I put the bottle of pills on his dresser and crossed my arms over my chest. This was a lot to absorb. I was in information overload. If I wanted to run the other way last night, that was nothing compared to the need to get the hell out of there that I was feeling now.
But what kind of friend would that make me if I bailed when he was finally sharing so much with me, even though it was scary and dark? If this were Rachel or Daniel, would I turn my back on them? I immediately knew that I wouldn't. And as I looked at Clay, my heart filled with love for him. Because despite all that he had just told me, it didn't change my feelings for him. Not one bit. I would stay, I would be there and I wouldn't run like a coward.
“Does the lithium help?” I asked him, coming to sit beside him on the bed. Letting him know with my body language that I wasn't going to leave just because he unloaded some heavy shit in my lap. Besides, I had asked him for it. “It does, I suppose, but I hate taking it. I feel like a fucking zombie on that stuff. Like I can't feel anything. I'm just numb. I guess I'd rather be crazy than not feel anything at all.” He said. His answer scared me. So was he not taking his meds? Is that what caused his psycho turn last night?
“But it's dangerous not to take your medication, right? I mean, is that why...you know...last night happened?” I didn't know how to word what I wanted to say. I was swimming in very deep waters here.
“I know that, Mags. I know I need to take them. But I just wanted to feel normal for once. To be a normal teenager. To have fun. Hang out with people who didn't know anything about me or only wanted to use me for what I could give them. I wanted to feel what it was like to kiss you for the first time without being sucked into a medicated fog.”
Oh. “But you need them. Last night was bad. I can't stand seeing you do that to yourself.” I said quietly. I turned my body on the bed until I was facing him. He looked at me and rested his forehead against mine. “And I want to kiss you too, more than anything. But not when you're like this.” I watched Clay's shoulders sag with the rightness of what I was saying.
Because as much as I wanted to take that step forward in our relationship, he needed me as a friend more. As much as that freaking sucked. Clay cupped my cheek in his hand. “I am so tired of being this way. I just want it to stop. I want to be a guy you aren't afraid to be around.”
I leaned my face into his hand and kissed his palm. “Then take your meds, Clay. I won't watch you destroy yourself over some ridiculous idea that those pills make you less than who you are. You need them. And I need you...as my friend.”
That was really hard to say. Because it was such a lie. But he didn't need his life complicated by a new relationship. He needed my support without the added issue of the girlfriend/boyfriend thing. And I needed to wrap myself around all that he had just revealed, and what it potentially meant for any future between us.
Clay's mouth rose on one side in a half smile. “As a friend, huh?” He asked, his eyes questioning me. I nodded, pulling away a bit. “Yes, as a friend. Because you've become one of my best friends, Clay.” It really blew being selfless.
“Okay then.” Clay got up and picked up the bottle. Shaking out two pills he put them in his mouth and swallowed them without water. “There. Problem solved.” He said nonchalantly, opening his mouth to show me he had indeed taken the pills.
I smiled halfheartedly. I seriously doubted a few tiny pills could solve all of his problems. But it was a start.
Chapter Nine
The weeks that passed after Melissa James's party on the whole were pretty uneventful. My friends and I fell into a routine of school and hanging out. Daniel was off again with Kylie, so he was around a lot more than he had been, much to Rachel's delight. I was also happy to see that the two of them seemed to have called a cease fire. Since Rachel's drunken verbal vomit and my advice for caution and sensitivity, Daniel had been doing just that. He was thoughtful and polite. In other words, nothing like himself.
I noticed the change in Clay almost instantly. The Monday after his Oscar- worthy freak out he was subdued and expressionless. He interacted some, but he had a perpetual stoned demeanor that was really hard to get used to.
I felt guilty for thinking that I too liked happy Clay off meds. But then I just had to remember him crumpled on his bedroom floor, sobbing uncontrollably and I put those thoughts firmly away.
The medication also made him really sleepy. He was having a hard time staying awake in his classes and at lunch time. Instead of eating, he would often put his head down on the table and nap, pulling his army jacket up over himself.
