Addicted to the Light

by S. E. Amadis

  Finally, the sun flared red on the horizon through the skimpy, early-season tree branches, burning through the remains of the flitting mist. Lindsay began to shiver.

  “We’d better get going,” she cried out, her breathing ragged. “Or it’ll be night and we’ll be lost.”

  I agreed. I wanted to get up, but I felt as if I’d turned to stone. I finally managed to struggle to my feet, and we both pelted off down the trail towards civilization, pent-up adrenaline lending wings and hysteria to our flight. We returned to town in what was probably record time and even though we continued to explore the wilderness together, as bosom buddies do, we never ever returned to that particular trail again, or spoke about this to anyone.

  But now the time had come to lure the beast away from Lindsay again.

  Except this time, she didn’t want to be saved.

  Chapter 21

  Admittedly, rising at the brink of dawn on a Sunday morning to call up complete strangers was probably not the most ideal way to pass a lazy weekend. But it was what I found myself doing, after a restless night tossing and turning.

  And perhaps it wasn’t the smartest thing to do either, but I was desperate for a solution, and it was the only thing that occurred to me.

  Finally, unable to stand this sense of powerlessness any longer, I leapt out of bed and grabbed my laptop. A quick perusal of the main articles in the local newspaper on different dates gave me a sense of the writing style and interests of the habitual reporters.

  I chose a journalist who described himself at the end of his articles as a fearless rookie with ambition who thrived on tackling unconventional topics and admitted to being a workaholic. Someone like that, I reasoned, would probably be more likely to forgive me for waking them bright and early on a Sunday morning in exchange for a juicy article.

  His name was Sasha Petrovic. I dialled the number he himself provided in the credits section of the newspaper. After about ten rings, a hoarse, sleep-imbued voice answered.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, Mr Petrovic,” I rushed ahead before I lost my nerve, “but I was wondering if you’d be interested in an exclusive with inside information about a sect?”

  There were some mumbled swear words, clearly muffled by a blanket, then the sleepy voice returned.

  “What sort of information? Who are you?”

  “My name is Annasuya, and I just visited a sect,” I continued. “A cult that’s brainwashed my friend and lured her into joining them. She turned over all her possessions to them, and now she refuses to have any dealings with the outside world. As I said, I went to visit her, and I can describe how things work there, on the inside, to you.”

  Sasha grumbled.

  “Well, that sounds typical of most people who join a sect.” His pronunciation was thick, as if he was having difficulty separating his lips. “Besides which, I’m sure everything you could tell me I could look it up on the internet.”

  I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me.

  “No you can’t.” Too late, I realized my voice sounded belligerent and defiant. “I’ve already browsed through the internet, and there’s practically nothing about this sect on there. I can tell you how they operate, what tactics they use to brainwash potential recruits, what they boast about, how they live...”

  I heard shuffling on the other end, as if Sasha were wrestling his way out of his covers.

  “Look,” I hurried on, “if you’re not interested, I’m sorry I disturbed you. I’ll... I’ll just call someone else. One of your colleagues...”

  My thumb poised over the red phone icon. As I was about to crush it down, I heard Sasha’s almost desperate voice slash out through the loudspeaker: “If what you have to say is true, I want to hear about it right away. Can we meet in a couple of hours?”

  I dragged Romeo out of bed and off to a Starbucks downtown on the basis of beguiling him with the promise of a new game for his Wii. He slumped with his head collapsed over a mug of hot chocolate, arms outstretched across the table and long silken lashes brushing against his closed lids as Sasha Petrovic waltzed in. I recognized him from the teensy photos that occasionally accompanied his articles and I waved to him.

  He stalked to our table with a confident stride and towered over me, lean, wiry muscles strung out with tension. His eyes were piercing, canny, as he glared down at me. His fingers were long and bony. The crumpled collar of a white shirt with pale blue checks peeked out from underneath a scruffy sweater and his jeans were worn and faded. I deduced he was either used to acting as a correspondent stationed in seedy locations, or he simply didn’t consider me worth his time of day.

