Mad Love

by Suzanne Selfors

  “That girl I saw you with … Is she your girlfriend?”

  “I knew that’s what you thought. That’s what I wanted to tell you.” He shook his head. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s a student at the university where my dad teaches. She came to interview him for a school project. I couldn’t remember her name. That’s why I didn’t introduce you.”

  I pressed my teeth together so I wouldn’t grin like an idiot.

  Then we looked into each other’s eyes and I knew, in that long moment, that Tony Lee had come to the lake because he wanted to see me. And I knew that if he tried to kiss me, I’d let him.

  I wanted Tony to kiss me, but not the way I’d wanted Errol to kiss me. That thing with Errol had made no sense. Girls like bad boys, I know that. The whole dark and dangerous thing is tempting, and Errol definitely had that going on. But I didn’t long for dark and dangerous. I longed for someone I felt safe with, someone I could trust and be myself with. If Tony and I got to know each other better, I’d be able to tell him the truth. And it would be okay. That’s what I wanted.

  I pushed all the negative energy away. The worries about Mom. The worries about Errol. I cleared my head and lived in the moment as Tony and I floated, suspended by water and by one incredible, amazing stare.

  Then he took a big breath and rolled off his mattress. His checkered shorts faded into the murky depths. I looked from side to side, waiting for streaks of skin to dart past. Was he going to grab my feet and make me scream? He shot up a moment later and shook his hair from his eyes. The spray fell across my shoulders. “Can you swim?” he asked, playfully tugging on my mattress.

  “Yes, but don’t you dare.”

  With a devilish smile, he disappeared again. And then I was in the lake, my mattress overturned. We treaded water, slowly moving around one another. I wanted to slide close to him and wrap my arms around his shoulders. But then he was right in front of me, his arms around my waist, and he kissed me. I closed my eyes as his lips pressed a bit harder. The kiss tasted like lake water and sunblock, which under normal circumstances is a really terrible taste but under those circumstances, well, it was great.

  It’s really hard to kiss while treading water so it was a short kiss, no longer than the time it takes to fill a bowl with cereal or to forge a name in a book. But it was a moment I would relive a million times. A moment I could drag out forever and never get tired of.

  I climbed back onto the air mattress, my skin pink and goose bumpy. He climbed onto his. Lying on our stomachs, we paddled from the shady lily jungle back into the sunshine to warm up. He held the edge of my mattress, keeping us so close that I could see water droplets on his nose and eyelashes. My entire body buzzed, liquid happiness running through my veins. I felt good. Real good.

  “Do you miss Los Angeles?”

  “Kind of. It’s hard leaving all your friends, you know?”

  I knew. “Does your mom work at the antiquities store?”

  “Mom died when I was two. It’s just been me and Dad for as long as I can remember. How about you?”

  “It’s just been me and Mom for as long as I can remember.”

  “What happened to your dad?”

  I didn’t tell him that my mother couldn’t remember the man’s name. That he’d been some hookup one night while she’d been spinning out of control. “I never knew him.”

  He nodded understandingly. “It’s weird not knowing a parent. I’ve got a photo of my mom, but I don’t remember her. She was a neurologist. Dad says that’s why I get good grades in science, because I inherited her brain. And why I suck at drawing.” He smiled. “What about you? Are you like your mom?”

  I smiled weakly. “I’m not sure.”

  Then my mood suddenly soured as a red air mattress approached. The theme song from Jaws played in my head. Realm had rolled up her leggings and had stripped down to a T-shirt. Streaks of sunblock ran across her skinny white arms.

  “Hey,” she said, bumping into Tony’s mattress. “You’re the guy on the skateboard.”

  “I’m Tony.”

  “I’m Realm.” She adjusted her salad plate–sized sunglasses. “My grandma’s driving me insane. She keeps trying to get me to eat her crappy lunch.”

  “You live in the same building as Alice, right? You two go to school together?”

  “Alice doesn’t go to school,” Realm said before I could stop her. “She does Internet school.”

  Tony brushed a fly off his arm. “I thought you said you went to Roosevelt?”

