Falling for Your Madness (19 page)

“So? Grant, eh? When did this come about?” I thought Ruby was due for a little teasing.

“He rides the same BC shuttle bus I do. I didn’t notice him at first, but he noticed me. Then one day he offered me his seat, which was awesome. Then we started talking. Then he walked me to my classes.”

I couldn’t resist.
“Ruby and Grant! Sittin’ in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“No. Actually, we’re still just friends.”

“Really? Like, tea, lunch, and dinner friends?”

“More like coffee, drinks, and really late lunch friends. Tonight we window shopped on Newbury Street and had dessert. He brought me flowers.”

I could see it in her face. He was treating her like a lady, and she liked it. “Then I won’t keep you, I have this problem, but if you want to be alone, I’ll …”

“No. Please stay. He’s a gentleman.” She giggled. “He likes football. Have David come over for the game on Sunday and we’ll …”

I choked. “I don’t know if there will be more Sundays with David. That’s why I need you.”

I told her everything that Fay had said. “What do you think? Do you think that Fay’s words are true? Is David delusional and obsessive compulsive? Narcissistic? Overly sensitive? Paranoid? Unstable? Do you see that in this paper?”

She studied it. “You can’t come to conclusions like that based on one school assignment. You have to have tons of documentation, physical examinations, countless testing. No one wants to slap a label on a kid without backing it up. Did you see the file she was talking about?”

“No. Just this.”

“Let’s take those issues one at a time, okay? Let’s start with the easy stuff. David is not a psychopath because they have extreme empathy issues, they show no remorse, they have no idea that what they’re doing is wrong. They
love
hurting people. That’s not even close to David. I’m more psychopathic than he is. If I stepped in a puddle, he would be concerned about my wet shoes and apologize that he allowed it to rain. So David is not a psychopath.”

“That makes me feel a little better.”

“He’s also not narcissistic. Remember that project I did on narcissism last year? We’re all a little narcissistic, that’s just human nature, but people with narcissistic personality disorders can’t apologize. They never take responsibility for their actions. They have no idea that they’ve made a mistake. They treat people as objects and can’t bear to have the spotlight off them.”

“Also not David.”

“See, this isn’t so bad. Now he is fussy, that we can agree on, but I don’t think he’s obsessive compulsive. He is sensitive; you love that about him, and I kinda do too, but he’s done nothing that I’ve seen nor that you’ve told me about that would be considered abnormal. Annoying? Maybe. Over-the-top? Sure. But not abnormal.”

I was getting a headache. “What about violent. You know about …”

“Right.” Ruby sighed. “We don’t have enough evidence to decide if he’s violent because he really can’t control himself, or if he’s violent because he was defending you. It’s a tough call.”

“That leaves paranoid and unstable.”

Ruby shook her head. “I’m going to be honest with you. If I read this from any other fourteen-year-old kid, who I
knew
had been abandoned by his mother and lived with a father who leaned toward the grandiose, I might tag him as severely emotionally disturbed, but even then, I’d need more proof. Honey, I’m so sorry about this.” She held me. I’m glad she did. I had really missed her.

“What do counselors do with kids like that?”

“Lots of different things. They talk to them. They look for patterns. They try behavior modification. Sometimes drugs. I do see this small bit of hope. David has a great sense of humor. That’s always,
always
a sign of good mental health.”

“What about delusional?”

“That might be the sticking point. You did say that his father was a history professor, right?”

“Right.”

“And he had some crazy ideas about English history?”

“He did. David has never mentioned specifics.”

“I would have never thought of this if it hadn’t been for a case study I recently read about. Some parents a few years ago in California were so concerned about the emotional stability of their kid that they invented a destiny for him. Something crazy! Hey! Grant would know this. He’s a TA in the history department.”

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

“What if this rightful king of England bit was just a history-loving father’s way of giving a troubled kid some hope?” She opened her bedroom door and signaled for Grant to come out.

I hadn’t thought of that. That would explain all that Merle had said to me about David coming a long way. How bad was it that his father would have to suggest such a thing? Look at David now! Confident. Chivalrous.
Did it work?
I may never know.

“Grant? Listen, Laura picked this paper up, and we need your opinion. I’m not going to tell you anything about the story behind it until you read it. Can you tell me what you think?”

Grant appeared glad that we included him. “Do you mind if we sit down?” We were all standing around the living room. Grant wasn’t going to sit until the ladies did.

“Sure.” I liked Grant. I planned on teasing Ruby mercilessly about him.

Grant had only read for a few seconds before he burst out laughing. “This is hilarious.” He laughed through all of it. “Nothing mentioned about the Magna Carta being written by aliens?” He shook his head and turned the page. “Oh yes, the current Royals! Of course, they play a part in this drama! Hmm, the writer has no idea they’re really German, does he? Oh! Oops.” He frowned. “This was written by a kid. Someone you know? Have I gone too far?”

“No,” I said. “So is there any way this is true?”

“The opening statement is the most ridiculous. There’s no evidence anywhere that Arthur even existed. The rest of it builds on that assumption. This whole thesis is like a house of cards. It
is
amusing, but not even close to truth.” He flipped back to the front of the paper. “I shouldn’t be surprised that this came out of a public school. So, who is this David guy?”

