Unquiet

By Melanie Hansen

A Resilient Love Story

Loren Smith has been in love with Eliot Devlin almost his entire life. During their turbulent childhood and teen years, Loren didn’t always understand Eliot, and sometimes he could be a challenge, but Eliot was the only one to ever truly ease Loren’s deep loneliness and accept him. When Eliot’s increasingly erratic and self-destructive behavior culminates in a suicide attempt at seventeen, Loren is devastated.

Upon meeting again by chance nine years later, Loren is enjoying a successful career as a police officer while Eliot’s life has been a constant struggle for stability. In and out of mental hospitals, with a rap sheet a mile long, he continues to be buffeted by the twin storms of mania and depression. Loren’s love and protectiveness for Eliot are deeply ingrained in him, however, and their feelings for each other are quickly rekindled.

Loren has issues of his own he’s dealing with, and trying to understand and cope with Eliot’s bipolar disorder isn’t easy. They believe they’re meant to be, and Eliot brings a fulfillment to Loren’s life that no one else will ever match. But as they both come to realize, love by itself can’t cure all.

For LM — I know you’re not in any more pain, and that you’re finally at peace.

But I miss you.

Any author will say that writing a book is a team effort. That is 100 percent true, and this book would not be here today without the support of so many people. Mere words aren’t adequate enough to express my gratitude; just know you also have my love.

To Kenya, Monica, and Mel C.—for reading my extremely rough first draft, and for sticking with me through the angst of revisions and rewrites. I can’t thank you enough for providing the hand-holding, petting, and soothing that I required during this time.

To Michele—for providing inspiration for the hospitalization scenes, and for graciously sharing your insights regarding the very difficult work you do with your patients.

To Katinka—for your honest critique and personal feedback on some topics I know weren’t easy for you to think about. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for bravely putting yourself through that for my sake. Hugs.

And last but certainly not least, to Lenore DiTrani. Without your superior editing and beta reading skills, and your unflinching willingness to hold the story’s flaws up to a bright light, this would be a very different book. I appreciate you more than I can say.

I’m so very fortunate in my friends.

First Grade

LOREN SMITH
could clearly remember the first time he met Eliot Devlin, and it was because his mom made him.

“Go next door and say hi to the new neighbors, Loren,” she said, pushing him out the front door. “I hear they have a little boy. Maybe he’ll be someone you can play with. You need friends, honey. Go try.” She shut the door firmly behind him, so firmly he knew going right back inside would be a bad idea.

So Loren made his way down the sidewalk to the house next door and stood tentatively near the huge moving van. There were no kids around that he could see; in fact, he didn’t see anyone except sweaty moving guys who said bad words under their breath as they pushed little carts stacked with boxes and furniture up to the house. He wondered how long he should stand there before going home and telling his mom he’d tried, he really had.

Loren’s mom and dad worked all the time. He was proud of his dad, uncle, and two of his older brothers, who were all cops. He loved seeing them in their uniforms, knowing they were out arresting bad guys. That’s what
he
was gonna do someday, just like them. He wasn’t sure what his mom did, but she wore a pretty suit and went to work every day, not coming home until sometimes after Loren was in bed. He knew deep down his family loved him—they told him that all the time—but they were so
busy
. And he was lonely.

Since there were no other kids in his neighborhood, he
was
a little excited at the thought of having someone to play with. Loren nervously tugged his
Pokémon
T-shirt down over his pudge and peered up at the neighbors’ house. He hoped the kid would be nice, not like that jerk Bobby LaMotte at school who called Loren “piggy” while he made oinking noises.

The moving-van guys unloaded what looked like a kid’s bike, a cool bike with
Transformers
stickers on it. That was promising. Loren liked
Transformers
, although his favorite was
Pokémon
. Maybe the new kid liked
Pokémon
too.

“Hey!”

The hissing whisper in his ear made Loren jump and scream a little. He hoped it didn’t sound like a girlie scream. He whirled around, and there stood a skinny little blond boy, hair sticking up everywhere, dirt smudged over his face.

