She hovered her pointer finger above the canvas, tracing the swirling circle. Then she paused and met his eyes. “If I don’t focus too closely, the circle resembles a face.”
“Almost.”
“The turquoise is an interesting addition. It’s the same shade of nail polish I wore when we met on the beach.”
A seagull squawked overhead.
“You’re talented, Liam. It’s a beautiful piece.”
A warm flush crawled up his neck, spreading onto his ears until the tips glowed as red as cherries. “I paint what I see.”
She took off her hat and fanned her face with it. “I’m inclined to take that as a compliment. Would it kill you to be more overt with your flattery?”
He laughed. “Maybe if I had an ounce of the confidence you have.”
“It’s less a matter of confidence and more one of directness.” She shot a breath of air up to her bangs, fluttering her dark tresses against her forehead.
A lone fire ant had ventured away from his colony and crawled toward her sandaled toes. Liam kicked out his foot and stomped it. “You don’t want me to be direct. I’ve got a habit of scaring people.”
She tsked. “There’s nothing scary about you. Well, maybe your habit of skipping class is frightening. But I’ll convert you to a mediocre student yet.”
Black paint oozed out of a tube before he could twist on its cap. “Some people aren’t redeemable.”
Mai dropped her head back and sighed. “Here we go with the Holden Caulfield drama again. Everyone’s got issues, Liam. There’s good in you, just like there’s good in me.”
If only. “Despite what you might think, I don’t choose to be difficult. Much as I’d like a rosy view of the world, I could never believe it. This,” he gestured at the ebony streaks on his canvas, “is my reality. A darkness lives in me.” He pulled away from Mai and wrapped his arms around his legs.
A groan of frustration escaped her lips before she scrunched up her cap and threw it at him. The white pellet of cotton hit him square in the chest before crumpling to the dirt. She placed her face inches from his and let loose.
“All right, so I’ll admit you face some challenges I can’t imagine. What with the drowning and mourners, you’ve got some funky stuff to deal with. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love.”
He hugged his knees tighter. “Easy for you to say. You hardly know me.”
A look of disbelief crossed her face. “You think if I knew you better I’d find you unlovable?”
“That seems to be the normal reaction.”
Mai sensed she’d struck a raw nerve and placed a timid hand on his knee. “Then I guess I’m not like ‘normal’ people. I like you. And I’m not one to abandon somebody when life gets difficult.” She waved her hands in the air. “Pfft! There goes my goal of mediocrity.”
Liam’s muscles loosened, and his jaw unclenched. He strung the moment out as long as he dared. People didn’t often admit to liking him. When she started picking at the burnt grass, he ended his silence. “I’d never dream of getting in the way of your life’s ambition. By all means, keep shooting for average.”
She said, “It’s too late to backtrack. You’re like all of my other friends, trying to press your agenda of achieve-ism on me.”
“So we’re just friends?” He held his breath and waited for her answer.
She shot him a mischievous look. “Who’s full of confidence now?”
“What can I say? You’re a positive influence.” He brushed off Mai’s cap and placed it over her shiny black hair. “I think you dropped something.”
A smile cracked her face. “Don’t think you can redirect me by being a smartass. That’s my routine.”
“I would never dream of stealing your social tactics.” He held up his hands in surrender. “Between dragging me to a cemetery and lecturing me about how I should feel, you’ve set the bar so high I could never hope to top it.”
Though her dimples begged to be touched as she rolled back and laughed, he kept his hands to himself.
“Regardless of my social faux pas, you still owe me a date. Don’t think I forgot about it.”
He sincerely hoped she hadn’t.
Mai looked at her watch and scowled. “I need to head to class. Lunch tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” Liam’s heart thudded against his chest.
“See you then.” She reached out and brushed his cheek. After flashing another fabulous smile, she jogged across the field back to the campus buildings, her sundress rippling with each stride. Too soon, he was alone in the field again.