During one such lunchtime nap session, Rachel poked him in the arm, soliciting no response. “I have never seen someone sleep like he does. What is his deal?” I glanced over at him. He hadn't touched his pizza. He never ate much anymore and I could see that he was losing weight.
“He's just tired. Leave him alone.” I snapped at her. Rachel looked hurt by my tone. “I was just asking. No need to bite my head off. Well, while we're on the subject. What is up with you lately?”
“Huh?” I asked, genuinely confused as to what she was talking about. Rachel took a bite of her chicken salad sandwich, then delicately patting her lips with a napkin. “Don't you 'huh' me. I'm talking about your emergence as Super Bitch. Well at least where Danny and I are concerned. Clay, on the other hand, gets all the sunshine and roses.” I looked at Daniel and he just shrugged a shoulder and went back to reading his sports magazine.
“I'm not grouchy all the time. Sorry if I've been less than my usual uber fun self.” I joked. Rachel snorted in annoyance. “Well, whatever, just stop taking your pissy moods out on the two of us. You know if there's stuff going on you can talk to us.” Rachel looked pointedly at Clay who was starting to stir. I ignored her remark, refusing to acknowledge, even to her, that there was any sort of problem.
Clayton sat up slowly, stretching his arms over his head, causing his shirt to ride up over his flat stomach. My insides did that funny little twist that often happened when I allowed myself to focus on how beautiful he was. Why did I have to be all “let's be friends?” Because watching Clayton rub his eyes and run his fingers through his delicious curls made me really question my own sanity.
Clay wiped at his mouth. “I didn't drool did I?” He smiled sleepily. I rubbed his bottom lip with my thumb, reveling in the feel of his mouth. God I wanted to kiss him. Clay gave me a slow, sexy smile as if he was reading my mind and I dropped my hand. “Nope, drool free.” I told him, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
“Here guys. Don't forget to buy your tickets all this week after school.” Lila, Rachel's friend appeared at our table, dropping a brightly colored flier in the middle of our lunch trays. “What's this?” Clay asked, picking up the pink paper. “It's the Fall Formal. We have it the last weekend of October. You should come; it's a lot of fun.” Lila batted her eyelashes at Clay, who was oblivious to her flirting. He was studying the information on the flier intently.
Lila, clearly disappointed by his lack of interest, gave us a halfhearted wave and headed to the next table. I leaned over Clay to have a closer look at the paper. I allowed myself to brush his arm with mine; feeling little prickles of awareness as our skin touched.
“You guys going?” Clay asked. Daniel and Rachel looked at each other and then back to us. “Well we usually go to the Fall Formal as a group. We save the whole date thing for Prom. It's much more fun to go with friends. We go out to eat somewhere really cheesy like Pizza Hut, purposefully wear horrible formal wear and buy the ugliest corsages we can find. It's a lot of fun.” Rachel told him, looking excited.
Clay looked at me. I realized how close our faces were and I backed away a bit. “You go to this? I can't see you doing the whole dressing up thing.” Clay said. I frowned, not liking that he seemed to have difficulty seeing me doing something girlie. I was by no means a tom boy or anything. Maybe I wasn't as into the whole appearance thing as Rachel and other girls at the school, but that didn't mean I was lacking th
e required chromosome to enjoy it.
Clay realized he must have said something wrong and started verbally backpedaling. “No, I just meant that it seems a little lame. I just can't see you doing something like that. You know, because you're too cool for a school dance.” He squeezed my knee under the table in unspoken apology. I covered his hand with mine and squeezed back. “Nice save.” I whispered and he grinned.
“But I do go to the Fall Formal. Me, Danny, Rachel, Ray and Clare when they decide to come to these things, and sometimes a few other people. We all go together, it's a good time. And there's usually a party somewhere after.” I realized my mistake as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Clay's mouth tightened at the word “party” and we both remembered his disastrous turn at the party over the weekend.
“Or maybe not.” I said quietly, letting him know that partying wouldn't be on the agenda. Clay smiled weakly. “Well, can I come with you guys?” He asked shyly. Rachel giggled. “Of course. You don't have to ask to come along.” Daniel nodded in agreement. “Yeah man. The more guys the better. These girls can get pretty crazy.” He grinned at Rachel who flushed.