“’Sup?” Loren tried to be cool like his big brother Chase, who was in college. The kid grinned at him, showing several missing teeth. The boy was so thin he looked like he might blow away in a storm, and Loren had never seen such big green eyes before.

“I’m planning a trip to the moon,” the boy confided, leaning in close. “Do
you
want to go to the moon?”

Before Loren could answer, the kid went on. “A big spaceship to the moon. Sometimes the moon looks orange. I bet it’s made of cheese, orange cheese. Do you like pumpkins? Ghosts are scary, and I like whipped cream, but not bananas. Maybe we could fly to the sun!”

Loren stood there with his mouth open.

“I’m Eliot and I’m six,” the kid said at last, hopping up and down. “What’s your name?”

“Loren,” he mumbled, not quite sure what to think of this strange, beautiful boy.

“C’mon, Loren!” Eliot beckoned to him, and after a moment’s hesitation, Loren followed him into the woods behind their houses.

“What’s back here, dude?” he asked, still trying to act cool and unafraid, even though he was a little afraid. Eliot danced ahead of him, spinning and turning, flinging his arms out.

“My spaceship, stupid!”

Loren bristled at that but Eliot grinned at him, and he decided the way Eliot said it, it didn’t sound mean, like when Bobby LaMotte called him names. Loren’s nervousness evaporated, and he scuffed through the leaves a little slower than Eliot did, but he kept following.

When they reached a tall tree, before Loren could say anything, Eliot had climbed up real high and was sitting on one of the branches, his feet swinging wildly back and forth.

“I’m so close to the moon!” Eliot shouted, reaching his arms up like he could touch it. Loren looked up in confusion; it wasn’t even dark. What moon?

“C’mon! Climb up! I don’t want to go to the moon alone, not without my best friend!”

Best friend? This kid was really weird, but still, Loren found himself struggling to climb the tree, heaving himself up from branch to branch, his T-shirt riding up again. Eliot kept shouting at him, telling him to “Keep going!” and “Don’t let the tree beat you!” until Loren perched next to Eliot on the branch, out of breath and sweaty. It dipped and groaned a little at the added weight, but it held.

Loren looked down and felt a wave of dizziness, followed by feeling like he could pee his pants; they were
way
higher than it had looked from the ground.

“See the moon?” Eliot said in gleeful tones, looking up. Loren looked up too. He couldn’t see squat except white and fluffy clouds, but he said, “Yeah, dude, I see it.” Eliot froze, then turned his head and looked at him, green eyes huge in his thin, dirty face.

“You do?” he whispered. “You really see it?”

Loren stared back at him, and in that instant, despite the weirdness that was still freaking him out a little, he saw a lonely boy too, a boy who didn’t quite fit in where he’d been planted. A frisson of understanding went through him, and he whispered back, “Yeah, I do see it, Eliot.”

“Touch it,” Eliot said, lifting his hand up toward the bright blue midday sky. “Touch the moon.”

Loren turned to stare upward, squinting against the sun, and he lifted his hand slowly. “I’m touching it.”

They sat there, both of them still reaching toward the sky, and Loren heard Eliot whisper, “You’ll be my best friend forever.”

IN ALL
his short life, Loren had never had a best friend before, but now he did. He and Eliot were inseparable. Playdates, sleepovers, dinner at each other’s house. One day Loren’s mom said he didn’t have to go to after-school care anymore and ride that stupid little bus that said Nana’s Playhouse on it, that she and Eliot’s mom had decided to “share the expense of a nanny,” whatever the heck
that
meant. He soon learned what it meant was that, after school, he could go straight over to Eliot’s house and Mrs. Garcia would make them a snack and watch them until someone came for Loren, although a lot of times he’d just end up sleeping over.

