Fitch
I don’t think I could have torn my eyes away if I tried. And what scared me more was the fact that I really didn’t want to. Tear my eyes away.
Her brown hair was in a messy pile on top of her head, and some strands fell onto her face, covering her eyes. She seemed like she’d fallen asleep writing something, as she still had a pencil in her hand. She had bandages wrapped around her arms, just like Kayla did, as she lay curled up in the desk chair in the office.
I didn’t understand it; she seemed like just another girl, and yet, somehow she wasn’t. She had a depth to her that I’d never seen elsewhere, and she seemed to have the ability to block everything out – the emotions, the attachments, everything. One could say I was fascinated. But, I knew that wasn’t all it was.
Taking her in was about sixty per cent obligation and twenty per cent pity, but that other twenty per cent, I’d have to chuck it all up to selfishness. It seemed idiotic, at the time, the thought of letting her leave. But, helping her out in the alley was one hundred per cent obligation. It could have been anyone, and I’d still have gone in.
She stirred and I retreated slowly; it would have been really creepy if she woke to my eyes on her. Hell, I found it a little creepy myself. Before I could leave completely, she woke up, and instantly her eyes met mine.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you; I just wanted to get an early start on work,” I said quickly.
She sat up and pushed her hair off her face, as she came to terms with her surroundings. And then, her eyes fell back on me, “Sorry. I’ll just get—” she began, as she began to gather the papers together.
“No, that’s fine. I’m working on the cars today,” I interjected hurriedly.
“Oh,” she replied, and then asked, “Um . . . what time is it right now?”
I looked at the clock behind me, which read seventeen minutes after ten and told her. Her eyes instantly widened, and she said, “Really?”
“Yeah,” I gestured to the clock, “Did you have somewhere to be?”
She frowned slightly, “No . . . I’ve just . . . I never sleep that long.”
“Did you get to finish it all?” I asked, referring to the books. I didn’t know how she’d come to be doing paperwork for the auto shop, but I couldn’t imagine that she’d have done it if she didn’t want to. She didn’t seem like the most forthcoming person.
“No. Almost, though.”
“That’s okay. I’ll just finish it off later,” I replied.
“Are you going to look over it?”
I couldn’t help the small smile that made its way across my face, “No. I trust your math skills.”
She nodded, with a blank expression fixed on her face. She never seemed to smile, or maybe I just hadn’t seen it. It wasn’t something I could picture, though. I imagined it would make her even more beautiful, but personally, I didn’t see how that was even possible. I could barely take my eyes off her as it was.
“I am supposedly sort of a genius, but you should check it. To be sure,” she replied seriously.
Now, I was full on grinning. To someone else, it might have sounded outright conceited, especially coupled with her straight expression, but I couldn’t imagine that it was pride; she was merely stating a fact that she’d learned. It was almost like saying ‘I’m a guy’.
“What’d you do, take a test or something?”
“A mandatory school IQ test. It was the tenth grade though; lots of things have changed since then,” she murmured. The solemn air following the statement was palpable, and I was about to revert to a lighter topic, but she beat me to it.
“I’m . . . um . . . going to go find the dog,” she said, getting up.
I raised a brow unconvinced, but said nothing, as I’d probably have been itching to leave, if I were her. We didn’t know each other, and for her, it must have been awkward. I just thought that she could use a friend or a set of friends in the world that somehow helped to lessen all of the morbidity that the world held.
“Sure.”
“I collated them alphabetically, according to dates, so it’s all in order,” she said turning to me as she stood in the doorway.
“Thanks,” I said.
She shrugged, “That’s okay. I like math.”
And with that, she headed out. I smiled at the thought that I’d learned one more thing about her. If curiosity killed the cat, at least I’d die slightly more knowledgeable.
I was fixing the Mercedes’ shock absorber, and the heat was suffocating. I slid out from underneath it, just as I heard someone say, “What you cookin’ there, pal?”
Kayla.
She had a knack for coming up with the dorkiest statements every time she saw me. It was shocking, but I think that’s what made her who she was. Her completely goofy nature, combined with an unusual amount of vanity was so unique that it made her a true individual.
“It’s never going to work again,” I said, getting up.
“What’s that Obama line again?” she asked drily, as she hopped up onto a wooden shelf.
“’Yes we can’, and I think it was the Cabbage Patch kids,” I joked, throwing down the towel.
