Beautiful Confusion (New Adult Romance) Room 105 (16 page)

I never wanted him to stop. But I knew he had to because I wasn’t going to last. He was using his fingers now, putting them inside me at the same time that he used his mouth.

He’d learned this well. He was experienced. He knew what he was doing. For now, I was grateful. Later, I would ask him about the other girls in his life and pray that he would remain committed to me.

Because as I stood there, on the verge of a mind-splintering orgasm, I knew that I was falling in love with him.

***

We spent the afternoon at Griffith Park, as we’d originally planned. We sat beneath a big shady tree, with fields of grass surrounding us. In the near distance was a merry-go-round with painted ponies. We could see it turning. We could hear the organ music that accompanied it.

“That carousel is a major attraction,” Duncan said. “It’s been at this park since the thirties.”

“How do you know how long it’s been here?”

“I read about it. It was built in 1926 and was brought here in 1937. It has sixty-eight jumping horses. That means that they move up and down. And it plays tons of different waltzes and marches.”

He’d researched the merry-go-round in the same manner he researched everything else.

“Is this the park you were at when Jack told you the Irish butterfly story?”

“No, that was somewhere else. But sometimes we came here, too.” His hair blew across his face. It was loose today and shining in the sun.

I should have known that I would fall in love with him once we had sex. I’d probably been on the verge of loving him, or the idea of him, for most of my life, without even knowing it.

“Have you ever ridden it?” I asked about the carousel, trying to keep a normal conversation going.

“No. But I was thinking we could do that today. Once the line lets up.”

I looked across the grass at the kids who were waiting to climb onto those jumping horses. There were adults in line, too, some who were accompanying kids and some who were by themselves, like us.

“At least we won’t be the only grown-ups on it,” I said.

“I wouldn’t care if we were, would you?”

“No. I wouldn’t mind.” I would go anywhere with Duncan. I would do anything with him. Which I knew was a dangerous way to feel, but I couldn’t help it.

He stretched out his legs in front of him. We were sipping lemonade from tall plastic cups with red and white striped straws. We’d eaten soft, doughy pretzels, too. I imagined how spicy his mouth would taste from the mustard he’d used on his.

I reached for my drink. “Can I ask you something that’s important to me?”

He angled his body toward mine. “Of course you can.”

“Are you going to sleep with other girls while you’re with me?”

He frowned, his eyes deep and dark beneath his furrowed brows. “Why would you even have to ask something like that?”

“Because that’s what you do, isn’t it? Be with lots of girls?

“Yes, but it’s different with you. We’re dating, not just hooking up. If this was the fifties, I’d be pinning you or something.”

I went dreamy, like a bobbysoxer from that era. The next time I was at the consignment store, I was going to find some outfits from that time frame that worked on me. “Getting pinned used to mean that a couple was going steady.”

“Well, then I guess that’s what we’re doing.” He laughed a little. “But if this were the fifties, we probably wouldn’t be having sex.”

“People played around back then, too.”

“Not as easily as they do now.” He leaned forward to give me a chaste kiss. “I can’t even fathom what life must have been like before the sexual revolution.”

I smiled at his boyishness. He’d just made me feel like a virgin all over again. “Who was your first girl, Duncan?”

His gaze went wide. “You seriously expect me to tell you that?”

“Yes, I seriously do. I want to hear how it happened, how old you were, and who she was. It’s only fair since you know just about everything there is to know about me.”

He conceded. “I met her when I was on the streets with Jack. I was fifteen. She was about that age, too.”

“I thought you went into foster care when you were fifteen.”

“I did, but this was about a week before I was taken away. In that regard, it’s a troubling memory. Otherwise, it’s okay.”

I wanted to hear about the okay part. “What was her name?”

“Margaret, but she went by Meg. She was from Hollywood. I used to go there, sometimes, to hang out on the Boulevard and panhandle. Meg partied a lot. Sometimes she even pimped herself out for drugs, but she always insisted on using condoms because she was freaked out about getting AIDS. She lived with her mom, but her mom was wild, too, and would go off with men and leave her daughter alone at the apartment for weeks at a time.”

