Love In Darkness

by E. M. Tippetts

  “So this is for sure? You’ll get worse?”

  “I’m sure, even if the doctor’s aren’t yet.”

  He shuts his eyes as if this information pains him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Hey, that’s life.”

  “Forget everything I complained about with my situation. Clearly I’ve got a cushy life and need to just shut my mouth.”

  “Look, don’t take this the wrong way… but you might not be in for such a cushy life. There’s no telling right now how hard your situation could get.”

  “I think it’s different if it’s your kid and not yourself.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, seriously, if you need anything, let me know.”

  “Does getting tasered hurt?”

  “It’s unpleasant. To keep things even, you can practice on me sometime, all right?”

  I guess I’m supposed to laugh, but I’m too surprised to do anything but raise my eyebrow.

  Officer Li chuckles, waves, and heads up the stairs as I shut the door and arm the alarm once again.

  That Sunday I email my aunt to tell her that Kirsten should get three months rent forbearance, and then a case review. Then I get a ride to church with Bishop Montrose and, since we arrive early so he can do some meetings, I sit in the chapel and prepare to just zone out for a while and enjoy the silence. I get about five minutes of that before I hear the chapel door swing open.

  I glance back to see who it is. It’s Madison, and from her beseeching look, I know she came early just so we could talk.

  “Hey,” Madison says. She’s in a sky blue dress that sets off her eyes and wears pumps, rather than the light canvas sneakers she favors during the week.

  “Hi.”

  “How’s your mom?”

  “Yeah, she’s okay.”

  She slides into the seat next to me and is close enough that I can smell her sweet scent, the slight perfume that doesn’t seem to belong to any soap or hair product she uses, but rather to her skin itself. Her expression is pure sorrow, and really, there’s no greater torture than to see her like this. “So, while you’re figuring stuff out do you want to not even talk to each other?”

  I rest my forearms on the back of the pew in front of us for a moment, then look over at her. “I want whatever will make you happiest. If you want me to get lost, I can.”

  “Wait. This mean you definitely don’t want to get back together?”

  I shake my head. “I’d never let you go, and that’s not fair to you.”

  “What if that’s what I want?”

  Not the kind of thing I ever expected to hear from a girl like Madison and boy does it hurt to turn that down. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Sorry if that sounds mean, but you’ve got no idea how bad this can get.”

  Her mouth turns down at the corners and she scuffs one shoe against the carpet.

  “Besides,” I add. “You’ve also got no idea how much better you could do.”

  As if on cue, the door opens again and in walks Carson Montrose. I’d feared that he’d be in the car with his dad when the Bishop picked me up, but he wasn’t. “Madison, Alex,” he says. His gray eyes look us over. He’s even taller now than he was before, and skinny and lanky. His hair’s brown and straight as a pin, and his smile is picture perfect with even white teeth. “Everything all right? Actually, I don’t mean to pry.” He holds up his hands to show he doesn’t want to give offense, but he also doesn’t back away. He’s never been much for pretense. While he never hit on her while we were going out, he’s made no bones about the fact that he’s had a thing for Madison for as long as he can remember. When John showed up in her life and began teaching her about the Church, Carson took that as a sign that she was destined to be with him, and I know this because he said as much to anyone who would listen. He’s always walked the line between pushy and inappropriate, but I can’t blame the guy, nor can I disagree that he’s everything Madison deserves, including devoted and determined to be good to her.

  “Hey, Carson,” I say. “You’re good.”

  He looks at Madison, but she squirms under his gaze and excuses herself. He watches after her, then looks at me. “How are things with you guys?”

  It’s the conversation he’s been dreaming of for years. “Over,” I say.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s all right,” I say, with far more sincerity than I feel. “She’ll be at college in the fall, you know?”

  “Oh yeah? Where?”

  He doesn’t know? “UVU or CalPoly. I don’t know if she’s decided yet.”

