My Kind Of Crazy (4 page)

“Tom,” I finally tell her as I finish off the tea.
Apparently I did need something with a lot of caffeine and sugar in it.

It’s not surpassing my attention that Jonah is uncomfortable
answering my questions, but how else am I supposed to get to know a man who
lived on my father’s farm for only God knows how long? I have to admit, I’m a
little jealous that this man probably knew my father better than I did. I mean,
who wouldn’t tell their only daughter that they were harboring a psych ward
patient? I stuff the irritation at my father down, and remind myself that the
man is dead. There is no point in being upset with him.

“What’s he like?” I mostly want to know about this other
person that only Jonah can see simply because I did a lot of reading while he
was unconscious in his cabin. People with his disorder usually don’t
see
their hallucinations. They hear them. The fact that he can converse with and
see his hallucination like it’s an actual person, makes me think that this is a
part of him. And I want to know exactly which part is whispering in his ear all
the time.

My question has rattled Jonah. I hope he knows that I can
see the way his knuckles are turning white as he squeezes the thick glass. I’m
about to tell him that he might want to stop if he doesn’t want any more
stitches, but he seems to understand the direness of the situation himself and
puts the glass down again.

“Tom is one of the darkest people I’ve ever met.” Even
though it’s a warm summer evening, goose bumps rise on my arms as the hair
stands on end. What is that supposed to mean? Suddenly I’m starting to feel
like Jonah might actually be more dangerous than I thought before. Or perhaps
it’s finally sinking in that I’m sitting next to a human being that might snap
at any instant.

“And he shows up when you’re stressed out. So Tom is like a
fallback guy when you can’t handle a situation.” I want to continue, but the
look that Jonah gives me slices me to the core. I’ve more than upset him. I’ve
stepped over an invisible line.

“Don’t try to play shrink with me, Anastasia.” I see a
muscle twitching in his jaw and look at his cold, gray eyes staring back at me.
When did I ever think there was a hint of blue in there? Then I see it, when he
blinks a change comes over him and his body relaxes. Imagining it and seeing it
are two very different things, because I’m pretty sure that I just heard Tom.

“So you were going to tell me about the events that you
remember up to my father’s death.” I try to ignore the fact that his alter ego
or whatever it is just spoke to me. Does Jonah himself know or when this
happens does he just go blank for a moment?

“I don’t remember much, so don’t expect much.” He gives me a
serious look, and I nod eagerly. Really, anything he has to tell me about my
father would be acceptable. Any little clue might lead me to my father’s
killer. I came here under the impression that I would be getting his estate
together and eventually selling the place, but now that I’m here I want to know
who did this to him. He was never a disagreeable man, and he definitely didn’t
deserve to go out as he did.

“I remember the morning before your father was murdered. He
knew I was off my medication, and he was trying to ask me how it was going. I
was having a hard time concentrating, and I burnt my hand while I was making
the eggs. Overall, it was a lot better than the previous morning. Then Tom
started in, and it starts to get fuzzy from there.” I feel as though he’s
leaving something out, but I’m out of tea and so is he. It’s well past nine in
the evening, and the sun has set long ago. I take his empty glass from him and
put them both down on the porch beside me. He’s making me nervous with the
repetitive squeezing of the glass.

“Were you arguing?” It’s an outright, blatant question. I
see the change of Jonah immediately and realize that I’m not speaking with the
man I pulled into my home this morning.

“No.” It’s a lie. I can see his struggle for control and
wonder if I should do something about it. But what can I do? These are his
demons to deal with and not mine. I have plenty of my own to squash down when
they try to rear their ugly heads.

“It’s getting late. Do you want to stay here or are you
going to stay in the cabin?” He looks discomforted by the idea of staying in the
house, and immediately responds with a clipped tone.

“The cabin, do you have a flashlight?” I glance down at his
feet and purse my lips. He might be able to fit into my father’s boots, so
without a response I take both glasses into the house and let May in. I wrinkle
my nose at the smell and vow that she will
not
be sleeping in my room
tonight.

