The Weight of Madness

by Randileigh Kennedy

We sat on the patio for what felt like mere minutes, but before we knew it, the sun was going down.

  “This is really beautiful,” I commented, taking it all in. “I love this spot. The one thing I want in the universe is to live in a place where I can see the water from my bedroom. All I can see from my apartment right now is another huge apartment complex. I think it’s yours actually,” I realized, thinking back to earlier when we picked up his truck. It was parked on the street across from my building.

  “My place has a pretty good view from the deck,” he replied, moving closer to me. He put an arm around me and I leaned into his strong chest as we watched the sun sink below the horizon. “Maybe I can convince you to come over some time.”

  “That sounds good,” I answered sincerely. “I swear I could do this all night, sitting here, looking out onto the water. It’s one of those things I just can’t get enough of.”

  “So you do this often?”

  “Breaking in to other peoples’ houses to enjoy their view?” I replied with a giggle. “This is actually my first time. But the amount of nights I walk down to the beach, just to watch the waves roll in and out…I do that a lot.”

  “What do you think about when you’re out there?”

  “I think about my mom a lot,” I said quietly, unsure I was truly ready to have this conversation. There was something about him though, perhaps his quiet confidence – the strength in his arms as he held me – it made me feel exposed and unable to quiet my thoughts. “She died when I was only four. I don’t have many actual memories of her, yet somehow I dwell on it a lot when I’m alone. I don’t know why I do that.”

  “What was she like?” He looked down at me with such a warm, genuine expression, and even though I feared my voice would crack, I continued.

  “She was troubled, I guess you could say,” I began, never sure how to properly detail it. “That’s how everyone describes her anyway. They mention she was warm and kind, but they always have to add in that she was troubled, like that was an inescapable part of her story. I kind of hate that, but everyone says it. She had a lot of problems. Bipolar depression, heavy anxiety. She also had a lot of health problems after she had me, and all of those things didn’t mix well.”

  “Sounds like a hard time for your family,” he said sympathetically.

  “It was. Most little girls at that age are hearing fairytales about princesses who are saved by some handsome prince, right? Instead at four years old, my dad was trying to explain her battles to me, though I couldn’t understand them. Most little girls grow up believing that love always wins, but instead I was learning what it was like when all the love in the world still failed you.” My voice was shaky and my eyes felt wet, but I tried so hard to hold it back. “He fought hard for her, I know he did. It consumed him, and he was so certain it was a battle they could win, but in the end, everyone lost. I was too young, so of course it took the biggest toll on him. My grandma always told me he fought so hard for her that it broke him. I really think that was true. My grandparents, Eve and Harold, they helped raise me after that. My dad was still there, but he was just…broken. I looked so much like my mom as I grew up and it was hard on him, even years later. He kind of just shut down. He was there, but never present, I guess is the way to explain it. By the time I was a preteen, we couldn’t even talk about it anymore. I couldn’t say her name. I had to hide my pictures of her, or it would upset him. I guess it was true that he used all his energy fighting for her, so he was exhausted by the time it came to me.”

  “If this is too much for you, we don’t have to do this now,” he said with compassion, trying to gauge my expression.

  “It’s okay,” I replied with a shrug. “My grandparents were so good to me, despite their sadness over losing their own daughter. They had more than enough love for me, and Olivia, my best friend, her parents kind of took me in as well growing up. I was well loved. It’s not all a melancholy story. There was a lot of happiness in there too. Not everyone gets a perfect love story. Maybe nobody really does.”

  “So you don’t believe in fairytales then?”

  “Actually I do,” I remarked, the sadness in my voice now replaced with a smile. “Every fairytale has a little madness in it, right? There’s always darkness somewhere in there before the end. Maybe that’s where all the real magic is hidden, I don’t know. All I have left to believe is that the darkness is good for something. Maybe we figure it out, maybe we don’t. But it seems to be part of every happy ending, so I have to believe the madness of it all still counts for something. Otherwise what are we all doing here, right? It has to matter somehow.”

  “What about your dad? Did he ever move on? You said he moved to Florida with someone, right?”

  “He always swore he would never love someone the way he loved my mom,” I said whimsically. “Given he’s now on his fourth wife, I’m pretty sure that’s true,” I snickered. “That’s horrible to say, I know. Maybe I’m a terrible person for even thinking it, but I think that’s why they don’t stick. They’ve all been perfectly pleasant women, but I just don’t think he’s capable of loving anyone else the way he loved her. The way he fought for her, in spite of the ending - it was still absolutely true and beautiful, which I think is all anyone can really hope for. I’d like to think we all only get one of those, tragedy or not.”

  Lance held me tighter, and even though my voice felt weak after this conversation, I felt good about getting it off my chest.

  “Tell me something personal about you,” I coaxed, wanting to learn so much more about him. “These scars right here, what are they from?” I ran my fingers gently along the soft pale lines around his right ankle.

  “Those are my own battle scars, I guess,” he replied quietly. “I have a couple wicked ones on my left knee too. Those are from a football injury, but the ones on my ankle are from a car accident.”

  “They look pretty bad.”

