21 Shades of Night, page 378
"Humor me. It's almost midnight."
He shrugged and followed me up the steps to the door. The small black and white tiles in the hallway set my head spinning and I had to concentrate to get up the narrow flights of stairs. In a few twirling minutes, we were in the apartment. I shrugged out of my coat and headed for the guest bedroom.
“I’ll be out in a few minutes. Pick something to watch.”
I was anxious to get out of my clothes and uncomfortable heels. After I'd changed into pajamas, I picked up an old, framed picture on the dresser. The picture had been taken three years ago, a few months after Colin and I had started dating, at a birthday party for the mutual friend who had introduced us. We were on the beach, with the water at our backs, dark in the sunset. Even though it had been late in the summer, I was still pale and my hair was tied up in a messy knot on my head. Colin was tall, muscular. His sun-golden hair was a deep contrast to his cool blue eyes. We looked young, and extremely optimistic.
Could we get that back? There was a part of me that dreaded what the next morning would bring, when he finally showed up. Could I go along with whatever he had planned and try to forget how I'd felt when I'd received that bouquet? If only he'd tried to actually talk to me. Didn't I deserve a certain level of personal contact after all these years?
I slid my phone from my purse and dialed his number. It rang three times before going to voicemail. I hung up without leaving a message.
The flood of emotion I’d been holding back all night flowed out of me. I sat on the bed, dropping the frame next to me, and held my head in my hands. How many times now had he skipped one of our nights together? A dozen? More? How many fights had we had over this very thing?
The alcohol I’d had with dinner amplified my grief, my anger at Colin. I was embarrassed at myself. A sob bubbled in my chest and I took several shuddering breaths. I almost didn't hear the soft knock on the bedroom door.
I sniffed and wiped my hands across my face, not caring how I looked. I opened the door to Ben. His eyes were clearer and the redness in his face was fading.
“You all right?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
I nodded my head, and then reconsidered. “Not really.”
“What happened today?” he asked.
I took a deep, shaky breath and motioned for him to follow me back into the living room. Breakdown interrupted, my thoughts slowed to a translatable speed. I grabbed a throw and settled myself into one corner of the low, squishy couch, while Ben settled into the other side.
“It was one of those days. Everything went wrong. I overslept, and when I got to Park Manor, Papa was in the middle of some kind of... episode. Some run-in with another resident.” The last moments of the encounter replayed in my mind. "I tried to step in... he came at me." I stopped and ran my hand over my throat–would I ever shake the memory of what his hands had felt like?
As Ben watched me, I wondered how much I could avoid saying. "He grabbed my throat and after that, everything gets hazy."
“How is he? How are you?" His face was as transparent as plastic wrap. I saw surprise, worry, fear... maybe even anger.
“He's okay. I'm okay. Harding got everything under control." I paused, remembering the way everyone had grown so calm. "It was strange–" I cut myself off. Harding's bizarre behavior was something I'd have to spend time on later. I'd never known him to keep the truth from me before.
Ben wasn’t a fan of Harding, though as far as I knew, they had only met once. "Will they kick him out?”
“I’m not sure. Three different doctors will evaluate him, before someone makes a decision I have no say in.” I looked down at my hands, hating to even think about what the next few days would bring.
“Everything will be alright." His words seemed dim and far away. He didn’t know what to do about the situation any more than I did.
"I don't know if I can believe that." I pulled my legs closer to my chest. "I have no idea what they’ll decide."
“I’m so sorry." Ben reached across the couch and grabbed my hand, squeezing it before dropping it to the blanket. "Is there anything I can do?”
I laughed. “Yeah, give your best friend some lessons on how to be a decent boyfriend, okay? Let him know it's not okay to blow off your girlfriend the night before her birthday. That threw a wrench in my whole evening."
His cheeks reddened and he bowed his head. “I can’t believe he stayed.” He looked away.
“What do you mean?” I asked, leaning closer to him.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“No, tell me," I prodded. "Do you know something else? Something you're not telling me?” Terrible thoughts raced through my head and I pushed back a surge of dread. Was there more to the story? Was there…? I swallowed the thought and closed my eyes. There couldn't be someone else. It just didn't add up. But…
“It’s nothing, Allie.”
“Ben. You don't get to do that. Not today.”
He sighed and was silent for several moments. When I began to think that I should let it drop, he turned and looked at me.
“I don’t understand him. I just don't. I can't imagine having what you guys have and not trying to take care of it–” He looked over toward a set of double-paned windows that overlooked the street below. "This is a big city to have no one to turn to. My family lives too far upstate for me to see all the time, and work keeps me too busy to have a lot of friends. All I'm saying is, if I knew I had someone waiting for me at home, you couldn’t keep me from the first train back, special occasion or not.” Ben's voice had dipped low, as if he'd forgotten I was even there.
His words struck something in me I didn't know existed and there was a slight flutter in my stomach. Ashamed at my own reaction to what he'd shared, I tried to think about what he was really saying. My heart broke for him as I imagined him coming home every night to an empty apartment. He was one of the best people I knew; he remembered every birthday and tried to check in if he knew something big was happening in my life. He'd even made the trip out to visit my grandfather several times. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have even brought him up." It didn't feel like the right thing to say at all. I frowned. "You deserve to have someone waiting for you at home, Ben. I hope you know that."
