Book Three_A Codependent Love Story

by Paloma Meir

  The work came easily that morning. I saw the strings in my head vibrating past each other with time being the most understandable. The singularity of the universe stretching out from a pea-sized particle onto the ever-expanding macrocosm became clear, simple even. Everything that ever was would always be, widening taking on more mass. It was a cathartic moment.

  I took off my headphones and sat on my bed enjoying the feeling of victory. I knew I had much more to learn. I was not the great Stephen Hawking, but my brain had changed with the visualization. I was capable of processing these big ideas. It was a jubilant moment in my life. I would pay for that pride.

  “Oh Amy, my book, they’re going to publish my book. I’ve worked so hard and all of my dreams are going to come true. Was that the door? Is the Professor at the door? Will we marry?” Carolina said.

  I listened as they played their make believe game of Little Women. This was normal for them. I thought maybe their bad times were over and things would go back to the way they were before. Wrong.

  “Who cares about that Jo? I shall have everything you ever wanted, the trip to Paris, marriage to Mr. Laurie...” Zelda laughed in a cruel way. The game had taken a bad turn. This was not the way she usually played it. I should have put my headphones back on, but I didn’t.

  “Amy, it would have been better if you had drowned in that lake.”

  “But I didn’t, my sister. It was your beau who saved me...” She paused for a second seeming to rethink her words, “Oh, forget about that. The gloves I’m knitting father are so hard. My fingers are so tired. I do wish Mammy would come and help. Where has Mammy gone?”

  It was hard not to laugh. Zelda had done this before, switching books mid-game.

  “Zelda, we don’t have a Mammy because we live in the North. We are at war with people who have Mammy’s.”

  “Okay, fair enough. Oh Jo, if only we had a Mammy to help us with all of these chores.” I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

  “Stop it, Zelda. I don’t want to play Gone With the Wind. You never let me be Scarlet. Melanie is so boring always lying in bed sick. What did she even have?”

  “I don’t know, maybe consumption? What is consumption? In all the books I read, people are always dying of it. We could ask Serge if he wants to be Ashley.”

  “That is so gross. He’s my brother.” I hadn’t read the book. I was going to as I usually did when they became obsessed with a story, but their interest turned to Wuthering Heights before I had a chance. I didn’t know what they were talking about, but I figured out instantly that Melanie and Ashley were involved in some kind of romance. That was a pretty gross thought of Zelda’s.

  “Okay, he can be Rhett.”

  “So I can be sick in bed while he buys you lots of presents?” She was getting mad, “You just want Serge to carry you up the stairs.” I figured she had turned the gift bearing Rhett into a manservant. She was always looking for domestic help in their games.

  Zelda was silent.

  “This is stupid. He never plays these games with us anyway.” Carolina was right about that. “Gone With the Wind is a racist book. I don’t know why you like it so much. It’s an insult to black people. Do you really think that when they were freed that they really wanted to go back to work for the slave masters? That they would speak in such a fawning way? Oh, Miss Scarlet.” Carolina said the last part in a groveling way with a thick southern accent.

  “Oh my god, Carolina! How could you say such a thing? We can’t judge books by the standards of our times. If we did that, Emily would never have written Wuthering Heights.” Zelda sounded a little hysterical but still mostly funny to me at this point. “Heathcliff was a gypsy. You can’t even say that word anymore. Catherine would never have even come through his window. They would have never run through the moors. Is that what you want?”

  “You’re right, Zelda. I’m so sorry.” Of course, Carolina started crying, full blown sobs. “Let me come in though your window, my master.”

  Then Zelda started in, not with tears but in a twisted hypnotic voice.

  “The dark fire of your eyes, Heathcliff. You are my soul Heathcliff.” Over and over she said. I started to get an uneasy feeling as my mind recalled all the research I had done on their respective illnesses.

  “Dig my grave, Heathcliff, so our bodies can be together for all eternity. I beg of you, Heathcliff, dig my grave.” Screamed out Carolina. “Dig my grave, dig my grave...”

  I panicked. I had read the book. Their dark fired master Heathcliff was one step from being a serial killer as far as I was concerned. Did they not read the part where he’s killing dogs and beating children? I worried for the future of Carolina and Zelda. I saw them going straight from the threshold of my door to a mental institution.

  They continued with their dark chants as I went to my bookshelf and pulled out a half dozen Isaac Asimov books. I opened my door to see them laying in a clump hugging each other. I grabbed their copies of Wuthering Heights out of their hands and practically threw my science fiction books at them. They barely glanced up at me.

  “You’re not going to read this book again,” I shook it in their faces, stepped over the pile of them, and wondered why they did all of this on my doorstep. I stomped to my mother’s room and opened the door without even knocking this time.

