattern of instability and intensity within interpersonal relationships, frantic efforts to avoid abandonment. Inappropriate anger. Suicidal behaviors.

  I had closed my browser. I couldn't handle reading anymore. It was that ostrich mentality again. The less I knew, the better.

  Since then, I staunchly avoided all discussions about Clay's cutting and his mental health. But even though I wouldn't talk about it, it didn't stop me from thinking about it all the time. But, Clay wanted normal, so damn it I would give him normal. And that meant that I refused to dwell on the blackness that threatened to engulf us.

  Clay, for his part, was trying to keep things even- keeled. He took me to the movies, brought me my favorite coffee every morning. Beautiful drawings and heartfelt poems filled my locker. He was the picture of the considerate and thoughtful boyfriend. We became even more fixated on each other. The physical need to drown our fears in each other was overwhelming.

  Our kisses had become almost desperate, our hands less than patient as we sought to erase the nagging doubts that tickled the back of our minds in the hours we spent together. But nothing could erase the truth that had taken root in my mind. That this would all blow up in my face in the most agonizing way possible. I felt like my life was a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode.

  I started waking up in the middle of the night. Startled out of sleep by horrible nightmares. I could never remember all of them. Only that Clay was leaving me and there was nothing I could do about it. I was wound as tight as a violin. Those dark hours before seeing Clay again were the worst. I couldn't sleep for worrying about what he was doing.

  I knew this was bad for me. I knew that perhaps my parents had been right. But I needed Clay as much as he needed me. We existed in this symbiotic relationship where our hearts beat and our lungs breathed only for each other.

  Was all first love this intense? I remember watching Daniel and Kylie as they stumbled through their relationship, sneering at how ridiculous they were. If only I had realized how hard it was to keep a level head when you were buried deep in these feelings.

  I had convinced Rachel to cover for me so we could go away to the cabin. She was not happy about lying to my parents. She felt guilt way too intensely and I worried she'd never be able to keep up the charade. But after days of begging, she finally agreed, even as I knew this was yet another tally in the anti-Clay column. But I needed to be with him, just the two of us. An entire night where we could be together. It sounded like bliss.

  As the days got closer to our get away, even my reluctant friends couldn't deny the excitement of getting out of town. Daniel had asked Clay if he could invite Ray and Clare, and Clay had agreed; much to my relief. I hoped the presence of Ray and Clare would help to neutralize the tension that I knew would otherwise be present. So everyone planned our crazy night away and I reveled in the new level of comradery that descended over Clay and my friends.

  Thanksgiving came and went and I enjoyed having a quiet meal with my parents. I even braved the mall to go shopping on Black Friday. I allowed my mom to talk me into getting some new clothes. I got some new pants and shirts, letting myself embrace my girlie side with more feminine gear.

  While my mom was busy picking out some new bras and underwear at Victoria's Secret, I took the opportunity to pick out some items for myself. I had to make sure that my mother didn't see me choosing several lacy pairs of panties and matching push up bras. Holding up a see-through pair of underwear, I imagined Clay taking them off of me and my blood heated up. Yep, I was getting these for sure. I surreptitiously paid for the items and then hid the bright pink bag in my purse.

  Saturday morning, Rachel came over and helped me pack for our night. She oohed and ahhed over the new clothes I had gotten, calling dibs on the cute black off the shoulder top my mom had picked out. It was the first time in weeks where I felt that old ease and normalcy in our relationship. I was convinced tonight would be just what I needed. Not only because I would have time with Clay, but I could repair my relationships with my friends.

  “You're mom has some serious style, Mags.” Rachel commented, stuffing the black top into my overnight bag. I found my super snug skinny jeans and put them in the bag as well. “Yeah, she dresses way better than I do.” I admitted, rummaging through my underwear drawer and pulling out several pairs of bra and panties that I had chosen yesterday.

  “Wow, so you and Clay. Alone. All night. Are you ready for that?” Rachel asked me, chewing on her bottom lip in a way that indicated she was nervous. “Shh.” I hissed, closing my bedroom door. “Sorry.” Rachel said, lowering her voice.

  “I don' know, Rach. I do know that I love him and he loves me. And whatever happens, happens.” I said determinedly. Rachel picked at her nails. “Well, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Don't let a guy make you feel like you should, you know?” I knew what she was getting at. It didn't take a rocket science to figure out she was telling me that she worried I would be pressured to have sex. If she only knew how many times it was Clay who put a halt to things.

  “I know that. I'm not going to do anything I don't want to do.” I assured her. Rachel nodded, apparently trying to take me at my word. Why did I get t
he feeling she didn't believe me?

  “This is the real deal, Rach. I love him.” I told her, sitting down on my bed. Rachel sat down beside me and put her arm around me and laying her head on my shoulder. “I know you do, Maggie. And I'm happy you've found that.” Rachel sounded genuine and I felt my stomach unclench in relief. I leaned into her. “Thanks.” I said and we were quiet a moment. “What about you and Daniel? Are you going to play nice this weekend?” I asked, nudging her with my shoulder.

  Rachel grunted. “I'll play nice if he plays nice.” she said tersely. I gave her arm a pinch. “I know you're angry with him. He hurt you. I understand how hard it is to open that part of yourself to someone. But Daniel cares about you. And maybe the timing just wasn't right. Don't rule it out. You guys are made for each other.” Rachel shrugged. “I don't know. If he can forget about Kylie for more than two minutes, maybe you'd be right.” I felt bad for her, because she was speaking the truth. “Besides, even though things are weird with us right now, he's still one of my best friends. And as much as I fantasize about us being something else, I really don't want to ruin our friendship.” She said wistfully.

  “I know. But the best relationships are built on friendship first.” I said, zipping up my bag. Rachel shrugged again. “I seriously doubt Daniel sees me as anything but a friend. Hell, he thought we had penises!” I laughed, recalling that conversation clearly. But, I for one, knew that Daniel wasn't entirely unaffected by Rachel. I had seen his eyes when he saw her in that pink sparkly dress at Fall Formal. I saw how upset he got when she was mad at him. He had feelings for her alright. If he was willing to act on them was the real question.

  “I just think life's too short to get hung up on maybes.” I told her simply. Rachel rolled her eyes at me. “Well aren't you philosophical all of a sudden. Love has turned you into Gandhi.” I laughed as I hoisted my bulging duffel bag on my shoulder and headed down the stairs.