With nothing left to do but take Mai’s advice, he picked up his palette knife and squeezed a gob of garnet oil paint onto it. He pressed the knife over one of the black streaks, hoping to transform it into a deep red. The onyx bled through the wet paint, determined to make its presence known. Much as Mai would like to erase the darkness, it remained.
Careful not to smudge his artwork, he lifted it from the patchy soil and stashed his oils and other belongings into his backpack. If he stayed out much longer, Isaac and Allison would begin to worry. Besides, nothing could top the few minutes he’d spent with Mai. He wouldn’t chance witnessing another imprint and ruin the day. An afternoon with Joshua was preferable to whatever horrors awaited him outside.
FRIDAY, AUGUST 29th
riday morning and his therapy appointment hadn’t come fast enough. Liam had spent Thursday afternoon huddled in his room, wishing he could relive his quick visit with Mai. Instead, he’d obsessed about his new visions. The imprint of the dog beating had been bad. The interaction with Cull had been worse. Jumpy and irritable, he’d half expected the murderer to show up at his front door. His mother hadn’t helped by allowing Mrs. Channer inside the house Wednesday afternoon. No doubt she’d bugged his room and most likely the living room too.
Unfortunately, matters hadn’t improved any when he’d entered Dr. Jen’s office. Her projection, in its now customary spot, hovered next to the psychologist in vivid color and detail, taunting him to mention its presence.
He sniffed. “We need to try some different medication. The stuff I’m taking isn’t working anymore.”
“I agree you’re having some breakthrough symptoms. Let’s bump up the dosage for the next week and see if you feel some relief.” Dr. Jen adjusted her silver-rimmed glasses.
“No, this prescription… it’s making me see visions. The medicine is the problem.”
“We’ve gone through this before, Liam. You need to be on this prescription. It helps stabilize you. I know it’s not perfect, but it’s the most potent ammo we’ve got against your illness.”
He flicked his fingernails. Why couldn’t Dr. Jen admit he might be right? His medication had a long list of unsavory side effects, many of which might not be exposed until he’d used the drug for years. Would it be so hard to tack on “may reveal the past” to that list?
“What if they’re not hallucinations? What if what I’m seeing are real memories, and I’m witness to a murder? Cull sure seems to think I’m a danger.”
She reached for her notepad. “The murderer is talking to you now?”
“He’s threatening me. Telling me to keep my mouth shut.” He omitted the part about accidentally stealing Cull’s cocaine and owing the man a huge sum of money.
“Could he be symbolic of how you feel society is muzzling you? More specifically, do you feel talking about your illness is taboo?”
“No! It’s not symbolic. It’s actually happening!” he yelled. He jumped out of his seat and paced between his psychologist’s desk and the office door. “I’m telling you, it’s different. The visions I’m seeing have happened. They’re memories. And then there are the projections. I see people’s griefs, their concerns, their desires. I don’t want to see any of those feelings. I’ve got enough of my own.”
She clicked on her pen and tapped it against her notepad. “Is it possible you’re transposing your own fears onto others?”
T
iny crimson stars flooded his vision. For the first time in months, he didn’t wish away his anger, and instead, allowed it to guide him. Keeping secrets had gotten him nowhere. “Two sessions ago, you asked why I researched you. I didn’t. The woman I described to you? She’s here right now. You’re projecting her. She’s as much a burden to you as Joshua is to me. All I know about her is she makes you sad.”
The corners of Dr. Jen’s eyes wrinkled as she frowned. “This isn’t funny, Liam.”
“No, it’s not. Don’t you get it? I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to know about your personal life. We’ve made significant progress together these past few months, and I want to continue doing so. I wouldn’t endanger our relationship by researching you.”
Silence.
Then, she leaned back. “Where else do you see these images?”
“Everywhere.” He waved his hands in the air. “At school. At home. Outside. Everywhere.”