  “That was just the beginning of my fight,” he said hesitantly. “It was a lot to go through, but it’s all over now. Everything heals, right?”

  “I suppose, eventually,” I said speculatively, unsure if I really believed that. My Grandma Eve – her mind would never return to what it used to be. She was broken in a tragic way, and I hated the harsh reality that she would never heal from her Alzheimer’s. It was heartbreaking.

  “You look so deep in thought out here.” The tone of his voice was so warm, and I loved that he was still holding me.

  “The water does that to me I guess,” I answered. “What about you? When you’re alone, just staring out into the universe, what do you think about?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Football,” he replied with a gentle laugh. “I try to think about football, or some other nonsense to shut off my brain. It doesn’t work, but I try. If I think about anything too serious, then I can’t stop.”

  “So you just lay on your patio, thinking about football?”

  “Or golf, or even tennis when things get bad,” he answered lightly. “I don’t sleep, so anything to distract myself at night helps.”

  “What do you mean? Everyone sleeps,” I giggled, looking up at him.

  “I’d love to, trust me. But it just doesn’t happen.”

  “What?” I kept my gaze on him.

  “It’s been like that for awhile. Insomnia I guess. Some nights I don’t sleep at all. I just lie there with a thousand thoughts moving through my head and I can’t shut them off. Sometimes I do finally drift off but when I wake up, maybe only an hour or two has passed and that’s it for me for the night.”

  The entire idea of insomnia fascinated me. I was fairly certain I fell asleep within just a minute or two every night. Even with a lot on my mind, I was still always able to shut it off. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to be tired without the ability to fall asleep.

  “So you literally stay awake all night, thinking about sports?”

  “No, that’s just how it starts. Then within an ho
ur, I’m thinking about everything else - heavier stuff that I just can’t push back anymore after an hour or so of staring out into the darkness. Like I said earlier, I went through a rough patch before I moved here. The accident was just the beginning – there was so much more. It all still weighs on me. I think about what I’m doing with my life. Then I think about all the things I didn’t do with my life. It’s like a constant tug-of-war over anything and everything I’ve done wrong or right. I can’t shut it off. It’s maddening. It’s like this cloud that just sits in my mind, and I can’t clear it. It’s like my brain is waiting for me to do something to clear out all the smoke, but I can’t figure out what that is.”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine what that’s like,” I said sympathetically. “Don’t they have medications for that? Something to knock you out?”

  “I’ve tried. Sadly that’s not the answer for me either,” he replied softly. “I don’t know what it is. During the day everything seems calm to me. I’m not really stressed out. Work is going well, I like living here… But for some reason at night, my mind starts worrying about everything that has or hasn’t happened to me yet. I’ve made my share of mistakes, I know that. But no matter how far away I feel from that part of me during the day, at night I can’t escape it for some reason. It eats me alive. It’s like the insomnia is my punishment for any misstep I’ve ever made.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it? What you went through?” I wasn’t sure how much personal information he wanted to divulge. The emotion in his voice sounded heavy.

  “It’s nothing that matters now. I probably shouldn’t admit this, but honestly, after lying out here with you, I’m starting to think I’ll have something better to distract myself with than football.”

  He stared back at me with such intense eyes, and I loved the way we were connecting right now. I felt so comfortable with him, and I didn’t want this night to end. He slowly moved his face towards mine and his fingers gently touched my face. His lips paused, lingering in front of mine for a second, as if he was waiting for confirmation of how I felt about this moment. I pressed my lips to his, softly at first. As soon as I felt his lips curl up into a smile against mine, that was it for me. I was beyond smitten. Yes, in a matter of eleven hours. That’s all it took for Lance Rivers.

  He wrapped his arm firmly around my waist, gently touching my hair with his other hand. His strength wasn’t lost on me as he pressed my body to his, yet the delicate way his lips searched mine also sent tingles across my skin. There was no doubt about my physical attraction to him, that was immediate as soon as he entered the shop. But the way he talked about the things he wanted – the way he made me laugh – the way he instantly made me not want to leave his presence – it was captivating.

  I’d heard what he said, about the cloudiness in his head and the burdens that weighed on him and the trouble he had sleeping. But despite those things that ate at him, whatever was happening between us felt perfectly right. His words just a minute ago were true – whatever was on his heart outside of this moment, it didn’t matter now. We were just beginning to get to know one another, and that was good enough. It was way too soon for secrets.

  Sadly I knew that all too well. I certainly had no desire to tell him any of my own tonight.

  Chapter 6

  I was awoken by the sound of my phone ringing. My purse was still inside the McCarthy house on a table near the patio door. Apparently I could hear the sound through the open windows given how calm everything sounded at night.

  I looked up at Lance, breathing lightly with his eyes closed as his head rested against the stone seating area we were lying against before we fell asleep.

  Sleep.

  I remembered before dozing off, he was talking about how sleep eluded him. Yet here he was, his arm still loosely wrapped around me, and he was definitely sleeping.

