Perfunctory Affection

by Kim Harrison

  “Meg…”

  “No, look. See?” Head down Meg dug through her purse past her diary to find it. It had been a beautiful evening, the first in a long time that she’d felt free, and she wouldn’t let her therapist tell her it had all been in her head. “Look at it!” Meg demanded, her hand shaking as she held it out, recalling how Rorry had faked his totals and Haley had gotten a hole in one.

  Dr. Jillium took it. “This is your handwriting,” the older woman said, and Meg snatched it back, staring at the tight, cramped writing that was clearly not her own.

  “It is not,” she said flatly, startled when Dr. Jillium reached into her purse for her diary and flipped it open. Meg’s lips parted at page after page of that same cramped writing. It was empty. It had been empty!

  “That’s not mine…” Meg said, panic bubbling up, black and thick to swamp her as she grabbed it and read a passage she didn’t remember writing, about her going shopping for the first time in a month, buying things to outfit her new apartment that she’d just picked out, getting her hair cut and a manicure—all on her own. “This wasn’t me,” she said, head shaking. “Haley or Rorry must have done it. They’re trying to trick me. I don’t know why. I want to go. I want to!” she pleaded.

  Dr. Jillium took the diary and closed it. “Think about it, Meg. What’s the most logical explanation? I have two years of your diaries in my office. Or I did,” she finished sourly. “All of them written in the same handwriting.”

  Conveniently burned to nothing, Meg thought.

  “I’m sorry, Meg, but I can’t let you stay on the Fitrecepon.”

  Meg’s head snapped up. I can handle Perfection. I’m not going to give it up, she thought as she backed to the door. “I have to go. I have to talk to Haley.”

  “Haley isn’t real.” Dr. Jillium flung the covers off her feet, then hung her head, breathing hard. “She’s a side effect of an overdose of Fitrecepon,” she said faintly, and then louder, “Daniel?”

  Feeling trapped, Meg looked at the door as Daniel came in. Seeing Dr. Jillium’s heartache and Meg’s determination, his expression hardened.

  It might be Meg’s handwriting in page after page of that diary, but Haley and Rorry were real. Perfection was a place. Christopher was right, and she suddenly wanted to go there. There was nowhere else she could escape the reality that she had killed Austin and lied to herself for the last three years.

  “I don’t believe you,” Meg said, voice quavering as she warned Daniel off with an outstretched hand. “I don’t believe you! Get out of my way.”

  But Dr. Jillium had swung her feet to the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed as she caught her balance. “I’m sorry, Meg. I really am. This is my failing, not yours. But we’ll get you better.”

  But I don’t want to be better. It might be Dr. Jillium’s failing, but Meg would be the one who’d land in a medical facility. Like Christopher, she thought, tensing.

  Christopher. He was going to go to the fountain and try to kill them. If she saved them, maybe they would take her. Wouldn’t that make up for torching Dr. Jillium’s office?

  “Okay, Meg. Nice and easy,” Daniel said as he warily approached, not trusting her silent stance. “I won’t cuff you if you don’t make me.”

  She nodded, her fist clenching into a hard knot. “I won’t give you any trouble,” she lied.

  Dr. Jillium’s eyes narrowed. “Daniel…” she warned, but it was too late, and when Daniel reached for her, Meg lashed out, shoving him into the cabinet. He hit with a thud, swearing as he went down. Meg shrieked as she sprang over his feet and hit the door, running for the parking lot.

  She wanted to go to Perfection. Haley was real. She’d said the Fitrecepon let Meg see them. Maybe with enough pills, the way would open and she could go. I’ve seen it. I’ve painted it. It exists.

  For as Meg saw it, it was better to be delusional and a slave living with the fey than sane and responsible for Austin’s death.

  Nineteen

  She couldn’t stomach getting into her car even if it wasn’t smashed into a park tree; the memory of Austin dying beside her was as fresh as if it had just happened. And so Meg ran to the fountain, her sore ankle and new sandals making her awkward as she shifted from lawn to curb to pavement, making a raven’s path to the center of the campus.