She chuckled, “Right. Anyway . . . I came down to ask if you wanted to grab a beer later,” she said shyly.
I averted my gaze, “Sorry, I can’t. Got to do something.” I knew how Kayla felt about me, and no matter how much I tried to pretend her feelings were inexistent, it still felt like I was leading her on. And I most definitely was not. She was my friend, and that was it, but she didn’t seem content with that.
“Come on, Fitch. Just one night,” she persuaded as she stepped closer.
“Just you and me?” I asked.
“Um . . . yeah, that’s what I was thinking, but . . .” she trailed off.
“Then, it’d be like a date,” I stated shifting uncomfortably as she stood a foot away. We’d had similar conversations in the past, but my constant rejection didn’t seem to do anything for her.
Don’t get me wrong. Kayla was beautiful, and on paper, she could have been almost perfect – minus a few bad habits and lifestyle choices – but in theory, she just wasn’t perfect for me. It really didn’t have anything to do with my slowly increasing feelings for Chloe; I just really wasn’t interested in her like that.
“Doesn’t have to be labeled,” she replied.
“Kayla, I . . . I’m not ready for any of that . . . stuff yet,” I said, unable to find anything better to say.
She gave me a small smile, “Well, can I hang out with you now?”
I smiled, and responded, “You can start by passing me the wrench.”
She handed it to me and began, “So, how long do you plan on letting your new friend stay here?” Kayla had this ability of quickly moving forward, or past things, and as admirable as it could be sometimes, her newer topics could honestly be so . . .
“As long as she likes,” I answered as nonchalantly as I could manage.
“From the looks if it, that won’t be long,” she muttered.
“Why? Did you say something to her?”
She scoffed, “Right,” she replied, sarcasm thick in her voice.
“Kayla, be nice to her,” I said softly.
“Why? I don’t know her, and I don’t owe her anything.”
“Because she’s got no one, and she’s probably got enough to deal with already,” I said, remembering the pain on her face when I’d found her in the alley.
To be completely honest, that hadn’t been a chance meeting at all. The first time I’d met her was the night before, when she’d run smack in to me on the corner. I’d had a long crappy day – yet another – and I was about to unload it on her, when her bewildered eyes met mine. She looked filthy, and she kind of smelled like day old noodles, but she looked so pained and at the same time, longing, that I couldn’t help but be concerned. Or maybe just enthralled. Either way, I was hooked.
The junkyard meeting was in a manner serendipitous, but not quite. I’d been trolling for parts when I’d seen the security guard dragging this helpless person along. At first, I was going to walk away, and simply mind my business, but then I saw that it was her. It seemed like fate that I was standing underneath the power supply box at the time, as I didn’t quite think I could have persuaded Mr. Wu to let her go, so I pulled down the lever, and that was it.
I think that was the main reason why I had to take her home when I found her in the alley – aside from the fact that she was unconscious – because, I felt that the universe was trying to send me a message. I didn’t really have to go to Daisey’s that first night, and those parts I was looking for, they weren’t an urgent requirement, and the walkway by the alley was an unusual route. So, basically I took the hint.
“You barely even know her,” Kayla stated, pulling me out of my reverie.
“Yeah, but I know she needs a friend – or friends,” I said, looking away.
“Yeah? But soon enough, she’s going to be gone and then we’ll all be a bunch of sorry saps.”
I sighed, and crouched down to go on in the silence of the underbelly of the car. We’d all had somewhat difficult pasts, and the reluctance to let people in was natural, for some more than others. I couldn’t try to convince her any more than she could convince me to send Chloe packing. It just wasn’t going to happen.
She started to say something, but Ricky’s entry cut in, “Hey guys,” he called. He was supposed to be taking over from me, so I straightened up and handed him the wrench.
“Hi Rick,” Kayla replied.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked with a teasing smile.
“I have to go now,” I said pulling on my sweatshirt.
“Where?” Kayla asked doubtful.
“Out,” I answered and walked off ignoring her reply. I wasn’t mad at her; I just couldn’t understand why they all couldn’t see what I saw. Trey and Ricky weren’t that worked up about it, they just didn’t get my determination.
In a way, it was compassion. It was empathy. It was understanding. But in some ways, it was much more. I saw a person in need, I had to help, no questions asked. But then, the fact that she’d completely captured my attention made it impossible for me to let go.