“The man I once thought I wanted to marry.”

Monday, October 22, 2012

The Boston Tea Party Tea Shop

1477 Beacon Street

Brookline, Massachusetts

3:25 p.m.

“Are you feeling better, Laura?” David met me outside the tea shop with a bouquet of red roses.

I couldn’t speak.

He frowned. “Forget tea. Come sit in the car.” He took my hand and walked to the Crown Victoria. He opened up Merle’s door, “Get out, you little weasel.”

“David, you can’t sit in here with her.”

“I can today. I need to talk to Laura in private, and I will do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of her sadness. If you put a spell on me, I’ll take that Nehru jacket, and …”

Merle didn’t wait for him to finish. He took off running down Beacon Street.

David opened the back door and allowed me to get in. He got in behind me and shut the door. No one was watching us from the front seat. No one was sitting next to us at another table. No one was walking their dog past our park bench. We were in the back seat of a big car with dark tinted windows. And I couldn’t enjoy it.

“Laura, you absolutely must tell me what is on your mind. I did not sleep last night. I should not have left you to wrestle with whatever vexes you. I hoped that when I saw you today, all would be well, and your condition was only physical. But I can see it is not. Tell me, please.”

All night I had tried to piece together this puzzle. After I’d read David’s school report for the tenth time, I remembered his bedroom and his king-sized bed. His personal chivalric code
.
The way he had fought Trey. The obsessive behavior with old girlfriends. The high school restraining order. I didn’t like the conclusions I was coming to—that he was, at best, delusional, and at worst, someone I shouldn’t be with, someone whose intensity could hurt me. I had been in the position to fear him before; now I was in that position again.

I could only whisper. “Do you really believe, right this minute, that you are a direct descendant of King Arthur and that you are the rightful king of England?”

He moved very close to me and took both my hands. “Merle told you.”

“Not directly. I figured out much of it myself.”

David would not look at me. “If I say yes, then you will release me. If I say no, then I may not be truthful. What, dear lady, would you like to hear?”

A tear fell down my face. I patted his knee. “What am I going to do with you?” The darkest thought of all passed through me. I was alone with him. The question was, what was he going to do with me?

David held my hand against his cheek. “Today is the last day we see each other until the Halloween party on Sunday. Promise me that I will be yours at least until then?” He wiped my face and stroked my hair. “Laura, I love you.”

He had not said that to me before. I couldn’t say anything.

“Please, until Sunday. Then I think you’ll know what to do.” He reached out to hold me, but I resisted. He looked at me as if I had slapped his face.

Then he got out of the car and opened my door. He didn’t offer me his arm, but walked alongside me to my apartment building. He kissed me on the hand and left me without saying a word.

Tuesday, October 22, 2012

332 Babcock Street

Brookline, Massachusetts

10:51 a.m.

“I’ll know what to do on Sunday. On Sunday, I’ll know what to do about David.”
That’s what I kept telling myself. I also told myself repeatedly to turn off the David part of my brain and turn on the self-employed, get-busy-cause-the-rent-is-due part of the brain. The problem was my brain wasn’t listening.

I had a client in big trouble. He was a dentist, and he ran a small practice up Beacon Street. I liked working for him. He had called me, in a panic. I’d learned that some clients assume that because I did one part of their online life, like a website, then I was responsible for all of it, like a Facebook page. His problem was a former employee who had been fired for using drugs. The employee was now launching a smear campaign against the office. She was trying to use Yelp! and Twitter and whatever else she could to say, “This dentist is bad
.
”

Dr. Benjamin was worried. “None of what Tara is saying is true. People are reading things and believing them, and my practice will suffer,”

I was not an expert in this, but I felt like I could try to comfort the guy. “Your regular patients know you, right? They don’t scour Yelp! That’s only for new patients. Even then, there are what, a dozen or so good reports and one bad one? People can usually see through that. You have to relax. I think this will all blow over, and it won’t be the issue you think it is.”

“I guess not. But it’s upsetting. I did the right thing. What I’m worried about is that one little hint of negativity will change everything. I don’t like being called something I’m not.”

“None of us do.”

“You need to stay with David.”

“What did you say?” Dr. Benjamin didn’t know anything about my private life.

“You have to relax. I think this will all blow over, and it won’t be the issue you think it is.” Those were the words I had said a minute ago.

“Dr. Benjamin, are you okay?” I was sure I was hearing things.

“Yes, Laura. I feel much better. I’ll let you know about that brochure we talked about.”

Yes. Just hearing things. It was nothing.

Wednesday, October 23, 2012

The Green Line, between the Coolidge Corner stop in Brookline and Copley Square in Boston

4:11 p.m.

I had to take the T into the Back Bay to get to the Apple Store. I climbed aboard the train, and I rummaged through my bag to find my phone. I saw, again, David’s school report. I didn’t know why I
had
to read it again right that second, but I did. I had already read it a million times. This time I read it, and I cried, not for what it I thought it was originally, but because I could see that tall, awkward boy with the dark curls telling me this interpretation of history with passion in his eyes. Or maybe it was madness?

The red ink at the bottom seemed to glow.
In the future, if you write about historical events and actual people, you must correctly cite your sources.