My Kind Of Crazy (2 page)

I have to use a chair to get up into the cabinet, and even
then it’s hard for me to reach into the back corner where the liquor is. When I
turn around, the stranger is standing in the kitchen doorway now. The knife is
no longer in his hands, and May’s tail is no longer tucked between her legs.

“Who was that?” The man asks with his deep voice. Voices
like that should not exist. They addle a woman’s brain and make her compliant.
That makes me furious.

“None of your business! Who the hell are you? That’s a
better question.” I sit down on the countertop, using the chair as a foot stool
while I twist off the cap of the brandy. I down about three shots before I put
the bottle on the linoleum countertop.

“Jonah Quinton, that’s all I can remember. I was hoping you
could tell me more.” I raise both my eyebrows in shock at his words, and then I
take another long drag of the brandy. I’m starting to feel pretty warm and
fuzzy all over, and decide that trying to put the alcohol back would probably
land me in the hospital. So I slide off the counter and leave it by the fridge
instead.

“All I can tell you is that you were in my front yard,
naked, this morning. Then you threw up all over my steps, and you’ve been
snoring for hours. Oh, and you’re wearing my
bed sheet
around you waist!
Now I have to do laundry.” I mumble the last sentence, but I can tell he’s
still caught my words. A wicked little grin graces his lips, and I find myself
staring at that grin for way too long.

May’s tail whacking against my legs brings me back to
reality.

“While I’m sorry about how I ended up here, I can’t say I’m
sorry that I did.” I don’t know what to say that, and I’m pretty sure that if I
did it still wouldn’t come out in a normal voice. So I do the next best thing.
I shrug to convey indifference.

“That’s too bad because you’re not staying here. I have to
clean this place up, and I don’t have time to babysit some drug addled man!” I
was wrong. I did have something to say to that. Thankfully, it didn’t come out
in a squeak, but my tone was a little raised.

“So you want to be alone next time when that grease ball
comes back?” I narrow my eyes, and I puff up my chest a little.

“I can take care of myself. I don’t need
you
to do it
for me! I’ll call you a cab.” He raises his hands in the air as if in
surrender, and May whines at the bite in my words. I pat her on the head to let
her know that I’m not angry with her, and then I fumble for the landline on the
kitchen wall. I have no idea what the number is for the closest cab company.

“Look, I can help you fix this place up. I think I’m pretty
handy with a hammer and nails.” I ignore him, and start flipping through an old
phone book. It looks as though it might be ten or fifteen years old. “Please!”
I didn’t realize he had stepped across the kitchen and closed the distance
between the two of us. It’s difficult to force myself to keep my eyes on the
phone book because I know if I glance up I will come face to face with his
chest. He has his fingers wrapped around my wrist. It doesn’t hurt, but it
still makes my skin crawl.

“Get your
damn
hands off me! What is it with men now a
days? You just think you can order a woman around, and when she doesn’t listen
you get all grabby!” He immediately lets go of my wrist, and when I finally
glance up at his face, I see that he has the dignity to be blushing.

“I’m sorry. I just panicked. Please, let me just stay here
for a day or two until I figure out what is going on. I wouldn’t know the first
place to go. Please.” I can’t answer him. I’m having a hard time not getting
lost in the gray, blue eyes staring down at me. I’ve had reactions like this to
men before, and the last one ended up being a loser.

When he clears his throat, I finally realize that I’ve been
staring for longer than necessary. He takes a step back from me, and now I’m
blushing. I gently close the phonebook and put the phone back. It’s not that
he’s good looking or the fact that he just begged me that has me changing my
mind. The look on his face reminds me of a dog that has been beaten so much it
just wants to lay down and die. Men like that are dangerous. I try to remind
myself of that, but the softer, more human side of me wins.

“Fine, but if I catch you stealing, or if I feel threatened
by you, so help me.” I don’t finish the sentence. I’ll leave that to his
imagination. May has disappeared, and I hear another car coming up the
driveway. My face pales as I look at the man in nothing but a sheet.

