Call Me Crazy (18 page)

“We’re glad that you’re here.” He says.

I look behind me at Nat and then back to my dad. I can’t really figure out if he’s talking to me or her.

“Er, I’m glad to be here?” I say though it comes out more as a question.

“How are you feeling?” my  mom asks tentatively and I wonder if she’s worried that I’m going to suddenly start screaming that the voices are telling me to write ‘red rum’ in red lipstick on the mirror.

“I’m alright,” I finally say honestly, and realize that in that moment it’s true. Ask me in five minutes and my answer might change.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Baker,” Nat says cheerily from behind me. “I think it’s great that Tally is home. I’ll probably be spending a lot of time with her, since we have school starting in a little over a week. We’re going to be planning evacuation plans and crisis intervention times. Just a little planning ahead.”

I’m biting my cheek so hard to keep from laughing, but it is extremely difficult. From the seriousness in Nat’s tone to the look of utter shock on my parent’s faces, really, it’s a moment I wish could be captured on film.

“She’s kidding, Mom,” I say, trying to sound flippant about the whole thing.

“You are welcome here for as long as you want, Natalie.” My mom smiles and my dad just sort of mumbles his agreement. “Okay, well we don’t want to intrude. Is there anything you need, Tally, anything we can get you?”

She’s trying, I tell myself. Cut her some slack. She’s my bloody mother, she shouldn’t have to try. It should just come naturally, I argue. Great, now I’m arguing with myself
while
others are in the room. Way to show that you’re sane, Tal.

“Thanks, Mom, but I think I’m good.”

“Oh, alright. We’ll just leave you to it then.” As my mom is closing the door behind them, I hear her whisper to my dad, “You could have said something more.” I don’t hear his reply, nor do I think I want to.

“So where were we?” Nat asks as soon as the door is shut.

“Well, according to you we are devising ways to insure that I don’t let my alter ego loose on unsuspecting students and faculty.”

“Oh, that. Naw, no worries there. We were talking about Trey. Tall, delicious,
going to get him back
, Trey.”

I’m already shaking my head before she even finishes her sentence. “Nope. I’ve already told you why I can’t. Not to mention, I don’t even know where he lives.”

“Maybe not, but you know where he goes every day. Not to mention, did you find out if he is in our senior class?”

My insides
immediately freeze. “He’s eighteen. He’s done with school.”

Nat frowns, “Is that what he told you?”

“N-n-not exactly.” I stutter realizing the mistake I made.

“Then what did he tell you?”

“Oh, crap,” I groan. “He told me his age, but never if he was in school. I told him I was going to be a senior. I just assumed that since he was eighteen,”

“You know what assuming does
…,” Nat starts.

“I know that if you finish that statement you’re going to get a boot in your mouth.”
Or a dollar in the jar,
I think.

She laughs. My threats have never accomplished their intended goal with Nat. Probably because she knows I would never follow through, at least not with her.

“Okay, so here’s what we know,” she raises her hand, “you’ve met your match,” ticks off a finger, “you want him, he wants you,” tick, “said match quite possibly will be joining us in our senior year.”

“That about sums up the coming disaster,” I say as I lay flat on my bed and cover my eyes with my arm. “My only hope is that he is already graduated, or that my parents suddenly decide to move.”

“Not happening while I’m still breathing,” Nat says dryly. “What are you going to do when he shows up on the first day of school?”

“What I do best,” I peek out at her from under my arm, “flight.”

She shakes her head at me, “Not this time, Tally. This time you are going to stay and fight. You deserve something good, and good things come to those who fight.”

“I thought it was good things come to those who wait?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. The point is you aren’t going to crawl in a hole and lick your wounds or become a chicken just because you’ve had some tough things happen.”

“When the hell did you become the voice of reason?” I grumble.

“When you went bat shit crazy.”

A small smile lifts my lips, “Oh, yeah. Good point.”

Chapter 13

“I don’
t have anything profound or eye–opening to say. What I feel right now is very simple, but very painful. I miss her; I want to see her, I want to know she’s okay, I need to know she’s okay.” ~Trey

“Tomorrow I won’t be by until the afternoon, Mom,” I tell her as I sit next to her in the rec room of MPF, “remember, because I start school.”

She nods but her eyes are blank. The nurse told me that she had a rough night and it was blaringly obvious in the exhaustion written across her face.

“You’re sad,” she tells me, and it’s something she has said every day this week.

“Just got a lot on my mind.”

She reaches over and pats my hand. “She will come back to you.”

I smile at her though I know it doesn’t show in my eyes, because the eyes are the window to the soul and my soul is lost.

“Mom, are you okay?”

She looks away from me and I watch as she mumbles something under her breath, but she isn’t speaking to me. She isn’t speaking to anyone
I
can see. I reach out and take her hand. She jumps a little, but doesn’t pull it away. I sit two feet from my mother, but she is in another world in her mind; a world I can’t enter and a world that she can’t seem to escape.

“Can you hang in there for me? Just let the doctors get your medicine worked out.” I know that my words aren’t getting through. She looks up suddenly and she looks frightened.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” she says.

“Mom, who are you talking to?” I ask gently.

“They’re back,” she whispers. “They followed me here and I’ve been ignoring them. I promise, Trey. But I’m so tired.”

She won’t let me pull her close so I just hold her hand and sit with her; to let her know that I’m real, and I’m with her and not going anywhere. She clings to my hand and I watch as she shakes, staring at nothing and being terrified of it. I see the nurse out of the corner of my eye and know that they are going to give her a sedative before she becomes too upset.