I walked all the way to the subway, and took the train to upper Manhattan until I arrived in front of Manhattan Psychiatric Center.
My story was a very complicated one; one that could be perceived in many different manners. It was darkened with shades of grey, and even more with the complete darkness of it all.
Three - four years ago
When I was simply an adopted fourteen-year old, times were much easier. I had two parents, and a brother, Ricky. Yeah, that Ricky.
They welcomed me with open arms, but it took Ricky a little more time than Alice and Terrence. They were his real parents, and he seemed to think that they thought he wasn’t enough for them. But that wasn’t it; they just didn’t want him to ever get lonely. I’d always been a loner anyway, so the role was a bit difficult to fit into. But Ricky was generally easy to like, and everything a person could want from a sibling. Even an adopted one.
And then, when I was seventeen, Alice began to deteriorate. At first, it was simply the bipolar disorder, and her meds helped, but then the early onset Alzheimer’s disease set in, and the conflicting medication seemed to worsen her condition. So, Terrence had her committed. It was hard on him, and he seemed to change almost as bad as Alice’s episodes made her. He was irritable and angry and couldn’t seem to be able to look either of us in the eye. That’s about the time when I started acting out. I was immature and angry, and that was the worst combination.
Remand school seemed like the only option at the time, and in a month I was settled and even angrier than ever. Ricky, on the other hand, withdrew from everyone, except for me. So, the day when Benjamin got so angry that he knocked Ricky out, ordinarily, I was the first to know.
I was mad. No, that’s putting it mildly. I was seething.
At the time, there were only two things I cared about in the world – Rick and Alice. It wasn’t that I’d never liked Terrence; he’d been really great. I just couldn’t seem to muster enough care.
So, I broke out of school – with the help of some even more delinquent beings – and headed home. Terrence hadn’t been in a great state then; he’d been drunk – even though he rarely was – and he didn’t seem to know his left from his right. He somehow put it together that I’d gotten out of school unauthorized and why, so I became his next target.
I don’t know how exactly to describe it, but one minute I was held up by my collar getting the life knocked out of me, and the next, I was lying next to Terrence, who had a large bullet hole in his chest, Rick, holding the smoking gun. Literally.
So, we ran. We didn’t check to see if he survived; we just ran as fast as we could, as far away as possible.
From California to New York.
New York seemed like the best option since Alice was there already. Every Saturday for the past two years, I went to visit her, and even though she didn’t remember any of the previous visits, it was still comforting to know that she was there. Ricky never went, though. I didn’t try to convince him to either. It must have been much harder for him, as it was like losing a mother entirely, but I’d never had one to begin with, so it was still a treasure for me.
I went up the elevators, waving at the other slightly more lucid patients as I went along, as well as the nurses. Alice had a large room with a killer view of the ocean, but she always sat backing it. The blank white wall that she stared at made it kind of ironic.
As I stepped in, she looked up, her eyes glazed. I had to count to five in my head, before I could assess the kind of day it was going to be; one where I held her down while she got a shot to calm her episodes, or one where we sat side by side and made small talk.
She smiled, and I let out a sigh.
“Terry,” she said softly.
That was another thing, she thought I was her husband, and I didn’t correct her. I always wondered why, though; I mean, there was no resemblance between Terry and I, but maybe she just saw who she wanted to.
“Hey Alice,” I replied, returning her smile.
“You didn’t bring the boys?” she asked, her face falling.
“I’m sorry. They had school,” I lied outright. We had the exact same conversation every week. Ricky thought I was crazy for ever visiting – and he didn’t even know I went back every week, but she was the closest thing I’d had to happiness in my life, and I just couldn’t let go.
Her beam returned. “No problem. You will bring them next week, won’t you?”
And as always, I promised, “Yes, definitely.”
“Now sit with me, and tell me about your week,” she said, taking my hand and pulling me next to her.
It was like clockwork. She laughed at the same points, let out a scoff at the exact same points, gave me the very same replies at the same points, and slept off mid-sentence; same time, same point. And then, from the influence, I drew the view behind her head, or her against the view, and left it on her dresser. The pile was mounting, and she’d never once glanced at one, because by the time she woke up, the day hadn’t happened.
It was sad.
Tragic, one could even say, but at least it was the one unchanging thing in my life. And I could barely contain the relief that that gave me. Barely.