“I’ll, uh, make myself scarce.” Jonah nods at me once
without even a thank you, and then he does just as he said. I hear the door to
my room click shut and feel the knots in my stomach getting tighter. I hope
it’s not Mr. Taylor again. But just in case, I grab the knife that Jonah had
off the counter, and I put it on a little stand by the door.

It’s no secret that Mr. Taylor has been after this property
for years, but his behavior is a little more than curious. The vehicle that
pulls up to the house is not a Lexus. It’s a beat up Oldsmobile with the red
paint peeling off, and I recognize the teenager that gets out. He’s six years
younger than me, but he seems to think that doesn’t matter. I make sure not to
smile at him too much as he ascends the steps with a dish in his hands.

“Mom wanted me to bring this over to you. She wanted me to
tell you how sorry she was that she couldn’t make it this afternoon herself.” I
take the dish from the dirty blond boy and lift up the lid. This won’t be going
to May or the outside critters either, Mrs. Hash makes the best blueberry pie
in the entire state.

“Tell her that it’s alright, Lee. I truly appreciate the
pie, and tell her that I’m thankful she’s thinking of me.” Lee’s cheeks flush
as he scuffs his shoe back and forth on my porch. He has his hands in his
pockets and looks everything like the nervous teenage boy.

“So, uh, how are you holding up?” I sincerely hope he cannot
smell the liquor on my breath. If he returns to his mother and reports that
I’ve been drinking, the entire town will be on my doorstep for the next month.

“I’m doing fine.” There is a second where neither one of us
say a word. Then, “I have a lot do to today, thanks for bringing this over.” I
take a step back into the house and Lee nods once. He waves once before he gets
into his beat up car, and I let out a sigh of resignation. That boy is never
going to stop being shy around me, but maybe that’s a good thing. I wouldn’t
want him getting the nerve up to ask me on a date or something.

Soon the people who are showing up on my doorstep are going
to realize that I haven’t done a thing to this house. I’ve been spending my
days on my laptop, attempting to keep my meager income from disappearing. I own
a blogging website that obtains revenue from advertising, and it’s not easy
keeping the members interested. I’m also afraid to get started on this house because
it will make this entire experience reality.

I put the pie on the counter and tap May on the nose when I
see her sniffing the air. It’s about time for lunch, so I pull out a can of dog
food and plop it into a bowl. I’m not sure what my father actually fed her,
because when I got here there was nothing in the cabinets. She might have been
purely and outside dog, but it still seems odd that he didn’t have food around.

The shower in the bathroom adjacent to the guest room I was
using turns on and I feel a tension in my shoulders relax. May gulps down her
food while I shamelessly pile blueberry pie into my mouth with a fork. I eat my
fill of the dessert, and then I make my way up the narrow stairwell to the
second floor. I haven’t been up here in three days.

This is where it happened. Even though the room has been
cleaned, the stains still remain. I rummage around my father’s old dresser and
find a pair of pants that were too large for him, but they might fit Jonah. For
a few seconds, I sit down on the bed and put the folded pair of jeans to my
face. They still smell like his body wash and faintly of cigars. After my
mother died, he started smoking cigars instead.

The water downstairs quiets, so I hurry downstairs and leave
the jeans in the middle of the bed. He ought to see them there. Then I make my
way to the kitchen again and stare at the bottle of brandy on the countertop. I
haven’t touched that stuff in over a year, and I shouldn’t have touched it now.
My fingers shake as I uncap the bottle and pour the rest of it down the drain.

Jonah chooses that moment to walk into the kitchen, but he
doesn’t say a word about the fact that I’m pouring an entire bottle of brandy
down the drain. Instead, he opens up the fridge, and I see a frown form on his
face. He’s frowning because there’s absolutely nothing in the fridge. He
glances at me, and I shrug one shoulder.

“In the freezer there are some TV dinners if you’re hungry.
Oh, and pie that Mrs. Hash sent over.” I point at the pie, and immediately try
to think of something to do to get myself out of the kitchen. I should have
gotten him a shirt while I was up there, but I don’t think any of them would
have fit.