  “Mom, they’re crying.” I knew I would have to tell her the truth, everything I knew. I would miss the girls and the times we had together, but they needed help. I hoped they wouldn’t be away too long. “Zelda has an autoimmune disorder, most likely lupus. Carolina has clinical depression, and Zelda is in a fugue state right now. She probably needs a shot of Thorazine... but Carolina needs a full course of electroconvulsive therapy. She’ll lose some of her short term memory, but she won’t want to remember this time anyway.” I was full of panic. “Why did you give them that book? Heathcliff has ruined their lives the way he ruined everyone else’s.”

  “Oh, Serge they have their periods.” She got up from filing her nails, ran her fingers through my hair, and walked out to the girls who were still lying in their weepy state in front of my door.

  “Girls, Heathcliff isn’t a real person. He’s an archetype, A Byronic hero, almost an anti-hero...” She picked them off the floor and led their slumped bodies into Carolina’s room.

  I watched the door close with shock. I couldn’t understand how I hadn’t considered that option. They were the right age. The two of them always seemed so much younger than the other girls I knew, with all of their games and art projects. The girls at school were more in tune with social structure, most of them being boy crazy, and with changing body shapes. My sister and her best friend were not there yet, and I couldn’t imagine them ever being that way.

  With the hallway clear I ran to my room, securely closed my door, and jumped on my bed to confirm this new information on my computer. She was right although I still thought, it was possible Zelda had Lupus. I would keep an eye on her. A faraway eye, the girls were insane, whether it was natural or not. They always did everything dramatically. I started to get mad at them as I picked up my textbook and went back to work on my essay.

  “Serge, they’re okay now. I asked them not to sit in front of your room anymore,” my mother said as she opened my door, jarring me out of my work. “Don’t worry so much,” she smiled as she closed the door. I felt relief. My mother definitely had problems, problems that would get much worse, but I trusted her. Through no fault of her own, she was wrong. The next day would cause me to spend the next month on an extended sleepover.

  ...

  The day started off well enough although the weather was too warm. I was about three fourths of the way through my project and completely done with my notes. The girls were out in the hallway jumping up and down but not in front of my door. They sounded happy. Their bouncing was annoying but after their near psychotic state, I wasn’t going to complain about a minor disturbance. Then this happened.

  Zelda threw my door open bang
ing it against the wall. She had her back to me and was leaning away laughing. She closed my door, her head still down giggling and turned facing me. Her long hair covered her body to the top of the line of her underwear. Her head suddenly flipped up and her hair flew all around. My God.

  I took a good look at her having not seen her in a standing position in weeks. She was perfect. There’s not another word to describe what she was, standing in my room in her now too small tank top and panties. I was five foot six and she was a good three inches taller than me. The last time I had really looked at her, she was couple of inches shorter. Her bony body I always thought of as emaciated had filled out with curves, tiny curves on the long lines of her endless legs. Her face was her mother’s as she had always wanted it to be.

  She threw her arms up and began to dance. I couldn’t understand what was going on. Why was Zelda doing this? She sang a song I recognized from when the two of them played old albums the winter before on a record player they found in the garage, some disco song. She moved so quickly that all I heard was the word "love" over and over again.

  Her breast popped out of her tiny top. She stood for a moment adjusting herself, still singing her song and looked up to me with a shrug as if apologizing for a flaw in her dance routine but with no embarrassment. Honestly, I wanted to put my hand on it. I imagined it would fit perfectly with just a little spilling out between my fingers.

  I felt uncomfortable as if my pants were too tight. I adjusted my position and tried to get comfortable with my eyes still on what appeared to be a college girl in my small room. I could barely move let alone speak and ask her what she was doing.

  She continued her dance. Her arms flew over her head, and her hips moved in tiny circles. A very small part of me wanted her to leave my room, my house, and this street. The rest of me wanted her to never stop whatever she was doing. I was lucky it was a long song. She kept moving. My head spun as if all the blood in my body had gone elsewhere. I suppose it had.

  She kneeled low to the ground and came up slowly rubbing her legs, moving upward. Her hands ran across her chest. Her eyes were closed as she sang the words that I couldn’t even hear anymore. Standing up, she jumped high up in the air. Her song was over.

  She plopped down on my bed, catching her breath. Her chest moved up and down, a shine of perspiration over her body. I stared at her with my mouth probably open. I don’t know. I was only aware of one part of my body that felt like it was going to tear through the sturdy denim I was wearing.

  She looked at me, smiling and leaned into me. This made perfect sense. She was going to kiss me. There was no other reason for her to have done what she did. I would touch her boobs and she would put her hand down my pants. That was the only scenario I could see happening based on the evidence before me. I had kissed a few girls in my advanced classes. I was ready for this. Bring it on, Zelda.

  She did kiss me, on the cheek, as she had done many times before. She had always been affectionate with me. This time was no different. However, at that moment I needed a stronger touch than she was capable of giving me.

  As her lips left my face, I knew that this was Zelda, no matter what her body may have turned into, she was just a kid. The thought didn’t effect what was going on inside my jeans, but I knew that there would be no fun with the new body that encased her.