“Not exactly mother of the year material.”

“No, not anywhere near. Anyway, one rainy afternoon when I was begging for money and not making a damned dime, Meg took me to her place and fed me. We had cereal and milk and then did it on the floor in front of the TV.”

“Did you ever see her again?”

“No. Like I said, I went into foster care a week later and my whole world exploded. Meg was the last thing on my mind.”

“I wonder where she is now.”

“I don’t know, but if she didn’t get herself cleaned up, then I would venture to guess that her life has turned out badly. I hope she’s all right, though. I have fond feelings for her. Not because of the sex. It was fun, but there wasn’t anything special between us. What mattered most was that she barely had any food in her apartment, yet she still offered to feed me.”

I nodded, recalling what he’d said about his penchant for hoarding food now that he was able to buy groceries.

He turned to look at the merry-go-round. “Hey, check it out. The line isn’t so long anymore. Do you want to ride it now?”

“Sure.” We stood up and dusted the grass off of our clothes.

We held hands and walked toward the carousel. He paid for the tickets, and we waited for our turn.

“I’m not going to get on any of the horses,” he said. “I’ll stand beside yours and watch you go up and down. Then when you’re down, I’ll sneak in a kiss.”

I leaned against him, pleased by how romantic he was being. “Okay. But I want to ride a black one, like the stallion you painted.”

“Good thing we’re first in line and you don’t have to fight some little kid for it.”

I laughed. “I know. Can you imagine?”

We climbed onto the platform, and I nabbed the horse I wanted. It was handsomely carved with a jeweled bridle and sunflowers decorating its saddle. I was glad they weren’t daisies.

Duncan stood beside me and when the ride started turning and my horse went up and came back down, he kissed me, just as he said he would.

The moment was magical: the flash of colors, the music, the childlike beauty. I sighed like a schoolgirl, wrapped in the wonder of love.

On Sunday afternoon, I walked onto the grounds of The Manor with trepidation. Would Abby be in the garden, waiting for me? This was the moment of truth.

I considered turning tail and running back to my car. But I put one foot in front of the other and kept going. I had to do this. I absolutely
had
to. Still, the closer I got to the garden, the more nervous I became.

I noticed an orderly named Tim, a big teddy bear of a guy, sitting off to the side, watching the activity. Was he working here when I was a patient? He must have been, or how else would I recognize him?

He glanced over at me, but I didn’t wave or acknowledge him. I was embarrassed that he knew I was a former patient, coming here to visit my nonexistent sister.

According to my aunt, Abby had gone away many times before, but she always came back. Only today could be different. This could be the day she disappeared and never returned.

Carol would happy if Abby never came back. So would Duncan. So would the staff at The Manor. Everyone would be glad about it, except for me. I moved farther into the garden, praying that I would see her.

Then it happened. Thank God, it happened. I saw her, my little sister, sitting alone on a patch of grass. She was flanked by rows of flowers, blooming in various shapes, heights, and colors. I nearly cried from relief. She looked clean and cute, with a stretchy headband securing her jagged hair away from her face. She wore a short-sleeved blouse, paired with a long denim skirt that had come from the consignment shop. I had one in my closet just like it. Or maybe that
was
my skirt. Maybe I’d lent it to her. Well, yes, obviously I had. Abby’s entire identity had been borrowed from me. I’d patterned her after myself.

I was shaking inside. I had so much to tell her, so much to say. I hardly knew where to begin.

I crossed the lawn and approached her. She gazed up and smiled. We looked remarkably alike, but her smile was different from mine. Skewed, I thought, a little crooked, her lips tilting to the side.

“Vanessa,” she said, by way of a greeting.

“Abby.” I spoke her name and knelt beside her. I put my hand on her knee, just to be sure that she was the same as she’d always been: solid, seemingly real.

“I know everything that’s been going on,” she said.

I looked into her massive blue eyes. “Everything?”

She nodded, her lashes fluttering like fringed leather. “Seven told me.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“That the warrior appeared and his name is Duncan Lock. Only Duncan doesn’t believe he’s the warrior. Seven also said that you and Duncan are lovers.”