She pulled at her hair, which she wore down in soft, rolling waves today. “All right. Let’s try some other medication. I must tell you, however, I’m hesitant about this plan. Your records indicate previous attempts with other prescriptions weren’t as successful for you. But I’m willing to give it a shot. We’ll have to make an appointment with your psychiatrist to get the new prescription, but she’s out of town until Monday. May we schedule an emergency session with an alternate doctor today?”
“No. I’ll wait until Monday.” He hated meeting new doctors.
“Are you sure that’s a wise decision?”
He shot her an exasperated look. “Didn’t you just try to convince me to stay on my current meds?”
She pursed her lips. “Point made. I’ll agree to your plan if you double your dosage until Monday.”
“Deal.”
he college library bustled with quiet energy. Liam avoided the hanky-panky workstation because it seemed a breach of privacy to peek into the librarian’s love life. Besides, he was no peeping Tom. If he wanted to see porn, he’d go home and browse the internet like any other twenty-five-year-old.
Students occupied all of the seats with a decent view of the entrance, but he had a trick or two up his sleeve for just such occasions. Next to the front door sat a pimply-faced kid probably still sniffing seventeen. He wore ear buds and swayed in time to a song. Liam planted his feet next to the scrawny kid’s chair and glared at him.
Standing and staring shouldn’t be scary.
But he’d learned from all his time in psychiatric wards that it most certainly was. The kid jumped a few inches out of his chair when he sensed Liam’s presence. With eyes as wide as saucers, he gathered his laptop and books and tripped over his feet in a hasty escape.
Liam pulled out the chair and sighed as he sat down. The chances of Mai arriving this early to the library were slim. They had chemistry class now. She wouldn’t skip it because two missed classes in one week didn’t lead to mediocrity. It led to failure. He’d headed down that path so many times he knew it by heart. Still, when his watch hit fifteen minutes after class had started and she didn’t show, he sagged against his chair.
Time continued to trickle by, slowed by his yearning to see Mai. He checked his watch for the hundredth time and yawned. Sleep had eluded him since his confrontation with Cull. One big knot of worry, his stomach twisted and churned. Much as he’d like a nap, his body wouldn’t cooperate and allow him rest. He laced his hands over his face and closed his eyes anyway. Pretend sleep beat no sleep.
The background noise of quiet murmurings and occasional bursts of stifled laughter comforted him. Here, he could manage life. Even better, Cull couldn’t threaten him, Isaac couldn’t nag him, and Joshua couldn’t follow him.
The day got even better when Mai arrived with footsteps so soft he didn’t hear her approach. He did, however, smell her perfume-spicy with floral undertones and possibly the best scent ever.
She thought she roused him with a gentle poke. “Class is as easy to sleep in as the library, you know.”
He moved his hands away from his face. “I’m working my way up to it.”
“Right. Well, for today, I need you to work your way up to driving me to lunch. I’m starving. And you owe me a date.”
She tapped her foot on the floor. Her toenails shimmered a crimson red.
Mai’s wish was his command.
The neon lights of the nearest buffet restaurant flashed on and off as they pulled into its parking lot.
“Are you sure this is where you want to eat?” Liam asked.
“It’s not fine cuisine, but it won’t leave you huddled over the toilet all night either. Plus, the menu is easy on a college kid’s piggybank.” Mai rubbed her thumb and fingers together in the universal sign for money.
Despite Mai’s lukewarm endorsement of the joint, he bet E. coli maintained a permanent residency there. Still, he appreciated her effort to keep costs down. Weeks of saving had filled his wallet, but mostly with an optical illusion. Twenty-nine dollar bills looked like more than they were. Isaac and his mother parceled out his allowance at a miserly rate because therapists had told them many people struggling with mental illness self-medicate with drugs.
No amount of anticipation, however, had prepared them for a free stash of coke at the yacht club behind their house. Sometimes, life was a real bitch.
“Let the feast begin. But don’t come crying to me when you’re worshipping at the porcelain throne tonight.” He walked over to the passenger’s side and opened the door to the sound of her laughter.
