Mad Love (10 page)

It
wasn’t the first time I’d thought I might be losing my mind. There’d been that time on the bus, last year, when a soft buttery glow had floated around a woman’s head. And the year before that there’d been a man carrying flowers, streaks of watery blue radiating from him. On both occasions I’d turned away, refusing to acknowledge the visions. As a little girl I’d thought that the colors and sparkles that danced around my mother were real. Of course they were simply the result of an overactive imagination. Illusions. Nothing more, I’d often told myself. Imagination, not madness.

But never, never ever, had I heard voices.

Find me. Find me. Find me.

“I’ve got stuff to do,” I announced.

Archibald reached out a hand. “Wait, Alice. You seem so tired. We can help you with whatever you need to do. We love helping you.”

“Yes, yes,” Reverend Ruttles said. “We love helping you.”

“That’s okay. I don’t need help.” I shuffled in place to hide my trembling legs.

“How about we open our fortune cookies?” The reverend cracked his. “Oh, look at that. ‘Love thy neighbor.’ Isn’t that nice?”

“Thanks for lunch,” I said.

I fled the worried eyes, the serious expressions. Once inside my apartment, I leaned against the bolted door and looked down the hallway. The walls pressed in.

I’d tell Archibald and the reverend that I’d been tired, that the voice had been music playing from the street. But even as I struggled to find a rational excuse, to keep my head above the waters that I feared, the voice threatened to pull me under.

It had followed me into the apartment and had grown louder. I tried to shut it out by putting my fingers in my ears. Why was Errol’s voice in my head? Why was this happening?

Find me. Find me. Find me.

On that day, it wasn’t loneliness that waited to pounce on me. Instead, terror sped toward me, rolling down the hallway like a tsunami, closer and closer until it swept me into its dizzying turbulence. I sank to the floor.
No, no, no, no, no. Please, no
.

In those articles about mental illness, the ones that mentioned genetic predisposition, hearing voices was a bad sign. A real bad sign.

My deepest fear had come true. I was losing my mind, just like my mother.

I don’t know how long I sat there, my arms frozen around my knees. But it was Mrs. Bobot’s voice that broke through the trance.

“Alice, let me in this minute! Let me in or I’ll go upstairs and get my key.”

Slowly I stood, oddly disconnected from my body—like the time when Beau, a boy from Welmer Boys Academy, had given me that can of beer at the winter dance. When I unbolted the door, Mrs. Bobot rushed in, her face contorted with motherly worry.

“Realm just told me that you were struck by lightning. Why didn’t you call me? Someone should have told me.” She ran her hands over my head and neck. “What happened? How do you feel?”

I pushed the frantic hands away. “I’m fine.”

Errol’s voice sang in my ears.
Find me. Find me. Find me.

Mrs. Bobot stepped back. “Did Realm make it up or did you get struck by lightning? Tell me!”

The memory was buried deep but I could see its edges—a stack of library books, two freckles on a cheek, and then the sun-drenched sky. I scratched the Band-Aid. Wasn’t I supposed to be doing something—something for my mother?

“I don’t see how you could have been struck by lightning. There’s been no storm today.” Mrs. Bobot pressed her cheek to my forehead. “You’re not feverish, but you have a glassy look to your eyes. Why would Realm say such a thing? She nearly scared me to death. But you do look a bit pale. Maybe you’re coming down with something.”

The building’s doorbell rang.

“Oh, I almost forgot. It’s the new tenant.” Mrs. Bobot took my arm. “Come and meet her and then we’ll take your temperature, just to make sure.” While leading me to the front door, Mrs. Bobot said, “She’s very young and adorable. I think you’ll like her.”

“Hi.” A young woman with short, strawberry red hair stood on our front stoop. A red heart-shaped gem sparkled at the corner of her right eye. Her hoop earrings swayed as she waved some papers. “Here it is. The rental agreement. All signed and everything.”

“Hello, Velvet,” Mrs. Bobot said, taking the paperwork. “I’d like you to meet Alice. She’s the landlady’s daughter. We’re both watching over the place until her mother gets back from her trip overseas. I think you two will become fast friends.”

“Hi.” Velvet batted false eyelashes at me. “Here’s the check for the first and last month’s rent and the cleaning deposit.”

Mrs. Bobot took the check. “And here’s your key.” She handed it over. “Velvet’s only twenty years old and she owns her own business,” she told me. “Isn’t that impressive?”

“I had some trust fund money,” Velvet said, smoothing her short skirt. The silver bangles on her arms made music when she moved. “And college wasn’t my thing, you know?”

