The United States of Us

by Kate Sundara

  ‘I prefer to see him on a one-to-one basis.’ At last, a question answered.

  ‘Secret Men’s Business,’ smiles Mia.

  Zak turns defensive at that. ‘I’m twenty-eight years old. I enrolled as a mature student. You think I wanna hang out with a bunch of kids? Wil’s the only adult among them.’

  That isn’t true; the girls are mature – Megan and Eric even act like an old married couple. But what’s the point in disagreeing with Zak now? It’ll only lead to drama.

  In the melting light they lie unspeaking, visions appearing to her in a daydream; first a rolling blue sky then a Gothic mansion with cobwebs and creeping vines. That’s how Zak feels to her: like both the perfect sunny sky, warm on the skin, and the cold haunted house looming in front of it…

  ‘You’ll get lost in that sky,’ says Zak as she gazes up out of the darkening window. She hears an undertone of contempt in his voice because she didn’t give him what he wanted, but what did he expect? She needs to trust before she can be intimate with him and so far he hasn’t earned it. She half wishes that she’d learnt to read the sky, that she’d taken Anna up on her offer on the island, so in need of guidance as she is now. Why does everything feel so off-key and not as she thought it’d be?

  ‘Do you remember Anna?’ she asks him sleepily.

  Zak’s unresponsive.

  ‘Anna from the island,’ she prompts.

  ‘The one who speaks Renaissance English?’

  Mia smiles and almost jokes about how Anna had a huge crush on him, but thinks better of it; he really doesn’t need that sort of boost to his ego. Zak just stares up at the ceiling, the room growing dark, and Mia thinks that, compared to now, Utopia really did seem like a golden age.

  ‘My roots are on the island,’ volunteers Mia. ‘My great-grandmother was left there as a baby.’

  Zak stays silent, then, when he finally responds, it’s with a lead-balloon ‘Yeah…?’

  ‘…Yeah…’ Mia looks back to the sky in the hope it’ll hold some answers, but no, she never did let Anna teach her how to read it and all she sees is her lone wolf in the shape of the clouds.

  Zak pulls her closer, tightly, possessively, like a child snuggling a treasured bear he never wants to let go. ‘Stay here tonight,’ he says. He locks his limbs around hers till they’re totally entwined; half the time he’s like this, the other half he sleeps with his back to her, depending on whether he’s a butterfly or moth. He slides her T-shirt up her body, her heart beating hard and fast beneath his hand. He laces their fingers together and with his free hand, unzips his jeans, leading her hand through denim till she’s holding his warm-bulky-hard-on. He grips her fingers around it, she gives a little squeeze – it stiffens in her hand – then, firmly, he starts moving her hand up and down, up and down. She copies his rhythm, obligingly, then he moves to the area between her legs that contradicts her brain.

  ‘No,’ she says, putting her hand on his.

  ‘No? No?!’

  ‘Can you blame me? The other morning – coming back here and finding those girls in your bed.’

  Zak laughs. She can’t tell whether it’s crazy or cruel.

  ‘Well you’re sharing a place with April.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So maybe I’m the one who should be worried.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘April. She’s a very sexual person,’ claims Zak. ‘She sleeps around.’

  Mia’s confusion shows on her face. ‘Well…’ she says, ‘I don’t know about that… but I don’t.’

  ‘Virgin,’ says Zak. A statement. ‘I can tell.’

  Mia lays there confounded, gob-smacked, humiliated, and reeling on his words, as am I.

  Finally finding her voice again, it sounds smaller when she asks him, ‘What about you?’

  Zak shrugs. ‘If I like a person, if I feel drawn to them…’ At least she’s getting answers now. ‘Then I’ll go with him or her.’ They’re not the answers she wants.

  ‘Wait. Him or her? You’re saying you’re into guys as well?’

  ‘I’ve done stuff with guys. I’d do it again,’ he says nonchalantly.

  ‘That guy you were talking with after the concert…’ she starts with a surge of clarity.

  Zak smirks. ‘Ask no questions, I’ll tell no lies.’

  The tie-dye curtains bulge against Mia’s side, brushing her with their mottled purple, black and blue, dark pigments that block out what’s left of the light; she’s kissed by the colours of a bruise.

