A Need So Beautiful

by Suzanne Young

  I slap his arm and then pull him forward through the ball. He’s right. I should find Sarah before Daddy Dearest sends out security looking for her. Just then I see her father standing in the doorway, watching us.

  Great. He’s probably CIA trained and planning to follow me. I’ll lead him right to the bar. “Stop here,” I murmur. Harlin and I pause at an abstract—meaning I can’t tell what the hell it is—painting.

  Harlin is staring at the picture like he gets it, a smug smirk on his face. I study him, not caring about any other piece of art in the room. Just then I feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. His jaw tightens but he makes no move toward it.

  “Are you going to answer that?” I ask.

  “Do you think the artist knew this work was terrible while he was painting it?”

  “No. But I’m not asking about that.”

  Harlin turns to me, looking serious. “What are you asking about, then?” His eyes are narrowed like he’s daring me to talk about his mother.

  “How you’re going to deal with her. You can’t just keep ignoring her phone calls.”

  He smiles like it’s a silly statement and turns back to the painting. “Of course I can.”

  This isn’t exactly the moment I was hoping for when I decided to come to this event. I wanted a normal night, a night where Harlin and I would be together, all dressed up and proper. But now I just want him to fix things with his mother. I’m tired of him keeping everything bottled up.

  Harlin continues to stare at the painting, sipping from his wine glass. “The brush strokes on this are too wide,” he says.

  “She’s grieving, Harlin. Maybe she needs you to pull her out of it.”

  Harlin pauses mid-sip, and then lifts the glass to finish it off. When he’s done, he sets it on the base of a statue and looks sideways at me. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “What? We haven’t even eaten yet.”

  “Let’s leave for California right now and never come back.”

  I’m completely caught off guard, and step toward him. “I can’t just leave,” I whisper. “What about Mercy?”

  Harlin’s mouth curves into a smile and he takes my arm, resting his forehead against mine as he stares into my eyes. “Run away with me,” he breathes, smelling sweet from the wine. It’s intoxicating. “Run far away with me.”

  I feel a rush of electricity and my body warms considerably.

  “Where would we go?”

  “Anywhere, as long as I’m with you.”

  Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I close my eyes. I can feel how much he needs me, how much I need him.

  “You have me forever,” he whispers. “I’m yours.”

  “Mm . . .” I’ll run away if he wants. I’ll go anywhere as long as I can feel like this—so beautiful and calm. I feel alive.

  “Good,” he says, leaning forward to kiss me softly. “And you only have to do one thing for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t talk about my mother again.”

  I gasp and pull out of his arms. “Are you serious right now? You just said all that stuff to get me to stop asking about your mother?” My cheeks prickle with embarrassment, a bit of anger.

  “No, baby. I meant every word,” he tries to explain, touching my hand. “You know I did.”

  I yank away. “You’re an ass,” I murmur, and move over to the next painting.

  I fold my arms over my chest, ignoring Harlin as he comes to stand next to me. He presses his shoulder against mine, then leans down, brushing his lips against my ear.

  “I’m sorry.” He says it so softly it’s just a breath. “I love you,” he repeats over and over, putting his hand on the curve of my back. I close my eyes and lean into him, letting him put his arm around me.

  I want to spend forever with him. I want that to be true. But I have to fight the Need to keep him. To stay alive.

  Harlin kisses the top of my head, just as I open my eyes to stare at the painting in front of us.

  There are angels in the clouds beating back red and black devils crawling out from underneath the ground. I can’t tell which side is winning, and I don’t know what it’s symbolizing. But I feel like I know more about it than I want to.

  Chapter 17

  A ccording to the bartender, Sarah got a drink and his phone number. But then she left and he didn’t see which way she went. Harlin and I had wandered out to the back lawn, but she wasn’t there, either. And now it’s time for dinner.

  “She’ll show up,” Harlin says as he pulls out my chair for me. I look around nervously and he sits down. I’m not sure I can cover for Sarah at this point. Where the hell is she?