  “UVU, huh?”

  “Yeah. Maybe you could tell her something about the area.”

  He looks at me a moment longer, as if to make sure I’m giving him permission. I can’t pretend like I don’t care, but I can convey that I’m not going to do anything about it by lowering my gaze.

  “By the way,” he says, “I heard a rumor about you… um…”

  “Being a headcase? Yeah, Sister Liang decided to tell the whole town.”

  “I just wanted to say, if you ever need anything...”

  I shrug.

  “And Alex, I’m sorry.”

  I nod, lift an eyebrow, and want him to go away already. He senses this and says a polite goodbye. More people are streaming into the chapel now, including the Liangs. I don’t bother to look at Sister Liang, though Charlotte pats me on the knee and I give her a smile. She’s a lot chubbier than she was when I saw her last, and I can’t help but feel guilty. I wish I could help look after her. There are deep rolls of fat down her arms and she has very little neck.

  Sister Liang pauses by my pew and I get to my feet, even though I really don’t want to look her in the eye. “Listen,” she says, “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “I didn’t know what to say when you told me about your condition, and when I tried talking to other people about it, it turned into gossip and… I didn’t mean for things to blow up the way they did.”

  “Yeah, fine.” Please, I think, just go away.

  She lingers a moment longer, though. “We’re going to try another caregiver from out of the area. A bunch of us are going to pool together to pay for her services full time.”

  “Sounds like a good solution.”

  “And I told the Lopezes and the Gardners that Kirsten was interested in learning the job. They’ve got pretty simple cases that she could handle, and I know they’ve been tired of working so hard to bring in caregivers.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  She waits, clearly hoping I’ll say something more, but when it’s clear I’m done talking, she goes to join her family. I can feel the gazes of everyone else in the chapel, and there’s a definite air of hostility. Funny, I walked in here reeking of cigarette smoke as a teenager and people all but hugged me. Now I’m a returned missionary with a mental health problem and I get treated like this. Logically, I know that feeling stared at is also a symptom of schizophrenia, but I’m pretty sure this is real.

  I pick absently at the skin around my nails and wish church would start already.

  That evening as I step out of the bathroom in my pajamas, my toothbrush still tucked into my cheek, I find Kailie climbing in my window.

  “You want to go get a fried burrito?” she asks.

  “No,” I say through a mouthful of toothpaste foam.

  “Aw, you’re no fun.” She sits on the windowsill and swings her legs inside.

  “Your parents know you’re climbing into random guys’ windows?” I ask. I curse myself for not re-enabling the alarm on it.

  “What do you think?” she says.

  “Get lost, okay? Or I call them.”

  “Please don’t.”

  I wait.

  But that’s it. She said, “Please don’t,” and now stands just inside the window, her hands clasped in front of her, one knee bent. She’s wearing skinny jeans, a tank top, and a light jacket. Even her makeup is uncharacteristically subdued,
and the way she pauses, it’s as if she’s waiting for my permission to stay, and Kailie is not the kind of person who cares about obtaining permission to do anything.

  I know it’s a huge risk, but I turn my back on her long enough to go spit and rinse my toothbrush. When I return to the doorway of the bathroom, she’s still standing where she was. Gotta be a delusion. Why can’t it be of Madison? I check my evening checklist and the next item is to take my medication. I palm this from its bottle, and toss the pills back.

  “Those keep you from going all axe murderer?”

  “No, they don’t prevent that.”

  “Or interfere with your sense of humor, I see.”

  “Because axe murder is hilarious.” I check my checklist again, even though I know I’m done.

  Kailie bites her lip. “I’m sorry I didn’t watch my mouth around Kirsten. That was a real dumb move, shouting your medical information, and I’m sorry.” She shoots me a look as if to say, “See? I can apologize,” which pretty much voids the apology.

  I raise my eyebrow and just look at her.