  Once again, I wanted to strangle Realm. But it wasn’t her fault that I’d lied to Tony—a stupid, unnecessary lie. He looked at me, waiting for an explanation. “Oh, you thought that I’d gone to Roosevelt? Sorry about that. Simple mistake. I’d like to go there.”

  “Internet school sounds boring,” Tony said. Then he pointed at the water. “Hey, I just saw a fish. Maybe we can catch it for your cat.”

  “Alice doesn’t have a cat,” Realm said, in her Boy Scout–like determination to expose me for what I truly was.

  “Didn’t you say you have a cat?” He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you buy fish for it, from the market?”

  “Well …”

  Nearby, a kid started crying as his beach ball floated beyond the swimming ropes. “Be right back,” Tony said. He rolled off his mattress and swam toward the ball.

  “I saw you kissing him. Errol’s going to get jealous,” Realm said.

  “Errol is not my boyfriend. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “Well, excuse me. I’m not the one who wrote his name all over my bathroom walls.”

  With a groan, I started paddling away. Realm followed. “Stop following me,” I snarled, paddling faster. But even with those bony arms she managed to catch up and grab the edge of my mattress.

  “I think we should write some more letters,” she said. “Why waste time with just one publisher? I’ll have a much better chance if your mom sends a letter of recommendation to all the publishing houses.”

  “All the houses?” I sat up and yanked my mattress from Realm’s hand. “I’m not writing any more letters.”

  “Oh yes you are.”

  “Oh no I’m not. That wasn’t the deal. The deal was one letter. One fake letter from my mother so you’d leave us alone.”

  “Don’t forget my blog.”

  Cornered again. I hate being cornered! “My mom wants to keep her life private. Don’t you get that? She has a right to keep it private. It’s her life. What did she ever do to you? She’s always been nice to you.”

  Realm fell silent and looked away. Over on the beach, Tony waded into the shallows and handed the ball to the kid. For a moment, Realm’s expression softened. “How long is she going to be in there, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. She’s sick. She’s very, very sick.” I waited, angry tears threatening an escape. Maybe, just maybe, Realm would remember all those times my mother had included her in our adventures to the zoo, or to the aquarium or the Seattle Center. Maybe she’d stop this cruel game.

  But when Realm looked up, determination filled her eyes. “I’m sorry your mom’s sick, but this is my chance to prove my father wrong. It’s just a few letters. What’s the big deal?”

  I could write a hundred letters and Realm would still know the truth. That was the big deal. She’d know what Mrs. Bobot and Archibald and the reverend and I had painstakingly kept hidden. But she was just the beginning, because eventually others would find out. A patient at Harmony Hospital would tell a friend, who’d tell another friend. A staff member would sell a photo to a tabloid. It was only a matter of time.

  My chest tightened. The sun beat upon my face. The willow trees that hugged the lake turned blurry. Every sound, from bullfrog to my labored breathing, got real loud. I took a deep breath, slid off the mattress, and sank into the lake. It was quiet under there. Ribbons of sunlight filtered through the murky water like party decorations. At first my legs felt heavy, as if tangled in underwater vines
—like one of those dreams where you can’t escape your pursuer. If I opened my mouth and took a breath, everything would stop.

  It would be so easy. Just to stop.

  It would also be beyond stupid.

  I couldn’t fix all my mother’s problems. I’d tried, but I couldn’t. And we couldn’t keep this secret any longer. Archibald was right, you should never be ashamed of who you are. My mother hadn’t chosen her illness, and we’d never be entirely free of it, but we could choose to be free of the lies.

  I reached out and took a long stroke, then another. The rhythmic movement worked its magic. I swam until I could no longer hold my breath. A purple bikini came into view, then a pair of white swim trunks. Setting my feet in the mud, I stuck my head out of the water.

  “Marco Polo! Marco Polo!” a red-haired boy in goggles cried.

  I’d reached the kiddie beach. Tony was swimming toward me, having returned the ball to its owner. “Tony, I need to get back to the apartment. Will you drive me?”

  “Sure,” he said. “What’s up?” He followed me out of the water.