  Immediately, I feel Sarah’s father’s eyes on me from the next table over. But I pretend not to notice him and make a show of saving the seat next to me, telling people loudly that she’s in the bathroom. Not super classy, but it’s all I can think of on the spot.

  I check my phone all through the starter salad and give Harlin my roll because I’ve lost my appetite. I’m completely worried now. Sarah’s been gone for close to an hour.

  As the appetizers arrive, I see her father toss his napkin down on the table and walk toward us. Harlin coughs and nudges me with his elbow, and my heart begins to race. I turn innocently to look behind me, and Sarah’s dad is standing there.

  “Oh, hi, again!” I say. Lame.

  “Where is my daughter?” he asks, not bothering with the niceties anymore. He folds his arms over his well-tailored jacket.

  “She’s not back?” I ask, looking around.

  He bends down over me. “Cut the nonsense, Charlotte. Go get her. Now.”

  His voice demolishes me, making me feel small. I nod quickly and scramble up, nearly knocking over my water glass. I shoot a look at Harlin, who is glaring at her father, almost like he’s ready to fight.

  “Harlin,” I say quietly. When he looks over at me, I shake my head. Harlin curls his lip like it’ll kill him to not punch the man, but then he turns and takes a shrimp from my cocktail.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say to both of them and jog through the room, my heels clicking. When I get out into the lobby, I call her phone but she doesn’t answer, and I look toward the back door. I can’t return to the dinner without her.

  The kitchen is buzzing as the servers plate up the entrees and I make my way through to the loading dock. I have no idea where else to look. I dial her again and then put the phone to my ear as I push out the exit. The minute the heavy metal door closes behind me, I hear the familiar sound of her ringtone—“Just A Girl” by No Doubt.

  I don’t see her, but I follow the sound. I’m officially freaking out as I start to walk faster, suddenly afraid that she’s been hurt or kidnapped.

  “Sarah?” I call out, walking around the Dumpster. Just then, I see her heel poking out from the other side. I run to her.

  She’s lying there on her side, her red hair fanned out around her. There is an empty bottle of tequila near her hand and bunch of foamy puke next to her head. I kneel down and turn her face toward me.

  “Sarah,” I say again, trying to wake her up. Her eyes flutter, but then she’s out again. Checking the bottle, I see that it’s empty and I wonder if she stole it from the bar.

  She gags and turns her face out of my hand to puke next to me. Not much is coming out and she seems to choke on it. She’s barely coherent as she holds herself up, gagging.

  “Did you drink this whole bottle?” I ask. She moans something but I can’t understand her. I dial Harlin. I have to take care of Sarah—get her out of here before her dad finds her. She needs a doctor.

  Harlin laughs quietly when he answers. “Sorry, Charlotte. I’m in the middle of this really fancy dinner. Can I call you back?”

  “I need you.”

  “Where are you?” And I can hear his chair push away from the table and the sound of his breathing quickening as he hurries out of the banquet room. He is my hero.

  “Through the kitchen toward th
e loading dock. Hurry. We need to get Sarah to the clinic.”

  He hangs up, and I brush back Sarah’s hair now that she’s done puking. “Did you drink the entire bottle?” I ask again.

  She smiles, her face blotchy, her eyes unfocused. “The whole damn thing,” she slurs. “Tell my father that.”

  “You might have alcohol poisoning,” I say, even though she’s not listening. She’s drifting in and out. “You shouldn’t have done this,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have let you.”

  Heat burns into my skin and I feel it begin. No. I force myself to stay near Sarah, but it’s hard. The Need is pulling me back into the party. It’s like it doesn’t care that Sarah needs my help now. Like my life and my loves don’t matter—just some higher purpose.

  “Stop,” I tell myself. I won’t leave Sarah, not when she’s here like this. The Need has to wait. But as I resist the pull there is a tearing pain through my chest.

  I fall to my knees, scraping them on the concrete. Oh God. Where’s Harlin? The metal door at the back of the building bursts open and slams into the bricks. Harlin jumps the stairs and he’s running to me, his dress shoes clacking on the pavement.