After rummaging around a few of the cabinets in the kitchen,
I finally find a flashlight under the sink. I bar May from going upstairs with
a baby gate as I go to grab Jonah a pair of socks and some boots. None of my
father’s shirts is going to fit him. I can tell from his broad chest that he
has to be a large. About four or five minutes later I return with my spoils and
Jonah’s shoulders are relaxed again. It looks as if he’s wrestled his demons
under control for the time being.

“Here, do you have a phone up there? I didn’t see one.” As
soon as the thought crossed my mind it’s out my mouth, and I wonder why I even
care. This man could be my father’s killer, but something tells me he’s
probably not. If he were going to snap and kill my father, wouldn’t he have
done it a lot sooner? Still, he might get the wrong idea.

“There’s a landline up there. I have the number for the
house.” My tightened chest muscles relax, and I nod. He doesn’t waste any time
getting away from me, and I watch him retreat into the darkness up the slope
and into the woods.

“I’m in deep shit.” I mumble to myself as I watch him go.
Then I make my way into the house, check each window twice to make sure it’s
locked, and then I lock the front door. I pull the curtains closed in the
kitchen and load the dishwasher with the few dishes in the sink and start it.

May is waiting patiently by the baby gate for me with a
forlorn look on her face. I put my hands on my hips and stare at her for a few
seconds until she hangs her head and her tail thumps twice. I take that as an
apology. “Fine, but if you don’t stop this I’m going to have to put you on a
leash. And I promise you, I will get the smelliest dog spray around and spray
you with it
every day
!”

Two more tail thumps later, I’m sitting with May in the tub
on the first floor humming a song to myself and her as I wash her off. She
smells like wet dog now, but I can handle that a lot better than I can handle
the smell of feces in her fur. I’m dead on my feet and decide that I don’t even
want to go upstairs tonight. There was a reason I didn’t choose that room in
the first place.

Tomorrow I have an appointment to meet with an attorney that
will read me my father’s Will. As far as I know, he didn’t have anyone else to
leave his belongings to, but part of me wonders if he’s left anything to Jonah.
I stuff down the pang of jealousy and focus my attention on May as I brush her.
When she’s finally acceptable, I make her lie down on a blanket on the floor
and curl up in the bed that Jonah was recently in. It smells like him, and I
try to ignore that.

The next thing I know, I’m waking up to the smell of smoke
and May is whining at the bedroom door. I squint and cough at the smell as my
brain tries to register what is happening.
Fire, my house is on fire!
I
panic and attempt to open up the bedroom window. It slides open easily, but
getting May to go out the window is like trying to get her into the bath.

“Do you really want to die in here?” I screech at her, and
that seems to pull her back to reality. The wuss of a dog finally jumps through
the window and takes off into the night. As soon as I’m out the window, I
realize that I forgot my cellphone.

But when I turn around I realize that my cellphone will be fine.
At least, it will be fine if the flames that are licking up at the sky from the
barn do not reach the house. I try to stifle my coughing as I stumble away from
the smoke and into cleaner air. Someone’s strong arms are wrapping around me
and keeping me on my feet.

“I called the fire department. They’ll be here any minute.”
Jonah
,
I tell myself and look up at his eyes. No, it’s not Jonah looking back at me.
His eyes are no longer warm and caring. They’re icy cold. Before I can get away
from him, he grips my shoulders roughly and shoves me towards the driveway.
“Get walking! If you die, he’s going to be pissed off at me. There could be
something flammable in that barn.” I don’t budge from my spot in the grass. Did
he do this?

Before I can scream and get away from him, the darker side
of Jonah grabs me by the upper arm and start marching me down the driveway. My
eyes are stinging from the smoke, and my heart is pounding in my chest. I think
I’m starting to hyper ventilate, and all I really want right now is a good,
strong drink. And my car, but it’s currently parked in front of the house and
I’m not going back there.

I can’t go any further because my breaths are coming in
short and quick. My lips are starting to feel as if they’re coated in ice, and
my entire face starts to slowly go numb. I look down at my hands and see that
they’re shaking uncontrollably in front of me. I can’t form any words as I try
to convey to Jonah, Tom,
whoever
he is that I’m going to pass out. And
then he finally looks down at me and I see the same blue eyes looking at me.
Jonah’s not here right now.

