Perfunctory Affection

by Kim Harrison

  Twelve

  Meg cautiously fitted the key to her apartment, trying to make it soundless as it turned. Her car was in the lot, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here. He shouldn’t be. He said he was going to move out. Austin, though, had been acting erratically lately.

  Cracking the door, she listened at the silence for a moment before going in. Exhaling, Meg took in the dark shadows. Everything was the way she’d left it. The drapes were pulled mostly shut, and there was a thickness in the air she didn’t remember but which felt familiar. “I hate this place,” she whispered as she set her purse on the counter between the living room and the kitchen.

  She’d been gone only a day, but it felt longer, and she couldn’t help but compare her apartment to the bright openness of Haley’s. The cheerful woman was there right now, unpacking the pillows, sheers, and rugs that they’d picked out together, deciding where they went, making the perfect apartment. Looking over the brown carpet, tan walls, and oversized TV that served as the living room’s focal point, Meg realized there was nothing she wanted to bring. The only thing that had any meaning were her paintings. Everything else would be a dark stain of imperfection in the Spartan grace that Haley was making.

  “The tree might be okay, though,” she said softly as she walked to her working easel. The overhead light was off, and she took the shadowed canvas to the window overlooking the parking lot, angling it into the meager light. The fractured tree seemed to glow, and she decided she’d bring it if only because Haley had liked it. It was what had brought them together, she realized. Maybe she should give it to her as a thank-you.

  Setting the canvas on the kitchen counter to take, Meg went back for her pigments, brushes, and cleaning supplies. They made a small pile beside her picture, and an unexpected feeling of excitement took her as she saw a new beginning there. She was going to do this. She was going to move out.

  Purse in hand, Meg strode into the bedroom. Ignoring the unmade double bed and the dull brown comforter, she grabbed a handful of bras and panties from the dresser. Out. She needed to get what she needed and get out.

  Pulse fast, she flung open the door to her closet, knowing exactly what she’d find. Her shoulders slumped as she absently shoved her underthings into her purse, wincing at the grandma cut of her nightgown even as she wadded it up and dropped it in. As homely as it was, she wasn’t going to sleep in one of Haley’s spare nightgowns a second time.

  With that thought in mind, she grabbed a pair of jeans and three of her most colorful, outlandish tops. Brow furrowed, she took the dress that she’d worn at her last show, the long black shift looking out of place in the faded closet light. And then, feeling as if it was the last tie to a past she didn’t want, she dropped it on the floor.

  It was too flamboyant for day-to-day, and too drab for a night out. Haley would roll her eyes and pat her on the head.

  Purse over her shoulder, Meg went into the bathroom. Her reflected motion caught her eye, and she stopped, startled. Slowly pulling herself straight, Meg touched her curls. A smile spread across her face, and she ran a hand down her slim waist, liking how Haley’s sun dress made her look both young and smart all at the same time. Classy. Something everyone might want to be.

  Her dark hair glistened against her, and her face was pink from having gotten too much sun. Her eyes seemed like dark, soulful pits, and a faint smile ruined her studious expression. Rorry’s necklace glinted about her neck, catching the light and sending it to all corners of the plastic shower-curtained, bar-soap-scummed, brown-toweled, flat-rugged bathroom.

  “I can’t do dull anymore,” she whispered, then dropped down to hunt under the counter for her hairbrush, her seldom-used makeup bag and an even less-used curling iron. They clattered onto the brown Formica counter, sounding like a death-rattle. Her toothbrush went with them, but she left her toothpaste, not wanting Haley to smell mint on her breath.

  She jammed it all in her purse, the need to be done and gone hesitating as she found her mother’s necklace. Her brow furrowed as she took it out, carefully untangling it and holding it up to the light. The colorful jewels that had once seemed so brilliant now looked common. She imagined wearing it in front of Haley’s father, seeing his smile that held his low opinion. Suddenly the need to leave everything behind that reminded her of her depression was almost overwhelming.

  “Sorry, Mom,” she whispered as she carefully draped it across the bathroom counter. “I have to let you go or I’ll never get better.”

