Call Me Crazy

  “Maybe I can take you out to the ranch. I’ll ask Mr. Taggert. I imagine he will be fine with it.” If I thought her face had been bright before, now it was practically glowing.

  “Really?”

  I raise my brow at her. “I told you, life is too short to pass up opportunities. When would you like to go?” Just as quickly as her face had lit up, it suddenly fell. Again I find myself wondering what I have said wrong.

  “Oh, well it will have to be later, maybe when summer is over.” She answers, again vaguely.

  I decide that I won’t push her now, maybe after we’ve known each other a little longer.

  “Alright, we can revisit it later.”

  She looks up, obviously surprised that I didn’t press her from more information. I watch as her shoulders relax.

  “So what’s your story?” She asks, her head turned slightly to the side and her forehead wrinkled in question.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Well,” she begins, “you are obviously Native American,”

  “Obviously,” I interrupt with a crooked smile.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “What kind?”

  I let the humor I feel from her question show on my face as I lean back against the bench and stretch my arms across the back of it.

  “You mean what tribe?”

  “Um, well if that’s the correct way to ask, then yes, what tribe?”

  “I’m White Mountain Apache,” I tell her. “My tribe is in North Western Arizona.”

  “Wasn’t it hard to leave?”

  I think about it. I think about my friends and my family I left behind and realize that since I met Tally, I hadn’t missed them.

  “At first, yes,” I agree. “But not so much now.”

  “Are you about to make one of your, I’m not going to beat around the bush, statements?” Again I watch as heat floods her skin.

  “Does it bother you?” And I realize then that even if it does, I have no plans to change my approach. I don’t want her to have any question of my intentions.

  “It’s just different from most guys our age. They aren’t usually quite so bold.” She explains.

  “Most guys fear rejection.”

  Her eyes narrow at me. “And you don’t?”

  “There are worst things in life than rejection.” I see the moment that thoughts of my mother run through her mind as her face softens and her eyes drop.

  “Yes, there are.”

  Something in her voice catches my attention, and I realize that its knowledge and understanding. Tally has experienced something worse than rejection, but I don’t yet have the right to ask what that something is.

  “To answer your question, a certain girl has taken my mind off of those I have left behind on the reservation.”

  She looks back up at me and to my relief, her smile has returned.

  “One of those amazing horses is a female?”

  Her teasing has caught me off guard. “Tally Baker, you are trouble.” I laugh and enjoy her laughter mixing with my own. Something in that moment causes her to relax even more and rapid fire questions begin to flow from her.

  Favorite color: Grey

  Favorite artist/band: Coldplay

  Greatest fear: Loss (of what?) anything.

  Longest relationship: (this question brings a deep scarlet blush to her face) Only been on a few dates, no one I would claim as a girlfriend.

  Favorite food: Italian

  Two hours pass in the blink of an eye and when she asks me the time and I tell her it is two o’clock I find myself nearly begging her to stay when she jumps up.

  “Oh crap,” she exclaims. “I have to go.”

  “You need to leave?”

  “Yes well…I mean no, I have to go with my Aunt to her therapy session with the doctor.”

  “Oh, okay.” I couldn’t help but find it a little odd that she did so much with her aunt when no one had said anything to me about joining my mother in therapy or group sessions.

  “Alright,” I tell her as I stand up. She turns to go back inside and once again I find myself reaching out and grabbing her hand.

  “Will you be here tomorrow?”

  She smiles like she has a secret and I would be a liar if I said I didn’t long to know what that secret is.

  “Yes.” She answers simply.

  “Can we do this again?” I motion towards the bench.

  She glances back at the door and then to the bench and I can see that she is considering turning me down. Not going to happen.

  “I’ll meet you here tomorrow at noon,” I tell her, taking the choice out of her hands. Her eyes narrow and she opens her mouth and I know that she is about to argue with me.

  “Don’t you need to get to that session with your aunt?” I ask her and smile.

  She laughs. “Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turns and I let her hand go and watch as she hurries through the door. I stand there watching her, mesmerized by her graceful movement and the gentle sway of her hips.

  I had told her that I didn’t fear rejection, that there were greater things to be frightened of—I had lied. For the first time in my life I felt the dread of knowing that someone I was deeply attracted to and longed to know more would have no interest in me.

  ~

  I find my mind continually drifting back to my time with Tally as I drive to the ranch. Mr. Taggert had agreed to allow me to work in the evenings. I wanted to be able to visit my mother during the day, and take care of any errands my grandmother might need me to do for her. I find as I’m mucking out the stalls with sweat trailing down my back that it is a perfect time for me to work off all the pent up energy from spending time with Tally.

  I finally reach the fifth stall of the horse stable and, though the sky has begun to darken, the air is just as hot as it has been all day. I grab the leads of each of the horses and go to gather them up and put them in their respective stalls. With the last horse locked safely away, I look in through the slats. This one is my favorite, Rosa, a female Bay, with sorrel colored hair and a black main and tail. She is very affectionate and often stands at the edge of the stable watching me as I work. I try to imagine what Tally’s face will look like when she meets her. I hope that her face lights up as it did today, giving me a break from the shadows that have begun to be my constant companions. A brief flash of my mother’s face enters my mind and I wish that it was the face from my childhood. That face was beginning to fade, replaced by the lost stare of glazed over eyes and the slack mouth that didn’t seem to remember how to smile.

