Fake (A Pretty Pill) (2 page)

Inexplicably, a complete but beautiful stranger has been engulfed within my fractured world, and
even more incredible is the fact that I want him there.

I am flooded with the experience that is his presence.

I am shocked that he has managed to do this at all, like magic.

I am considering my options and planning my damage control.
  I just need to leave.  I just need to back up and leave and then it will all be okay again.

And then he speaks.

“Help me.” he groans softly; and despite every alarm that tells me to leave, to go and get assistance if he requires it, I don’t.  I move as though possessed towards him, intent on helping; that magical connection drawing me further in.

He can’t be more than 20 years old because the facility only caters from people aged between 18 and 21.  Once you turn 21, you have to go into the adult facility.

I’m 25 now, so I have at least five years on him, so any attraction to him must be of a caring nature.  I can’t understand how it is that I even care; how he has made me instantaneously care.

I
put the duster down and walk towards him, and then he turns around.

He is even more stunning now that I can see him up close and face to face.
 

It’s insane seeing him almost naked before me.  His tapered torso is the stuff of dreams.  He must work hard to have this kind of definition
; that is obvious, and the result has me momentarily stunned and attempting not to look like I’m flustered – which of course I am.

He holds his hands out. 

The knuckles are bleeding; all of them.  I hadn’t noticed them before because he had them in the basin.

I quickly look around to see what he could’ve hurt them on and I notice the wall
in the shower and the splattering of blood.  He obviously punched the walls in there until he broke through the skin.

“I’m not a nurse.  I
should go and get help.” I reason.

“No,
please.  They’ll send me back; I just couldn’t help it, I’m sorry.” he pleads.

“I…” I begin, but his eyes are boring into mine, begging me to help him without revealing him to the other staff.
  I take his strong but bleeding hands in mine and turn them over –“I used to be a medic.” I sigh, “I’ll go and get some dressings and help clean you up.  You won’t be able to hide the dressings though.” I explain.

“I’ll wear a jumper.”

“A what?” I ask confused.  And I notice now that his accent is different.

“A sweater.” he explains.

“It’s still warm out; it will look a little suspicious.”

“I don’t care, as long as it keeps me from going back to hospital.” he argues.

I nod and I let go of his hands; instantly lamenting their loss, and criticizing myself for not being careful about exposing myself to a stranger’s blood.  I reach around him and quickly wash my hands.  It’s an opportunity to focus – yet I find myself unwilling to just walk away.  Instead I realize that he’s standing close, encroaching on my personal space, and I can smell him, and I like the way he smells.

“Okay,
I’ll be back shortly.” I offer, wiping my hands on my jeans and stepping away from him.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Isi.”

“Izzy?  That’s your name?  It must be short for something else.” he says with a slight mocking tone.  I can’t believe he can switch from being so forlorn to nonchalant
so quickly, so I look up into his eyes only to see that he hasn’t switched at all; he’s just trying to cope with his darkness.  I offer a smile.

“Isi… not Izzy.  The sound is an ‘s’
, not a ‘zz’ sound.  It’s short for Isobelle.”

“Isobelle.” he repeats softly, looking at me deeply in the eyes and claiming
wholeheartedly the spot within me he just moments ago created.

“Isobelle Mulligan.” I giv
e him my full name, trying not to sound breathless.

“Help me, please Isobelle.”

“Okay Mr. Tayte; I’ll be right back.  Just place your knuckles under cold water till I return.”

“Silas; my name is Silas.” he explains.
  “Please call me Silas.”

“Well, Silas; call me Isi, and I’ll go and get you some first aid.”

SILAS.

“I’m going to miss you; I’m going to miss you so much
.” I explain to Shae, standing next to her near the departure lounge in Terminal 3.  I lean into her, smelling her hair and pulling her to me once again, embracing her from behind.

She’s not been herself lately, and I have a sick feeling in my stomach that she’s calling an en
d to our relationship.  However she hasn’t said that she is and we made love last night so perhaps it’s just nerves that I’m feeling this way; nerves over her leaving me for an extensive period of time.  And paranoia; perhaps I’m experiencing an unhealthy dose of paranoia.

“I have to return in order to gain my student visa.”
she grumbles.

“I know,
I know.  I just wish the stupid thing wasn’t so complicated.” I moan, pulling her into me tightly.

Shae sighs.  Shae sighs a lot lately.  She also spends an inordinate amount of time on the phone with her parents, sometimes shouting down the line with them.  Shae has never before now been one to raise her voice or become agitated, but she appears to be edgy lately.  I know it has something to do with me being a little more relaxed with my medications
, since I don’t have Jade breathing down my neck to get me to have them all the time.  Shae has expressed concern over it, but I feel fine.  I feel really good actually.  I still have my pills, though probably only about 70% of the time.  But I think I’ve found a good medium.  With Shae alongside me, I just don’t feel as fractured as I used to.

Shae disagree
s with me though and she says that I’m different than I used to be.  Admittedly, I can be a little quick to anger at times, but never with her.  Road rage appears to be somewhat of an issue, but with all this fucking traffic around LA, who can blame me?  Newcastle wasn’t anything like this.  Today we’ve taken a cab though, so there’s no rage to contend with.  Yet still Shae is behaving distant, rigid and strange.  This is the standard of her recent behavior with me, and I can’t say that I like it; because I seriously don’t.  But I don’t want to argue about it either.  I just don’t understand it, all I know is that it feels wrong and I’m waiting for her to explain what the problem is, but she doesn’t.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing; I’m just nervous about the flight.” she grunts quietly, looking down at the floor rather than me, another new thing she has been doing.