  Somehow her purse seemed lighter as she took it up and walked out into the living room, stopping stock-still when she saw Austin in the kitchen, a horrified expression on his face as he brought his attention up from her canvas and paint supplies.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his relief shifting to anger as he saw her overstuffed purse with her curling iron poking out.

  “Moving out.” Pulse fast, she hitched her purse up higher on her shoulder. “I’m going to stay with Haley for a few days until I find my own place.”

  Austin’s expression blanked. “This is your place.”

  “This is not my place,” Meg said, her anger rising. “It’s your place. It’s you.” She gestured at nothing. “Everywhere it’s you. None of this is me! It’s all dark walls and brown carpet and your movies and games. There is no sun in here, and I hate it!”

  “So we’ll change it.” Austin came out from behind the counter, and Meg’s lips pressed into a hard line. “We can pick out a cute basket at the mall for me to hide my console and games in. Maybe get some new furniture. Paint the walls. New drapes. Whatever you want,” he said. “You’re the one who wanted to live here. You think I like living in this dark cave?”

  “I think you like me living in a dark cave,” Meg said, ignoring that she’d been the one to pick out their place. “I think you need someone to save, so you keep me down where you can rescue me Monday through Friday, and twice on Sunday.”

  “Hey!” Austin barked angrily, but she’d stepped forward, her words rushing to run over his protest.

  “I don’t need saving anymore,” she said as she dug through her purse to find her key. “You can have the place. Do what you want.” Taking the key off the ring, she dropped it on the floor and started to her canvas and paints.

  “That’s not true,” Austin said, and she jerked to a halt when he lurched to get in front of her. “Why are you doing this?” he pleaded.

  “Because you won’t leave me alone!” she shouted, but instead of yelling back at her, he shook his head, his brow furrowed.

  “Meg, something is wrong. We need to talk to Dr. Jillium. Today.”

  A cold chill took her, and she backed up a step. “I know the symptoms of a bad reaction and I’m not showing any of them,” she said as she backed up another. “Everything tastes normal. I’m not having stranger anxiety, and nothing is giving me a rash. I’m even sleeping better. I haven’t had even one nightmare. I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine.” Frustrated, Austin gestured at her. “Look at you. I hardly recognize you. Where did you get that dress?”

  Meg licked her lips. “It’s Haley’s,” she said. “She’s letting me borrow it.”

  “You sure it’s not from that shopping spree that came in over your card yesterday?” Austin said dryly. “It set off your fraud protection alert.”

  Anger trickled through Meg. She couldn’t win for losing. “I bought a pair of sandals,” she said. “It was Dr. Jillium’s homework to get out and go shopping, and now you’re mad at me for that? Haley was the one buying the store out. And what’s the problem? You like the way I looked before?” Angry, she pointed at the bedroom. “Fine. Everything of mine is still in the closet. You can dress up a doll, prop her in the chair, and get the same result.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying,” Austin said, but he hadn’t moved from the door, and she felt trapped, even if his eyes had gone soft and unsure. “You look great, but this is too much too fast. Out all night. Shopping during the busy ho
urs. I haven’t seen you for days it seems.”

  “It’s what normal people do, Austin,” she said bitterly, not liking herself for having been so dysfunctional.

  “Yes, I know.” His voice was softer, appeasing, and he moved from the door a step closer to her. “But if I learned anything about medication these past few years, I learned that what goes up comes down, and you are up. You’re up too high for me to catch you when you fall.”

  She stiffened, not liking his idea that everything she had achieved was all chemically induced. “I’m not going to fall,” she said. “And I don’t want you to catch me. You know what? We’re done.” Dropping her purse on the couch, she began to twist her pinky ring off.

  “Wait. Meg.” Austin backed up, a hand raised in protest. “Don’t. Just don’t. Please. If you won’t talk to me, talk to Dr. Jillium. I think you’re having a bad reaction.”

  Meg wrestled with the pinky ring. “For the first time in three years, I don’t need you,” she said, finger hurting as she finally raked it over her knuckle. “I think you’re the one who is having a bad reaction.” She exhaled, triumphant as she threw it at him. Austin fumbled for it, his damaged fingers obvious as he tried to keep it from hitting the floor.