Clay smiled at me, putting the flier into his pocket. “Sounds cool.” My stomach siezed up at the thought of going to a dance with him. But I affected my best nonchalant smile. “Yeah, cool.” I replied.
“So do you want to see the dress I picked out for formal?” I asked Clay two weeks later as we sat in my kitchen after school. Clay lazily flicked through my dad's Librarian Today magazine. Riveting reading, I'm sure.
He looked up at me, and cocked that adorable eyebrow of his. “Isn't that bad luck or something? To see the dress before the night?” He asked. I laughed. “That's weddings, dork. The groom isn't supposed to see the bride in her wedding dress before the wedding. I don't think there are any superstitions tied to formal wear.” He chuckled and closed the magazine, putting it back in the pile at the end of the counter.
I loved having him in my house. I had eventually succumbed to parental pressure a week and a half ago, and invited Clay over for dinner. So my parents could interrogate, I mean meet him. It had started out fine enough. Clay had shown up promptly at 6:30 for dinner. I had opened the door and struggled to stop my jaw from hitting the floor.
He had dressed in perfectly pressed khaki pants and a blue stripped button down shirt. His black curls were slicked back, showing off his incredibly handsome face. He held a bundle of beautiful flowers that looked like they had cost as much as a small village.
“Hey, Maggie.” He said quietly after I had let him in the front door. He seemed really nervous, not that I blamed him. This whole thing reeked of awkwardness. “Those are beautiful.” I commented, indicating the ridiculously large bouquet.
“They're for your mom. You know, to butter her up. Figured I needed all the help I could get. Lord knows I can't impress her with my amazing charm.” Clay quipped in that self-deprecating way of his. I had lightly punched his arm. “They'll love you as much as I do.” I told him and almost swallowed my tongue.
Had I seriously just admitted to loving him? Dear God, I wanted to run out of the house and far away from the humiliation of the moment. But luckily, Clay was too nervous to catch on to my earth ending slip up. He had only given me a shaky smile and followed me into the kitchen where my mom was finishing up the chili she had made.
My dad was getting plates and glasses out of the cabinets, but he looked up when we entered the room. “Mom, Dad, this is Clayton Reed. Clay this is my mom and dad.” I gently tugged Clay into the room by his shirt sleeve.
He wasn't exactly digging his heals in, but it took some strength to get him moving. My mom turned around and bestowed on him her dazzling smile. She wiped her hands on a towel and came over to greet him. “Nice to meet you, Clayton. We've heard a lot about you.” Clay shook her hand and shot me a look.
“I don't talk about you that much, geesh.” I muttered, embarrassed. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Young. Thanks for having me over for dinner.” He handed her the bunch of flowers. “These are for you.” My mom's eyes brightened. She was such a sucker for them. Clay had unknowingly made the perfect move. “These are lovely, Clayton. Thank you so much. Let me put these in some water.”
My mom went in search of a vase, which left us with my normally mild mannered father who currently looked anything but mild. He was looking at Clay as though he were under a microscope. “How are you, Clay?” My father asked, shaking his hand. Clay winced as he pulled his hand from my father's grasp. Had my father seriously just squeezed Clay's knuckles together? Was he channeling Arnold Swartzenegger?
Shit, this was going to be worse than I thought. “Fine, sir.” Clay replied, tucking his hands into his pockets. “So, Maggie tells us that you just moved her to live with your aunt. Where are your parents?” I wanted to smack my father. He couldn't build up to the big questions like a normal person. No, he had to go right for the jugular.
Clay shifted a bit uncomfortably on his feet. He hated talking about his parents, so he never did. But he looked my father in the eye and answered him honestly. “My parents and I don't get along, sir. So, they had me come and live with my mother's sister Ruby. I like it a lot better here in Virginia.”
My father blinked in surprise at Clay's candor and some of the rigidness seemed to melt away. I wanted to smirk at my dad's own awkwardness. I could tell he didn't exactly know what to say to that. Well, take that Dad.