  “Ever since my sister’s worthless boyfriend ran off with one of the guests from our Inn, she’s had it rough, and I guess when you stopped to ask her how she was, it was like a lifeline for her. She feels awful about how it all turned out after you tried to help her, and I didn’t know that’s what started all the rumors until she told me.”

  “Her boyfriend ran off with one of your parents’ guests?”

  “Yeah, little millionaire heiress, isn’t that romantic? They skipped the country and went to stay in her daddy’s villa in France.”

  “Does your dad want to kill him?”

  “My dad should want to kill him, but no, instead he uses it as a morality tale to preach to Kirsten and anyone else who’ll listen.”

  “Yeah, okay, that is awful.”

  Kailie nods. “I want to help her, but she won’t let me. I’d babysit her kids for free or clean her house and stuff.”

  “So go climb in her window,” I say. “Do it while she’s asleep.”

  “Guess I could try that.”

  “What’s her work situation like now?”

  “Um… she’s talking about trying to start a company to take over from your old company. Siraj gave her a bunch of information, but I mean, I don’t know. She’s broke.”

  “Tell her that if she does try to start a company, send a copy of the business plan to the Wilkstone Foundation. They might be able to cut her more of a break on her rent and put her in touch with a lawyer and accountant who’ll take her on.”

  “Um… okay.”

  “Just, if she needs help.”

  “Yeah, I’ll tell her.” She hunches her shoulders, rocks forward onto the balls of her feet, and looks around. My room’s pretty ridiculous for someone my age. It doesn’t just have a king sized bed, but also a fireplace, couch, and television. Basically, it’s like a little studio apartment up here. If I got a hotplate or something I could stay in here for weeks on end. “Can I sit?” She points at the couch, over by the fireplace. When I don’t reply, she steals over and sits down.

  I climb onto my bed and sit with my knees to my chest, watching to see what she’ll do next. She’s already apologized for something, so her next move could be anything.

  “You wanna know how I got expelled from college?” she asks.

  I do, but only because I’m morbidly curious, not for any good or valid reason.

  “I agreed to watch some things for a friend, just a suitcase full of stuff. Turns out that one of the items in there was an antique gun, which I didn’t know, but I got caught with it in my room coincidentally. Somehow the RA knew just where to look, and I got reported to the University. Crosscheck my medical records, and whaddyaknow? I’m not just a student in possession of a firearm, I’m a mentally ill student in possession of a firearm, which is illegal. Automatic expulsion. My friends thought it’d be a funny prank, but they didn’t know I’m mental. They just thought I’d get lectured by the administration. It was way unfunny to be outed as bipolar and get sent home. Needless to say my dad didn’t find it funny.”

  That’s a case of real hard luck. I actually feel sorry for her.

  “Do you believe me?” she asks.

  “Should I?”

  She frowns. “I didn’t get expelled. I just… I couldn’t take it. I mean, it’s not like there’s anything specifically wrong with me anymore. I’m on my medication. Life’s hard, or I’m weak, I guess. Guess which one my dad favors?”

  I pick at my thumbnail.

  “But look, I know what it’s like, trying to pass for a normal person when deep down you know that no one thinks you are.”

  “You don’t pass for a normal person.”

  She blinks at me. “You saying I need a check up or you just cracking a joke?”

  “Bad joke I guess. But come on. You jumped out of a second story window the other day and just climbed in my window.”

  “So?”

  “Yeah, you’re kinda different.”

  “In a bad way?”

  “Um… not necessarily. I mean, look at who you’re talking to. Speaking of coming off as different in a bad way.”

  “That is true. You totally win ‘most likely to beat someone to death with a shovel’ in our high school class.”

  “Which is impressive, given I wasn’t even in your class. I must’ve gotten enough votes from my class to overflow into yours.”

  Her smile, though, is sad and small. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

  “I think… you did a lot of messed up stuff and treated people badly in high school.”

  “I know I did.”