  “Charlotte?” he yells. “What happened?” He takes me by the arms, helping me up. I collapse into him.

  I won’t go with the Need. It can’t have me. I won’t let it! I grit my teeth and swallow down the pain. “Sarah,” I say. “She’s sick. We have to get her to Monroe.”

  “Monroe?” he asks. “Charlotte, if something’s wrong with her, we should get her father and take her to a hospital. Not the clinic.”

  “She’s drunk, Harlin. He’ll freak. Maybe even kick her out of her house.” I’m so worried about her and yet the Need is trying to take me away, take me back inside that party.

  Harlin looks and sees Sarah curl up on the ground, dry heaving. He lets go of me and darts over to her, kneeling down next to her.

  The minute he lets me go, I start wheezing. My body is demanding I go back into the museum, back into the dinner. There’s something there I have to see.

  Harlin looks at me. “Are you having an attack?”

  “I’ll be fine. I have an inhaler at the clinic.” No I don’t, but I’m hoping the farther away from the Need I get, the easier it’ll be to fight. I have to do it this time. I have to fight.

  “Damn it, Charlotte!” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having an attack? Stop keeping things from me!” He scoops Sarah into his arms. Her body hangs limply. “Let’s go,” Harlin orders without looking at me, making his way around the side of the museum instead of going through the kitchen.

  I try to step away, but pain splinters in my head, calling me back. It’s like walking against a current. Harlin runs ahead, carrying Sarah to the town car. I try to move faster, but my bones feel like they might pull away from my body, just rip right out of me.

  Just as I round the front, it’s too much. I fall into the cool, damp grass, but get to my knees and begin crawling. I’m losing focus, getting fuzzy. But I choose Sarah—I choose my life—over the Need.

  Harlin’s out of my sight, somewhere in the parking lot, and for a second I consider going inside just to stop the pain. It might not take long and the idea of euphoria I get after makes me moan for it.

  No. If I do that, if I continue to give in, it’ll destroy me. I have to stop it now. There’s still time to stop it.

  Gripping the grass with my fingers, I pull myself forward. I’m close to the sidewalk now. Just a few more yards. My chest is tightening.

  I hear the sound of feet and look up in time to see Harlin running in my direction. He came back for me. There’s a small relief to my pain as I feel his strong arms wrap around me, helping me to stand.

  “You need to go to the hospital,” he murmurs. “Monroe’s not helping you. You look terrible.”

  “Thanks, honey,” I choke out. He exhales in exasperation and he leads me toward the waiting car.

  “I had to give the driver fifty bucks to not call Daddy Warbucks in there,” he says as he opens the door. “So remind Sarah that she owes me.” But I can hear in his voice that he’s worried. About both of us.

  I nod absently as I get in. Sarah is sprawled across the seat and I move her legs to sit next to her. The pain is so strong that tears are streaming down my cheeks.

  This is it. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know it hurts like hell. I close my eyes as we pull away, driving toward the clinic. The minute we’re off the property there is a pain in my shoulder, like I’ve just been burned with a hot poker. I wince and glance toward Harlin. He’s leaning over the seat, giving the driver directions.

  I take the moment to slip the sleeve of my jacket over to find the source of pain. It’s on fire. At first I see only gold, more than ever covering the skin. But at the high point of my bone, I see something different and it terrifies me. Because in place of the gold there is a cracked, gray circle. And it looks like death.

  Chapter 18

  I pull my sleeve back over the spot, my eyes wide and burning with tears. What’s happening to me? I try to take in a breath, but I can’t. Panicked, I look out the window to see the museum—and my Need—get farther and farther away. I gasp again.

  The pain is overwhelming, but it’s the cracked flesh that’s scaring me. I feel my fingertips tingle, like there’s no circulation. The museum gets smaller in the distance as the first spots start to come across my vision. My face has gone numb; my lips feel cold. The world tilts.

