The Seven Torments of Amy and Craig (A Love Story)

by Don Zolidis

  “And remember, if you need to get your bills done, the deadline is next week, so that’s your last chance to submit something. Right now we’ve got, um…four finished bills, which is kind of weak, so…so maybe we can do better? So…any questions?”

  Groash put his hand up.

  “Why’d you dump Craig?”

  Oh shit.

  Amy stared at him for a second like a deer caught in the headlights, and Groash barreled forward, throwing an arm over my shoulder in solidarity. “I mean, look at this man. This coulda been the best thing in your life. Probably not. You probably have some cool shit going on, but still. Look at him. He’s a wreck. He is a shell of a human being.”

  I tried to sink through the floor, but it didn’t work because my mutant powers had never developed.

  “Just picture his heart exploding into a million pieces. You did that. He can’t eat. He can’t sleep. He can barely talk. He’s probably not even masturbating anymore.”

  No one said anything for three or four years.

  It was going to be a fun field trip to Madison.

  “Pheromones,” said Groash, rolling a twenty-sided die. “That’s the secret if you want to get her back. It’ll drive her wild. You just bathe in that shit. She won’t even know what’s going on. You’ll walk by her, and then the like pheromone center in her brain will activate or whatever, and then she’ll just be, like, on you. This is the perfect opportunity. You’re gonna be trapped in a tight space with her and she’ll be like, ‘What is that powerful smell? It’s Craig.’ Boom.”

  “That’s moronic,” said Elizabeth.

  “If pheromones work, why aren’t you using them?” asked Brian from behind his screen as he readjusted his papers.

  “I got natural funk, I don’t need pheromones. Face it,” he said, leaning over and snatching a Little Debbie brownie from the coffee table, “you need to use whatever advantage you can get. She is like so high above you on the social ladder, you basically need to cheat. Or go after easier prey. A guy like you? Sophomores. That’s your sweet spot. They don’t know any better.”

  “You’re like a scholar of the human condition,” said Elizabeth.

  “I just understand women. On like a primal level.”

  “Oh, sure. I’m sure that’s true.”

  “Is that sarcasm? Are you being sarcastic now?”

  “Why would I be sarcastic when I’m clearly in the presence of an expert?”

  “Dude, if you used pheromones you wouldn’t have any trouble getting a guy.”

  Elizabeth rocked back on her chair. “Why would I want a guy?”

  “You want a guy. I know you want a guy.”

  “You don’t need pheromones for guys. Guys are sluts. All you have to do is say hi. I could have any guy I want, anytime I want. I choose not to, because there are no guys around that are interesting enough for me.”

  Groash sputtered and I looked down at the floor. Brian tripped over something.

  “No offense, Craig,” she said, patting me on the shoulder. “I’m just not into you that way.”

  “That’s cool,” I managed. “No worries.”

  “You should pick somebody else anyway,” she said. “There are more women in the world than Amy Carlson.”

  “Not that like me—”

  “She didn’t like you that much, she dumped you,” interjected Groash.

  “Guys? Can we focus, please, on the task at hand?” said Brian. “I’m sure that Craig’s love life is fascinating and all, but we are in the middle of a battle here.”

  That was true. And we were getting our asses handed to us. The Association of Darkness was apparently quite peeved by its non-threatening name and had used that resentment to fuel its ass-kicking abilities, which were formidable. Brian had really gone all out on this particular adventure. He put in far more time devising these games for us than he did on his schoolwork, or articles for the newspaper, or breathing.

  “Rothgar. A giant mouth appears in front of you,” said Brian, placing a counter on the map table.

  “I leap backward,” I said.

  “Right into the other mouth that appeared invisibly behind you, which bites you savagely,” he said, putting a second counter behind my character. He rolled a fistful of dice. “Forty-eight points of damage. You’re unconscious.”

  “Oh, come on! How the heck—”

  “You literally fell directly into the path of the spell—it’s in the description.” He opened his notebook to an intricately crafted spell description. “‘If a character jumps backward, he jumps into a second mouth, which hits for double damage. Improved Magic Mouth.’”