I held my breath, the air expanding my lungs. “Did Seven say anything else?”

“He said that Carol and Duncan told you that you’re ill and that I don’t exist.”

She didn’t exist, yet she was right in front of me, being the same strangely sweet girl I’d grown up with. “You’re here, but I know you’re not supposed to be.”

She didn’t reply. Instead she put her hand on my knee, the way I’d done to her, as if she were checking to make sure that I was as tangible as she was.

Was Abby worried that she’d created me? What a twist that would be. Except I knew it wasn’t the case. I was the schizophrenic, the real person, trapped between relapse and recovery, and she was my hallucination.

A hallucination I wasn’t ready to release.

Would I ever be ready to let her go, once and for all? I didn’t see how that was possible. Who would deliberately send away someone they loved?

She said, “You have to convince Duncan that he’s the warrior. You have to make him accept who he is.”

I thought about Duncan, with his fierce dark eyes, bold features, and warmly stirring body. The sinfully sexy guy who’d taken my virginity. The mental illness advocate. “He’ll never believe it.”

“But he has to be prepared to save my people. Seven says it’s only a matter of time before they get stuck in 105.”

The purpose of the warrior was to keep the monsters that patrolled the 105 borders from attacking Abby’s people. But none of it was real, not Abby, her people, the monsters, or the dimension itself. “I wish I could make Duncan see your side of it. But he wants to help me manage my disease, not encourage my delusions.”

“Room 105 isn’t a delusion.”

“Not to you, but to me it is.”

“You’re not crazy, Vanessa.”

Yes, I most certainly was. I was in the garden of a psychiatric facility having a conversation with a sister who wasn’t actually there. That pretty much made me certifiable.

Abby reached into the flowers and plucked a white and yellow posy. A daisy. My stomach tightened into an immediate knot. I hadn’t noticed that there were daisies in the mix.

Abby said, “If Duncan goes to Room 105 and saves my people, there’s a chance you can stop him from dying. But if he never goes, if he never believes he’s the warrior, he’ll die for sure.”

The knot grew tighter. I grabbed the daisy away from her and threw it back into the flowers, where it fell, limp as death, into the dirt. “Please don’t say things like that.”

Now that the daisy was gone, she tugged at the grass, gathering tiny blades in the palms of her hands. “Seven says you’re falling in love with Duncan.”

I turned angry, confused. I didn’t want Seven knowing everything about me. “Fuck Seven. He doesn’t know shit.”

“He knows what he knows.” She tossed the grass at me and it scattered like confetti. She was angry, too. “And it’s true. You do love Duncan.”

Yes, I loved him. But it made me nervous that Seven was prying into the recesses of my heart. “I should go.” I should walk away from my own insanity.

“Then go.” Abby glared at me, looking stern and stubborn and determined to make her point. “But I meant what I said about Duncan dying.”

“Stop trying to scare me.” I’d already been scaring myself, fearful that the curse I’d put on him might come true. It didn’t matter whether or not he was the warrior. Either way, I was afraid that he could die.

My sister kept pushing her point. “His chances are better of surviving if he takes on his role as the warrior and goes to 105.”

“But that is what’s supposed to kill him in the first place. After he rescues your people, he’ll be destined to die.”

“I know. But they have magic in 105 that might keep him alive. Here, we have nothing.”

Nothing but the lunacy in my mind. How could I be party to this, knowing I was responsible for the craziness?

“Please.” She implored me. “Talk to Duncan. Convince him to be the warrior. If you don’t, all of us are doomed.”

All of us: her, her people, me, Duncan. It was a horribly heavy load to carry.

“Do you know how I came up with the age he was going to be when he died?” I asked her. Before she could respond, I supplied the answer. “It was because of that store, Forever 21. When I was creating the warrior, it popped into my mind because of a dress Carol had bought me there.”

“Then if Duncan doesn’t die, Forever 21 will be more than a store. It will be the age he was forever saved from the curse you put on him.”

“I wish I’d never done that.”

She studied me from beneath her fringy lashes. “Seven says you haven’t told Duncan that you love him.”