“Thanks.” Before I can bolt out of there like a hare
escaping from a trap, Jonah puts a hand on my shoulder. I stiffen under his
touch, and I know he can sense it. But he doesn’t let go. “I really appreciate
you doing this, Ana.” He must have heard Mr. Taylor call me that.

“It’s Anastasia. I don’t know why everyone in this town
hates calling me by my real name.” With that said, I leave him in the kitchen
to forage for himself. I’m going to take May out for a walk and inspect the
barn. Perhaps I can find something for Jonah to do in there that will keep him
out of the house. I desperately need him to be out of the house.

There’s a leash hanging by the door, but I’ve never put it
on May. She follows me around and listens quite well, except for when she’s
rolling in deer dung. I keep an eye on her as we make our way to the barn
through the dry grass. The hot, August air is oppressive now. It’s nothing like
it was this morning. The poor dog is panting by the time we get into the shade
of the barn, but it’s not much better inside. In fact, it’s like stepping into
an oven!

“Whoo, I guess we’re not going to be in here for long, right
May?” I pat her on the head and glance around the old place. This is actually
the first time that I’ve walked in here. In fact, I haven’t walked around the
property at all since I arrived seven days prior.

Maybe if I open up the doors on either end some of the heat
will waft out. I try not to pass out as I make it to the other side of the 
barn and struggle to open up the doors. As I’m trying to get them open, May
starts barking. The noise frustrates me and frightens me at the same time. Is
someone coming up the driveway? Will they see that Jonah is in my father’s old
house? And what if it’s Mr. Taylor again?

Just as the worst scenario starts playing through my mind, a
possum comes lumbering out one of the stalls. It’s larger than a house cat, and
the hair on its back is standing on end. I reach down before May can go after
it. My fingers grasp into the hair at the nape of her neck, but she doesn’t go
after it. May’s smarter than that.

I watch the possum head out the doors I came in and let out
a sigh of relief. It didn’t look ill; just a little sleepy considering it was
probably taking its afternoon nap in one of the stalls. I manage to get the
sliding doors to slide finally. Then I stand in the middle of the barn as the
hot air wafts out and cooler air starts to waft in. But it’s not cool enough.

I might risk the heat stroke just to get away from my
strange house guest for a few more hours, but May looks as if she might keel
over. She follows me at a terribly slow pace back to the house with her head
hanging and her tongue almost touching the ground. By the time I get to the
house, I have sweat on my forehead.

A blast of cold air hits me in the face as I open up the
front door, and I almost stumble back in shock. The air conditioner in this
place is broken. It’s an ancient central air system that was installed back in
the seventies, and severely needs updated. May doesn’t seem upset by the change
in atmosphere. She bounds past me like the gates of Heaven have just opened up.
I reluctantly close the door behind me and cross my arms over my chest in the
cool air.

“Why do you wear jeans and long sleeved shirts in the
summer? Are you trying to kill yourself?” Jonah’s sudden appearance at the
kitchen doorway startles me, but I manage not to jump out of my skin. By the
tiny grin on his face, I can tell he knows he frightened me.

“No, it’s none of your business anyway. The air conditioning
was broken, did you just start it up?” If he asks about my clothes again, I’m
going to have to kick him out. He seems to understand that and moves on to my
question.

“It just needed tweaked a little, and cleaned. It
desperately needed cleaned.” That would explain the dirt up his arms. My next
words almost get stuck in my throat because I don’t want him to think that I
like having him here.

“Thank you.” There’s this awkward moment where I keep my
chin raised in the air, and Jonah just stares at me.

“So I noticed your stuff is in that room. I figured I could
take the room upstairs since you’re settled in there already.” There are two
rooms upstairs, but he must mean the one that used to be mine when I was a kid.
The room downstairs was built for my great-great-grandfather when he became
ill.

“No, that’s alright. You can stay in that room. I’ll take
the room upstairs.” Finally, with something to do, I uncross my arms and make
my way back to the room. The traitor dog decides to stay in the kitchen with
Jonah rather than follow me around anymore. Then again, he didn’t lead her
outside into the blistering heat.

