Drive Me Crazy

by Portia MacIntosh

  I sit and think for a while, anxiously picking at my manicured nails, but doing so in such a gentle way that the polish doesn’t actually come off because I didn’t bring anything with me to touch them up. Time is ticking away, but now that I’m in bed I just can’t sleep.

  I lean over and flick the light off, before lying back and trying to make myself comfortable. As I lie there in the pitch black something catches my eye: a small, glow-in-the-dark star stuck to the ceiling in the corner of the room. It seems strange, the way it’s just tucked away in the corner on its own, but it’s beautiful. I can’t stop staring at it.

  There’s a knock on the door, snapping me from my thoughts.

  ‘Come in,’ I call out.

  ‘Hey,’ Danny says as he shuffles in awkwardly. ‘So, my mam is insisting I get to bed. Maybe if I can just chill here with you until everyone has gone to bed, then I’ll go back down.’

  ‘Sure,’ I reply, sitting upright. ‘I can’t sleep anyway; I’d appreciate the company.’

  Danny closes the door behind him, plunging the room into darkness again, before hopping on the bed next to me. He doesn’t get under the covers, but he sits by my side, leaning against the wall too.

  ‘Why do you have one glowing star on your ceiling?’ I ask curiously.

  ‘I was – no, I am a space nerd. You know that.’ He laughs.

  ‘No one is in any doubt over your nerd status.’ I laugh. ‘Just seems weird that you have just one shoved in the corner.’

  ‘My nana used to live here with us,’ he tells me, his voice softening. ‘When I was little, she stuck them all over the ceiling for me.’

  ‘Aw, that’s cute,’ I tell him.

  ‘One day when I was a teen – I don’t even remember why now – I think I was pissed off because my parents wouldn’t let me do something because I was too young. I remember sitting in here, fuming about how I wasn’t a baby any more, and the stars just served as a reminder. So I ripped them all down, all but that one, which I couldn’t reach because I was a short-arse thirteen-year-old.’

  Danny laughs briefly.

  ‘They diagnosed my nana with cancer not long before I went travelling. I was going to cancel my trip, maybe stick around and go to uni, but she insisted I went, telling me she’d be fine.’

  ‘Did you not go to uni then?’ I ask, curiously. I would have thought you’d need to in his line of work.

  ‘Nope. Self-taught. Started working on code on MySpace when I was a teenager, and built on it from there. Got a job at some dot-gone company when I left school, earned enough to travel and since then I’ve managed to alternate travelling around with jobs here and there. I like to keep moving.’

  I smile, although I only understood about half of that. When Danny talks, it’s like every other word registers and the rest fall on deaf ears with me. I don’t think he’s being pretentious, I just don’t think he realises that some of us have no idea what a ‘dot-gone’ is.

  ‘Anyway, my nana wasn’t fine,’ he continues. ‘She passed away before I got home. So, the last star stays. It’s going to sound lame but, I don’t know, it’s like she’s watching over me, or something. That one star in the sky that she put there.’

  ‘That’s not lame at all,’ I tell him. ‘I wish I had more to remember my parents.’

  ‘It must have been tough for you, losing them both,’ Danny says, taking my hand and squeezing it.

  ‘It was, very tough. I lost my mum first, so at least I had my dad to help me through it. We knew my dad was close to the end, and I remember sitting by his hospital bed, knowing that as soon as he left me, that was it, I’d be all alone in the world. I remember it like it was yesterday though. It was the middle of the night – a horrible, cold, windy winter’s night. Two of the nurses on duty had come in to check on him, so he was telling them the story of the day I was born. There was a terrible storm going on while my mum was in labour and, at the exact moment I left my mother’s body, all the lights in the hospital went out. At least, that’s how my dad told it. The same dad who insisted, despite me being born at 03:13 a.m., that the nurse write down 03:14 a.m. Just in case. The storm, the dip in power and the time I decided to make my entrance somehow convinced my selectively religious father into thinking that he needed to do something – anything – to dispel the bad juju.’

  ‘Better safe than sorry.’ Danny laughs.