  “I’m sorry to have interrupted your studying, Serge. Carolina and I are playing a game of truth or dare.” She got up and walked out of my room. “I did it, Carolina. Now you have to eat two raw eggs,” she said as she closed my door.

  …

  I sat on my bed for a few minutes not knowing what to do. I willed my erection away without success. I would have to take care of it. I shared a bathroom with Carolina. It had a secure lock, but I never used it for that purpose. I went into my closet where I kept lotion and paper towels for that activity. I didn’t like thinking about Zelda while doing that, but in light of what she had just done to me, I didn’t have a choice. I promised myself I would block her out of my mind in the future. I did too.

  I knew I couldn’t be in the house anymore. What would the next day have brought? The girls were unstable. I had to get away from them. I packed up a backpack with my books, papers, computer, and a change of clothes. I made it to the curb without seeing the disruptive duo of my sister and her changeling best friend.

  I didn’t know where to go. I had a couple of friends on the street from my advanced classes, but I knew they would be playing video games or building models of alternate universes. I wasn’t up for those activities. I never really liked doing them anyway. I sat stunned on the sidewalk for a very long time. Eventually, Brendan ran by wearing a backpack full of rocks, hardcore athlete that he was.

  “Hey Serge, what’s up?” He stopped in front of me, covered in sweat. I didn’t know how to respond, but I wanted to talk to him. He had three sisters. I thought maybe he would have some answers. I was pretty upset with Carolina and Zelda, more Zelda at that moment, but I didn’t want to be disloyal to them. I chose my words carefully.

  “My sisters, well Zelda’s not my sister.” I felt sick for a moment at having thought of her that way after what I had done. “There’s something very wrong with them.” I couldn’t find the balance of words but that was okay. Brendan understood instantly.

  “I have three of them, the worst. Sarah and Claire think they’re ponies when nobody is around, “Oh Claire, should we trot out to the pasture for some fresh grass?" They actually say that to each other. My older sister Jill? She’s evil and pinches me hard when nobody is looking. That’s why I run and kick ass because I can’t kick theirs,” he laughed.

  “It looks like you’re running away from home,” he glanced at my overstuffed book bag. “Come on let’s go to Danny’s house. They tore it down. They’re living in the backhouse. The whole front is empty. We can play any sport we want to play. It’s as big as our field at school.”

  “Football.” I wanted to knock someone down and stomp on whoever lay at my feet. It seemed like a good enough sport for that.

  “Good one, Serge. We’ll have to round up some other guys. You and me, we’ll take on the neighborhood, maybe Danny too. No, he’s not violent enough. We’ll put him on the other team.” Brendan always knew what to do.

  We talked about kicking ass as we walked to Danny’s house. The conversation excited me. Carolina and Zelda’s craziness receded from my mind. I had been a sports friend to both of them for a while but not a real friend due to my workload and friendships with my legion of academic overachievers like myself. I was into this. Finally, something I wanted to fall into instead of what everyone else thought was best for me.

  I had been locked up in my house for the previous month with my project so I hadn’t seen Danny’s house get torn down, but there it was in front of me. It wasn’t the size of a football field as Brendan had said but it was close enough. Some pipes stuck out of the ground. I would keep an eye out for them, but not too much. What’s a little pain in the spirit of the game?

  Danny’s guesthouse was the size of my home up the street with a similar architecture. Brendan said they were going to tear it down when the main house was finished. It was a great little house. I wondered why they were going to do this but didn’t ask them about it.

  We found Danny upstairs in the room he was sharing with his brother Brian while the construction was going on. He sat on his bed texting.

  “Where you been? I’ve been waiting all morning.” He said to Brendan and looked over to me, “Hey, Serge.”

  “A run, rocks in the backpack. You’ve got to do it. We’ll be monsters.” He dropped his backpack to the floor with a loud thud, “When’s Brian coming back?”

  “Not until the beginning of August.” He looked over at me again. “My brother’s building houses in Mexico for his college application.” He lifted up the backpack. “That’s got to be twenty pounds. I’m into it.”

  “Good. Serge and me are moving in. We’re done with our sisters.
Let’s get a football game going. Serge, call your parents and tell them you’re not coming home.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted his parents.

  They were decisive. I liked it after listening to the girls discuss every conceivable option before making a decision. The beginning of August? Perfect. I could hang out with these two. I could be a manly man with them.

  “This is going to be epic. There’s a party at the bottom of the canyon tonight. We have to get a game going. I’ll call Spencer and Adam.” He looked up at me while texting them. I had forgotten about his obsession.

  “What’s going on with your sister’s friend? What’s her name?” Brendan nodded his head back and forth at the idiocy of Danny pretending not to know Zelda’s name. “Is she a Goth now? Stupid outfits. What is her deal?”

  He sounded angry at the nerve of her for not dressing in a way that pleased him. I wasn’t happy with Zelda either, but there was no way I was going to tell Danny about her growing pains. It seemed very private no matter how badly it had personally affected me. I was mad enough at her to give Danny more information than I should have, but that was it.