  Indifferent to any possible thoughts and impressions I might have had about him, he grabbed a chair, turned it backwards and straddled it. He stretched his lanky limbs out languidly, cat-like, then motioned to a waitress and ordered a cappuccino. Finally, he whipped out a dog-eared pad of paper and a pen.

  “So, you said you had some information for me, Annasuya?” he barked out. His voice was gruff with impatience. “What’s the name of the sect? How do you know the things you’re about to tell me? How did you garner this information?”

  Over the next three hours, I described our experiences to him in vivid detail, Romeo occasionally butting in with some anecdote I’d forgotten about. As the time passed, I noticed his irritation give way to a begrudging respect.

  At last, he downed his fourth cappuccino and stuck his pen behind his ear.

  “This is intriguing, what you’ve been telling me,” he confided, his attitude towards me completely transformed. “The truth is, you read a lot about what the experts have to say about sects, or about the deprogramming of former sect members. And the warnings they give to try and prevent people from getting caught up in them.” He shook his head. “But you very rarely hear first-hand accounts of what day-to-day life actually is like in one of these dubious places.”

  He pulled his pen out from behind his ear and began to suck on it. Then he waved it at me.

  “This isn’t sensationalism or scare tactics. Just the plain, humble truth from someone who’s actually witnessed it for yourself. What you just described demonstrates perfectly and without any façades the insidious techniques they use in these dreadful places to lure people in and keep them chained to them. Chanting, indoctrination, hunger and sleep deprivation...”

  He jabbed with his pen at his notepad.

  “And it’s happening right here on our very doorstep. Outrageous!”

  He dug around in a pocket for his wallet and lumbered to his feet.

  “Great work, Annasuya. I’ll put a rush job on it. Sundays tend to be uneventful so I’ll see if I can get it out in the first edition tomorrow. If they’re really such nasty fish, we have a duty to warn the good citizens of this city against them. Show them the sorts of things they should be on the look-out for.”

  He laid a fifty-dollar bill on the table in front of me.

  “These kinds of sleaze can attack anyone. Not only teenagers but also, as you’ve just shown me, fully grown, sensible adults with fulfilling lives, like your friend. Someone needs to speak out about them.” He blinked. “Oh, and you said I can quote you and mention your name openly in my article, ne?”

  He pointed his pen at me as I nodded.

  “Great work,” he repeated. “Be on the look-out for tomorrow’s paper. I’m sure you’ll be pleased.”

  He started sauntering towards the door, whirled on his heels towards me a final time.

  “Oh, and... Keep the change. You’ve earned it.”

  With these words, he took off without a backwards glance, leaving me still blinking a bit in awe.

  *

  Calvin insinuated his tender way underneath my sheets as the first rays of moonlight were peeping in through our east-facing window. I wanted to melt into his arms and tell him everything that had happened. But I didn’t dare. Calvin didn’t know we’d gone out there to try and talk Lindsay into leaving with us.

  In the end, tho
ugh, I couldn’t keep it to myself, I ended up describing what Grant and I had been up to, pouring it all out of me in a sobbing rush.

  Calvin nearly leapt out of bed. Probably would have hit the roof if the quilt hadn’t been holding him down.

  “What?” he shrieked.

  “Be quiet.” I waved towards the living-room where Romeo was sleeping, hoping to get through to Calvin.

  He didn’t seem to catch the hint. And if he did, he obviously didn’t care.

  “How could you do something so... so dastardly, and so underhanded, and... and deceitful, behind my back?” he continued to scream. “Do you know how dangerous that could’ve been? What if they’d decided to do more than just escort you off their property?”

  I sulked. “Well, but they didn’t.”

  “You know that no one’s doing anything illegal over there,” he huffed out. “Lindsay’s staying there of her own free will. No one kidnapped her or is holding her hostage. And you were on their property, which I assume is private property. You had no right to go there.” He propped himself up on his elbow. “Grant’s right, you know. You should just forget about her.”

