Crazy Madly Deeply

by Lily White

  Climbing out of bed, I scrubbed my palms over my face and went to the bathroom. After showering and getting dressed, I held the knob of the door in my grip for a few minutes while attempting to put on a brave face and stalk out to find Michaela gone. I was sure she was down at the station now, crying and playing the victim, her parents fluttering behind her with their sharply dressed lawyers. Jack’s parents were most likely on the news talking about their golden boy child who had been found nestled among the garbage littering the ground once you crossed the train tracks into my part of town, his pretty face crushed and broken.

  The only question was: Why hadn’t they dragged me out of bed to slap the cuffs on me yet?

  Pulling the door open so hard wind gusted against my face, I stepped out into the living room and stopped dead in my tracks. Michaela was lying on the couch, a throw pillow tucked beneath her head, a light blanket pulled over her body. The shock of it rattled me to my core.

  “Hey,” she whispered, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

  “You’re still here?”

  The corner of her lips tilted up. “I said I would be.”

  “I didn’t believe you.”

  “I know.” Sitting up, she brushed the hair away from her face. “I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

  Feeling out of place, and still staggered by the fact Michaela hadn’t run from the house the instant I went to bed, I shifted my weight between my feet, reached up and rubbed the back of my neck with my palm. “I’d cook you breakfast or something, but I need to get to work.”

  She smiled. “No worries. I know you have to go. I’m sure I can scrounge up something. I’m not completely helpless.”

  This moment was surreal. “Um, yeah, that’s cool. There’s a remote for the television on the table beside you and Del has a bunch of movies in her room you can watch. Unfortunately, I don’t have much more to offer-“

  “Holden, it’s fine. I can manage. I’m not here as a guest that needs to be entertained. Go to work. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  “Really?”

  Her soft laughter whispered across the room. “Yes, really. Now go.”

  Shaking my head, I moved toward the front door, her voice calling out before I could reach it. “Would you mind if I cook dinner for us tonight? I can have it ready for when you get home.”

  Maybe I hadn’t woken up after all. This had to be a dream because none of it was making sense. Turning, I explained, “I’m not getting back until late. Probably ten thirty or so.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll see you then.”

  Yeah. Definitely a dream. Not only was Michaela voluntarily staying at my house when it did nothing to benefit her, she was also offering to cook a meal for me.

  “Okay,” I muttered, not able to make sense of it enough to say anything more intelligent. Leaving as quickly as I could, I welcomed the slap of freezing cold wind against my face. The weather was the only thing I could believe or rely on anymore.

  The walk to the diner was quick, the woods still smelling like woods and not a hidden body. It was dropping below freezing every night, so I hoped that it would conceal the crime long enough for me to get a decent amount of money saved up for Del. As usual, greasy heat slapped me in the face as soon as I let myself inside. What wasn’t usual was Angela running up to me with anger written across her face, the lines also etched with worry.

  “Are you okay?” she snapped.

  Still dazed by Michaela being at my house, I blinked a few times and found myself unable to utter an answer.

  “What happened to your head?” Angela looked down, her eyes narrowing. “What happened to your hands?” Her gaze met mine, “Why are you walking in here with head injuries and busted knuckles?”

  If she didn’t stop rattling off the questions so fast, I would need a pen and paper to take notes.

  “Hi,” I said, “it’s nice to see you, too.”

  “That doesn’t answer my questions.” Scowling up at me, Angela crossed her arms over her chest, the tops of her breasts shoved up and out by the position. Red colored her face, the shade traveling down her neck. She wasn’t just mad. She was pissed.

  “I tripped over something the other night walking home and busted ass on the ground. But I’m fine.”

  Eyes narrowing more, she didn’t believe a word I’d said. “Then explain why I have a waitress stalking around my dining room snapping at customers and dropping dishes.”

  My expression fell. “Crap. Kaley. I never made it to her house.”

  Kicking myself for having forgotten her, I knew she must have been hurt. She hadn’t received so much as a phone call. She hadn’t called me either. At least, I thought she hadn’t, but then again I wasn’t exactly listening for the phone.

  “Yeah, Kaley. Except that woman’s broken heart isn’t my concern at the moment. We all have tried calling you since she came in yesterday alternating between cussing and crying. You didn’t answer, and now you come in with a busted face and busted knuckles. Considering who was in here the other night making an ass of himself, I’m asking you to get real honest with me right now, Holden Bishop, and tell me what happened to you the other night.”

  Although panic was flooding every cell in my body, I couldn’t let it show on my face. Forcing my expression to remain neutral, I did the other thing I was becoming an expert at other than committing felonies: I lied.

  “I tripped over a root or something in the woods...”

  Lie.

  “...and I hit my head on a downed tree...”

  Not a lie.

  “I scraped up my hands on the same tree.”

  Lie.

  “And then when I got home. Deli needed me, so I stayed home with her. She finally left the house, Angela. She went to spend the holidays with our Uncle Scott. I guess with all of that happening, I got caught up and was out of touch.”

  Half a lie, but not one I felt sorry about.