I lean close to her ear before they give her the shot and whisper, “You aren’t alone, no matter what they tell you. I love you and need you here with me. Remember that.”

I think she nods, or maybe it’s just that I hope it so badly that it’s what my mind tells me I see. Maybe her mind isn’t the only
upon which tricks are being played.

~

As I walk down the hall towards the front desk, I hear my name, or one of the names Candy claims is mine.

“Tonto,” she grins as I turn and I see her walking up the hall towards me. She’s wearing the hospital issued scrubs, but instead of shoes, she has on slippers that look like sharks. She looks down at her feet and then back up at me. “It really wigs them out when I start singing the
Jaws
theme music.”

I smile at her and for a brief moment, feel a small amount of relief because being near Candy makes me feel close to Tally. Crazy, yes, but then look where I’m standing.

“How’s your mom doing?” she asks. It feels weird for her to ask such a normal question without adding a typical Candy tag to it.

“Today’s not a good day,” I tell her honestly.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“At the risk of sounding like a pathetic loser,” I grin halfheartedly, “have you… heard from Tally, that is.”

She’s shaking her head before I even finish, “I haven’t heard from her. I wish I could tell you I have. Turns out I miss the brat.”

“She’s not really your niece is she?”

Candy looks away from me, but I see the truth. “Trey…”

“It can’t be good Candy if you’re calling me by my given name.”

She smiles at me and for a second the half crazed look in her eyes is gone. “I’ll always claim her as mine. She’s a good kid and she just got dealt a lousy set of cards. She’s young, though, and that means she is going to be able to make the best hand out of what she’s got.”

I don’t know what to say to that because I don’t really understand what she’s saying. So I just nod. I tell her I’ll see her around and as I’m walking away she yells, “Tell her I said ‘hi’ and she better come visit her aunt.”

“I don’t know when I’ll see her, Candy,” I tell her as I turn, walking backwards as I look at her.

“Don’t worry, you will.”

By the time I’m in my truck, I’m running my conversation with Candy through my mind, replaying every look, every move and twitch, every word trying to decipher if there was some hidden meaning in it. With Candy, you just never know.

The only thing
I know for sure is that Tally is not Candy’s niece and they are both hiding something important from me.

I drove out to the Taggert’s
to put in my last full night. Mr. Taggert had told me that I could still work for him, to just let him know my schedule once I started school. I was thankful because I really did not want to have to look for another job, not to mention I really like what I did, even if most would consider it hard, dirty work. It paid the bills and kept me in shape.

When I got home, it was late and my grandmother was already in bed. She left a note for me saying there was a plate of food for me in the fridge and to make sure I ate and got to bed since tomorrow was my first day of school. I smiled at the fact that she sometimes still treated me like I was a kid and not eighteen. Although yes, tomorrow was the first day at a new school, it was the least of my worries.

By the time I ate, cleaned up, and showered, I was ready to crash. I lay down and closed my eyes and though I fell asleep almost immediately the last thing I saw in my mind was her face… her beautiful, sad face.

~

The first thing I notice when I walk into Broken Arrow High School is that I’m going to stand out. Not just because of my traditional Native American look with my long, dark hair and jewelry, but also because of my six foot three height. Thankfully no one seems to pay muc
h attention to me as I walk past and into the office. Part of that I attribute to the fact that I am several hours late. My mother had been hysterical all night and the hospital called, so I went and sat with her most of the night and into the morning. Sometimes just hearing my voice was enough to calm her down, sometimes not. So, I had called the school and they had been very understanding. Of course, what are they going to say when your excuse is because your mother is in a mental hospital?

I step into the office and a woman who looked to be in her thirties, though dresse
d as if she was one of the teenage students, was standing behind the counter. I walk up and the smile she gives me makes me feel like I need a shower. Yeah, it was that bad.

“I’m Trey Swift. I need to get my schedule.” I don’t elaborate more than that simply because I want to get out of the office as quickly as I can. For a second as she stares at me, I think she just might reach across the counter and run a finger down my chest.

“Um, ma’am?” It must be the ma’am that snaps her out of her stupor. She frowns at me. Yep, it’s the ma’am. I smile coolly. “My schedule?”

“Right, Trey.” Her voice is high and nasally and reminds
me of the woman who played the nanny on some sitcom.

“I’m Liza French. You can call me Liza.” She pronounces her name as Lee-za and says it with a little too much tongue flapping around. I’m pretty sure she’s going for sexy, but really, it could also be that she has a lisp. Her shoulder length bleach blonde hair looks as if she has sprayed a can of hair spray on it while holding her head upside down. And although she may have been pretty, it was hard to tell under her war paint
she was trying to pass off as make-up.

“Thank you,
Ms
. French.” I stress the Ms., making it very clear that I am the student and she is not. She hands me the schedule and I take it making sure to avoid any skin contact. “If you need any help finding your classes, I am happy to show you to them.” Yeah, I think to myself, a little
too
happy.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I tell her and turn to leave the office. I decide right then and there never to be caught alone anywhere with that woman. I glance down at my schedule and see
that I am due in Calculus. The room number is two hundred and twelve, so I’m betting it’s on the second floor. Yes, I know my powers of deduction astound even me. I wander around until I find a flight of stairs and take them two at a time. Not because I’m in a hurry, just that my legs are that long. I notice that there are a few stragglers here and there and even one couple involved in some pretty heavy kissing and maybe more, around the corner from a group of lockers. I don’t give them longer than a glance and keep going. If I’ve learned anything about keeping a low profile, it’s avoiding eye contact and not staring at people who are obviously engaged in something that is better kept behind closed doors, or at least the seclusion a car.