  “You can’t just make up spells,” I whined.

  “The hell I can’t. And I didn’t make it up, I wrote it down. Evidence. I actually put work into this, Craig.”

  I actually put work into this.

  The answer was staring me in the face the whole time. How to get her back. How to destroy Chad in a non-wolf-exploiting way.

  Work.

  Which immediately recalled RuPaul singing “You better work,” which took me in a rather strange and unproductive direction in the whole winning-Amy-back plan.

  Elizabeth was snapping her fingers in front of my face.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think I just figured out how to get her back.”

  Brian and Elizabeth groaned, but Groash nodded in support. “Pheromones,” he said.

  The Plan, such as it was, was fairly simple: Write the perfect bill. Something she would love, something that would call out to her. (Okay, yes, this was a nerdy plan.) Amy was in the House and I was in the Senate, so the only way she was going to be truly witness to my greatness is if I could get my bill passed. Damn you, bicameral government. If it passed the Senate, then it would go to the House, where it would come to her desk. Naturally, she would be amazed and thrilled that such an effective, brilliant piece of legislation had appeared before her. It would pass the House, then go to the governor’s office (which was run by a junior from Appleton), she would sign it, and then it would become law, if Schoolhouse Rock! was to be believed. Imaginary law, but still law. And if that happened, then Amy would toss her boyfriend to the side, seize me, and kiss me passionately in the middle of the capitol building. It was perfect.

  I spent four consecutive days at the library. I looked up the current state budget. I looked at funding options; I found comparable statistics from neighboring states. I made projections. I made a damn pie chart. It was glorious. If I had put this much work into my classes I would’ve been valedictorian—well, okay, salutatorian, ’cause Amy still would’ve beaten me.

  Finally, beautifully, my bill was done, just in time. I slipped it into the folder for completed bills, making sure Amy didn’t see it. Then it was off to Madison.

  The best part of being in the Senate chamber was the chairs. They were the comfiest chairs imaginable: the plush leather was black and soft like a velvet Elvis and the wheels were made of some kind of hyper-slick material from NASA. They rolled smooth and true and held you like a lover. The chairs were probably the best reason to become a senator. A lot of people spent a lot of time spinning around in them. I was on a mission, though, so I only did that a little bit. Also, they had a whole bunch of free pencils at each desk.

  The president of the Senate was a guy from Stevens Point named Jacob Hammer. I’m not even kidding. He was genetically engineered to be a politician—tall, with majestically wavy movie-star hair and a tie that was actually tied properly. When he spoke, he paused every so often and then used actual hand gestures to accentuate his points. He was mesmerizing.

  Not only was he in charge, but there was a large contingent of guys from Stevens Point that had swung in like a group of Hell’s Angels, if the Hell’s Angels wore suits and carried monogrammed briefcases. They all spoke in complex sentences and peppered their speeches with in-jokes that made only the other Stevens Point people laugh. President Hammer recognized them all the time,
and the rest of us were consigned to the back of the Senate to watch in awe and vote according to their wishes.

  I looked at Groash, who was rotating slowly in his chair. “We’re screwed,” I whispered.

  “These chairs are awesome,” he whispered back.

  For two entire days, the Stevens Point contingent dominated the proceedings. They introduced forty-one bills into the chamber. It was like a slow-moving revolution—they basically rewrote Wisconsin’s constitution as they saw fit, slashed funding for state parks, reformed the tax code, lowered the drinking age to eighteen, and legalized pot. We voted for all of it in a delirious legislative orgy. If they would’ve introduced a bill to outlaw clouds, we would’ve gotten behind it.

  Worse, though, was that they tended to shoot down bills from other cities. The bills from Appleton and Milwaukee and Eau Claire ended up destroyed, their advocates gently crying to themselves.

  My stomach twisted itself into knots. The Plan required my bill to pass. If I couldn’t get it passed, Amy would never see it.

  “All right,” said Hammer. “Next up on the docket: Bill 121, from…Janesville.”