  Zak gets up, goes to the dresser-drawer, starts stuffing the marble-pipe with marijuana.

  She stays there, stung, stunned. A few hours ago, after Wil left, Zak had been in such a sweet mood. He’d got up from the computer to show Mia a nude photo, an artsy shot of a pregnant woman in a magazine, he said it was ‘hot.’ Mia found that moving, how he appreciates the wonder of creation in that way. Like in those other moments when he reminded her of a child experiencing things for the first time. Or when he seemed to see life in psychedelic spectrums, as he had on the island when he let her peek into his vivid technicolour world. But Zak’s outlook on everything appears to alter as if he keeps changing lens. They took a nap on the futon and when he woke it was a precious moment: he looked reborn, radiating warmth and innocence – sleep had soothed his troubles, smoothed his brow. This was Zak off the weed, lovely, bright and sober. Mia was looking into the eyes of a loving, knowing spirit, she loved him all anew, he was a joy to behold. Then she saw a light go off inside of him and he switched personality. Her bitter-sweet boy.

  ‘What is it, Zak? What happens to you when you sleep? One nap and you turn one-eighty!’ She’s read stories of such cases – souls stolen while sleeping, replaced by a Changeling. She hardly recognises the man smoking pot at the foot of the bed.

  Back in Wonderland, Zak turns all Callous Caterpillar again.

  Who are you? she thinks, who is this man who makes her feel so significant one moment and so small the next? He gives her that languid look, ‘Who are yoooou?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly,’ Alice replied very politely, ‘for I can’t understand it myself. And being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.’

  ‘If you don’t like it you can leave,’ snaps Zak.

  ‘I’m leaving.’

  ‘Going to the Dale house? I hear that little upstart Brent’s got a crush on you.’

  ‘What! Brent? C’mon…’

  ‘Hey, I’m not threatened. Most guys are inferior to me up here,’ Zak’s looking self-assured and pointing to his head. ‘That jumped-up meerkat? Feel free to go with him, I’ll go with other people.’

  It’s a dry night outside but in Zak’s room it starts to rain. His magic is dangerous: depending on his mood, he could summon a rainbow, conjure a field of four-leaved clovers and cause an earthquake all in one day. Mia tries to separate herself from his insecure snipes, to remind herself that this is the test of a heart so sensitive that it needs reassurance before it can rest safe.

  Regardless, she’s not watching Zak smoke himself into a cloud, not staying hidden away like some dirty little secret either. ‘I’m going to April’s.’ Mia collects up her things from Zak’s raining room and slips out into the dryness of night. She stumbles away from the beauty and the beast, from that double heart, that double tongue, that house on White Willow Lane that flickers between light and dark.

  As she walks across the front-lawn a quiver of old wives’ tale nostalgia runs through her psyche as a black cat crosses her path in the same place the black dog appeared the other night. The cat stops and watches her with its gleaming gold eyes. Mia wonders if these strange dark creatures that keep appearing outside Zak’s home aren’t an omen of some kind.

  Midnight: the shadowless hour, yet hers stretches to giant proportions, bouncing headlights beaming her up from behind steadying as the car slows down. Mia watches her silhouette grow till she’s afraid of her own shadow, a shadow who walks all by itself with the
town’s madman still unfound.

  The car stops beside her, she turns in alarm, a face appearing in the moon shining on the window. It’s a face she recognises – bright eyes, behind glasses, like honey or amber, and that smile she thinks is cute–

  ‘Wil…? Is that you?’

  He laughs. They only saw each other a few hours ago but–

  ‘You look completely different…’ She struggles to keep her voice even.

  ‘Oh, the beard? It’s all gone. You know that was a dare for graduation, right? To see how bushy I could grow it? This afternoon the guys shaved a strip right down the middle. It looked ridiculous.’ Wil laughs. ‘Well… I guess you had to be there…’

  Mia vaguely registers that she was meant to laugh with Wil, but her mind’s a whirlpool.

  ‘Where ya headed?’ he asks.

  ‘England?’

  He suddenly looks concerned. ‘Hop in.’