  Angela’s eyes widened, the tension draining from her shoulders as her lips tugged into a hesitant smile. “Delilah left the house?”

  Relief surged in to douse my panic. “Yeah, she left yesterday morning to go see family we haven’t spent time with in several years.”

  Angela was the only person who knew all the details of Delilah’s problems. While mothering me in the moments when I questioned whether I could keep going, Angela had always somehow known and pulled me aside. It was easy to dump everything out for her to see, easy to spill the details if for no other reason but to ease the pain of feeling so alone. Although Angela had never met Deli, she gave me advice and worried about my sister because she’d adopted Deli right along with me.

  “How’s she doing?”

  Shrugging, I tried not to notice Kaley glaring at me from the hallway behind Angela, tried not to notice the hurt in her eyes, the feeling of rejection obvious in her expression. “She’s better, I hope. This is a big step for her.”

  “Yeah, it is. I’m happy for her, Holden. I really am.” Reaching up, she touched my cheek and directed my focus back to her. Meeting my eyes with as much sincerity as she could manage, she said, “I’m happy for you, too. But if you’re lying to me right now, about anything you just told me, I’ll kick your butt for it. I’ve been worried sick thinking I needed to get you a new identity and ship you off to some foreign country that doesn’t extradite. Amsterdam, or something like that.”

  Well, actually, Amsterdam did sound nice. I considered it for a moment, but then decided it was in everybody’s best interests that I kept Jack’s death to myself. Telling Angela would only drag her into the problem, it would only make her culpable if she didn’t go to the police with what she knew. I refused to do that to her.

  “You don’t need to ship me off into hiding. Everything’s fine.”

  Biggest lie.

  Giving me one cynical and sharp nod of her head, she glanced back to see Kaley standing in the hall. Angela’s eyes rolled, but she knew I needed to talk to Kaley if she wanted her best waitress to
stop scaring off the customers. Darting her gaze to me, she snapped, “You have five minutes, then back to work for the both of you.”

  Grinning down at her, I asked, “Is that an order?”

  Her expression twisted with warning and humor. “Boy, don’t try me or I’ll break your nose to go along with your scraped forehead and busted knuckles.”

  She stalked off, moved past Kaley while issuing the same warning, and then disappeared down the hall in search of another employee to harass.

  Kaley moved closer to me on measured steps. Normally I would flirt with her, take her into my arms while saying something dirty or suggestive, but I couldn’t do that tonight, not to her, not while knowing I was going to prison and it would only hurt her all over again.

  Although she claimed she wanted our relationship to stay casual, I’d known in the last few weeks that Kaley had changed her mind. Her voice was softer when she spoke to me. She blushed more. She spent more time kissing me than ripping off my pants. Emotions had leaked into the arrangement we’d had for months, and now I would have to step on those emotions, stomp them out and let her know that she and I could never be more than what we’d been.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call and cancel,” I whispered as she drew near. “Something came up and...”

  I forgot all about you... I didn’t say. Saying it out loud would only hurt her worse.

  “It’s cool,” she lied, her eyes swollen and rimmed red from crying. “I was just worried about you.” Her expression grew hopeful when she craned her neck and met my gaze. “I overheard what you told Angela. Your sister. She’s okay?”

  Nodding, I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “She’s good. She left to go see family.”

  You could have inserted an entire ocean between us and it wouldn’t have increased the distance I was feeling. Kaley wanted to close that distance. I wanted to shove out and make it wider so I could protect her from being hurt.

  “Five minutes is up!” Angela screamed from the hallway. I’d never appreciated her micromanaging more than in that moment.

  Giving me one more sorrowful look, Kaley turned to move out into the dining room where she belonged. Brushing past Angela, she increased her pace, a cloud of disappointment stretching behind her. Angela stared in my direction, a question arching her brow.

  “It’ll be all right,” I promised.

  Thank God Angela had a one track mind. She simply shook her head and ordered, “Get to work, Holden. Today’s going to be busy.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Michaela

  Being left in a person’s home unattended is a lesson is restraint. After Holden walked out the door, I caught a few hours of sleep on the couch - making up for the hours I lost in Delilah’s room - but once I woke again, I could barely contain my curiosity.

  Holden had always been a mystery. The same couldn’t be said for his sister, but if anything, he was a closed book, a leather bound journal secured with a padlock, the exquisite detailing of the cover drawing a person’s eye while mocking them that they’d never get a peek at the inside. Many girls had tried to pick that lock regardless of Holden’s reputation around school, and while some had claimed he’d taken them to bed, none had claimed he’d told them even the smallest detail about himself. I’d always wondered why he was so closed off to the world, why he refused to give in to pressure and become one of us.

  That same refusal had made him a target, but even with the names he was called, the pranks that were played against him, the fights that he’d never started until that day in the cafeteria, Holden had never buckled. I tended to think it was the main reason the guys on the team hated him so much. Holden could have surpassed them in sports, in intelligence, in looks and everything else, but he’d turned his nose up at it, making it clear he didn’t admire or envy the only qualities those guys had that made them feel special and worthy.