  ‘My mother, who was far more level-headed, couldn’t give a toss about the time I was born, and when I heard this story for the first time she assured me that the lights on the maternity ward only flickered for a second, thanks to the epic storm going on outside. She also told me that on the day in question I repaid her by giving her an utterly filthy, unimpressed look the first time I was placed in her arms.’

  The reports of my demonic behaviour over the years were greatly exaggerated. My mum would often remind me how lucky she was to still have nipples, because as a baby I made it my life’s work to remove them. She explained that, when she was breastfeeding me, I would often get this look in my eye, a look that always preceded the same, brutal attack. She told me how she would gently plead with me, ‘Candice, no!’, to this little demon baby attached to her breast, but I paid no attention to her calm pleas, and I would bite her – hard. For the lone fact that she continued to feed me at all, I will be forever grateful.

  ‘Your dad sounds funny,’ Danny says, rubbing my hand. He just seems to get how difficult this must be for me to talk about, despite still having both his parents.

  ‘He was hilarious – rarely intentionally.’

  ‘Were they both ill then?’

  ‘Yeah, my gene pool isn’t great. Dementia, diabetes – so even if I make it into old age, I’ll probably forget I can’t have sugar and eat a cake and die.’

  ‘Well, that’s why you’ve got to make the most of life. I keep telling you, YOLO.’ He laughs.

  ‘It’s fair enough saying you only life once, but if you live recklessly, that once is going to be short.’

  ‘So long as you’re happy. Except I don’t think you are,’ he says.

  ‘Why not?’ I squeak, trying a little too hard to protest otherwise.

  ‘Because you’re having an affair with Will,’ he replies.

  ‘Me? And Will? Don’t be…’ My voice trails off. He’s not stupid. There’s no point trying to pretend he’s not right. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I can just tell. He gets jealous when I talk to you, this weird little holiday you guys had planned – you were sharing double rooms. It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes. I’m going to guess that’s why you keep checking your phone. You fallen out?’

  ‘When I started seeing him, he told me he and his wife were separated, but living together to keep up appearances. Yes, I realise how unbelievable that sounds, but I had no reason to doubt him. I was in a sad, weak, vulnerable place and I believed what he said because it’s what I needed to be true, I guess. When I found out she’d had a baby – his baby – I realised he hadn’t left her, and that he probably never will.’

  ‘And you don’t want to be a mistress, I take it?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘And he wouldn’t leave his wife for you?’

  ‘Nope. I can’t even begin to imagine a scenario where we’re a proper couple. Before, when I would try to imagine it, I would see the most beautiful montage of happy, smiley romantic crap that may as well be set to an Ed Sheeran song. It looked wonderful, and I wanted that, but I’m never going to have that with someone who doesn’t text me back.’

  ‘It’s good that you realise this,’ he tells me. ‘Seriously. I thought I was going to have to give you some hard truths, but you’re a smart girl. We just need to get your life back on track, that’s all.’

  ‘You make it sound so simple.’ I laugh.

  ‘It is simple,’ he tells me confidently. ‘Leave it to me, OK? I know you’ve got offices to visit, but I’m sure we can make time for a little self-discovery.’

  ‘Oh, forget work,’ I tell
him. ‘I’m not doing a second of work for that man while we’re away. No one is under any illusions now, fuck it. Although I’m not entirely happy putting my life in the hands of a grown man who picks fights with teenagers.’

  ‘OK, look, I wasn’t even going to tell you…but they were saying some stuff about us. I was just sticking up for us and it went a bit too far.’

  I think for a moment. ‘Us? Or me?’

  ‘Us,’ he insists. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  I feel like Danny is trying to spare my feelings, so I don’t push it. I wonder what they were saying about me. I know I wasn’t looking too fresh this morning, unless it was my outfit. I know Danny calls me a Stepford Wife, but I don’t look that out of place, do I?

  I think about it for a moment before announcing: ‘Fuck ’em.’

  ‘I like the new Candy much more than the old Candy.’ Danny laughs.

  I rest my head on Danny’s shoulder, suddenly feeling very sleepy.