  The quad was empty, and lungs heaving, Meg slid to an exhausted halt at the edge of the trees to wait for Haley and Rorry. Her chest hurt as she fought for breath, grief and anger making her confused. Slowly she pulled herself upright as she stared at the brightly lit fountain. The chattering water was an odd, Coke-bottle green in the underwater lights. She’d either missed them or they weren’t here yet. Limbs feeling like rags, she scuffed to the fountain, fearing the worst. Christopher had said he was going to kill them.

  But the fountain was empty of everything but a frog hanging in a still point in the moving water. Moths beat about the lights shining on the angel pouring out her vial, and spiders had made glistening webs to catch them.

  “I’m going crazy,” Meg whispered as she sat on the edge, her back going cool from the intermittent spray. Christopher had said they needed moving water to get to Perfection and back. Where were they?

  “Haley?” she called, getting no answer. “Rorry, are you out here? I just want to talk.” It was just what Austin had said.

  Austin is dead, she reminded herself.

  Emotion washed through her, and she shoved it back down where she could ignore it. If she could get to Perfection, what had happened with Austin wouldn’t matter. Flustered, she smoothed her hair and ran a nervous hand down her skirt.

  The pills, she thought suddenly, swinging her purse forward and rummaging until she found a vial. Pulse fast, she shook a handful into her hand and swallowed them dry. “Haley?” she called as she stood up. Maybe Christopher had scared them off. Or they had left already. Where else was there running water? Putt-putt? Meg thought, anxious as she paced around the fountain in search of any sign they’d been and gone.

  And then she stopped stock-still upon seeing Rorry and Haley in the shadows just under the ancient oak trees. Why didn’t she answer? Meg thought, afraid to move. Dr. Jillium was wrong. They were real. Maybe she’d written all that in her diary, but they were real.

  “I just want to talk,” Meg whispered. “Please.”

  Lips pressed, Haley came forward looking as perfect as always. “Why are you here?” she asked, and Meg warmed at the annoyance in her voice.

  “I want to go,” she said, and Rorry, now two steps behind her, winced. “Please. I’ll do anything,” Meg begged. “Don’t leave me here. I’ve got nothing left. You were right. Austin is dead. I did those things, but I didn’t mean to, and now I know. It won’t happen again. Please, I can’t stay here.”

  “Haley…” Rorry coaxed, and Meg’s hope soared when the angry slant to Haley’s brow eased as she arranged Meg’s hair about her ears.

  “I wish I could,” the smaller woman said. “It’s not my decision anymore. When you tried to kill Dr. Jillium to find Perfection, you proved you weren’t deserving of it.”

  Meg stiffened as she felt everything slip away. “But I didn’t kill her. I pulled her to safety,” she protested. “I know Austin wasn’t really there. It was me, and I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

  But Haley only smiled sadly, her cool fingers dropping to arrange the collar of Meg’s sundress. “They can’t see the difference. If it were up to me, I’d say yes, but you’re too damaged for Perfection.” Meg couldn’t move as Haley tugged her close, giving her what felt like a good-bye hug. “I’m so sorry,” Haley whispered, her breath shifting the hair beside Meg’s ear. “You would have liked it there, and you are so talented that I might never have had to come back here for years and years. I wish it could be so. I wish you hadn’t come here. This is hard.”

  Meg stumbled when Haley let go and stepped back, that same regretful, fond expression on her face. Rorry was looking nervous, his attention altern
ating between them and the fountain. “Please,” Meg begged, her skin beginning to tingle as the moths beat faster against the lights. “I can be perfect. I have two vials of Fitrecepon. See?”

  She fumbled for them, holding them out like an offering, but Haley only closed Meg’s hands over them to hide them. “No. You might have been, but you aren’t. I’m sorry.”

  Anger flared in Meg. It was Austin’s fault. It was always Austin’s fault, even when he had been dead for three years.

  Behind her, Rorry tucked his phone away. “Haley? It’s time.”

  “Stay here,” Haley said, her hand raised as if she was telling a dog to go home. Turning, she moved to join Rorry. “Don’t try to follow us. You won’t be able to, and you’ll only make it harder for us to go.”

  “Christopher!” Meg shouted, desperate to keep them from leaving. “He wants to kill you. He told me he was going to try to kill you!”