  In truth, I’d secretly admired him from afar, wished I could be like him, wished I could know him better than all those girls he’d taken to bed. If it hadn’t been for Jack, I would have been one of those girls, and I would have cried just as hard when I realized that, with Holden, there was no guarantee of a relationship.

  It wasn’t that he used the girls. Each one of them admitted he’d been perfectly clear from the start - sex and the respect they deserved. But never anything more.

  Sitting in his living room, the same question came to mind that I’d wondered every day in high school: Who was this gorgeous shadow? This person who had grown past the demands of youth and carried all his frustrating secrets into adulthood.

  The answers were available to me now. In his room. In this house. All I had to do was walk around.

  The need to explore was overwhelming. But I fought. Several times I turned on the television, the soap operas and legal shows doing nothing to curb my curiosity. Turning it off, I’d explored Delilah’s room again because Holden had given me permission to be inside it. Every time I stepped in was more depressing.

  It was as if Delilah never grew older than she was on the day her parents died. Holden had been on his own for two years doing his best to take care of her.

  My family would have never done that for me. They would have stuck me in a home, sent me flowers on my birthday and maybe a postcard from wherever they were traveling.

  They wouldn’t have stayed by my side.

  I respected Holden more. Hated myself more for being part of the town that hurt him.

  Circling the room several times, I caught myself glancing at the door, struggled against the desire to walk through that door, down the hall and into another room that was black and white instead of rainbow. To the room of the artist instead of the dancer.

  My gaze flicked to the clock. Seven after ten, he would be home at any time. I still needed to put the finishing touches on dinner, but it could wait a few short minutes.

  Temptation won.

  Traipsing to his room, I rested my hand on the knob, stopped, listened; turned the knob and let go. The door opened on its own, or at least that’s what I told myself. It wasn’t like he said I could never be in his room. He’d tied me up and left me in there. That’s an invitation, right? A strange one. Initially, a terrifying one. But still an invitation.

  I won’t lie. I actually tiptoed in. It was like walking into enemy territory, or possibly dodging lasers on the way to the precious diamond I was attempting to steal. Only the diamond wasn’t a multi-million dollar stone, it was a spattering of sketches pinned to his wall with no pattern or symmetry in the way they were hung. Tiny windows into Holden’s thoughts, scattered without rhyme or reason.

  The first was a set of doors I recognized from school. The cafeteria, I realized. Inside, the tables were filled with students, all of them identical. Peering closer, I saw that their faces were actually masks with cartoon smiles, their bodies positioned equally spaced and exactly the same. The image was disturbing, but oddly fitting. I peered closer to see the intricate details, noticing how each student had a knife in their back, a turnkey attached to the hilt as if to wind them up like tiny tin soldiers.

  “Okay, that’s creepy,” I mumbled, moving on.

  A second sketch was hung to the right of first, but several inches higher. Delilah laughing in dance practice, her body seated on a bench seat, her soul dancing above her, endlessly spinning.

  My breath caught at the third. Another dancer, but this one had brown hair flowing down to her hips. She wasn’t in costume, not a formal one anyway. Standing in front of a set of mirrors, she stretched her leg on a rail, her head turned toward the mirror, her face absent.

  No mask. No fake smile. Nothing.

  This girl was empty.

  “I drew that one a little over three years ago. It was boring sometimes when I brought Del to practice.”

  My heart was in my throat as I spun on my heel at his voice, my cheeks flaming red to have been caught. “Oh! Hi. I was just -“

  The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Snooping?”


  Shoulders deflating, I tried to speak around the rapid beat of my heart. “Not snooping, it’s just that I saw these yesterday when I was locked in here, and I wanted a closer look. You’re talented, Holden. It’s hard not to look.”

  Not just at his sketches. It was hard not to look at him as well. Even now while he was bundled in a jacket and hoodie, his head covered with a black, slack beanie pulled down to just above his eyes and over his ears, his work pants stained with grease, his boots scuffed at the toes and heels, he stole my attention much like he’d done in school. No longer wearing the small ring on the right side of his bottom lip, his blue eyes were bright bulbs against his tan skin and black hair, glowing as if lit by an inner fire much warmer than anything I’d known in another person.

  His hands were tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his broad shoulders rolled forward in response to the cold wind outside, he studied me from where he stood, his body perfectly still, but not his gaze.

  I felt shy in his presence, regretted that the only clothes I had were a t-shirt and sweatpants that were too small. My hair was a knotted mess down my back, my face swollen and bruised. But, I had a strange feeling that when Holden looked at me, he didn’t see the superficial details, he saw something hidden deeper inside me, something that all the mirrors I’d looked at in my life were unable to show me. If his drawings were an indication, then I was right to believe that Holden didn’t care about the outside of a person as much as he did the parts that were hidden beneath the flesh, the muscle and bone.

  From the kitchen, the scent of food wafted into the room just before the timer buzzed. He turned to look between his door and me. “Is that dinner?”

  Nodding, I hated the sudden shyness. “Yes, I just need to add the topping and we can eat.”

  The skin between his eyes wrinkled. “You really made dinner?”

  A smile tugged at my lips. “I told you I would. Is that okay? I asked and you said-“