  As he stood in the sand, his checkered shorts clinging to his legs, water dripping from his black hair, he was adorable, and possibly my future boyfriend if we could ever spend more than a few minutes together. But I’d started something and I was going to finish it. Truth was, I’d loved writing Errol’s story. During those hours, I’d felt more peaceful than I’d ever felt. And I could be good at it. I knew that in my heart. I was meant to do it. I’d just needed some guidance to get started. Now I’d found the confidence to keep going.

  So if Heartstrings Publishers didn’t want to publish The True Love Story of Cupid and Psyche with its unhappy ending, well, someone else would!

  “You know those books I checked out at the library? I told you I was doing some research and the truth is, I’m writing a novel. Errol and I are writing a novel together and it’s really important that I get home. We only have a few days to finish it.”

  “Okay,” he said with a slight shrug. “I’ll take you home.”

  “Thanks. I need to get my stuff.”

  As Realm dragged our three air mattresses from the lake, Tony and I started toward the picnic table where Mrs. Bobot had laid a homemade tablecloth and platters of food. And that’s when I noticed Errol up the hill, at the edge of the parking lot, his face hidden behind the shadows of his hood.

  “ALICE!” he yelled.

  “Who’s that yelling?” Tony asked. “I can’t see that far without my glasses.”

  “It’s Errol,” I said. “I’ll go see what he wants.” I hurried up the hill, barefoot, stepping around a pile of golden retriever poop. “Hey,” I said when I reached him. His eyes were bloodshot. “How’d you get here?”

  “The bus.” Errol’s gaze traveled down my body, then flew to the top of my head. “You’ve changed,” he said, his voice raspy, his expression serious. “Your aura has changed.”

  “What are you talking about?” Why was he staring at the top of my head? I brushed my hand over it, in case a dragonfly or piece of lily pad was stuck to it. “I was swimming,” I said, suddenly wishing I’d put on my shorts or had wrapped a towel around my waist.

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.” He kept staring at my head, so I brushed it again. Nothing was there. Then he looked down the hill at Tony, who was next to the picnic table, gathering his things. “He’s the reason you’ve changed.”

  Why did he sound so sad?

  “Errol, you’re right. I have changed. I don’t care about happy endings. I want to write the real ending. Let’s go back to the apartment and we can work on the next chapter.”

  He kept staring at Tony.

  “Errol? Didn’t you hear me? I don’t care about the ending. It doesn’t need to be happy. We can write it the way you want.”

  He swung around. “What do you mean you don’t care? She died. They killed her.” His hands clenched into fists. “You should care. You must care.”

  “I do care.” I stepped back.

  He grabbed my arm, his eyes wild. “Why don’t you believe me? If you believed me, then you’d care about the ending. I’m Cupid. Why don’t you believe that? I’m Cupid and you’re—”

  “I’m Alice,” I said, yanking my arm free.

  “Hey, Alice,” Tony called from the picnic table. He’d pulled on a T-shirt and his bag was slung over his shoulder. He pointed to my beach bag. “This one?”

  “Yes,” I yelled. Then I turned back to Errol. “Let’s go home and we’ll start chapter three. I’m ready.”

  “You’re not ready,” Errol said in an angry whisper. “You don’t believe me. I want you to believe me so you’ll believe in the story. So you’ll care about what happened to the only girl I’ve ever loved.” Then his hands began to move, as if sculpting something out of air. His face contorted like a madman conjuring a mad spell. Even though I knew he was sick, knew his brain was messed up by pain and chemicals, I was fascinated—like a driver slowing to look at a car wreck. Errol extended his left arm straight out, held it rigid. Then he pulled his right hand to his right shoulder. He closed one eye, as if taking aim.

  Foreboding washed over me, just as it had outside the library the moment before I’d landed flat on my back. And though I didn’t believe for one moment that Errol owned an invisible bow and arrow, I did believe that something was going to happen.

  “Stop it, Errol. I hate this game. Just stop it.”

  “This will make you believe.” The fingers on his right hand sprung open. I gasped as the memory surged through me—the impact to my chest, the tingling in my arms and legs, the brightness of the sky as I lay on the sidewalk. But the memory shattered, like a sheet of ice, and I was still standing on the hill at the edge of the parking lot. Nothing had happened. No impact. No tingling. Nothing.

