Light in the Shadows

by A. Meredith Walters

  “So, where are you then? Back with your grandma?” Maria lived with her grandmother in Boca Raton before she went to the Grayson center. Her biological father was in jail for abusing her when she was a child and Maria hadn’t heard from her mother since she was ten. So she had gone to live with her mother’s mother who happened to be a cosmetic executive and had more money than God. But thus had very little time for her emotionally scarred granddaughter. This had created the perfect environment for self-destructive behavior. Maria and I had more in common in ways that neither of us liked to acknowledge.

  “Yeah, for now. I’m finishing up the last few credits for school. Blah, blah, blah. That’s not why I’m calling, Clay!” Maria squealed and I couldn’t help but laugh at her boisterous excitement.

  “Okay, okay. Spill already before you have an aneurism.” Maria’s girlish laugh filled the other end of the phone and I found that I really did miss her and all of our friends back at Grayson. Even though I was there to deal with some heavy shit, in a way it was a hell of a lot simpler. Sure I was only living half a life, but it was an uncomplicated half a life.

  “I’m coming to Virginia!” she rushed out and I stilled in surprise.

  “You’re coming to Virginia? Why?” Okay, so I hadn’t meant to sound so unhappy by the idea. But hadn’t I just been thinking how uncomplicated my life was at Grayson’s? That didn’t mean I wanted that life to follow me on the outside. Compartmentalization was key.

  “Wow, don’t sound so thrilled,” Maria said, clearly hurt by my lack of enthusiasm.

  “Sorry. No, that’s cool. What brings you north of the Florida state line?” I asked, rubbing the piece of skin between my eyebrows. I was getting a headache.

  “Well, I’m only going to be there for a few days. I’m actually heading to Alexandria, to see my older brother, Hector. I haven’t seen him in years. And we started talking again while I was in treatment, so I figured it was a good time to come up and see him. Plus, I thought it would be the perfect excuse to visit with my best friend.” Way to lay on the guilt. Sheesh.

  “No, that’s cool. I’d love to see you. So when will you be coming to Virginia? You know I could come up to Alexandria to see you. Save you the hassle of driving to Davidson.” Please, please, please.

  I wasn’t sure why this was stressing me out so badly. But I just knew that Maria being here would push my two worlds uncomfortably together.

  “And miss out on seeing all the sights of Davidson, Virginia? There is no way I’m missing out on that. I’ll be up next weekend. I’ll call you when I get to Alexandria and we can sort out a time for me to come down. Eeee! I’m so excited!” Maria’s giddiness was hard to ignore. Yeah, this was fine. Maria was cool. No weirdness necessary.

  “I can’t wait to hear all about your life on the outside. Is it everything you hoped it would be?” she asked. I needed to get inside Bubbles and start my shift.

  “I can fill you in next weekend. I’ve got to get to work,” I explained. Maria gave a mock gasp.

  “You’re working? Look at you being a productive member of society.” I chuckled.

  “That’s me, productive society guy,” I deadpanned.

  “Before you go, have you seen that girl? Maggie?” Maria asked and I knew there was more to her direction of questioning than simple curiosity.

  “Yeah. Actually, she and I are well…we got back together,” I admitted.

  “Oh. That’s great, Clay. I hope you’re happy,” she sounded sincere, if a little crestfallen. I tried to ignore the disappointment and jealousy in her voice.

  “I’d better get going. I’ll talk to you next week,” I said, ready to conclude the phone call.

  I wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about Maria’s upcoming visit. But my gut, or was it my deep seeded paranoia, couldn’t help but feel this was a disaster waiting to happen.

  Chapter Eighteen

  -Maggie-

  I was nervous. Screw it, I was really, really nervous. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and smoothed the skirt of my grey sweater dress for the millionth time since I had put it on. I looked cute. But was I trying to be cute? Sexy, amazing, or drop dead gorgeous would have been so much better.

  But I was stuck with cute.

