Combative Trilogy

by McLean, Jay

  I stay quiet. Because really? What the hell am I supposed to say?

  * * *

  We remain connected as we watch the large streams of water shoot out of the three large cement sculptures. A few kids play in the bottom of the fountain, their laughter bringing out my own. “You know…” she says quietly, “…if you asked me a few months ago to describe this place, it wouldn’t be this.”

  “How would you describe it now?”

  Slowly, she turns to me, and even though she smiles to cover it up, I can still see the sadness, the struggle to admit what she says next. “I don’t want to feel trapped anymore, Ky. And I know that doesn’t make sense to you.” She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, letting the heat of the sun warm her face. “It’s kind of amazing when you think about it, though. There’s all of this to experience,” she opens her eyes and smiles wider, then circles her finger in the air, “and all you have to do is exist.”

  I keep my eyes on her. “Exist? It’s that simple, huh?”

  Her smile turns to a smirk. Then she grabs my arm, pulling me with her until her feet, shoes and all, are in the water. “And make waves!”

  I laugh, stepping in with her. She releases my arm so she can spin around in the water, her legs kicking out, splashing at anything and everything.

  “You’re crazy!” I shout.

  She stops, pouts, and steps to me. “I’m crazy?” she asks.

  I hold the side of her face, tilting her head up. “You’re crazy beautiful.” I seal her pout with a kiss while my ears fill with the sound of water running, of kids laughing, of the world going on around us. And I realize it now—there is one thing better than waking up to Madison in my bed.

  It’s existing with Madison.

  And, yes, it really is that simple.

  * * *

  A throat clearing has us pulling apart. Madison hides her face in my chest while I look over at the sound. I think we’re about to get scolded for our public display of maybe a little too much affection, but a middle-aged woman just smiles at us, curling her finger at me.

  I take Madison’s hand and walk over to her. “I hope you don’t think I was intruding,” the woman says, lifting her phone for me to view. “It was just too good a memory not to capture.” I take the phone from her hand and look at the picture she’d taken. And there we are, kissing in front of the fountain, arms around each other. And at that moment, we ignored everything else. There was no outside world. We were it. And it was just like the couple from the first frame we bought.

  You know—the ones who met in the foyer of their building…

  The ones who ended up living opposite each other…

  The ones who used pizza as a way to get closer…

  I laugh and show Madison.

  She covers her mouth with her hand and flicks her gaze between the phone and me.

  “Look at that,” I say, my eyes on hers. “We’re loving freely.”

  * * *

  I used to close my eyes and try to imagine what it would be like… to feel a breeze through my hair… hear the sounds of existence… to feel unrestricted.

  If I knew it would feel like this—this good—I never would’ve opened my eyes.

  Chapter 23

  The woman sent the picture to my phone, and Madison and I spent the rest of the afternoon taking selfies. She snorted when I said the word “selfies,” like the word didn’t really exist. I was about to laugh at her and ask if she’d been living under a rock for the last few years, but then I realized—maybe she actually had been…living under a rock, I mean. It would explain why she seemed to have no clue what the hell Facebook was.

  Of course, I’m curious about what had changed—and how she’s managing to rent an apartment when she’s unemployed. But my feelings for her completely outweigh my curiosity.

  * * *

  Madison’s been quiet on the drive home, so I figure she’s just thinking about the day—hopefully thinking about me, just like I’m thinking about her. It’s almost dusk when we stop by a photo-printing kiosk to print off all the pictures we’d taken from my phone. “I can’t believe this is what I look like!” she says at one point.

  I ask her how she doesn’t know what she looks like. She just shrugs and sits down next to me, her head on my shoulder while she waits for me to go through them all.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she whispers. “I’m just tired.”

  I kiss her forehead, tasting the sweat that’s formed. She blinks a few times, trying to focus her gaze. “You sure you’re okay?”

  She smiles and nods. “Let’s just print them and take them home. We can look at them there.”