  ‘I think I do too,’ I tell him. And it’s true. For the first time in a long time, I’m starting to feel more like myself again.

  Chapter 24

  For the second morning in a row, I woke up cuddled up to Danny. The only difference today is that my arse is much less sore and I feel less like I want to strangle him. Still, it wasn’t intentional. The plan was for Danny to sleep on the sofa once his family went to bed, but I guess we fell asleep.

  I saw an entirely different side to Danny yesterday. Despite his cheeky charm offensive, he’s just a boy who loves his family and feels pain when he is cheated on. Yes, OK, so he’s also the kind of guy who steals drugs from teenagers and pisses off policemen, who gets vulnerable young ladies drunk and tattooed, etcetera, etcetera.

  When we got up, Danny’s mum was still asleep, so Danny insisted we didn’t wake her to say goodbye because she needed her rest. I have a sneaking suspicion it’s because he didn’t want to endure a painful goodbye, but I’d never say as much. After what he told me about his gran last night, it sounds to me like he doesn’t like to keep people too close – in case he loses them, I guess.

  His dad dropped us off at the garage, and now we’re on the road again.

  As we zip along in the now fully functioning (well, as much as it ever was) Love Bug, Danny spies a burger van at the side of the road and pulls over.

  ‘I’m starving,’ Danny announces. ‘You must be too.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I lie.

  ‘No you’re not – don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t eat much last night.’

  ‘I just wasn’t hungry,’ I tell him as I climb over the driver’s seat and follow him to the van.

  ‘Well you must be now, so breakfast is on me,’ he tells me.

  ‘Look, it’s not a dieting thing, I promise you,’ I start, but he interrupts.

  ‘I’m not your bulimia counsellor. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.’

  ‘Dick,’ I reply. ‘No, I was just going to say that I don’t eat from anywhere that doesn’t have a postcode. No offence,’ I add, noticing that the girl working there has heard me.

  ‘You have to eat something, Candy,’ Danny reasons.

  ‘I’m fine, I have this,’ I tell him, pulling a SkinnyKwik bar from my handbag and opening it.

  ‘That?’ Danny playfully slaps the bar out of my hand, causing it to hit the ground so I can’t eat it now. ‘That’s not food.’

  ‘It’s a meal replacement bar,’ I inform him. ‘It’s just the right number of calories, but thank you for ruining it.’

  ‘You’ll just have to have what I’m having now,’ he says with a triumphant smile. ‘Two cheeseburgers with chips, please.’

  ‘And do you want your burgers in a stottie or in a doughnut?’ the girl asks, breaking halfway through to blow a bubble with her chewing gum.

  ‘I’m sorry, what?’ Danny asks, his eyes widening with amazement.

  ‘Do you want it in a doughnut instead? It’s a glazed doughnut.’

  I feel my jaw drop in a combination amazement and disgust.

  ‘I don’t see how I can say no to that,’ Danny laughs. ‘Two of those please.’

  ‘That sounds kind of fattening,’ I start.

  ‘It is,’ the girl replies. ‘We only get fat truckers eating them – no one as fit as you,’ she tells Danny, blatantly flirting. ‘And you’re going to die,’ she tells me.

  Before I get a chance to say anything, we’re interrupted from our impending coronary by a voice. ‘Oi, a word,’ the man shouts.

  I look over and see a policeman walking towards us.

  ‘Oh, shit, not more police,’ I whisper to Danny.

  It’s only as the man approaches us that we realise he’s not an actual police officer, he’s a community support officer.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, he’s not a real policeman,’ Danny tells me. ‘You’re not a real policeman, are you?’

  I know that Danny doesn’t mean any disrespect by this, but the officer doesn’t take it too well. He looks angry, like maybe he gets this a lot, and it’s starting to get to him.

  ‘You littered,’ he tells me.

  ‘I littered?’ I ask in disbelief. ‘When?’

  The officer nods towards the SkinnyKwik bar on the ground.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ I start. Truth be told, I do feel braver because he’s not technically a real police officer. ‘He knocked that out of my hand – like, thirty seconds ago. I’m going to pick it up.’