  I had never been one to obsess about my looks like most teenage girls. I went with what God gave me and was okay with that. But for some reason tonight, I was freaking the hell out.

  Which was beyond ridiculous. Because the person I was dressing up for already thought I was the most beautiful girl on the planet.

  Poor deluded sap that he was.

  Tonight was the “date.” Clay and I had talked a few times during the week and we hadn’t been able to agree on what we wanted to do. I didn’t want him to go to a lot of trouble. But he wanted to make it special.

  And I could appreciate that. Because this felt like the beginning for us. Our first step toward a future that we had always wanted to have. Our chance to take things one step at a time, in the right order. Lord knows we skipped a whole bunch of pivotal moments the last time.

  But now was about walking, not sprinting to the finish line. And I was happy to stroll.

  Part of me wished this was the first time for us. That we didn’t have a butt load of baggage that always tickled the back of our minds with unwanted memories. I hated the twinge of distrust I continued to feel in Clay’s presence and I absolutely loathed the hyper vigilant anxiousness that I often felt from him.

  I had been so lost in the blissful throes of reunion that it had taken a few days before the reality started to set in. I tried not to watch him and monitor his behavior. But it was habit. And I couldn’t help but watch for any indication that he had veered off the course to recovery and was lying to me all over again.

  This was not the friendly feeling of déjà vu, but a smack a bitch in the face remembrance. And I didn’t like it one bit.

  But I would have been the worst kind of naïve if I dusted off my rose colored glasses again. I could tell Clay was making every effort to show me things were different. But how different could they really be? Not that much time had passed. And given all that he had gone through, relapse almost seemed preordained.

  Which was a shitty way of thinking. But think about it, I did.

  But for tonight, I wanted to walk the road Clay was trying so hard to pave for us.

  “You look lovely. Big plans tonight?” My mom peered into my room, a soft smile on her face. I tensed, ready to launch over hurdle number one.

  I took a brush to my hair and tugged it through with enough force to make me wince. Just because I was nervous didn’t mean I had to inflict bodily harm. What had my poor hair ever done to me?

  “Yeah. Actually, you got a minute, Mom?” I asked her, trying to control the wobble in my voice. My mom seemed to pick up on my apprehension and came in to sit down on my bed.

  “You really need to clean this room. You can barely see the floor, Maggie May,” my mom scolded, picking up a pile of clothes and absently began to fold them.

  I swallowed around the thick lump in my throat. “I’m going out with Clay tonight,” I let out in a rush. My mom’s hands stilled and she laid them on the clothes in her lap. I could see by the way her neck tensed up that she was not happy with my news.

  But I refused to hide things from them ever again. I had played the part of the secretive teenager and it only served to demolish the trust my parents had in me. And that was not a place I wished to revisit anytime soon.

  “Mom?” I ventured, wanting her to respond in some way. Her silence only served to increase the nervous flutter in my stomach.

  My mom took a deep breath and looked up at me. She seemed tired and much older than I ever remember her being. Had I done this to her? Was I responsible for the new wrinkles around her eyes and the tired droop of her mouth?

  “Okay,” she said slowly and I know my eyes popped out of my head.

  “Okay?” I clarified, not sure I had heard her correctly.

&n
bsp; My mom’s smile was tight. “Not the response you were expecting?” she asked me, moving the pile of clothes off to the side and folding her hands in her lap.

  “Well, no. I was expecting something a bit more…explosive,” I admitted, eyeing her warily. Who was this woman and what had she done with my mother?

  My mom patted the bed beside her and I quickly joined her. She brushed my bangs out of my face and rubbed my cheek. She seemed sad and tired and just like my dad several weeks ago, she appeared resigned.

  “What would be the point of yelling and telling you not to go? Would you stay home? Would you forget about Clay?” she inquired, taking my hands and holding them lightly in hers.

  I shook my head. “No. I wouldn’t,” I answered her honestly. My mom’s eyes began to glisten dangerously. I knew tears were imminent. I hated it when my mother cried. I felt helpless and guilty.