  “Cal, you don’t understand.” I traced circles on his bare torso. He giggled in spite of everything as I tickled him. “Lindsay is more than just any old friend. She’s like a sister to me. What would you do, or wouldn’t you do, to get a sister back?”

  “Well, I haven’t got a sister.” He jutted out his lower lip. “But it’s not the same. She’s not your sister.”

  “Look, how long have you and I known each other?” I said.

  He closed his eyes and stared up at the ceiling underneath his lids.

  “Oh, I dunno. We met last Christmas so maybe... ten months?”

  “That’s right. And look how close we’ve become in only ten months.” I continued to trace circles on his chest. He cackled some more. “And after only ten months, imagine it had been me instead of Linds. What would you do, or wouldn’t you do, to get me back?”

  Calvin seized me by the cheeks and began to kiss me all over my face vehemently.

  “Well, I’m just glad it wasn’t you. I could never stand to lose you, like that.” He fingered his jaw thoughtfully. “But yes, if it had been you, I think I would probably move heaven and earth to get you back. I wouldn’t rest or leave it alone, ever. I’d do everything it was possible to do to be with you again. My life simply wouldn’t have any meaning without you.”

  He kissed me again. I succumbed to his ministrations.

  “Mmmhh.” I moaned, lost in pleasure, letting him plant moist raspberries all over me. “Well, that’s exactly the way I feel about Lindsay,” I cut in at last. “I can’t let it rest, either. I could never leave it alone. You’ve only known me for ten months, and look what you’d do for me. Well, Lindsay and I have known each other for twenty years. Do you know what are twenty years in someone’s life?”

  I raised myself up onto my elbows and gazed into his beatified expression.

  “Do you? How many people in your life have you known for twenty years? Outside of your family, I mean.”

  Calvin shook his head.

  “No one. Well, no one I can think of at this moment.”

  “Do you know how close you can get to someone in twenty years?”

  “Mmmhh.” Calvin began nibbling at my ears. “I wouldn’t know. But I hope in twenty years I’ll know every little thing about you.”

  “And hopefully love every little thing about me too,” I cried, laughing.

  Calvin grabbed my head and pulled me under the sheets with him.

  I let it go for the moment. But after climbing out of bed for a midnight snack, I had to raise the subject again. I was obsessed.

  “Why can’t you just leave it alone and respect Lindsay’s decision to stay there?” Calvin said after I’d been ranting on for a while.

  “Because I know she didn’t make that decision of her own free will,” I said. “They brainwashed her.”

  I plunked myself down on a chair at the dining table and began piling slightly withered lettuce on soggy bread.

  “Let’s say I... oh, I had you locked up in a room or something. And I hardly brought you any food. And every night, I wouldn’t let you sleep and made lots of noise to wake you up. Or I kept the room cold and didn’t give you a blanket.

  “And then every day I screamed at you over and over the whole day long, something like, oh, say: the moon is made of green cheese. Or something silly like that. And I wouldn’t let you alone and I wouldn’t let you have anything to eat or go back to sleep until you’d repeated after me: the moon is made of green cheese. Well, how long do you think it would be before you started parroting the same thing back to me? Just so I’d give you some food, or let you sleep?”

  Calvin chuckled and tickled me under the chin.

  “You know I don’t do torture well,” he said with a grin. “I’m sure you remember Bruno already more than proved that to you. So I don’t think I’d last even a minute. I treasure my good food and my sleep too much.” He yawned and then giggled. “But Lindsay’s not the same. She’s tough. She woulda held out. I’m sure of it.”

  I shook my head.

  “Nuh-uh. No one would hold out forever. And even less when it’s delivered to you with smiling faces and the people appear friendly and unthreatening.”

  Calvin nodded.

  “Yeah. I’m sure you’re right. You do tend to trust people who are smiling and friendly.” He grabbed playfully at my hair. “Like me, for example. At this moment I’d trust you with my whole life, my health and all my virility, even. And all just because you’re smiling and friendly.”