  “Charlotte.” Harlin moves to kneel on the carpeted floor of the car. “You’re turning blue!” I meet his eyes, not responding, not sure I can. I’m almost ready to welcome the dark when I feel him touch my hand.

  And suddenly, a short breath enters my lungs. I just need Harlin. I lean forward and hug him, my face buried in his neck. He’s warm and still smells of cologne. I’m only getting air in short bursts, but it doesn’t matter. I cling to him.

  “Monroe,” I whisper.

  “No.” Harlin shakes his head, but doesn’t let me go. “We’re going to the hospital.”

  I can still feel Harlin’s hand in my hair when the world around me fades away. Before I can make sense of the change . . .

  I’m on the bridge again, rain pelting me. I know I’m supposed to climb on the metal railing but I take a few steps away from it. Suddenly, gold starts to glow around me and I look down to see my skin running off in flesh-colored streams of water. I clasp my hand over my forearm, trying to keep my skin on. But then I realize it’s just makeup washing away. And underneath, I’m only gold.

  Harlin calls my name. My heart bursts in my chest when I see him running toward me, but I quickly cover my face. I can’t let him see me like this. I can’t let him see the gold.

  I feel a tug and bring my hands down, but Harlin is gone. Instead it’s Monroe standing in front of me, yelling. But his words are silent. All I can hear is rain, loud enough to make me wince and want to cover my ears.

  But over and over, he mouths, Jump!

  I push him back and move against the railing, grabbing it tightly. “No!” I look over the side to the dark, rough waters below. I’m terrified of falling.

  Now! he silently screams, but I shake my head. And then my heart stops.

  Onika appears from behind Monroe. Her face is beautiful again, not cracked and decayed like that one vision. She’s not getting wet, even though it’s raining. She puts her hand on Monroe’s shoulder, but he doesn’t react. It’s like he doesn’t even know she’s there.

  She smiles at me while in the distance sirens blare as flashing lights enter the on-ramp of the bridge.

  Monroe’s talking quickly and his eyes are closed as Onika snakes her body around him, whispering in his ear in unison with his mouth moving. It’s as if she’s telling him what to say.

  “Stop!” I scream. It’s freaking me out and I’m so scared. I don’t know what’s real anymore.

  With nowhere to go, I climb onto the railing and grip the c
ables, trying to keep my balance. To get away from them. I glance back over my shoulder and look down again at the choppy water.

  Then the scene freezes, the rain suspended in the air, making the world around me distorted. I find Monroe as he stands, now alone, with his eyes closed. I’m about to call to him, but then he slowly looks up at me and whispers, “Jump.”

  “I think she’s coming around.”

  There’s a jolt and I’m awake. I feel disoriented as I glance around at the familiar white walls decorated with posters about STDs. I’m at the clinic.

  I close my eyes again. “So I’m not dead?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. Even though I know where I am now, I can still feel the rain against my skin. The wind swaying me on the bridge. The word “jump” is still in my ears.

  “Hardly,” Monroe says. I’m startled by how close his voice is and I turn to see him sitting next to me in a chair. His eyes are narrowed as he looks me over. “You gave your boyfriend a good scare, though,” he says in a tight voice. “Had to give you a steroid to open up your lungs. Why do you think you had this severe an attack, Charlotte?”

  “Stress.” I manage to sit up. Harlin is sitting on a stool in the corner, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands over his mouth. He looks terrified.

  “Hey,” I call. He doesn’t answer, he just stares at me and blinks back tears. “What?” I ask, and suddenly, I’m scared that he saw my skin, that he knows I’m a freak.

  He sniffles and rubs roughly at his face. “You passed out,” he says quietly. “And I couldn’t wake you up. I thought you were dying. I—” He stops and covers his mouth again. Monroe was right—I had scared the crap out of him.

  “Come here,” I say, and pat the space next to me on the cot.

  “Charlotte,” Monroe begins, but I look at him sharply. He raises his hands like he gives up and stands, backing away. I have plenty to talk to Monroe about, but Harlin comes first. He always comes first.