“College isn’t for everyone.” Mrs. Bobot examined the check. “Velvet’s Temple of Beauty. Is that the name of your salon?”

“That’s it. Velvet isn’t my real name. My real name is Sara Smith but that’s so boring. I mean, can you get any more boring than that? Hey, you two can come to the salon anytime for free haircuts. We can do a whole makeover thing.” She reached out and touched my hair. “I’ve got this unbelievable conditioner that will fix those frizzies.” She leaned a bit closer. She smelled like grape Kool-Aid. “And we do eyebrow waxing too.”

I might have been insulted, except that voice was still bouncing around.
Find me. Find me. Find me.
I stuck a finger in my ear and wiggled it, trying to loosen the voice, trying to set it free so it would fly out the front door and into someone else’s head.

Mrs. Bobot cleared her throat. “So, when will you be moving in?”

“I think he’s moving in first thing in the morning,” Velvet said. She pulled a compact from her purse and drew on some lip liner. “It’s so hot out. Everything sweats right off.”

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Bobot said. “Did you say
he
?”

“Uh-huh.” She pulled out some gloss and applied it. “Errol.”

I pulled my finger from my ear and my body went rigid. “Errol?”

“Yeah, my friend Errol. He’s the one who’s going to live here, not me. I already have a nice apartment. But he’s totally broke and he needs a place where he can rest and get better, so I told him that I’d rent an apartment for him. I’m lending him some of my extra furniture. I’ve inherited so much furniture I don’t know what to do with it. Well, guess I’d better be going.”

“What?” Mrs. Bobot’s mouth fell open. “You’re not the tenant?”

“I am, on paper.” She shrugged. “I mean, I’ll be paying the bills.”

“Wait.” I held out a hand. “Your friend’s name is Errol?” It couldn’t be the same Errol. “Does he wear a black hoodie?”

Velvet closed her purse. “All the time. Hey, do you know him?”

My heartbeat doubled. “Where is he?” I practically screamed. “I need to see him!”

“Alice,” Mrs. Bobot said sternly, pulling my hands off Velvet’s tan shoulders. Guess I’d been shaking her too hard. “Whatever is the matter with you?”

“Please tell me where he is,” I said, scratching the Band-Aid like a dog scratching a flea. “He wants me to find him. I must find him. Please.” My voice cracked with desperation. “PLEASE!”

Velvet’s blue-shadowed eyes widened until she looked like a fish. “Oh, I get it.”

“It’s not what you think,” Mrs. Bobot said, stepping between us. She pressed her hand to my forehead. “She’s not well. Alice, come back into the apartment and lie down. I’m going to call the doctor.”

“I’ll say she’s not well,” Velvet said. “Now I see why Errol wants to move here. They’re in love.”

“What?” Mrs. Bobot gasped. “Alice, is this true?”

“Of course it’s true. Look at her. She’s a mess.”

In love? I had a welt on my chest, a voice in my head, and a raging yearning to see someone I barely knew. That wasn’t love, was it? And yet I needed to be near Errol. I HAD to be near him, in the same way that a magnet is drawn to a refrigerator, I felt his pull. “Where is he?” I pleaded.

Velvet laughed. “Oh my God, you have it so bad. I used to be in love with him, ages ago. But it wore off. Now we’re just friends.”

Mrs. Bobot waved the rental contract at me. “Alice, this is
not
going to happen. You can’t have a boy move in here. I’m going to tear up this check.”

“NO!” I cried, grabbing it.

“Hey, you already agreed and I signed that lease. And you gave me the key,” Velvet said. “Don’t worry. Girls fall in love with Errol all the time, believe me. But it never lasts. She’ll snap out of it eventually.” She walked down the front steps.

Girls? What girls? Did Errol have other girlfriends?

“I think it’s nice that he has a new girlfriend. Especially since he’s so sick. Hey, come by the Temple of Beauty anytime.” And then she walked off.

I was Errol’s new girlfriend?

Find me. Find me. Find me.

“Alice, who is this boy?” Mrs. Bobot asked, trying to get the rental check, but I shoved it behind my back.

“Errol,” I said. “He’s Errol.” And tomorrow he’d be moving in upstairs. We’d be together. Every day. Forever. I had to get ready. I had to pick out something special to wear.

“Alice!” Mrs. Bobot followed me back into my apartment. “Exactly how did you meet him? And how old is he? And what did she mean when she said he was sick?”