She’s feisty, and she’s everything that her father told me
she had grown up to be. I grip the bridge of my nose as the pain starts up
again. I cannot remember anything about the night her father died, but I do
remember snippets of conversations with him. I also remember Mr. Taylor, but
other than the fact that he puts his hands on Anastasia, I cannot remember why
I hate the man so much.

“Get it together,” I whisper to myself. The dog, May, I
remember her. Apparently she remembers me as well, but she’s leerier around me
than she used to be. As I’m trying to focus on the present, the past begins to
weigh down on me. A fog rolls over my vision and I stumble into a kitchen
chair.

“I’ll let you stay here if you promise that you will come
down each morning to take your medication.” Mr. D’Salvatore plops the plastic
bottle down onto the linoleum countertop. He keeps his fingers gently touching
the prescription bottle as his hand rests on the countertop. I rub my hands
over my face and try to come up with an excuse as to why I cannot take the
medication, but there  is none that Mr. D’Salvatore will accept.

“I have been trying to learn to deal with this for six
years.” I take my hands away from my face and stare at the bottle.

“Sometimes things cannot be dealt with Jonah. What if you
were to lose control again and this time you made it to town?” Mr. D’Salvatore
is right. He’s always right. Perhaps that is why I want to tell this old man
that I will not be taking the medication, but that might be my inner demon
escaping. What if it’s not me making the decision? So I stand up from my seat
at the kitchen table, and I swipe the prescription bottle off the counter.

Mr. D’Salvatore grabs me a glass and fills it with water.
He hands it over to me, and watches as I take my medication.

“There are some ground rules we have to discuss before I
say yes to you staying here. First and foremost-”

The vision cuts off. I try to catch my breath as I lean
against the countertop with both hands. When did I get out of the chair? May
whimpers by my side as she leans into me, and then I notice that Anastasia is
standing in the doorway of the kitchen with her mouth hanging open and her
hands dangling at her side. I’m gripping the countertop like a madman, and I
know how this all looks.

“I’m sorry, it was just a flashback of something. I guess my
memory is coming back.” She doesn’t look convinced enough, so I flounder for
something else to say.

“What have you been learning to deal with for six years?”
She sounds afraid, and part of me wonders if maybe she should be.

“I don’t remember.” I try to say it without force, but the
words come out between clenched teeth anyway. My heart is pounding in my chest
like an uneven drum roll, and somewhere between the vision and me coming to
sweat popped onto my forehead. The back of my hand goes up automatically to
wipe the telltale beads away.

“You have to remember
something
! That was a pretty
strong memory, Jonah.” The way my name rolls off her tongue makes my shoulders
go rigid. This is all too familiar somehow as if I’m having the same
conversation over again. I try to stop it, but the fog starts to roll over me
and I manage to bolt out of the house before I can give away any more details
about my past to Anastasia.

I’m walking through the woods behind Mr. D’Salvatore with
May at my side. The dog stops to sniff at a pile of feces on the side of the
trail, and Mr. D’Salvatore snaps his fingers to get her attention. I grin to
myself because I know exactly what she was planning next. I used to have a dog
when I was a kid, but I shove that thought aside. This is a new life. I don’t
want to remember the old one.

“As I was saying, son, there are a few ground rules. When
my daughter comes to visit, I don’t want you to tell her what you’re doing
here. As far as she knows, you’re just a farmhand. Second, you’re a farmhand
that won’t be getting involved with my daughter.” I nod in agreement with him.
There’s no reason for me to be getting involved with anyone of the opposite
gender. Relationships sap too much out of me these days, and they bring about
episodes.

“I thought I was going to be helping you on the farm?” He
makes it sound as if being a farmhand is just a cover and an excuse. The man in
front of me with graying hair and an easy smile turns around to give me a
serious look.

“You are, and I expect you to be on time every morning.
No excuses! Hard work always cures a man.” I can’t disagree with him on that
one. When my hands are busy, my mind is focused. It doesn’t have enough time to
wander.