  Haley’s expression blanked. “Does he know how to get through the veil?” she asked, and from the darkness behind her, Meg heard an angry shout.

  “You little bitch!” Christopher yelled, and Meg spun, gasping as Christopher raced out of the dark toward them. His hands were clenched and a frighteningly intent expression pinched his eyes, turning his expression ugly. His dog was at his heels, barking furiously.

  “Go.” Rorry’s face was white as he pushed Haley behind him. “Go now!”

  “Stop!” Meg shouted. She lurched to get between Christopher and them, then shrieked as Christopher shoved her aside. There was a knife in his grip. Eyes wild, Christopher swung it at Rorry, spittle flying from his lips as he howled like a mad thing.

  “I won’t go back! You’re all insane! I’ll kill you all if I have to!”

  Haley darted back leaving Rorry to dodge Christopher’s wild swings. An odd smile played about Rorry’s lips as he shifted and spun, and Meg caught her breath, wondering if they would make it after all.

  But then that little dog darted in, fixing his teeth into Rorry’s pant leg. Arms waving, Rorry tripped, going down to narrowly miss Christopher’s knife swinging over his head. The dog yelped and ran for the shadows as Rorry rolled, trying to stay out of the way.

  “Christopher, stop it!” Meg cried out as she grabbed his arm yanking him back to give Rorry time to get to his feet. Shaken but unharmed, Rorry spun upright, his feet just shy of the fountain’s drifting spray.

  “What are you doing!” Christopher shouted, his arms waving wildly. “They have to die! We’ll never know what is real and what isn’t if they are alive.”

  But Meg stood in front of him, refusing to back down. “I’m not letting you hurt them,” she said, voice quavering. “Go away.”

  “I’m trying to save your sanity,” Christopher said, and then his eyes flicked behind her, his face going ashen.

  “Maybe I don’t want to be sane,” Meg said.

  But Christopher was silent, his gaze fixed behind her. Turning, she froze, shocked at the shimmering haze now spreading within the spray of the fountain. Haley stood in it, her form indistinct. Meg’s breath came in slow, and she pulled herself up. The ocean was black with dusk, but the mountains behind Haley still held the red of the sun. It was Perfection.

  “Rorry!” Haley shouted, reaching for him. “It’s closing! Hurry! You don’t have a talisman!”

  Face white, Rorry dove for the wet pavement.

  “No-o-o-o!” Christopher bellowed, and Meg spun.

  But Christopher hadn’t moved, his ragged clothes furling as he flung his hand at Rorry. Meg caught her breath thinking it was that knife, but it was only a weighted bola, glittering like silver as it spun through the air and tangled about Rorry’s feet, even as he slid into the spray.

  “Take my hand!” Haley called as she reached for him, but her hand passed right through as if he was no longer real. For an instant, she stared, shocked, and then realized what had happened. “Your feet! It’s silver!”

  But it was too late, and as Rorry frantically disentangled the frail length of silver and threw it from him, the glittering glow on the mountains behind Haley dulled and vanished taking Haley and the vision of Perfection with her.

  “Haley…” Rorry whispered, a look of disbelief widening his eyes as he sat alone in the wet spray. From the fountain, a frog trilled, and was silent.

  “Let’s see how you like my new game,” Christopher muttered.

  Meg jerked, the image of what she might have had still burning in her mind as she turned to Christopher now pacing toward Rorry, that knife again in his hands. “Run!” she cried as she grabbed Christopher’s arm. “Rorry, run!”

  “Let go of me, you fool!” Christopher lashed out with his knife.

  White-hot pain struck through Meg, and her grip sprang away. Expression ugly, Christopher turned to Rorry, the bewildered man still struggling to his feet. He was helpless, and Meg jumped at Christopher, determined to bring him down.

  Christopher grunted in surprise as she hit, and they went down as a flash of light blinded them.

  “Go! Run!” Meg shouted as she grappled with Christopher, struggling as he shoved her off him and tried to stand. Hands aching and slippery from blood, she grabbed his leg, eyes squinted shut as Christopher fought to be free of her. Her only goal was to give Rorry time to step through the light. Christopher’s foot hit her face, and she gasped, almost letting go as pain shocked through her. Eyes clenched shut, she hung on, crying through the tears of pain.