  Mia gets in the car.

  ‘Talk to me.’ Wil checks the rear-view mirror as they pull away.

  ‘I’m done with him, I’ve had enough. It’s supernatural the way he switches. He was nice as pie when you popped by earlier then suddenly… it’s like living with two totally different people. He loves me one minute, hates me the next.’

  Wil doesn’t say anything. It’s not surprising; he and Zak are close, Wil’s bound to feel awkward.

  ‘C’mon, you’re not really through with him.’

  ‘Aren’t I?’ she fires. ‘I wonder if I can change my ticket, bring forward my leaving date…’

  ‘No…’ Wil checks her. ‘That bad…? You’re okay, right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she breathes a nervous laugh. ‘Though my fingers disagree.’ Mia holds up her shaking hands in front of her, gives him a wry little smile.

  Seeing that, something switches in Wil. He takes a deep breath, checks his mirror again and pulls over to the side of the road.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Wil clasps the steering-wheel with both hands, drops his head and lets out a long exhalation. ‘Mia,’ he says, ‘there’s something you ought to know…’

  She looks at him expectantly. ‘What is it?’

  He can’t seem to speak. When finally he does, ‘I’ve never done anything risky as this. It could land me in a heap of trouble.’

  ‘What could?’

  Silence.

  ‘Wil?’

  ‘It’s Zak… I’m having… a sort of a conflict of interests…’

  ‘A conflict? I know you guys are like brothers, Ruth told me…’

  ‘We are. We were. There’s more to it. I haven’t known you that long.’

  ‘How is that relevant?’

  ‘I hope I can trust you. I feel that I can… I’m usually a good judge of character.’

  ‘That must help in being a counsellor.’

  ‘That’s the point: I’m a counsellor. Someone people confide in, someone who keeps secrets.’

  ‘Zak has a secret?’

  They stare endlessly at each other, trying to read each other – trying to know.

  I wish he’d just say.

  ‘It wasn’t confided in me as a friend,’ says Wil. ‘If it was then things might be different. Zak and I didn’t meet at the shelter. That was a secondary thing. I thought getting him involved in community projects would be good for his health.’

  ‘His health? Is Zak unwell?’

  Wil takes a deep breath. He looks stressed-out. She’s only ever seen him light-hearted.

  ‘C’mon, you can trust me, Wil with one L… Dutch. Dutchie,’ she cajoles him, trying to make them feel closer than they actually are.

  He smiles slightly. ‘Dutch? I kinda like it…’

  She smiles for a millisecond. ‘So… ?’

  ‘I can’t talk specifics, Mia. Please understand, I just can’t.’

  ‘Okay…’

  ‘I first got to know Zak after something happened to him.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘Just… something that can alter his behaviour.’ He stops. ‘The thing to remember is that he really cares about you, Mia. He told me about you before you arrived. He wouldn’t hurt you deliberately. He’s way more fragile than he lets on.’

  ‘Was it a woman?’ She can’t bring herself to ask if it was a man. Is Zak openly bi? She doubts it.

  ‘No. It’s not a relationship thing.’

  ‘Then what? A loss, an emotional scaring, a bump to the head? I’m hardly in the mood for guessing games, I can’t think straight as it is.’

  ‘Don’t take anything too personally, Mia. Don’t take too much to heart. I know it’s not easy.’

  ‘His stepsister April never mentioned it. She has another theory for his behaviour.’

  ‘She doesn’t know. No one knows. No one we know.’ It sounds so cryptic.

  ‘Would it make him say strange things, things he doesn’t mean?’ she asks hopefully.

  ‘Yes. You really care about him, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do, that’s why I’m here.’

  ‘But if you’ve not much experience dealing with this sort of thing –’

  ‘Oh, I’ve plenty. I know how traumas can change people, first-hand experience.’

  Wil looks at her questioningly but she’s not about to pour it out, to confide in him about That Day. About me. That secret is water-tight.

  ‘I’m fit for the job.’ Crazy, she thinks, she and Zak have more in common than she realised. It feels like they’re meant to be more now than ever – it’s serendipity. Is this her reason for being here – is this the attraction that drew them together? They both have wounds to heal, if only they could open up to each other to begin the process.