He turned his gaze away from the windows and stared at me without speaking for several moments. "I'm glad someone thinks so."
"Of course I think so. Anybody would be lucky to have you."
He gave me a half-smile. "I wouldn't wish me on anybody. No one should have to put up with how much I work, or the kind of company I keep. Can you imagine some lightweight trying to keep up with the likes of you and Colin? This conversation right here is a perfect example. I'm drunk as a skunk. Put right under the table by a hundred pound girl."
I gave him a good whack on the arm and mentally forgave him for trying to change the subject. "Oh, whatever. I've met some of the girls you bring around. That last one would put any red-blooded Irishman to shame." I pictured the tall, willowy blond he'd been dating a few months back. Big boobs, long hair, and in the three meals I'd shared with her, I'd only seen the intake of an awful lot of liquid calories. She'd been a world-class flirt, too. Lots of draping all over people. People like Colin. I scowled. "She seemed like kind of a slut, though."
Ben's eyebrows shot up and a look of shock registered in his eyes. "Really? Why don't you tell me how you really feel?"
I felt blood rush to my cheeks. "That's a horrible thing to say. I'm so sorry," I whispered, holding my hand against my mouth.
He shrugged his shoulders and turned away from me. It wasn't the reaction I'd expected; none of his usual humor, or even anger. Just silence.
I knew better than to give him shit about the girls he dated. “That was out of line. I'm sure she was really nice. And probably really great at checkers." Just keep digging a bigger hole, Allie. Good work. "I need to learn to keep my mouth shut.”
He pushed himself off of the couch without even looking at me. Not good. “Forget it. I should get going. It's late, and you need to get to sleep. Colin probably has some huge day planned to make up for screwing up tonight. He'll be pissed if you're too tired and hung over to really appreciate it.”
There was something in his tone that made me regret that our conversation had gone so off track. He didn't deserve any shit about any of those girls. I knew my discontent with Colin was making me trash talk his relationships, but it didn't matter where it came from. If that girl had been a flirt, then I was being a world-class bitch. "I'm so sorry, Ben. Please just forget I said anything."
“Don't apologize." He finally smiled at me again, but it didn't do anything to hide the sadness in his eyes. "I'm the one who's sorry–I'm acting like an idiot. I should go, though. I don't want to make your day any worse.”
The thought of him leaving was unbearable, not like this. We'd always gotten along so well, and I didn't want my anger at Colin to damage my friendship with Ben. “No, please stay,” I said as I stood up and put my hand on his arm.
His eyes darkened again, but this time it was different. A look I’d never seen and couldn’t name clouded his face. “I can’t.”
“I don’t want to be here alone; I hate it here by myself." I felt like a child, but couldn’t stop the words from pouring out of me. "Don’t go. We'll watch a movie."
He hesitated for a moment before setting his coat back down. “Okay. But for the record, she was completely lousy at checkers.”
* * *
BY THE TIME the movie had ended, the lovely buzz of the wine had worn away and I was left with a cotton-stuffed head and the feeling something had changed. The feeling that things weren't going to be the same in the morning.
I uncurled my legs from underneath me and stood from the chair. Ben had fallen asleep halfway through the movie, one leg hanging off the couch and a long arm looped around his head. I covered him with a blanket and crept from the room, shivering as I padded across the cold floorboards.
I crawled into bed–Colin's bed. No matter what happened, no matter where I'd stashed my suitcase, I couldn't bring myself to crash in the guest room. My mind raced. Something fundamental had changed.
Would tonight be the last time I slept in this bed?
* * *
I WAS AWAKENED the next morning by a not-so-gentle shaking of my shoulder. “Allie. Allie, what’s going on? What was Ben doing here?”
I rubbed a hand over my face, blinking several times. I was in Colin's room and I vaguely remembered stumbling into bed sometime around three in the morning. What time is it? “What?”
“Why was Ben here?” Colin leaned over me, an angry look on his handsome face.
His angry look roused me from the last refuge of sleep. I glared at him, my own anger rising to match what I heard in his voice. “What are you talking about? Why are you mad at me?”
He gave me a look like I had three heads. “Didn’t you get the flowers? I thought we could do something today.” He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. He'd probably been drinking the night before, but with his deep golden hair and perfectly coordinated forest green t-shirt, he still managed to look just short of perfect.
It totally pissed me off even more. “Of course I got your flowers! And what does that have to do with Ben? I showed up here last night, all dressed up with no place to go, and he was nice enough to take me out for dinner. For my birthday. Which is today, by the way.” I pushed against his shoulders, aghast at his behavior. As soon as he moved, I slid away and shoved back the feather comforter. My feet hit the cold wood floors and I let out a little yelp.
Colin ignored me. “He can be such a sneaky bastard.”
“Colin!”