  “I won’t let you. I won’t let you!” she shouted, unable to see, and then she screamed as someone took her around the waist and yanked her from Christopher.

  “He’s trying to kill them!” she exclaimed, fighting to be free. “He’s got a knife!”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there, Meg. We’ve got Chris,” a familiar voice called out, and Meg went limp, crying through the blood still dripping down her face from her nose. It was Daniel. The bright light hadn’t been the veil opening, but the cops.

  Wiping her face, Meg looked at the empty spray, then lifted her gaze to the surrounding lights and milling officers. Rorry and Haley were gone, and her heartache thundered down. They had gone and left her in this wretched world where nothing was perfect and everything was wrong. She’d never find it again. “Let me go. Let me go!” she demanded, but they wouldn’t, and it was too late even if they did. There was no glow in the spray, no veil made real by mist and dusk. It was just wet cement.

  Did he make it? she wondered, not seeing Rorry, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t. Meg hung her head, knowing the loss he was feeling, the ache to have been left behind, the knowledge that the wait would be like forever.

  “Put her in the car. Gently,” Daniel admonished. “She’s ill, not crazy.”

  Meg stared blankly at him, wondering if he knew if Haley and Rorry were real or not. Christopher was facedown on the sidewalk, his knife being admired by two other officers as three more roughly searched him for anything else. The man wouldn’t shut up, his demands that they let him kill them bouncing off the nearby buildings and bringing students to the windows.

  Numb, Meg held her injured arm. The silver bola that had tangled Rorry was in Daniel’s hands. The detective held it as if it had no meaning, but Meg knew it had been why Rorry couldn’t make it through the veil. No wonder cuffs were made of steel.

  “They have to die!” Christopher shouted when they pulled him up, his voice echoing through the quad. “Perfection isn’t real! It’s a lie! You have to let me kill them before they come back for all of you!”

  “This way, ma’am.” A cop was holding out a hand to help her up, and her resolve strengthened as she found her feet. “Watch your head,” he added when they got to the waiting car, and Meg obediently went into the back of the cruiser. The thump of the door shutting made her jump, and she wiped her eyes, scanning the shadows for a glimpse of Rorry.

  She would get to Perfection. She’d risked her life to save Rorry’s, and that had to count for something. She wouldn’t forget. She couldn
’t, now that she’d seen it. She’d give up everything to go there, even her sanity.

  Twenty

  Tom was crying again as he stumbled through his usual litany, his raw emotions that once bothered Meg now a background of white noise as she sat in one of the smaller common rooms and tried to keep track of the conversation enough to answer intelligently if the therapist asked her something. There was an art to it, but Meg had had a few weeks to practice. Her jeans and colorful top were a sad attempt at giving the “clients” a feeling of normalcy. But they all knew they were trapped behind doors that opened only one way unless you had the right card. The bars were made of sedatives and “behavioral modifiers” and came in little paper cups and syringes.

  Grimacing, Meg rubbed a new scuff off her sandals. They were the ones that she’d bought with Haley. There was a clear nip in the air and the leaves were changing, but she had refused to wear anything else. The sneakers she’d been given to wear made her look like a dork.

  “Meg?”

  Startled, Meg let her foot drop. “Yes?”

  Simon was looking at her, the therapist’s over-eager demeanor making him stand out more than his name tag and ID lanyard. Elana, who’d accidently left her kid in a hot car to die, was staring at the floor, lost in a memory. Laura, unable to handle having burned down her house and everyone in it with a lit cigarette, was totally in la-la land. Meg didn’t know why Karl was here, yet, his eyes glassy from too much sedative. He’d only been coming for a week and was still in slippers. He had a definite aversion to anything sharp, though.

  “I was wondering if you would like to add anything to the conversation?” Simon asked, and Karl made an odd, gasping gurgle before slumping back into his haze.

  Meg shifted uneasily, having no idea what they’d been talking about. The drugs Dr. Jillium had her on made her short-term memory shit. “Ah…”

  Simon smiled patiently, but Meg could see his frustration under it. “Tom was explaining how he can still sometimes hear his wife’s voice, or the shower running in the morning, and how that gives him both comfort and guilt.”