The next thing I know, the memory has fast forwarded.
We’re standing in front of a tiny cabin nestled between several large pine
trees. Mr. D’Salvatore pulls out a small key from his pocket and unlocks the
front door of the cabin. It’s of very sturdy construction, but it’s small.
There are only two rooms, one of those being a bathroom. He takes my hand in
his and slips the key into my palm.

“It’s equipped with power supplied by an underground
line. So you have lights and four outlets. One of those outlets is in the
bathroom. I also installed an instant hot water heater which powers both the
shower and the two sinks.” He goes on as he points out the small, stand-alone
pantry in the kitchenette, and the sleeping area. It’s furnished with a single
day bed off on the furthest wall from the entrance, and a set of four dishes.

It’s perfect for me.

May’s barking brings me back to reality. I’m kneeling within
the cabin with scraped knees and palms. A few sticks are hanging on my shirt,
and I rip at them angrily as I try to calm my breathing. My eyes close against
the onslaught of the sun shining in through one of the clean windows. At least
my housekeeping skills were not lacking. I’m starting to remember more.

The door to the cabin is open, and a warm breeze wafts over
me. Then the dog finally comes through the doorway and stops dead in her
tracks. She knows she’s not allowed in here if she’s rolled in deer shit, and
it looks as if she has. I point at the door without a word, just a look, and
she tucks her tail between her legs as she leaves.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself as I rub my hands over my face. I
can only hope that Anastasia did not follow me up here. I don’t hear her talking
to the dog so I can assume that she’s not nearby.

I manage to get up on my feet and begin exploring what is my
home. There’s some food in the pantry. It’s simple things like pasta and canned
sauce along with some dehydrated dinners. Apparently I wasn’t much of a cook. I
finally find what I’m looking for in the bathroom. Only two pills are left in
the bottle, which means I have two days that I might be able to feel normal.

My hands tremble as I try to twist open the cap, and then
the unthinkable happens. My traitor hands slip on the bottle, and the last two
pills make a tinkling noise as they fall down the drain of the sink. May barks
outside of the cabin and the sound makes my entire body tense up. I try to
close my eyes against what I know is going to happen, but it happens anyway. The
pressure in my head becomes so intense that I feel as though it might explode,
and then suddenly it’s all gone.

“You thought you could get rid of me!” I look at myself in
the mirror and feel the scratchy voice come out of my own throat. But it’s not
me talking, it’s
him
. Then all reality is lost as his face shifts into
someone else’s entirely.

“What are you doing here Tom?” The man staring back at me
has gray eyes without a hint of blue. His lip is up in a sneer as he scoffs at
me, and his jet black hair is slicked back with way too much hair gel. We’ve
been tiptoeing around each other for years, but two years ago he made a
permanent appearance, at least until I got a hold of the pills.

“I’m here to save your ass again. What is it you did this
time? Did you actually follow my advice and rape the girl, or did you kill the
old man?” I feel an inexplicable rage build up inside of me at his crass
accusations, and before I know it my hand is balled up into a fist. I try to
keep it down, but my body is not my own anymore. My knuckles crunch into the
glass and split painfully as I wreck the mirror.

But that never gets rid of him.

His insane, ear splitting laugh is behind me, and I turn
around to see him standing in the doorway of the bathroom. I know I’m insane,
and I know that he doesn’t really exist. But that doesn’t ever make him
actually go away. Only medication can help me with that. May’s incessant
barking cracks through the hallucination, and he wavers.

“If you want to stay here, then you have to step aside.” I
speak calmly as I grab a towel and wrap it around my fingers. Tom chortles as
he steps off to the side and into the main living area of the cabin. I can hear
Anastasia’s footsteps, and I know that I have to tell her a semblance of the
truth.

Three deep breaths later she’s finally standing in the
doorway of my cabin, well, her father’s cabin. By the look on her face, she had
no idea this little place even existed. I don’t say a word as her warm, blue
eyes search the interior of the cabin. She skims over me as if she already knew
I was here, and focuses on the desk with a laptop on it off to one wall. That
was an addition of mine, not her father’s.