  I had no idea what time it was, but the moon was high, leading me to believe a good amount of time had passed. I immediately feared the late-night call would be about Grandma Eve. One time she left her assisted living facility through an emergency door and she took off running for the street. It took them awhile to calm her down after that. She had no idea who she was or where she was, and it was all so traumatizing. Another time she was coughing up blood in the middle of the night and they had to rush her to the ER. There was always the potential for a late night scare with her, so I had to get to my phone. Lance stirred as soon as I slid out from his embrace. His lips immediately curled up into a smile.

  “Sorry, my phone was ringing,” I said quietly. “I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t an emergency. Apparently we fell asleep out here.”

  “So we did,” he mused. “You have no idea how incredible I feel right now.”

  I offered him a genuine smile, feeling something similar, and I quickly leapt up to grab the phone out of my bag. I headed right back out to the patio to rejoin him.

  “Something important?” he asked with concern in his voice.

  I was again confused by the call. It was the same wrong number from before. Why was he calling again? I’d made it clear he had the wrong person.

  “Same wrong call from earlier,” I explained, wondering why he would call back. “I don’t know why he would call again.”

  “So it’s a guy?”

  “Yeah, looking for his ex-girlfriend,” I snickered. “I felt bad telling him she’s obviously changed her number. I’m not sure what else he wants from me.”

  “If he only knew what he was missing out on, I would understand the repeat call,” he joked. “Want me to call him back? Scare him from calling you again?”

  I appreciated the offer, but it didn’t seem necessary. “Nah, I feel bad for the guy. He sounded sad. Hurt, I guess. It sounded like a bad breakup. He probably just needs some time.” I thought back to the other part of my conversation with the stranger though – the part where he said he killed somebody – that still wasn’t sitting easy with me. But I didn’t want to mention that part. I wanted nothing to do with it. It was almost as if saying it aloud made me involved in it somehow, and I wanted to just clear it from my head and pretend I’d never heard it.

  “I think you’re a genuinely kind person.” He pulled me in for a gentle kiss. “You’re also a miracle worker. I swear that was the best sleep I’ve had in a month.”

  “That’s what I like to be known for,” I said sarcastically, “the girl who gives all the guys the best sleeps.”

  He laughed. “So you do this often then?”

  I assumed he was kidding, but we hadn’t exactly talked about prior relationships or our dating histories or anything like that.

  “I haven’t fallen asleep next to someone for a long time,” I said dryly. “And if you don’t sleep, I guess that means you haven’t either?”

  “It’s probably been even longer for me,” he replied vaguely. “Glad we’ve gotten that out there.” He kissed me again, and despite being disoriented just a minute ago from the rude phone awakening, I now felt more than awake. I knew it would be wise to leave soon, before things progressed too quickly. It was crazy to me how comfortable I already felt with this guy when technically I’d only known him for less than a day.

  “We should probably head out,” I suggested softly. “If we fall asleep again we’ll be busted by your co-workers.”

  “I should spare you from meeting them,” he commiserated. “Construction workers aren’t known for their tact. Heaven only knows what they’d say to you.” He helped me up and I straightened out my dress, trying to look somewhat put together after napping on a stone patio with this guy.

  We gathered our stuff, turned out all the lights, and he locked up the house. We climbed in his truck and began the drive back to my apartment.

  “What are you doing tomorrow? Or later today I guess I should say,” I stated, pointing to the clock on his dash. I looked over at him from the passenger seat. His dark hair was perfectly messy and his smile never faded.

  “I work til 3:30
, and then I had plans to hang out with my brother. You?”

  “I’m off around that time as well,” I shrugged. “No real plans. My friend Olivia and I talked about catching some sun tomorrow. Maybe Grand Sun River? I just thought you might be interested in going with us?”

  I knew it was probably too soon to be introducing this new guy to my friends, but at the same time, Olivia had a knack for giving her brutally honest opinion about any guy I was interested in. I almost wanted her to tell me he wasn’t my type. With the new business, I had a lot on my plate. It would be more responsible of me to keep up my dating hiatus, at least until things settled a bit for me.

  “So if I’m with my brother, and you’re with a friend, it only makes sense for us to just make plans all together.” He nodded as he said it. “Is your friend single? I can tell you right now that’s the first thing my brother will ask me, so I may as well know up front.”

  “Eh, she’s kind of seeing someone. But with Olivia, you never know if it will stick. So it’s probably fair to describe her as someone who keeps her options open.” I certainly didn’t mean it in a bad way. If anything, it was something about her that I admired. When I fell for a guy, I was all in, whether it seemed right or wrong. With Olivia though, things were always a little more fluid for her until her relationships were clearly established. From what I could tell, this Garrett guy she was seeing was just a fling. Neither one of them seemed mushy gushy about it.

  “She sounds perfect for my brother then,” he replied with a laugh. “He’s the same way.”

  “So how about you pick us up from my shop around four? Wear your swim trunks and we can show you how the locals live it up around here.”

  “That sounds like a great plan.” He reached a hand out and rested it on my leg. “Are you tired?”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. Usually I slept a solid seven or eight hours. I knew I would crash as soon as I laid down in my bed. “What was all that nonsense earlier about you not sleeping? You looked pretty out of it to me.”