  Once in my truck, I roll down the windows but I keep the radio off. My muscles are tired and sore, but it’s a good feeling, a feeling that tells me I have put in a hard day’s work. I take comfort in knowing that my father would have been proud of the job that I am doing, caring for the animals that give so selflessly of themselves and not settling for a meaningless job regardless of my age. I find it interesting that Tally and I both work with animals, and though I am not one to believe in destiny, I wonder if it is a sign. My people believe that our ancestors who have passed on watch over us, their spirits guiding us. Maybe my father’s spirit was indeed watching over me, and just maybe he was guiding me to my future, to Tally.

  Chapter 7

  “If I wasn’t crazy before, I definitely am now. My heart is filled with possibilities, but my mind is filled with reality and it’s telling my head to wake up and get a freaking clue. Meanwhile, I’m walking around smiling like a damn fool and it’s not because of the little pills I take like candy. No, this drug is living, breathing, and so very, very addictive.”

  ~Tally

  I have no idea what time it is when the knock comes. I rub my eyes groggily and drag myself from the bed. Before I make it to the door it opens slowly and the wide eyed face of Candy pops into my room.

  “Hey lover girl,” she grins at me.

  “Candy, what time is it?” I growl.

  She swings the door open all of the way and grabs
my wrist. She catches me off guard and I stumble forward. Did I mention crazy people are crazy strong? Well, they are, so take note of that if you are ever faced with a deranged psychopath.

  “It’s time to live,” she cackles over her shoulder. I realize then that Candy is having one of her highs and after this she is bound to fall. I don’t know what Candy’s official diagnosis is. I’ve never asked and she’s never offered, but I’ve learned her patterns. The greater the high, the lower and more painful the crash will inevitably be.

  “And just what do you have planned?” I groan.

  “Have you ever ran full speed towards a pond and jumped as hard and high as you could?”

  I inwardly groan as I realize her plan.

  “I’m taking your silence to mean you have not,” she continues as she throws her free hand up in the air dramatically. “Pinky, you are so young, so innocent, with so much life ahead of you. You have yet to experience all the things that you must in order to make your teenage years worth remembering and I only have a month left to squeeze it all in.”

  I decide to address the most pressing question first and deal with what she has said later.

  “And how do you plan to get us out?”

  “Oh ye of little faith. One thing you should know by now, my sweet protégé, is that everyone has a price and everyone can be bought.”

  I do not fail to notice that she has not answered my question. We reach the back double glass doors on the farthest side of the building, where the employees go to smoke.

  Her head swings back to look at me and she smiles wickedly.

  “Turns out that Bob’s price was something that I could easily pay.” She winks at me and I slap my hand over my mouth and feel my eyes widen. Bob is one of the nightly cleaning crew and is known for whistling annoying tunes while running his floor waxer thing. I kept waiting for the night when poor Bob’s whistling would finally land him as quarry for one, or goodness forbid, several of the utterly lost souls who could no longer separate reality from delusion.

  “Please tell me that you did not provide a sexual favor just for us to jump in a bloody pond.” My words come out muffled because my hand is still covering my mouth.

  Candy lets out an annoyed huff as she raises a brow at me. “He wanted Sheila’s number. Good grief Pinky, you might as well just roll around in that gutter you seem have found yourself in ever since Sacajawea came swaggering in.”

  “You do realize that Sacajawea was a princess, as in, not male.” I point out.

  She shrugs. “If you want to get technical, but since you have yet to examine the goods, for all we know he’s just a poser and could very well be a princess. He does have lustrous long hair.” She pauses and then smiles slowly, “Unless that bench out their got consecrated.” She waggles her eyebrows at me and I try very hard not to allow the picture she evokes to pop into my mind. Successful? Plead the fifth.

  “Could we please get on with breaking the rules so that you can rest assured that I have lived.” I make air quotes around the last word as I follow her out of the door and into the hot summer night.

  “So, I got Bob Sheila’s number and I might have accidently written her address on the piece of paper as well. I kind of get the stalker vibe from him, but Sheila will probably be too high to even notice if he is lurking outside her window.”

  My mouth drops open gaping at her words as I stop in my tracks.

  “You gave Sheila a stalker?” I squeak out.

  Candy lets out a huff that puffs out her lips and makes her wrinkled face smooth for a brief moment. She stands their looking at me for a moment and, other than the chirps of crickets, the night is quiet.

  “There,” she says motioning with her hands quickly, “we’ve had a moment of silence in honor of the weirdness that Sheila is bound to have to endure with Bob’s advances. Now can we please continue on with my brilliant plan to corrupt you?”