“So you live here.” It’s not a question, so I don’t answer
her. Instead, I cinch the towel tighter around my hand and look at the floor.
May’s barking has ceased, but she’s nowhere in sight. The poor dog probably
wandered home, or she’s lying out at the bottom of the three steps that need to
be ascended to come into the cabin.

“We need to talk. But first, I have to deal with my hand.”
Anastasia finally looks down at the towel that’s starting to be soaked in
blood, and I see her face blanch in the shadows. She bites her bottom lip as if
she’s not sure if she can handle the situation, and then I see the moment that
clarity overtakes her.

“What happened?” I admire the strength in her voice, and the
way her shoulders square as she takes a few steps towards me.

“It’s not too horrendous, I just slipped, and my hand
crashed through the bathroom mirror.” That sounded pretty lame even to me. Tom
lets his head fall back as he laughs, and I try not to wince. I don’t want
Anastasia to know about him yet.

“Right, well lets patch it up over at the kitchen sink,
shall we?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer her. A tingling sensation shoots
up my spine and rests at the base of my skull as she takes my hand. I keep a
straight face as she leaves me standing over the sink to find some tweezers in
the bathroom. Then she’s back, and she’s plucking tiny pieces of glass out of
my hand.

“You’ve done this before?” I’m just trying to make
conversation. Anything to distract me from the plinking noise as she puts the glass
into a cup would be nice. Except for the sound of Tom’s boots scraping across
the floor. He knows I hate that sound, and yet he finds the need to constantly
do it.

“I haven’t, but judging by the way you left, I doubt you
want to go see a doctor right now.” Her eyes can go from warm to icy in a
heartbeat, and right now they’re making my own heart cover in frost.

“I’ll explain, please, just give me a chance to explain.”
Her lips tighten as she stares at me and a crease forms between her brows. I want
so much to be able to reach up and rub it away right now. And then Mr.
D’Salvatore’s words come crashing down on me. Anastasia is
off-limits
.

The young woman finally nods as if she’s made a decision
about me, and she goes back to squinting while she pulls out slivers of glass.
My blood is dripping down into the small kitchen sink and running down the
drain. I should get stitches, but I can do that myself. In fact, I could be
taking the glass out myself. But the way her hand gently cradles mine and the feel
of her warmth by my side has me waiting for her to pull the glass out on her
own, painstakingly slowly.

“You’re a criminal, aren’t you?” My hand jerks overtop of
hers and Anastasia looks up at me with a coy smile on her lips. Tom slams his
fist down on the countertop beside me and leans into my face with a hiss.

“It’s too bad she’s wrong! Or is she, Jonah? Go on, tell her
about her father!” Over the years,  I’ve learned to keep Tom at bay while I’m
in the presence of others, but it’s hard to ignore a screaming banshee. All the
while that Tom is trying to distract me with talk of ripping off Anastasia
shirt, the woman before me is trying to ask me something.

“Shut up!” I finally shout, pulling my hand away from
Anastasia and gripping my head with both my hands. Sometimes squeezing tightly
helps. I feel the blood from my knuckles dripping down the side of my face, and
hear it plopping onto the wooden floor as if it’s amplified. My eyes squeeze
shut as I try to draw in breaths slowly through my nose and let them out my
mouth.

“Jonah?” It’s not Tom talking to me anymore. Anastasia is
standing by the entrance to the cabin with May pressed to the back of her legs.
The dog’s hairs are standing on end, and her eyes are glued to mine.

“I’m sorry.” My voice comes out gruff and hoarse as if I’ve
been screaming for a long time. The blood on my knuckles has dried, and there
are tears streaking down my face. Tom’s retreated to a corner of the cabin with
his arms crossed over his chest, and he has one foot on the wall as he leans
against it. The situation is too much for me, and I manage to close my eyes
before the floor comes up to meet my face.

It’s dark, and the air has become a little cooler. I feel
something furry next to me, and I’m lying on something soft. My toes wiggle
first as I realize that I’m no longer wearing shoes, and my right hand feels
unusually heavy. It’s my right eye that opens first to peer at the white
bandages on my hand. I look like the beginnings of a mummy in the faint light.