Waiting until tomorrow morning would seem like an eternity. I set the check on top of my dresser, then opened my closet door and shuffled through the clothes. What looked best on me? Why was everything in my closet so plain?

“Alice!” Mrs. Bobot screeched. “Why are you ignoring me? Alice!”

Archibald and Reverend Ruttles peered into my room. “Hello? We brought some leftover chow mein,” Archibald announced, clutching a Tupperware bowl. “Is everybody okay in here? What’s all the commotion?”

Red blotches had broken out on Mrs. Bobot’s wrinkled neck. “I don’t know what I should be more worried about—the fact that Alice may have been struck by lightning or the fact that she’s got a secret boyfriend who’s moving in tomorrow.”

Reverend Ruttles leaned on his cane and frowned. “Lightning?”

Archibald smirked. “Boyfriend?”

I pulled out a red shirt. “Go away,” I said. “I need to get ready. Errol’s coming.”

“Go away?” Mrs. Bobot gasped. “Go away? Alice, how dare you speak to us like that?”

“Uh, I’ll put this in the refrigerator,” Archibald said, then he headed toward the kitchen with his Tupperware.

“Alice, you’re not acting like yourself,” Mrs. Bobot said. “We need to talk about this. If you got hit by lightning, like Realm said, then we should go see the doctor.”

“What’s going on?” Realm asked, sticking her head into my bedroom.

The red shirt was boring so I pulled out a black shirt. Errol liked black. He always wore that black hoodie. Did I have a black hoodie?

Archibald’s voice called out, “Wanda? I think you should come in here.”

Mrs. Bobot, Reverend Ruttles, and Realm hurried from my bedroom. Hopefully they’d go away forever. Really, why was everyone bugging me? Couldn’t they see that I had important things to do? Couldn’t they see that Errol was the only thing that mattered?

They gathered in the bathroom, right next door to my bedroom. The bathroom walls amplified their voices so even though Errol’s voice still chanted in my head, I could hear their conversation perfectly. And here’s how it went:

Realm: Holy crap! My mom would kill me if I wrote all over the walls.

Reverend Ruttles: Alice plus Errol? Who’s Errol?

Mrs. Bobot: He’s Alice’s secret boyfriend.

Realm: Alice has a secret boyfriend?

Archibald: I don’t know this Errol fellow but take it from me, most guys don’t like it when you plaster their name all over your apartment. I learned that lesson the hard way.

Reverend Ruttles: Did someone say something about lightning?

Mrs. Bobot: Realm? Answer me and don’t lie! Did Alice get struck by lightning?

Realm: I don’t know. I wasn’t there.

Mrs. Bobot: Writing all over the walls. Telling us to go away. She’s not acting like herself.

Archibald: She wasn’t acting like herself at lunch, either. She kept hearing a voice but we couldn’t hear it.

Mrs. Bobot: Hearing voices? Oh God, no. This can’t be happening. Please tell me this isn’t happening. She can’t be like her mother.

Realm: What do you mean? Is there something wrong with Alice’s mother?

Archibald: I think we’re jumping to conclusions. Alice is not her mother. She’s just having a little breakdown from all the stress. I have them all the time. That doesn’t mean I’m mentally ill.

Realm: Oh. My. God. Is Alice’s mom
crazy
?

The word “crazy” ricocheted off the bathroom walls, then made a beeline for my bedroom. The word hit me full on. It cut through my daze and ignited a memory. I grabbed a photo off my bureau, taken on the Halloween just before we’d moved to the apartment. Dust coated its gold-painted macaroni frame. Mom had set the camera on the railing of our front porch—the beautiful lake house we used to live in. We’d both dressed as gypsies, with strings of glass beads and big hoop earrings that had pinched my earlobes. It had been a good day. We’d made popcorn balls, heating the corn syrup and butter so that the kitchen smelled like a candy factory. We’d wrapped the balls in plastic, tied them up with black and orange ribbons. I’d walked our neighborhood with a girl from school while Mom stayed home to pass out the popcorn balls. My mother had thought it best to avoid the neighbors. There’d been some “incidents” that year, so the neighbors didn’t like her much.

But on the way back, just two blocks from the house, I passed a little ghost and his mother. The little ghost held one of the popcorn balls. “Don’t eat that,” his mother scolded, taking the ball away. “We don’t know what that crazy lady might have put in it.”

Crazy
.

The photo dropped from my hand, scattering golden macaroni shards across the floor. As I took a sharp breath, the real world tumbled back. What was I doing? Wasn’t I supposed to be working on something for my mother? Why did I care so much about Errol?