  “Don’t call or text me anymore. Got it?” she said, knees watery, but it was because she was mad, not afraid. “And if you even think about talking to Dr. Jillium, I’ll… I’ll…” Her words trailed off. There was nothing she could say that she was sure she was brave enough to carry out.

  “Meg—”

  He reached for her, and she jerked out of his reach. “Leave me alone!” she shouted, startled when her voice filled the dark room. “I’m not going to let you drag me back to what I was!”

  “I’m not trying to,” he pleaded, her ring held in a tight fist. “I just want to help. Something isn’t right, and you aren’t listening!”

  “You’re the one not listening!” she exclaimed as she picked up her purse. “I like who I am, and I’m sorry, but it doesn’t include you anymore. You’re right. You and Dr. Jillium were right. You are a crutch, and I have to let you go. Goodbye, Austin.”

  Jaw clenched, she went to the kitchen and got her canvas. Furious, she stuffed the pigments into her purse. Brushes in a tight fist, she headed for the door.

  “Meg,” he said, reaching for her again.

  “Let go!” she shouted as his two good fingers pinched her arm, and in almost a panic, she shoved him away.

  Austin backpedaled, arms wheeling as he fell into the couch. For a second, he stared up at her, and it was not clear who was more surprised. Slowly Austin got to his feet, his hands in his pockets as he stood and glowered at her. “You aren’t yourself,” he said, clearly angry. “When and if you are, I’ll be here.”

  Meg lifted her chin. “I’m not coming back.” Wedging her brushes into her already too-full purse, she stomped to the door and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

  The noise made her jump, and not believing what she’d done, she hustled down the stairs, stumbling out into the bright afternoon sun. It hit her like a wall, and she took a deep breath, shaking off the ugliness behind her.

  Just as well, she thought as she made her way to the sidewalk. If she hadn’t ended everything right then, it would have festered. And at least now she’d know exactly what she and Dr. Jillium wouldn’t be talking about tomorrow.

  “Hey! Can you tell they aren’t real yet?” a ragged voice yelled, and Meg stopped short, her canvas held tight as she saw Christopher and his dog across the street.

  Son of a bitch.… Options fell through Meg’s thoughts, unrecognized as her gut demanded that she run from him, the darkest threat to her new self. A surge of anger swirled forth, smothering it. Jaw clenched, she pushed her fear aside. She didn’t want to be that person. She wouldn’t.

  “Go away!” she shouted, and the car passing between them slowed, its driver curious. “You hear me?” she added as she started across the street, almost oblivious to the oncoming traffic. “Go away! Get out of here! Leave me alone!”

  That dog of his was barking wildly, and looking panicked, Christopher scooped it up and fled, the ragged hems of his pants flapping.

  Shocked, Meg stopped in the middle of the street and watched him run away. An oncoming car braked fast, tires squealing. The sound ripped through her, and for a second, she couldn’t move, frozen by the memory of hitting that tree three years ago, the sudden jerk, the clean sensation of pain pushing whatever argument they’d been having into oblivion. Austin had been with me.

  “Get the hell out of the road!” the man shouted, and red-faced, she hurried to the curb. The car accelerated with a tight squeal of tires, and she warmed at his added, “Stupid woman!” Meg risked a look back, even more embarrassed when she realized that Austin had seen it all, his unmoving figure standing beside the mailboxes. His hands were still in his pockets, and his lips were pressed into a tight line. Saying nothing, he pushed into motion and jogged unevenly after Christopher.

  Whatever, she thought as she hoisted her canvas higher up her hip and moved faster. Everything would be fine as soon as she got back to Haley. No, everything would be perfect.

  Thirteen

  Meg tripped on the uneven sidewalk, her grip on the canvas tightening and her overloaded purse threatening to spill. Her embarrassment at yelling at Christopher had faded, leaving only a shocked amazement that she’d dumped Austin. Three years, and she was walking away to move in with someone she barely knew. Change is hard, or everyone would do it, she thought, echoing one of Dr. Jillium’s favorite sayings. But exciting when you’re the one in control, she added silently.