“Well, I'm glad to hear you like Virginia. It's a lovely place to live. Uh. I think your mom is done with the chili. Why don't we have a seat at the table.” My dad indicated for us to sit down. Clay looked at me and grimaced in apology. I squeezed his hand, letting him know it was all right.
Mom came back with the vase of flowers and placed them on the table. She fussed over them and positioned them so they were perfect. Clay and I sat down beside each other, mom and dad across from us. Mom served us our bowls of chili and homemade corn bread.
“This is delicious, Mrs. Young.” Clay said between mouthfuls. My mom glowed at the compliment. For someone who claimed to not be charming, he was doing a number on my mother. My dad had let up on his cool attitude, but continued to watch Clay closely.
“Thank you, Clayton. Well, the reason we wanted to have you over was so we could meet you. We don't like Maggie May riding around with boys we don't know.” My mom said, passing Clay the basket of bread.
My dad leaned forward on his elbows and stared at Clay. “We don't know anything about you and parents can't be too careful about their children these days. There are too many crazies out there.” I closed my eyes and bit down on my sigh. This was mortifying.
Clay swallowed his food and looked at my parents. “I totally understand. You can't be too careful about the crazies.” His words were sarcastic and I shot him a look that clearly asked what the hell he was doing.
My mom cleared her throat. “Well, tell me, Clayton. You're from Florida, right?” She asked, trying to move the conversation into another direction. Clay stiffened beside me and his entire demeanor changed. Little did my mom know this was the last topic Clay wanted to talk about.
“Yeah, he's from Florida. But he loves Virginia. We had a blast at the outdoor market in Charlottesville last weekend. Remember that crazy vendor with the bird feeders made from gourds? They were too funny.” I rambled desperately.
My mom looked at me questioningly, but my dad hadn't taken his eyes from Clay. I nudged Clay with my elbow, trying to get him to talk, but he remained stoically silent. “I love that outdoor market! Your Dad and I need to get back down there soon.” My mom started telling me about this lady who made homemade jams and I tried to pay attention.
But I was too worried about Clay. He hadn't said anything else. The rest of dinner passed with my mother and I making ridiculous small talk while Clay stared at his bowl and my father stared at Clay. When Clay got up to help my mother clear away the dishes, I gave my dad the glare of death.
“What is your problem,
Dad? You're making him uncomfortable!” I hissed. My father looked at me levelly. “I'm just getting to know him.” Was all he said. I cocked my eyebrow. “Getting to know him? You're staring holes into his head is what you are doing. Just stop it okay? Clay is my friend and I want him to feel comfortable being here.”
My dad frowned. “I'm just watching out for you, Maggie May. You're my only child. How much do you really know about this boy?” He asked me quietly. I looked at Clay as he helped my mom get dessert together. He still seemed closed off and distant, but at least he was talking to my mom.
“I know a lot about Clay. Probably more than most people. And I like him, so just let it go.” I urged, giving my dad the pleading eyes he could never say no to. My dad softened a bit but didn't let the subject drop.
“There's something about him. I'm not sold, Maggie. Just keep your head about you with that one.” He advised as Clay and mom returned to the table with a chocolate cake and plates.
Clay had left right after dinner, despite me asking him to stay and watch a movie. I think he wanted to get away from my dad's eagle-eyed stare. I walked him to his car and stood in the driveway with my arms wrapped around me. It was chilly and I could see my breath.
“Sorry if that was weird.” I said as Clay got into his car. Clay shrugged. “It was fine, Maggie. I'll talk to you later.” And with that he left. And I hadn't heard from him for the rest of the weekend. I had tried calling him all day on Sunday, but his phone kept going straight to voice mail.
But then Monday morning, Clay was at my locker like nothing had happened. We never mentioned the dinner again. My mom had let me know that Clay was welcome at the house. My dad had stayed resolutely silent.
But I made sure Clay only came around when I knew my dad was at work. Clay never questioned why I was specific about the times he could come over. I don't think he wanted a repeat encounter with my dad.
Find You in the Dark Page 11