  She sits in silence for a good five minutes while I curse at the photo machine that keeps fucking up. “Ky,” she whispers.

  I stab my finger on the touch screen, annoyed at its lack of cooperation.

  “Ky,” she says again.

  “Yeah?” I answer, distracted.

  “I don’t feel well.”

  I quickly turn to her. All color has drained from her face, and she’s covered in sweat. Her breaths are short and sharp, her head drooping like she doesn’t have the energy to hold it up. I squat down in front of her while she struggles to keep her eyes open. “Ky,” she whimpers, and my heart stops. “I need…”

  “What, baby? What do you need?”

  She swallows, but it looks like a struggle. “I’m dizzy.”

  “Okay.” I try to stay calm—for her. On the inside, I’m breaking. “Let’s just get you home, okay?”

  She does her best to nod.

  I grasp her hand and try to help her stand, but she’s dead weight in my arms and falls back in her chair. “You have to tell me what to do, baby. What’s wrong? What can I do?”

  “I need…”

  I hold her head in my hands and search her face. “Need what, Maddy? Talk to me!”

  She weeps and pushes my hands away, then tries to stand again. She only gets halfway before she grasps her seat and uses it to soften her fall to the floor, letting out another sob.

  I link my fingers behind my head and look back down at her. She’s almost lying on the floor now. “I don’t know what to do, Maddy.” I pull out my phone and start to dial 911. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

  Her hand shoots up. “No, Ky! Please.” She cries harder.

  “Why!”

  She shakes her head. “Please.”

  The store clerk rushes up and stands beside me. “Is she okay?”

  “I don’t know!” I almost shout. My panic spikes as I see Madison’s eyes drifting shut. The clerk squats in front of her and holds two fingers to her wrist, her other hand going to her forehead.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, even though I know the answer; she’s doing what I should been doing, but I’m too terrified to think straight.

  “My name’s Paula,” the clerk says. “I’m pre-med over at Jefferson. I can show you my ID.”

  I wave her off. “It’s fine.”

  “What’s her name?”

  I squat down next to Paula and take Madison’s other hand. I choke on my words but regain enough composure to answer her. “Madison. Her name’s Madison.”

  “Did she say if she has trouble breathing?” Paula asks.

  “No. She said she was dizzy. She’s sweating though, and she keeps blinking.”

  “Madison?” Paula croons, rubbing her hand along Madison’s forehead. “Can you hear me okay?”

  Madison lifts her head, then lets it drop again.

  “Do you know what’s happening to her?”

  Paula ignores me, instead ordering me to get a can of soda and an energy bar from the vending machine. I do what she asks, tearing the packet open on my way back.

  “Madison?” Paula says again. “Are you diabetic?”

  Madison whimpers a “yes” before mumbling something that makes absolutely no sense to me.

  Luckily, Paula understands. “Insulin?” she asks, helping Madison s
it up. Paula gives her the energy bar.

  Madison chews it slowly while Paula turns to me. “When was she supposed to take her insulin?”

  My stomach drops to the floor, along with the rest of me, as I kneel in front of Madison. “Maddy… what are you talking about? What insulin?”

  Madison throws her head back, lifting the energy bar and biting into it.

  “I didn’t know,” I mumble.

  Paula offers Madison the now-open soda. “Has she eaten today?” Paula asks me.

  “I think so. I mean, we skipped lunch—”

  “She can’t skip meals if she’s diabetic. This is what happens.”

  “I didn’t know,” I repeat, looking back at Madison. “She didn’t tell me.”

  Madison’s gaze lifts to mine, her eyes pleading. Her bottom lip quivers as she forces herself to swallow and take a sip of her drink.

  “Where’s your insulin?” Paula asks her. “Is it in your bag?”

  I turn my back on both of them.

  “Apartment,” Madison whispers. Then louder, “Ky?”

  “Yeah?” I say, still unable to look at her.