He didn’t mind, though. Eliot’s room was huge, and he had every sort of Transformer, and yes, Pokémon toy imaginable. Not that Eliot played with them all that much; he rarely sat still long enough to play with toys. Loren was happy to play with them, though, and he did while Eliot jumped and tramped about his room making up stories about pirates who took over the world, and monsters, and his favorite topic, the moon.

The only times Eliot was still was when he would hunch over a sketchpad for hours, drawing. Sometimes Loren fell asleep, crashed out in one of Eliot’s twin beds. When he’d wake up to pee, a little before dawn, Eliot would be in the same place, still drawing. He’d fill sketchpad after sketchpad with pictures of the moon and stars, pictures even Loren—who didn’t care at all about the stupid moon; he just pretended he did—had to admit were very good. Even after staying up all night, Eliot never seemed tired, and sometimes he did that two or three days in a row.

After a while Loren got used to Eliot’s weirdness until it didn’t even seem weird anymore; it was just Eliot. Sometimes the kids at school made fun of him, but Eliot didn’t care. He still talked fast and about lots of different things that didn’t make sense, although they seemed to make sense to Eliot. Sometimes
Loren
could even follow what he was saying, and that made him feel good because Eliot would always hug him and whisper what a good friend he was.

One day, though, when they were in seventh grade, Eliot got really,
really
weird, so much that even Loren was alarmed. Eliot couldn’t sit still, and for once his energy had a kind of meanness to it. He called some kids names, and yelled at their teacher. The principal, Mr. Wartman, or Wartface, as the students took gleeful delight in calling him behind his back, came to the room and took Eliot away. He didn’t come back the whole rest of the day, and Loren walked home alone, heading to Eliot’s house like he always did.

When he got there, Mrs. Garcia said Eliot’s dad had picked him up from the school office and taken him to the doctor. Loren didn’t think much of it, and later that night, when he was eating fish sticks in front of the TV, Eliot swept into the room and announced, “I have ADHD.”

“What’s that?” Loren asked, stuffing some fries in his mouth. Even though he still ate a lot, he’d gotten a lot taller, and tramping around with Eliot out in the woods so much instead of watching TV had caused him to lose his pudge. Now his clothes fit better, his favorite T-shirts not riding up anymore and showing his fat. Bobby didn’t oink at him, and Loren even knew a couple of girls liked him. He still thought they were gross, though.

Eliot shrugged. “Some weird”—he looked around cautiously—“some weird
shit
”—they both giggled at Eliot’s daring—“that makes me do weird shit
things
,” he hissed. Loren must have looked suitably impressed because Eliot said with a touch of importance, “And I gotta take something called Ritalin.”

“Whoa, what’s that?” Loren asked, swirling his last fish stick around in the ketchup and eating it.

“Some pills,” Eliot said. “Gotta take them every day, even at school. The doctor told my dad they would calm me down.”

“Cool. You acted like a total psycho today, El,” Loren said.

Eliot looked affronted. “Hey, it wasn’t me, it was the—” He looked around again, and Loren waited with breathless anticipation for another curse word, but what Eliot hissed sent a little shiver down his spine. “It was the
black demon
.”

“The what?” Loren asked, his voice cracking a little. He hated when it did that.

“The black demon that talks to me,” Eliot muttered, his voice grim. “He tells me to do stuff sometimes. Sometimes it feels like he’s taking over my body.”

Loren didn’t know what to think. It scared him a little, so he laughed it off.

“Now you sound super
mondo
crazy, just so you know.”

Eliot stared at him flatly for a moment then shrugged. “Maybe the pills will make him shut up.”

That night Loren lay awake for a while in the twin bed across from Eliot’s. He wasn’t
afraid
, not really, but what Eliot said about demons had freaked him out a little. Neither of them liked scary movies, but one Halloween night they’d run across a showing of
The Exorcist
.
It scared both of them so much they ended up sleeping together in the same bed, huddling under the covers like the quilt could protect them from supernatural forces. Loren was amazed at how comforting it was to sleep next to Eliot, to feel his warmth and hear his quiet breathing.