  “I don’t want to lose all that we’ve worked so hard to rebuild between us. Your father and I love you. Before, with Clay, we were so scared for you. We knew what you had with him could only end in a broken heart. And I hate it that we were right.” I found it hard to breathe and my mom wrapped her arm around my shoulders.

  “I know that if your dad and I had been more open minded. If we had listened instead of judging, things could have turned out very differently. But we were so terrified that our baby girl would get hurt that we went into shut down. You resented us. We were so angry. That was a horrible place to be.” She laid her cheek on the top of my head and I felt myself relax against her.

  “You’re not the only one that can change, Maggie May. Even us old folks can learn a lesson or two. And the main one we’ve learned is we have to trust you to live your life. You’re going to make your own choices and I just hope that you know you can talk to us. About anything.” She pulled me up by my shoulders so that I was looking at her again.

  “And I’m still scared for you, baby girl. Because I’m not sure how much has really changed for Clayton. I know he’s getting help now and that maybe he’s heading in the right direction. But it has been a very short period of time. You can’t expect miracles overnight. And given his struggles, I wouldn’t set yourself up for another round of disappointment and misery. If you’re really set on doing this with Clay again, then just make sure you remember the lessons you’ve learned.” Her advice was sound and I could only listen.

  Before, I would have gotten defensive. Become angry at her insinuations. But after the events of last year, I could only take in her words and heed them. What else could I do? Denial hadn’t worked so well for me in the past.

  “I will, Mom. I promise.” She kissed my cheek and got to her feet.

  “What time will he be picking you up?” she asked. I looked at the clock on my bedside table and realized how late it was.

  “He’s supposed to be here in an hour.” My mom made a clucking noise with her tongue.

  “Your dad and I were heading out to dinner. But maybe we’ll wait until after the two of you leave.” I could tell my mom was extremely uncomfortable with the idea of me going out with Clay. But I also felt such an amazing love for my parents that they were being so reasonable about it.

  “No, you guys go on. But I think maybe, I should bring Clay over. So you can spend some time together, get to know each other properly. I know there wasn’t much of a chance of that the last time.” My mom nodded.

  “I’d like that. Well, if you’re okay with us leaving. We should get going. But be home by midnight and not a minute later.” I smiled, feeling us slip back into the more comfortable role of mother and daughter.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said. My mom tried to hide her grin as she pointed her finger at me.

  “Not a minute later,” she warned again and I gave her a salute.

  I sagged down onto my bed. Had that really happened? I was again reminded how truly lucky I was and how I swore to myself I wouldn’t let them down again. How easy it was to say that now. But deep down, I was all too aware of how a beautiful pair of brown eyes and messy dark hair could ruin everything.

  ***

  By the time seven rolled around, I was a pacing, palm sweating, hair pulling mess. I had practically worn a hole in the carpet from my endless walking. You’d think I had never been out with a guy before. It was sort of ludicrous the way I was fretting about a dinner and a movie.

  But I knew so much hinged on this evening. This would decide for me whether Clay and I were capable of a relationship not defined by his mental illness. When we were together before, I was swept up in the tumultuous emotions that he was living in. It was easy to get lost in the ups and downs, the sideways and back ways and all the other ways in between.

  I had spent so much time thinking of ways to save him that everything else took a back seat. But here we were, months later, and I wasn’t sure what we were left with. How did we create a new relationship built on something other than his mood swings?

  Was it masochistic of me to almost miss the turmoil? Because I knew, even in the middle of our crazy dysfunction, that he needed me. That he loved me. That I was all he wanted. Now, I wasn’t so sure. Were we fooling ourselves into thinking anything was left to build from?

  Sure, the attraction was still there. But I worried that the depth of love we felt for one another was merely a symptom of the crisis we had found ourselves in.

  And would I ever be able to look at him as just a boy? And not someone I had to watch like a hawk just to make sure he was taking his medicine? Would we ever be able to have the easy, relaxed way of being together that other couples have?