“F-faint,” I try to tell him. Then there are sirens in the
distance, and I can see lights between the trees. They’re here!

The man beside me pulls me off the dirt driveway so that I’m
not run over, and pulls me close to his chest. His heart is jackhammering like
mine, but the sound of it in my ear soothes me. Then I hear the different
sirens and glance up to see a police car stopping in the grass beside us. A man
gets out of his vehicle, and like a southern gentleman, he tips his hat at me.

“Are you Ana D’Salvatore?” I nod once and feel tears
starting to sting my eyes. This was not a freak accident. Someone lit my
father’s old barn on fire for a reason. I know for a fact there was nothing
flammable in there. For one insane second, I hope that poor possum didn’t sleep
in that stall this evening.

“She needs an ambulance.” I’m still not dealing with Jonah,
but with Tom. I wonder if Jonah will be showing himself tonight at all. The
officer nods and gets on his radio, and I don’t stop him. My breaths are deeper
and controlled, but I feel pretty sick to my stomach still. The sound of the
hoses blasting at the flames sends chills up my spine. What if they had lit my
house on fire?

“You’re Jonah Quinton.” The officer sounds leery of the man
in front of him, and I see his hand start to go towards his gun. Apparently
Jonah has quite the reputation in town. I wish someone would have told me about
him
before
I found him in my front yard naked.

“I am.”

“Did you do this?” Shockingly it’s not me who asks the
question. It’s the police officer. I want to remind him that he has to tell
Jonah he has the right to remain silent, and all that other crap. But instead,
I take a step back from Jonah and he lets me go. I keep trying to remind myself
that it’s not him, but Tom that I’m dealing with now.

“I didn’t.” In a flash, I grab his chin hard with my fingers
and turn his face to me. I can feel the five o’clock shadow on his face and try
to ignore it. My nails dig into his skin and his jaw locks hard as we lock
gazes.

“He’s telling the truth.” I finally determine, letting his
face go. Even though it’s a warm evening and there’s a building on fire not
that far from where we’re standing, I shiver. The ambulance finally pulls up,
and I sit down on the tailgate as one of the EMT’s looks me over for any
damage.

The rest of the evening is a blur, and by the time I’m
standing alone at the bottom of the steps of my father’s old home, I can barely
keep my eyes open. May is still nowhere to be found, and Jonah or Tom is
currently trying to find the keys for my car. The problem is, I don’t want to
go into town right now. I want to go
home
. There’s another problem with
that. My home consisted of a tiny apartment in downtown Los Angeles, and I’m very
far from it.

Plus, I’ve been doing better here this last week that I have
my entire life. The sound of the nightlife is a lot different here, and the way
that people care too much has wiggled its way into my heart. I was hoping that
I could stay here, even though I tried to shut that part of me up several times
it still hoped. Now what am I going to do? Apparently whoever wanted my father
dead is now going to attempt to run me out of town, and they may even resort to
killing me too if I refuse to leave.

“I thought for sure you’d let them take me away.” His voice
is different. It’s not as deep, and I can hear the sanity in it. I’m speaking
with Jonah now, and not the part of him that’s bitter and angry. And dangerous,
I can never forget that.

“You didn’t do it. As much as I would have liked the fact
that it would be a clean answer, it’s not the correct one.” I hear him swallow
audibly and glance at him. Then I look ahead of me and up at the night sky. The
smoke has long cleared, so I can finally breathe again.

“I’m sorry about the barn.” He sounds sincere. I glance over
at the charred remains of my father’s old barn. The thought pops into my mind
again. I hope there were no animals inside at the time of the fire. I think of
what might have happened to that poor possum if it had been in there, and my
eyes start to fill. Jonah puts an arm around me and pulls me in close.

I can feel his arm trembling and pull away from him. Is it
hard for him to maintain control right now? What if Tom slips through while
there are no signs of authorities? I’m starting to second guess my decision
that Jonah Quinton is not dangerous. But then again, who isn’t?