  ‘Pick it up then,’ the officer insists. ‘Or I’ll fine you.’

  The officer is clearly pissed off, and unleashing the full force of his authority on us because he can, but this just winds Danny up more.

  ‘Don’t do it, Candy,’ Danny tells me.

  ‘It’s fine,’ I insist, bending over to pick it up and dropping it in the bin next to me.

  ‘There’s a princess,’ the officer patronises me. ‘Wasn’t so hard, was it?’

  ‘Breakfast is up,’ the girl calls out, dumping two polystyrene boxes down in front of us. I grab it and open it, taking in the sight of the enormous cheeseburger encased in a glazed doughnut.

  ‘You’re eating that?’ the officer asks me, and I nod. ‘You’re going to die.’

  ‘What does everyone keep saying that?’ I ask, irritated. As the three of them stare at me, as though I were a condemned woman about to eat her last meal, something in my head just tells me to prove to them that I am perfectly capable of eating this. I don’t know if it’s misplaced feminism, this girl flirting with Danny, being all cool and into saturated fat and shit, or the fact this non-policeman is standing next to me, making me pick things up off the ground like it’s going to be out of my comfort zone…but I’m going to eat it. I’m going to cast aside the fact that I know nothing of its nutritional content (other than the fact it’s bad), the fact that this place doesn’t have a postcode (AKA someone to be held accountable if it kills me) and the disgusting fact that the bird who made it is fidgeting with her lip ring and I’m going to eat it – this double cheeseburger, in a glazed doughnut, served in a polystyrene tray that is already swimming in grease. I’ve been known to offset a few high-calorie days with a little dodgy dieting before, but this is going to be ridiculous.

  I lift the burger with both hands – because it truly takes both hands – and stare at it for a second before taking a bite, chewing and then swallowing. I open my empty mouth and showcase the insides for all to see, to show them that I am more than capable.

  ‘Yum,’ I lie. It’s the kind of thing that I imagine if it were done well it would taste delicious, but it’s greasy and sloppy, and yet somehow so incredibly dry at the same time. Still, I take a second bite, because I am a strong, independent woman, and I can eat (what I’d guess is) a 1500-calorie burger for breakfast if I want to.

  ‘No more littering,’ the officer warns me, before heading back towards his car.

  ‘I fucking hate guys like that,’ Danny says. ‘Absolutely drunk with power.’

  ‘Do you
think maybe you have a problem with authority?’ I ask him.

  ‘Fuck off.’ He laughs. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Well, the run-in with the police yesterday, now this… You don’t do well with it.’

  Danny pauses for a second, giving my point a moment’s thought.

  ‘Nope,’ he concludes. ‘Those coppers yesterday were fine – I was off my tits.’ He laughs. ‘I was rude to them too. They were just doing their job. But this guy, oh, this guy… He has no right to be a dick to you. I hate to see men being dicks to women.’

  I watch Danny watching the officer getting back in his car, carefully buckling up his seat belt and checking his mirrors before he starts his engine. I can tell from the thoughtful look on Danny’s face that the cogs are turning, and this worries me. Danny is a loose cannon who lives in the moment. He doesn’t give his actions a second thought; he just does what he does and that’s that, the consequences be damned. For his entire adult life, he has done whatever he wanted, with no one to call him out on his bad behaviour. If he makes a mess of things he simply packs his bags and moves on. No big deal – apparently.

  I don’t have long to worry about what Danny might do before he picks up the enormous burger in one hand, brandishing it ready to throw it. I open my mouth immediately to tell him not to throw it, but it has left his hand before the first word has left my lips. As the burger flies through the air, life feels like it is happening in slow motion. I hold my breath for what feels like the longest time as I watch the burger soar, praying that the car will be just that little bit too far away for a nerd to reach with a throw – of course, most nerds don’t have guns like Danny does.

  Splat! The burger hits the officer’s windscreen, erupting with such a force that grease, cheese and whatever that pinky-coloured sauce is coats the glass, completely obstructing his view. Of course, he’s most likely in no doubt over who threw it. From the moment of impact everything speeds up again, and I feel myself exhale hard.