  With nothing to be done about it now, I nod and begin to follow her again. To my surprise, when I arrived at MPF over nine weeks ago, I discovered a beautiful pond about a quarter of a mile behind the building. The perimeter of the pond was adorned with a concrete walking trail, impressively manicured shrubbery, and a cornucopia of perennials. I wondered at the time, though I didn’t ask, why on earth they would put a pond so close to people who just might entertain the idea of throwing themselves into it in hopes of ending their miserable existence.

  As I see the pond come into view I admit that the moon shining off of the rippling water is very tempting. Remembering to be thankful for small victories, I take relief in knowing that the temptation is not to seek the depths of that pond and never resurface. A gentle breeze caresses my skin pushing me forward, beckoning me like a siren.

  “Okay Pinky,” Candy stops and stares out at the water longingly and I wonder if she feels the pull as well. “This is where we run. We feel the wind rushing across our skin, blowing our hair behind us like the manes on wild horses and then we jump for all we’re worth.”

  “I didn’t know you were so descriptive,” I tell her and smile.

  “Yes you did, you just didn’t know that describing terrifying scenarios for the paranoid and delusional crack pots wasn’t my only talent.” She motions me to follow her as she takes off in a surprisingly quick run for a sixty year old. “Now quit stalling and come on!” She yells.

  I hesitate for one, two, three beats of my heart and then mutter, “What the hell.” I’m running, my arms are pumping and my breath begins to speed up as my lungs push for more oxygen. All I can hear is the wind rushing past my ears and the pounding of my heart. Just before I reach the pond I push with all my might, my legs kick wildly as if running in midair. I’m not sure but I think I let out a yelp and it’s abruptly cut off as my body hits the water and I’m swallowed up. The darkness is absolute as even the moon does not penetrate the surface and illuminate the depths. I feel peace envelope me and sink even more into the warmth of the water. The peace only lasts a few seconds as I suddenly feel the water convulsing around me. I lower my legs so I’m vertical and kick frantically to get to the surface. When I break through I feel the warm air hit my skin. I rub my eyes as I kick with my legs to stay above the water and look around to find the source of the commotion.

  “CANDY!”

  To my horror, she is bobbing up and down as her arms flail rapidly, vainly attempting to keep her above water. Her eyes are wide with fear and I gasp as I realize she can’t swim.

  Shaking off the shock I dive forward, kicking hard and circle around to her back. I’ve taken one lifeguarding class, enough to know that you don’t approach a drowning victim from the front. They will latch onto you and drag you down with them. I quickly move in behind her and wrap an arm around her neck pulling her onto her back. She instinctively grabs my arm with both hands and, when my other hand supports her torso to keep her above water, she stops fighting me. I lean in, dropping my shoulder just below the surface and begin scissor kicking my legs.

  “I’ve got you Candy,” I tell her in the calmest voice I can muster. I kick harder and, though we’ve only jumped a few yards into the water, I’m exhausted by the time we finally reach the edge of the pond.

  “I need you to turn and grab onto the ground Candy; I will not let go of you. I need you to try and pull yourself up.”

  She starts to shake her head ‘no’ and I feel her shutter.

  “Dammit Candy! Quit acting like a frightened kitten and get out of this water!” She stiffens briefly in my arms and then she begins to sit up. I help her get vertical and, as she grabs the ground pulling with everything she’s got, I push her. I sink under the water and grab the backs of her thighs and lift her so that she can get one leg up on the ground. From there she takes over and pulls the rest of her body out. She’s panting hard as she lies on her side and then rolls onto her back.

  I hoist myself up out of the water and stare down at her.

  “Are you alright?” I ask as I bite back the emotion coiling inside me pr
eparing to strike like a snake.

  Her eyes close and she coughs, and then to my utter shock she begins to laugh. First it’s just a chuckle, but then it’s a full on, rolling on the floor, laugh. I suppress my desire to strangle her and take several deep breaths. I try to remind myself that Candy isn’t a normal person; she’s in a psychiatric facility and for good reason.

  “You should have seen your face,” she says through her laughter. “I’m serious it was so, so,” words elude her as she continues to laugh.

  If thought I could keep my calm because she’s a nut job, I thought wrong.

  “WHAT THE HELL CANDY!” The tone of my voice has penetrated her bubble and she abruptly stops laughing and looks up at me.

  “How can you find this funny?” I’m gritting my teeth and I think that if I clench them any tighter I just might break my jaw.

  “Whoa, wait a second,” she holds her hands up as if to hold me off, “you’re mad? At me? I was the one who nearly drown, how can you be mad at me?”

  “You could have DIED!” I motion wildly to the pond.

  “But I didn’t.” She looks at me like a child beaming with pride and looking for approval from a parent.

  “That’s not good enough for me. You jumped into that pond knowing that you can’t swim. You didn’t stop to think about how that would affect me. You didn’t consider the consequences of doing something so reckless, so incredibly irrational!”

  “Who are you to preach at me about being rational?” Candy snaps as she clamors to her feet. Though her soaked clothes stick to her skin, she seems unfazed. “You, who turns to a blade or flame with every emotional plunge. Really, Tally? You want to start comparing our crazy notes?”

  I step back feeling the sting of her words like the slap of a hand across my face. She’s right, which only pisses me off more.