He set his jaw in a firm line and made a sour face. “Oh, come on. He was still here when I got home, reeking of booze. Probably thrilled I couldn't be here last night. I swear to god, Allie, if anything happened between you two–”
It was that comment that really set me off. I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. “How can you even think that? He was a good friend to take me out for dinner. You couldn't even be bothered to do more than pay some pissed off florist to deliver wilted flowers and the worst card ever written.”
I stormed across the hall to the guest bedroom and slammed the door before Colin could even reply.
He knocked on the door as I wrenched on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. “Please come out, Allie. We need to talk. I’m so sorry–for everything. I should have called.”
"You never should have canceled in the first place." I grabbed the knob and yanked the door open.
Moving as fast as I could, I walked through the apartment, gathering the rest of my things. Colin was close on my heels.
I stopped at the front door. “I can't live like this anymore, Colin. This has gone on far too long. I’m ready to be the most important thing in your life, not the least.” I left the apartment, letting the door slam shut behind me. My heels echoed as I rushed down the stairs, anxious to get outside and squash the anger rising in my chest. I was furious at myself for losing my temper. Furious at Colin for his behavior and attitude. Furious at Ben for leaving me to deal with Colin by myself.
As I reached the front door of the apartment building, fingers wrapped around my upper arm. Colin pulled me back to him and pressed me against him, kissing me hard on the mouth.
"I love you, Allie. Please, don't leave like this."
I grabbed his hand and pushed it from my shoulder. "Colin, this is bullshit. You do not get to abandon me on my birthday and then think one kiss is going to make up for it. You haven't even said 'Happy Birthday' yet! If you can't be bothered, then fuck you!" Tears filled my eyes. He reached for me again, but I took two steps back.
"Let me make this right, Allie."
My anger dissipated by the minute and weariness took its place. "I'm not sure I want you to."
Chapter 5
EIGHT YEARS OF intense schooling and a PhD in human genetics had taught me nothing about how to cure summer boredom. The news that our research grant had been canceled filtered down about two weeks before the semester let out. Without any research money, the project I'd been working on with a colleague had been indefinitely postponed, and with it, my hopes of getting a postdoctoral fellowship. I was doomed to be an adjunct professor until I retired penniless, unpublished, and unknown.
Half way through my first official day of summer, I began the tried-and-true method of pacing around my living room, racking my brain for something to do. I'd devoted about fifteen minutes to self-pity, wallowing in boredom and frustration. The whole way home on the train from the city, I'd made myself a lot of big promises. I hadn’t made any decisions about Colin, but I needed to be happy about something. I promised myself I would make some kind of change that made a difference in my life. I refused to waste my first summer vacation in years, rotting my brain away with harsh household cleaners and too much sunshine. All that fever pitch promising hadn't yielded any actual plans on how to achieve the great change, though. That's where the pacing came in; scrubbing my floors hadn't done anything more than make me smell like lemon pine trees. Pacing begot action. Pacing was movement forward. And backward. And forward again.
I groaned and stalked back into the kitchen. I would start with a list, figure out some things I could accomplish. If I started small, maybe new things would come to me. I grabbed a notebook from my bag and dropped into a chair, ready for inspiration to strike.
1. Clean the garage.
2. Reorganize filing cabinet (office)
3. Plant an herb garden
4. _____________________________
I jotted the first three things with relative ease, but number four tripped me up. Everything I'd come up with was really just an extension of the same shit I did every day, and I wanted something new. I needed it.
I stared over at the laptop peeking out of my briefcase. I used it rarely at home, usually preferring my desktop for research, but the light little computer had come in handy for plenty of writing projects.
That was my best kept secret, of course. Those little writing projects. Sometime during my last year of postgrad, I'd started researching the fringe science theories that so many of my fellow students loved to mock. There was something sort of charming in the work of scientists who didn't seem to give a crap what their own colleagues thought. After I'd defended my dissertation, I began looking for some outlet to the research I'd done outside of my field. I never dreamed of trying to publish something; it was just fun to speculate on what others were doing.
When I found a little online publication called Mad Scientia, I'd submitted a few columns on a whim. I'd been writing regularly for them ever since.
My content tended to focus on some of the safer fringe theories out there, like scientists figuring out ways to extend human lives, or cold fusion, but I loved the pseudoscience theories tossed my way from time to time. Things like sixth-sense paranormal abilities. Supernatural creatures roaming the earth. I'd heard it all, but tried to keep my column as close to safe as fringe science writing could get. If anyone I worked with ever found out, I'd be eaten alive and laughed right out of my little adjunct professorship.
I'd never had so much free time since I started writing it, though. Maybe it was time to check into some of those crazier theories, do a little more research. I’d been trained to ask questions, look for new possibilities, and methodically find answers. It was time to do a little reading and put my brain to work on something my colleagues wouldn't think of looking at twice.
* * *
CONSPIRACY THEORIES ARE Melting Your Brain: Try Not to Get It on My Shoes
By: Allie Stuart, Resident Skeptic
(cont.)
... And even deeper down, past the Google searches and the links on Yahoo! Answers, lies a vast pool of arbitrary websites and communities, password-protected forums and heavily moderated chat rooms where the most radical theorists endlessly debate Le Conseil Cimme, their favorite conspiracy.