  “I got your back, man,” said Groash, giving me a thumbs-up.

  A murmur of condescending laughter went through the chamber as I made my way to the podium. My heart thrummed in my ears. My vision got blurry. My stomach had come alive and was fighting to escape. My butt started to sweat. (Okay, I know, too much information. I am telling you that was what I focused on as I stood in the Senate.)

  I looked out at the Senate. In their suits, everybody looked like adults. (Except for the people who were leaning way back in their chairs or otherwise rolling around.) They flipped to page 121 in the huge photocopied pamphlet on everyone’s desk.

  I took a deep breath and felt my stomach roiling. Then I spoke.

  “So today I want to talk about something that’s really important,” I started. Initially, I had hoped to speak in a coherent, organized way, but the words tumbled out of my mouth in a gigantic run-on sentence. I wandered. I made awkward hand gestures. I might’ve pounded on the podium once or twice by accident. I forgot to reference my pie chart. But afterward, somehow, I looked out at the people deciding my fate and they were smiling.

  They’re basically just like me. They don’t know what they’re doing either.

  Nobody knows what they’re doing.

  Hammer opened the bill to debate and Groash stood up first.

  “I just want to say…fuck yeah.” He raised his fist in triumph. No one joined him. Then he started a slow clap. No one joined that either. Then he sat back down.

  The silence afterward settled through the room like a poisonous cloud. Finally, one of the Stevens Point crew got up to speak.

  “I mean,” he said. “I guess we could do that, but, you know, where does this end? I think you’re really overstating the problem.”

  From there it was downhill fast. The vote was called and Hammer pounded his gavel when it was done, officially killing the bill.

  “I look around here,” said Amy, “and I see failure.” It was the last day of the conference in Madison, and it was the Speaker’s job to give the final speech that would close the joint session. Then we’ d have ice cream. If only every session of the real Congress ended with ice cream, this country might be better off. Anyway, Chelsea, Groash, and I were sitting in the wayback watching Amy talk.

  I felt sick.

  “A lot of us have failed. A lot of us didn’t get our bills passed. A lot of us argued for the losing side. But failure is not something we should be afraid of. Failure is something we should embrace. Failure is something that should fuel us. Failure teaches us things. It teaches us to try harder, to think better, to compromise more effectively. We will not always succeed in life—there are trials and difficulties in store for all of us, and it’s not our successes that are going to define us but our response to failure. Thank you.”

  There was a little smattering of applause. To be fair, the audience members were not exactly in a clapping mood after they had been told they were failures. Amy gave a smile and a little wave and then took a seat up in front next to Jacob Hammer.

  I had gotten used to seeing Amy every day again. The pain had dulled a bit. Instead of feeling like knives were slicing up my lungs, now it just felt like someone was taking a razor blade and tracing circles on my soul.

  Since she was in the House and I was in the Senate, we didn’t see each other too much during the day. But at night, our group would get together for dinner. I hadn’t told her about the bill, and I didn’t tell her when it went down in flames. Still, every time she entered my field of vision or I heard her laugh, my heart would twinge hopefully.

  Maybe that was stupid; maybe the universe and Stevens Point were telling me to give up. Maybe I should stop. But then I thought, in Amy’s speech she said “try harder,” which was clearly directed at me.

  Oh, God, you stupid bastard, said the Kaitlyn voice in my head.

  Shut up, I said.

  She cheated on you, moron, said the Kaitlyn voice in my head. Actually, she cheated on her boyfriend with you. How about never talking to her again?

  But I didn’t do that. I couldn’t.

  The ice cream social was largely a disaster. Amy was a minor celebrity, since she was the Speaker, so it was impossible to get close to her. Groash also found himself with a somewhat celebrated status among the Stevens Point crew as his bill outlawing visible back hair had also passed with near-unanimous support. Nobody spoke in support of back hair, oddly enough.

  I stayed on the fringes, absently carving at my rock-solid ice cream with the useless little wooden spoon they give you on such occasions. Amy was laughing and chatting with a whole crowd of people, like she had a kind of gravity to her. At one point they gathered the officers together for a photo, and she was right next to Hammer. My heart deflated as she smiled. Not at me. It was like I didn’t exist anymore.