  The headlights of an oncoming pick-up throw light upon Wil and Mia in the dark. She tries to take it all in, playing over Zak memories good and bad: the air-balloon he magicked them on the island, the origami jungle he created for her in his living room, their drive to the mountaintop where they stood with the sky in their hands. Then that violent outburst in his room before the concert, his nastiness when she walked into the aftermath, his cutting comments-

  ‘I guess what you’ve got to ask yourself is are you strong enough, are you prepared?’ says Wil. ‘You seem strong, but living with Zak is going to test your strength. If you need time out then take it, but walking alone at night, with that psycho on the loose…?’

  I couldn’t agree more.

  Mia stares ahead at the road. ‘Seems like this whole town’s full of enigmas. Maybe it’s best I get out.’

  ‘Please don’t go. Not yet,’ requests Wil.

  ‘It’s like the ground keeps moving under my feet.’

  ‘Then take heart, Mia, things can change for the better. Stick it out and see. Things change…’

  She draws a breath.

  ‘Shift happens,’ he adds.

  ‘Shift happens?’ Mia is amused by that. She considers her options. This new information partially restores her faith, her affinity with Zak growing in its profundity and purpose: he could help her get over me, she could help him get over whatever is hurting him, if only she knew.

  ‘I’ll stay to see if he opens up. Pray he tells me whatever it is you won’t.’

  Wil gives a flat-lipped smile, looking relieved, and they go on their way.

  When Wil drops her off at April’s caravan in Hollow Wood Road, he turns to Mia.

  ‘We never had this conversation,’ he says.

  ‘Yes, Dutch.’

  ‘I mean it.’

  ‘My lips are sealed. You really can’t tell me any more than that?’

  ‘I’ve told you too much already. I’m sure he’ll tell you in his own time.’

  ‘Thanks for the heads-up. Guess I’d better set my sensitivity aside then.’

  ‘You have my trust,’ says Wil.

  ‘Yes. And you have mine.’

  They sit in silence for a moment, then she unfastens her seatbelt.

  ‘Mia?’ Wil checks her. ‘Please never as
k me about this ever again.’

  * * *

  Zak’s kitchen cupboards are Old Mother Hubbard bare. It’s been a few days since her last house visit and this morning she’s ready to return. She’s had time to pore over Wil’s hints about Zak and his undisclosed trauma, but that half-painted picture has left her intrigued and unsatisfied. She needs to complete the puzzle by getting to the bottom of this mystery, and to be gentle about it. She won’t quit until she works out what’s really going on. Maybe, in uncovering the truth, things will be resolvable and she’ll have the rela- tionship she came for. Before, she was all set to leave, but now she has a new motive to stay.

  So Zak has experienced something that affects his behaviour? Mia’s starting to understand him a little better now. She figures if this love is real then she has to get over her bruised ego, has to be stable and mature about things. She’ll start by restocking his empty cupboards. Specific details aside, Mia knows a better diet is conducive to a better state of mind. Everyone used to tell her so when she wouldn’t eat after losing me.

  She can’t stop trying to decode that conversation she had with Wil. Guessing, speculating. What could he have possibly been referring to? Now everywhere, it seems, are clues.

  She’s getting changed into some clothes she’d left in Zak’s bedroom when an essay falls from his closet and lands at her feet. With a lot of red Biro around the typed text, she picks it up and reads.

  Zak, you argue your point very well, but drastically change direction halfway through. Your essay lacks consistency. As it is, it makes very little sense.

  Mia slips the essay back on the shelf, closes the closet door.

  Through in the living-room Zak sits with his head in his hands. She wanders over to him, strokes his back. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry,’ he says, sounding like the sorriest person in all the world. ‘How have you put up with me? I’ve been horrible to you and you don’t deserve it. I can’t help myself.’

  ‘Zak, what is it? Talk to me. You can tell me anything, I’ll understand.’

  ‘I can’t trust anyone.’

  ‘You can trust me.’

  ‘No. You shouldn’t be here. I’ll only bring confusion to your life.’

  ‘It’s alright… I’m here for you.’