  Her entire body felt light, and it seemed as if her feet barely touched the sidewalk as she came to a halt and hit the button for the crosswalk, still riding the high. She wasn’t helpless. She could stand on her own.

  It was busier down here. University Dregs, the local coffee/WiFi hangout, was across the street, and the rich scent of coffee rolled out onto the sidewalk to entice her in. Almost she wished she had the time, but Haley was waiting for her, and there was an entire apartment to decorate.

  “You shouldn’t have left your apartment. It makes it easier for them to strip your identity,” a masculine voice said from behind her. Meg spun, her lips parting when she saw Christopher, his eyes holding a wary regret. His dog was gone, and she looked over his shoulder for Austin.

  “Go away,” she said, feeling trapped between him and the traffic. “I swear, if you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to call the cops.” She set her canvas on the sidewalk, fumbling to find her phone in her purse. “Where’s Austin? Did he put you up to this? How much is he paying you to harass me?”

  “Who?” Christopher saw the phone in her hand, and he backed up, hand raised. “No one is paying me anything,” he said. “I’m trying to help you, and you’re not listening. Leaving your apartment is making it easy for them, but it’s not too late, even if you can see them. I can help. Will you just listen to me for one blessed moment?”

  He was sounding almost coherent, and a chill dropped down Meg’s spine when he caught sight of her painted canvas and his expression shifted to one of horror. “That’s why they want you,” he whispered, staring at it as if it was a snake. “Oh, God. That’s why. They can’t do it, any of it, so they find people who can, and they lure them away. But it’s slavery. They won’t ever let you come back. You can never do enough to please them.”

  Meg pressed into the street post, torn between running to the coffee shop or making a break for Haley’s place. But then he’d know where she was staying, and so she didn’t move, trapped between him and the traffic. Better humor him, she thought, as she texted 911 to Daniel. “Can’t do what?” she asked, sending her location to him as well.

  “Create.” Christopher’s erratic attention darted over the passing cars. “They can’t create anything; art, music, an exceptional dinner. Creation is messy and ugly, an imperfect mix of trial and failure. That’s why they
want you,” he said, and Meg clutched her phone to her middle, feeling it vibrate as Daniel texted he was on his way.

  “It’s your imperfections that draw them,” Christopher implored as he looked at her canvas again, and it was as if seeing it triggered an entirely new set of mannerisms, his new, large-word vocabulary at odds with his torn, stained clothes. “The more innovative we are, the more we attract them, and the more they want us, and the more they hate us. Because we can do what they can’t. They crave the result, but despise the process.”

  My God, this guy is really messed up, she thought, wondering what he’d been before he lost his marbles.

  “Dr. Jillium knows about them,” he said as he eyed her. “I told her,” he added, and Meg wondered if “they” were the ones that he kept asking if she could see. “That’s why she tucked me away in that mental hospital. She thinks they’re a side effect of the Fitrecepon, but the only side effect is that it lets us see them. Oh, God! I was so stupid.”

  Hallucinations, she thought, scared. Dr. Jillium said they were possible. She backed up when he took a step closer, her heels on the curb. Hurry up, Daniel…

  “They’ve been here all the time,” Christopher said, and the stink of too long without a shower pricked at her nose when he leaned in, whispering. “It’s the Fitrecepon. It lets you see them. Makes them real. Stop taking the pills. It’s not too late. She thinks I’m schizophrenic and imagining them, but they’re real. They are real, I tell you!” he shouted, and she backed up, right into the street. “Don’t let her tell you they aren’t!”

  “Let go!” she cried out when he grabbed her arm and jerked her back onto the sidewalk and out of the path of an oncoming car.

  Her pulse hammered as she twisted away, but she didn’t run, desperate for Daniel to show up. The fractured pendant that Rorry had given her swung free, and Chris gasped as he saw it.

  “Don’t go with them,” he said as he backed up, one hand stuffed behind his tattered shirt as if he’d burned his fingers. “Don’t do it,” he almost hissed, eyes darting. “You aren’t one of them. They only make you think you are. If you were, they wouldn’t want you. I escaped, but they know how I did it and it will be harder to do twice.”