  I dumped the rest of my ice cream in the trash and headed back to the hotel.

  Groash made it back an hour or so later. I had spent much of the intervening time facedown on the bed like any ordinary healthy sane person. It was probably completely normal for someone to moan into the comforter like a wounded animal. Groash saw me and shook his head.

  “Dude,” he said. “It’s gonna be all right.”

  I said nothing.

  “There is so much tail out there,” he said sweetly, like a moronic guardian angel. “Suits, man. They are sexy as hell. Yes, I will vote for your bill. I will vote for your bill so hard. I’m probably not the right guy for this, but you can get out there…. Go into the hall, it’s insane.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m never leaving this room.”

  He sighed and sat on the end of the bed. “They left the pay-per-view movies on. You wanna spend the rest of the night doing that?”

  I nodded, which was hard to do when you were facedown on the bed.

  “They got Godfather. You wanna watch Godfather? Tons of people get killed in it. Might make you feel better.”

  I moved slightly. Maybe this was the right course of action.

  “After that there’s Godfather II. I think even more people get killed in that. It’s brutal. Come on.”

  I rolled over. “You know, I kept thinking that if I did everything right, then…”

  “That’s not how it works, man.”

  There was a knock on our door and my heart fell out of my chest. I sat up.

  She has come for me. She has changed her mind. That other boyfriend guy has been devoured by wolves.

  Amanda swung open the door, grabbing hold of the frame with one hand, and not letting go of the knob, looking like a marionette being tugged in two directions. She was doing a bang-up job on her whole chaperoning gig, as you can imagine.

  “He-eeeyyy,” she said, wobbling slightly. “You guys in for the night?”

  “Yeah,” I said as my heart sheepishly crawled back into my chest, embarrassed at its
own stupidity.

  “Sweet,” she said, hanging in the doorframe. She took a deep breath and exhaled, waiting there for some kind of mental signal that would allow her to leave. “You guys,” she said, waving a finger in our general direction. I’m pretty sure she was more than a little high.

  See? I did know where to get drugs! Screw you, Kaitlyn voice in my head.

  “You guys are like this.” She made a gesture with her fingers like we were all entwined with each other. “You know? You know what I’m saying?” No, we did not. “Like, when we came here I was like ‘whatever,’ and now I’m like…yeah.”

  “That’s cool,” I said, not having any clue what she was talking about.

  “I’m the chaperone; you’re the chaperone; we’re all the chaperones.” And then she stumbled out of the room, leaving the door open. “Ima get a turkey.”

  “I think she likes you,” said Groash.

  “What?”

  “No, you’re right. She’s into me. That was just a test.”

  I heard Amanda’s voice echoing in the hall. “You’re the real chaperone, you’re like the queen. Speaker lady. Yeah…like this…we are like this…”

  Amy was in the doorway half a second later and my heart smashed a hole through my rib cage and fell out my back.

  “Hi,” she said.

  She hadn’t changed; she was still in her CIA spy suit, but she had let her hair down, which gloriously fell around her shoulders. In her hands she held the ceremonial Speaker’s gavel. “What are you guys up to?”

  Anything. Whatever you want. Origami? We’ll do that.

  “…Watching…movies,” I managed.

  “Can I join you?”

  The Godfather lasted forty-three hours and I didn’t pay attention to any of it. I was basically only concentrating on Amy’s proximity to me. I sat on the end of the bed and she was sitting on the floor. Was there a way to move closer to her? Was she leaning in my direction? What did that mean? It meant she loved me, right? If a girl leans in your general direction it’s a pretty sure indication that she is madly in love with you. Or maybe not. Every so often she would catch me looking at her and we’ d make eye contact. What did that mean? Was The Godfather as romantic as I thought it was? Maybe when people got shot it meant that we were destined to be together? Maybe it didn’t mean that at all. Maybe I was a stupid, stupid person.