  I would watch Rachel and Daniel and long for what they had deep in my bones. A love that was unquestionable and unwavering.

  I just needed to give us time. Time to navigate through the unchartered waters we now found ourselves in. And I had to remember that nothing with Clayton Reed would ever be simple. I just had to decide if I was okay with that.

  I was so deep in my thoughts that I barely registered the sound of the doorbell. It was only when a loud knock sounded on the door that I snapped out of it. There would be enough time later for over analyzation. Tonight was about Clay and me rediscovering everything we loved about one another.

  "Um...wow. Thanks," I said in absolute and utter amazement. Clay stood at my doorstep wearing dark jeans, a pressed blue collared shirt, black wool coat and holding the largest bouquet of roses I had ever seen. It was obvious he had checked all of the required boxes on this "date". Down to his perfectly slicked back hair and over eager expression.

  In the previous incarnation of our relationship we sort of skipped the whole "dating" thing.

  Somewhere between saying hello and diving headfirst into the drama we had forgotten the basics. Our love hadn't been typically teenage in any way. We had gone zero to a million without so much as a trip to the movies or an uncomfortable dinner at Applebee's while we chatted about favorite bands and most embarrassing moments.

  Looking at Clay all dolled up and standing almost timidly in front of me, I realized how much we had missed. How in the heat of our intense and crazy love we had forgotten the most important step in any relationship...the first date.

  I felt a resurgence of my earlier sadness at those tiny moments that we hadn't experienced together. I took a deep breath and reached out for the roses. Clay's smile was shy and uncertain, showing me that he was as clueless as I was when it came to rewriting our history.

  Was it possible to go back to the beginning? To try and rewrite a history that had already come to define us? To change the direction of fate and see where it took us?

  I gripped the bundle of overpriced flowers in my hands and gasped in surprise. I lifted my finger and saw a bright red blob on the tip. Shit, I should have realized there were thorns. The bite of pain reminded me that we had a long way to go. That no matter how beautiful the package, the hurt was still there.

  And I wasn't sure how long it would take for it to go away. Or if it ever would. But I reminded myself that now
was not the time. The hurt would be there for me to think about…later.

  "Are you alright?" Clay asked, moving toward me. I stuck my finger in my mouth. The tang of copper sharp on my tongue. I nodded my head and moved away before Clay could touch me.

  I dropped the flowers on the table inside the door and grabbed my purse. I joined him on the porch and zipped up my coat.

  “Are your parents here? I should say hi.” Clay peered into the house.

  “No, they’re out. But I’ve been given a very strict curfew of midnight. Otherwise I’ll turn into a pumpkin or something,” I teased. Clay laughed, clearly relieved that the parental meet and greet would be postponed for another time.

  "You ready then?" Clay asked, his smile less painful and much more heart wrenching. That was the kind of smile that could make a girl forget everything else. And at one time I had.

  Was I ready?

  Hell if I knew.

  But looking at his hopeful expression I knew that I could only try.

  I placed my hand in his outstretched one and squeezed lightly. “Lead on, kind sir. I’m entirely at your disposal,” I said as Clay pulled me toward his car. His entire demeanor seemed to change once we were in the car and headed down the road.

  He was happy and carefree and yes…hopeful. And I knew then that I really liked the look of it on his face. I only wished it could stay there forever.

  “So where are you taking me?” I asked, fiddling with his radio until I found a rock station playing the Dandy Warhols.

  Clay grinned. “Oh we’re going total high school cliché tonight, baby. Full on dinner, a movie, then maybe a little making out in the backseat.” I enjoyed his teasing as well as his excitement.

  “Wow,” I breathed out. I looked over at him coyly. “That sounds just about perfect.” Clay’s hand reached out to rest on my upper thigh and my entire body clenched under his touch. My earlier insecurities aside, one thing was for sure, the attraction we felt toward one another was alive and well.