She leaned against his hand as she stood. “Don’t tell me you’re a snob, Liam.”
He slammed the door shut behind her. “Nah, more like a general malcontent. You’ll see.”
Their feet crunched over the gravel parking lot, and she shot him a flirtatious glance. “You don’t fool me. There’s a big, soft teddy bear under this crusty exterior of yours. I think most people would be surprised at what goes on in your head.”
“Most definitely.” He grabbed hold of the silver fish head doubling as a handle for the restaurant’s door and yanked it open. The scent of boiled crabs and reheated fish hung heavy in the air.
“I may have overstated this place’s safety rating. Stay away from the shrimp,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.
“Done.” He wouldn’t touch the rubbery, pathetic looking sea insects even under duress from Joshua.
After piling his plate high with safe-looking carbohydrates, he joined Mai. She’d zipped through the sneeze bars and had already selected a table near the exit. He inspected her meal as he sat down. The adventuresome sort, she’d plopped a tasting of every item from the buffet onto her plate. Save the shrimp, of course.
Steam rose from a biscuit as she sliced it open and slathered butter over it. “I’ve thought about your painting since I saw it yesterday. Where’d you end up hanging it?”
“Nowhere. I don’t display my artwork.”
She squeezed her biscuit shut and gave him the stink eye. “Not acceptable. I demand my portrait be exhibited. How else will I become known as the modern-day Mona Lisa?”
The knot festering in his stomach relaxed. Mai’s magical presence calmed his soul more than any medication ever could. “I’ll find a place for it,” he lied.
“You better. Now, tell me, have you seen any more memory imprints?” She left her biscuit to soak up the golden juice of butter and twirled her fork in a mound of fettuccini.
He’d debated how much to tell her about what he saw. He didn’t want to burden her with his issues, but he needed the help of an objective, third party to parse through his interactions with Cull.
“I have. A very dark one.”
“Dark as in drowning dark?”
“Worse.” He picked at a thick fry, crumbling its edge between his thumb and forefinger. “I saw a man beat someone to death.”
Her fork clattered onto the white laminate table, spattering flecks of pasta over it. “What?”
Liam met her eyes
. “I’ll spare you the gory details. I wish I’d never seen it.”
“I’m sorry you did.” She covered his hand with hers.
Tension slithered back into his body. “Me too. Now I’m stuck wondering if I should report the killing. What do I tell the cops? ‘I see visions?’” A nervous chuckle escaped his lips.
“There’s got to be proof at the murder scene. Call in an anonymous tip.”
“There’s no sign of a struggle.” He shook his head. “I checked it out.”
She withdrew her hand from his and narrowed her eyes. “You investigated a murder scene on your own?”
“I needed to know if what I saw really happened.” He pushed his plate forward, appetite now gone.
“I suppose I can understand your point of view. But you need to be careful. What if the murderer saw you?”
He rubbed his temple and wondered if a term for “I told you so” after the fact existed. “Then I’d be sitting across the table from you, asking what you think I should do next…”
Her mouth dropped open. She ran her tongue across her teeth and tugged at the ends of her hair. “You’re kidding. The murderer saw you at the scene of his crime?”
“Yeah. I went there looking for clues, but discovered a big, plastic bag of cocaine instead. The killer saw me find it.”
“Hold on.” She held up her hands. “Are you telling me the murderer is also a drug dealer? And he’s aware you know of both illicit activities?”
“He can’t possibly know I saw a memory imprint of him committing murder. He’s focused on the drugs.”
“How do you know?” A muscle in her jaw twitched, and she crossed her arms.
He scratched at his cheek and grimaced. “Because he told me.”
She gasped. The look on her face rapid cycled from shock to anger to alarm. “What? Where? At the dock?”
“No, he cornered me at my stepfather’s office.” He cleared his throat and looked at the empty table next to them.
“This keeps getting better and better. The guy works with your stepdad?”
Bleed Through Page 8