  “And you hurt Madison, and never appreciated how nice she was to you. You don’t deserve her as a friend.”

  “Right, soooo… can we talk about Madison?”

  I have no answer for that, just a stare.

  “Do you even like her anymore?”

  No point answering that either.

  “Because the way you behave makes me think that you don’t, but… I kind of didn’t know you had a sense of humor either, until you made that axe murderer comment.”

  “Because axe murder is hilarious.”

  “I kind of assumed you were angry all the time. I never got what Madison saw in you.”

  “Makes two of us.”

  “See, I don’t know how you mean that. And do you like her, or not? Because she has this idea that you’re freezing her out because of your illness, but you don’t seem all that ill. Just completely indifferent to her.”

  I roll my eyes. Psychoanalysis from Kailie is the last thing I need.

  “I’ll take that to mean you aren’t interested in her anymore.”

  She can take it however she wants to take it.

  “Don’t be a jerk, okay? She waited two years for you. You could at least act like you care.”

  “I know,” I snap. “She needs to stop acting like she owes me something.” I don’t want to talk to Kailie about this, but she’s provoked me.

  “No, I know,” says Kailie. “It’s frustrating how you can do something just awful to her, and she begs and pleads like she’s the one who needs forgiveness. I keep explaining that to her but… I mean, what can I do, get mad at her about it? I wish she was still mad at me. It’d be so much easier to take.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  “But you can’t hold that against her, the fact that she’s too nice? That’s not fair.”

  “She’s going to college in a few months anyway.”

  “There is that. You staying in town?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, long distance didn’t bother her before.”

  Seriously, she won’t stop twisting the knife. I look up at the ceiling.

  Kailie finally takes the hint. “I should go, but if you ever want to talk, you know how to find me. Actually, let me give you my cell number.” She pulls what looks like an old receipt out of her pocket, jots her number down, and
sets it on my nightstand. “Later, all right?”

  I follow her with my gaze as she climbs out the window again.

  That night, I can’t sleep, so after a couple of hours I give up on trying and flip open my scriptures. Disrespectful as it is, reading scriptures to go to sleep usually works well for me, but tonight it doesn’t, so I get out my marking pencils and start paying attention to what I’m reading. The LDS edition of the scriptures has a topical guide that allows me to reference scriptures that deal with whatever topic I want to study. I’m not much of a scholar, so I just read the passages and draw boxes around the verses that stand out to me.

  “He’s searching,” says a voice, weak and faint and in the distance. “What will happen if he finds out the truth?”

  “He’s Chosen. There’s no hiding the truth from him.”

  I shut my scriptures before I start drawing weird symbols on them or writing nonsense in the margins, and sit on my bed, staring absently at the window as the hours crawl past.

  A few days later my doorbell rings at around ten. I disarm the burglar alarm and open the door to find Madison on my front step wearing khaki capris and a nice blouse that is open far enough at the neck to reveal a stone pendant that winks whenever it catches the light.

  “Okay,” she says, “I’m mad at you. You’ve been a jerk and you owe me.”

  I don’t know how to answer that.

  “And you are going to help me right now. This morning. You are going to help me carry heavy objects. Come on.”

  When I still don’t reply, she adds, “And I’m mad, okay? Really mad at you.”

  I scrub one hand through my hair. “Kailie put you up to this?”

  “I put her up to climbing in your window.”

  “Oh. Wait, what? You sicced Kailie on me?” That is low. It’s beyond low. I have a hard enough time feeling like the world’s against me these days, so I really don’t need Madison ganging up with crazy people who have boundary issues.

  Her confidence falters. “Okay, listen, I need your help because… I can’t get John’s. If he knew what I was doing, he’d probably get mad. And you do owe me.”

  For a moment I don’t know what to say. I just lean against the door frame and stare. Madison’s lips are pale and her face lined from stress. It’s midmorning and the breeze off the sea isn’t too biting today.