  Of course nothing had happened. This was a day at the lake, in the middle of the worst heat wave to ever hit the Seattle area. Of course nothing had happened. He wasn’t Cupid. This wasn’t a Disney movie.

  “Do you believe me now?” A smile spread slowly across Errol’s pale face—a satisfied smile, a conqueror’s smile, a “you don’t have a clue” smile. But he wasn’t smiling at me.

  I slowly turned around.

  Tony Lee lay sprawled next to the picnic table like a rag doll.

  No way, no way, no way. There is no such thing as an invisible arrow. And no one, even if that no one has delusions of grandeur and believes that he’s Cupid, can conjure an invisible arrow from plain old parking lot air, or from any air for that matter, then load it into an invisible bow and shoot it. No one.

  Tony squinted against the sunlight. “What happened?”

  I crouched next to him, my shadow falling across his dazed expression. Realm, Mrs. Bobot, and the reverend had also rushed to his side.

  “Did he trip?” Mrs. Bobot asked.

  “I think he fainted,” the reverend said. “He needs water. Realm, get some water.”

  “Why do I have to get the water?”

  The sun beat upon my shoulders and back as I tried to conjure my own magic—an explanation. Maybe he’d tripped. Maybe he’d fainted.

  Or maybe he’d been hit by an invisible arrow.

  No way, no way, no way. I grabbed his shoulder. “Do you think something hit you? Did you feel something hit you?”

  “Yeah. In the chest. Something hit me in the chest.” He sat up, then scratched his chest. My heartbeat rose into my throat. “What are you doing?” he asked as I grabbed the front of his T-shirt, my fingers flying across the fabric. There it was, a tiny hole.

  “Alice, what are you doing?” Mrs. Bobot cried as I pulled Tony’s shirt up to his face, exposing his smooth chest. He didn’t say anything as I leaned real close, almost touching his nipple with my nose.

  “Here’s the water,” Realm said. “Jeez, what is Alice doing?”

  Oh God, there it was. A welt. A WELT! Right over the place where his heart beat.

  I let go of t
he shirt and scrambled to my feet. Then I spun around and glared at Errol, who still stood at the top of the hill. “Errol!” I yelled, running toward him. “What did you do? Errol! I want the truth!”

  But halfway up the hill, Tony ran up behind me and grabbed my arm. His irises swept back and forth, taking in every inch of my face. His hair stood up like it was full of static. “Alice,” he said, releasing the word as if he had held it inside for an eternity. “Alice,” he repeated, taking my hand.

  Instead of holding my hand in a normal way, he caressed it, running his fingers along my fingers, squeezing and massaging as if my hand were a lump of clay and he had an art project due. I pulled away. “What are you doing?”

  For a moment he furrowed his brow, puzzled by his own behavior. “I don’t know.” Then a glassy sheen fell over his eyes and he grabbed my hand again. “I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t know why but it’s like I can’t see anything but you.” He put my hand to his mouth and kissed it—not a “how do you do” kiss or a “thank you for inviting me to your picnic” kiss. He held his lips against the back of my hand, and held them there, and held them there. Then he closed his eyes and sighed. And still, he held his lips to my hand. A blush came full on, burning from the tips of my ears to my toes.

  “Uh, maybe you should go sit down,” I said, slipping from his sweaty grip.

  “Alice,” he said, reaching his hand under his T-shirt to scratch the welt. “I know this sounds crazy but I think I’m in love with you.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, I’m definitely in love with you. I can’t live without you. Do you love me? Tell me you love me,” he pleaded. Not an ounce of joy rang in his words. Instead, they were frantic and pained. When one declares love for another, shouldn’t there be an ounce of joy? A teaspoon of joy? A sliver of joy? “I want you to love me. Tell me you love me.”

  Desperation clung to Tony’s declarations of love. I remembered feeling that way, when I’d needed to see Errol. When I’d felt as if I’d shrivel up and die if I didn’t get close to him.

  I shook my head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”