  I laughed out loud and let him chase me around the dining table.

  Chapter 22

  Monday dawned grey. Depressing. Moody. For once Calvin continued to have to work and left early for his office, although he promised to pick Romeo up at school later.

  “I’ll get here faster with my motorcycle than you ever could with the chug-a-lug subway,” he said as he kissed me tenderly on the lips. “Too bad Grant didn’t decide to just donate Lindsay’s car to you.”

  I cuffed him on the shoulder.

  “I’m not a charity case,” I exclaimed, indignant.

  “And besides which, after a gruelling marathon with Jim, I’ll more than need some sort of excuse to get away and take a break.”

  Jim was Calvin’s generally magnanimous boss and we both loved him to bits. I thought Calvin really landed the jackpot when he got to work at Jim’s architectural firm, Kirby and Associates.

  I lingered over his lips. “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind doing taxi service for Romeo today.”

  “I don’t mind. Besides which, there’s always room for one more soccer dad in the world. Right?” He grinned, jammed his helmet over his head and took off.

  Romeo dilly-dallied over breakfast, driving me out of my mind when I was already in a cross mood. I’d been neglecting my new clients for days, and I figured at the rate I was going, I’d need to get hustling or I was sure it wouldn’t be long before the criticisms and negative testimonials started raining in. But Romeo sure wasn’t helping as he piled his cereal into his mouth two measly Honey Pops balls at a time.

  “You know, if you keep this up, your Honey Pops are going to sprout baby Honey Pops,” I snarled.

  At last I managed to hustle Romeo off to school with barely two words uttered between us — very uncharacteristic of me, who prided myself on being the most loving mother it was possible to be ever since he nearly died at Bruno’s hands.

  After that I planted myself on the sidewalk in front of my first client’s office suite, armed with my portfolio and my trusty iPad Pro. I swept through the office at double time, efficiently rattling off every little detail I noticed that bothered me.

  I had discovered I was starting to develop a real instinct for this, if I did say so myself. Well, but then again what could I expect? After spending the past ten years shunting about from one of
fice to another as a temp worker, never knowing what to expect from one day to the next, sizing up an office environment and figuring out what was wrong with it within minutes, developing an instinct for the things I needed to avoid and to beware of had already become second nature.

  I rushed through my three most urgent client consultations and finally allowed myself a break. I stepped out onto Bay Street, in the heart of the financial district, relief flooding through me and crashing down into the pit of my stomach.

  The truth was, I’d been suffering from the typical fraud syndrome that so many new entrepreneurs talked about: that chill, sinking sensation of being nothing more than a fake. Of faking credentials that one didn’t own (although, in my case, I never presumed to own any credentials to begin with). Or of blowing up one’s qualifications all out of proportion. At least now I had the chance to prove myself.

  I strode down Bay Street towards my office pensively, the clickety-clack of my flat soles and the unyielding pavement beneath my feet reassuring me that at least there was still something solid in my life holding me up. Perhaps Calvin thought I was going crazy. But at least I was grounded and sane enough to carry out my work effectively. I was still realistic. I didn’t waste my life daydreaming and fantasizing impossible schemes with my head up in the clouds. My clients’ satisfaction with my results was proof of that.

  I reached my office and dumped my portfolios off, then fiddled around on the PC for a while. As I worked, a sudden, wild, irresistible urge to be with Lindsay overwhelmed me. Suddenly I simply needed to feel her. To feel her dependable presence by my side. To touch her and hear her tinkling laughter. In twenty years, whenever I had needed her, she had always been there. She’d never ever ever let me down. Hell, she’d even saved my life, twice. My life and Romeo’s.

  Perhaps she wasn’t family. Perhaps she wasn’t my sister and we would probably never live together. There was practically no chance of us ever buying a home together or any of the typical things that sisters and extended families usually did. But next to Romeo, she was the closest thing to a living family that I had in the whole wide world.