  “I’m okay,” she squeaks. “This isn’t your fault.”

  My phone sounds, giving me reason to pretend like I didn’t hear her.

  Jackson: When are you bringing the car back?

  Ky: I can’t. Madison. There’s something wrong with her. I don’t know what to do.

  Jackson: Where are you?

  Ky: Picture Perfect on Eighth.

  When I return my attention to Madison, Paula’s saying, “You’ve been out in the sun all day, dehydrated, and you haven’t eaten or had your insulin. This could have been really bad, Madison.”

  “I know,” she answers, her hands trembling as she brings the soda to her mouth.

  Paula stands in front of me. “She needs to go home. She needs to eat. And you need to monitor her sugar level, make sure it doesn’t spike too high or too low. And you should probably get her a diabetes bracelet, too. Just so people are aware if or when this happens to her again.”

  I try to take in all her words, try to remember in detail everything she just said. “Thank you,” I rush out. “If you weren’t here… I don’t know what the hell I would have done.”

  “Hey,” Paula croons, rubbing my arm. “If you don’t know what the signs are, you can’t be expected to know how to react.”

  “You’re a lifesaver.”

  She shoves her hands in her back pockets and rocks on her heels. And then she smiles. “You’re welcome…?”

  “Ky.”

  Her smile gets wider. “It was nice meeting you, Ky. I mean… under the circumstances and all.”

  Madison clears her throat, her brow bunched as she looks up at me.

  I sigh and sit down next to her. “You scared me,” I tell her, linking our hands.

  She doesn’t respond.

  Jackson shows up in a squad car, sirens blaring.

  “Why are the cops here?” Madison asks, panic clear in her voice.

  “It’s just Jax.”

  “He’s a cop?”

  “Detective,” I tell her, watching Jax walk in, his shoulders squared, eyes narrowed.

  He seems to settle down when he sees us. “How are you doing, Madison?” he asks, stopping and squatting in front of us.

  “I’ll be okay,” she says, resting her head on my shoulder.

  He nods once and then turns to me. “What happened?”

  “She’s diabetic,” I manage to get out.

  He looks back at Madison. “You need me to take you to the hospital? You can ride in the squad car.”

  She straightens up quickly and shakes her head. “No!” Then she takes a few calming breaths and adds, “Honestly, Jackson, thank you, but I’m fine. I just need to go home.”

  He rears back a little, startled by her response. When his eyes find mine, I shake my head. I don’t want him questioning her or pushing her too much. I’ll be doing enough of that later.

  I reach into my pocket and hand Jackson the car keys. “Are you able to give us a ride?”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  He makes his way back to the squad car and speaks to the driver through the window. The car disappears a moment later, and I look at Madison sipping slowly on her soda. “We need to talk about this, Maddy. I’m serious.”

  I lean against her bathroom counter with my arms crossed while she shows me her medicine bag. “So how much do you use? I mean… are there different doses depending on… I don’t even know what the fuck to ask right now.”

  “Ky, it’s fine. I have it under control.”

  I scoff and roll my eyes. “Clearly.”

  “Don’t be mad. We had a good day today.”

  “Yeah, we did. And then you could have died.”

  “Don’t be dramatic.”

  I throw my hands in the air and push off the counter. “What if Paula wasn’t there?”

  “Oh Paula,” she says, her nose scrunching in disgust.

  “What?”

  “Yeah. She loved you.”

  “Shut up!”

  Her eyes widen in shock. “What!”

  “I’m fucking serious right now, Maddy. Don’t joke around.”

  Her shoulders sag, and she exhales loudly, her breath shaky while she continues to pack away her stuff. Then she turns to me but doesn’t speak.

  And for a moment, neither do I.

  Our eyes lock, waiting for the other to crack first.

  I won’t cave. Not this time.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally says.

  “You scared me.”

  “I know.”

  Taking a step toward her, I try for an even tone when I say, “You know I’m not going to push you to talk about certain things, but stuff like this—I need to know about it. I need to know what to do if this happens again or what I need to do to prevent it from happening in the first place.”