She used to look at me when she talked to me.  Now she looks everywhere else.

I decide to change the subject.

“You’re going to miss
out on the birth.” I chuckle.  Jade, my sister, is having a baby with her partner, Ben; my best friend in the world besides Shae.  But Jade is totally packing it.  She’s not baby friendly, though I suspect she’ll be singing a different tune once the little devil comes out.

“I m
ight make it back in time.” she mumbles.

I find myself shaking my head and sighing.

This girl in front of me isn’t my Shae; I’m not sure who she is, and it’s really giving me the shits. 

It all started a month ago,
when I turned on the paparazzi after Ben won his fight here in LA.  He had gotten on his knees and proposed to Jade and some of the photographers had challenged me when I asked them to step back.  Of course I got into a tussle, because I’m not one to back down from a fight, but Shae was disappointed in me.  Her disapproval oozed from her for days like a toxic sludge.  I’d never seen her like it before.  I assumed she was embarrassed, and no amount of ‘sorry’ was going to change that.

Then there were the beginnings of phone calls.  Her parents were calling to ask what the deal was with my scuffle,
which of course was reported in the news back home.  Shae explained, but they were concerned.  I think they worked it all out, or they were told, or they did some digging and found out about my bipolar; because they began phoning and speaking to Shae at length.  International calls are not cheap.  And they weren’t interested in talking to me in the slightest.  I went from being a part of their family to an ostracized anomaly.

I knew
that this situation was perpetuating my escalation into a mania; because I just didn’t know how to cope with it.  So of course I have since become a little on edge myself; consumed by my paranoia at times; regardless, I know my behaviors have been out of whack, especially regarding the phone calls.

I fou
nd it increasingly suspicious that Shae began taking her calls from her parents in private, away from my earshot.  Even when I walked into the room if she was on the phone, she’d walk out of there and find somewhere else to talk.  I could also see how upset the calls were making her, because more often than not she’d been crying when she got off the phone.

And then there was t
his trip back to Australia, which was a complete surprise to me.  When she explained she needed to return a week ago, I told her we should talk to Ben about it; that maybe he could help sort things out, but she was adamant that it was unavoidable, and that she didn’t want to involve Ben.  Her parents had booked and paid for her ticket.  I had wanted to pay them back, since I considered it my responsibility but she wouldn’t let me.  This again peaked my suspicion that Shae was moving on, and that her parents were behind the changes in her.

And t
hen there was last night, when she turned to me in bed and began to kiss me and it felt like good bye. 

Like I said
we made love, at least that’s what I did.  For me it felt like I was trying to reconnect with her increasingly distant soul, because I craved the connection.  I needed to feel her and to show her how much I love her; but I swear for her it was just simply goodbye. She cried intently after the experience and I felt like an asshole.  I was confused.

But again,
I’m being paranoid.  I get paranoid – I know I do, because I get told to stop being paranoid all the time.

“Shae, I know I can be a bit of an asshole at times, but th
at’s nothing new.  I’ve been a bit moody since we started going out.  But something’s going on and I don’t understand what I can do about it.” I say.

“I know.
  But nothing’s going on.” She replies, looking down with her silvery blond hair hiding her expression.  I put my hand out to adjust her hair out of her eyes, but she pulls her hand up and prevents me.

“Why are you being
so cold?” I ask her.  I’m just so confused, because we’ve been together for 3 years and this rapid deterioration has happened in under a month.

“I’m not cold.” she argues.  “I…” she changes tact, I can tell.  She has thought about something to say and it isn’t what she originally intended, although it is a legitimate concern.
“I just can’t stop thinking about how you’ve only had your meds in the evenings this week.  You’ve missed nearly half your dose.” she reasons; clutching at my medication inconsistencies like they’re the answers to everything in this moment.

I’m a little taken aback about her increasingly obvious deception and twisting of the issues.  R
ight now I’m thinking about us, about fixing what is going wrong with us; and she’s claiming to be thinking about my medications.

I run with it.  I have nothing else to go by.

“Is that what’s bothering you?”

She nods
, looking at me pleadingly with her big blue eyes and a slight pout to her lips.  I can’t help but realize she holds my heart in her hands; and I want her to be happy.

“If I take them every day while you’re gone, the way I’m meant to, will it make you happy?” I whisper, moving my body in and dragging her
s toward mine so that we are meeting in the middle.

She nods, so I lean down and kiss her softly on the lips.
  She briefly kisses me and pulls away first; it’s breaking my heart.

“Okay; I promise I’ll take them so that when you return I’ll be the same guy you fell in love with.”

She gives me a pained expression and I notice the tears in her eyes.  I feel her slipping away, like an undertow is pulling her away to where I can no longer see her.  I know she’s leaving me now, I can feel it but I’m hoping I’m wrong.

“I promise Shae.  I’ll do anything for you.”
I plead; my heart rate climbing.

“You wouldn’t do it for me before.” she whispers.

“I didn’t know it affected you so much before.  I’m sorry.” I explain.

Then the announcement for her to enter through the gates and leave me behind sounds.  I feel as though I’m rushing to say something that will make everything okay, that will stop her from
leaving me, not only physically but emotionally as well.

“I promise I’ll do anything you ask.  I love you Shae.”

She nods.