  “I—”

  “Don’t say you had it under control, Madison, because that’s a fucking lie.”

  “I was just going to say that I forgot. I was having such a good time that I honestly forgot about it. And then we got in the car, and I started—”

  “You should have told me right away.”

  “I didn’t want you to worry!”

  “Like I am right now?”

  She groans, frustrated. “Can you at least yell at me after I eat?”

  I raise my eyebrows at her, jerking my head at her plate. “Keep going,” I snap.

  She rolls her eyes and makes a show of chewing and swallowing her food. “Ky, I’m not a kid.”

  I cross my arms. “When the plate’s empty, we’re going to sit down and you’re going to walk me through everything. Step by step.”

  She drops her fork and matches my stance, then mumbles under her breath.

  I lean forward on my elbows, waiting until I’m calm before I speak. “Don’t you think you’re being unfair?”

  She scoffs. “Me! Have you met you right now? How can you say I’m being unfair?”

  “Because you are, Madison. You’re being unfair to us. You were right. We had a great day, and it could have ended great if you’d just told me what was going on instead of hiding it from me.” I pause, waiting for her to speak up, but she doesn’t. “You’re not being fair to us and whatever it is we are at the moment, because you and I—we’re just beginning, and with what you did today, you’re not giving us a chance. And I want that chance. Don’t you, babe? Don’t you think we deserve that? To be happy? Because you do, Maddy—you make me happy. And seeing you the way you were today—” I push down the lump in my throat, my eyes on her as she stares down at the table. “I don’t want to see you like that again. And I don’t want to be helpless with you. I want to take care of you, no matter what it is… but you have to be honest with me, at least with that. Please.”

  She looks up—a perfect pout formed on her perfect lips, but she isn’t faking it this time. She nods and picks up
her fork.

  We spend the rest of her meal in silence.

  When she’s done, she stands up and offers me her hand. Then she leads me back to her bathroom. She tells me all about her diabetes—what type it is and the things she does to keep it under control. She says that she hasn’t had any issues since she’s moved in and that today was the first time anything like that has happened.

  She then guides me through her insulin doses and even shows me the tiny dots that cover parts of her stomach and both her thighs from the needles. Marks that, even though I’ve spent a lot of time up close and personal with her body, I’ve never noticed before. She also mentions that she hopes I don’t find those things unattractive. I tell her she’s stupid and that if she thinks that then she doesn’t know me at all. And then I ask her something that’s been bugging me since we left the photo kiosk. “Why didn’t you want to go to the hospital, Maddy?”

  She shrugs and averts her gaze. “I can’t afford it.”

  “Bullshit. You know I would’ve covered you.”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  I pull on her arm until she’s standing in front of me. Then I lift her chin with my finger, giving her no choice but to look at me. “And I don’t want your lies.”

  Her throat bobs once, her shoulders sagging when she gives up to the inevitable. “Because I don’t exist, Ky. Not officially. My dad forgot about me when I was twelve, and I packed whatever I could and ended up on the streets at fifteen. It’s not like I have a driver’s license or anything.”

  “But now? I mean—”

  “Ky!” She’s almost begging now. “I’m tired,” she cries. “And I just want to go to sleep. And I want to forget the last part of the day. Please? Can we just talk about this tomorrow?”

  “Fine. But we’re—”

  “I know!” she shouts. “I get it. You’re mad. You’re disappointed. Just please… not now.” Her voice breaks into a sob, giving me everything I need to quit being a dick.

  “You’re right, babe. I’m sorry.”

  “Will you kiss me now?” she asks, her head tilting all the way back. She scrunches her nose and exaggerates the puckering of her lips. I try not to smile. I fail. And the second our lips make contact, she circles her arms around me, keeping me in place. We kiss until we fall on her bed, but I stop it before it can go any further. “You need to rest.”