Inside Voices

(Though this story can be read on its own, you will enjoy it more if you first read my short story "The Mushroom Life", here: http://piecesofel.blogspot.com/2011/10/mushroom-life-revised.html )

~*~

Colin’s head snapped up as the bushes by the sidewalk shook. The sudden movement augmented his headache and he winced as two young squirrels darted out, chattering angrily at one another. Stupid dog. Why isn’t it ever him? He thought, and immediately regretted the adjective he’d used. Margaret loved that dog, and he did too, if only because of her. He wouldn’t be so eager to jump at every sound if not for the fading hope of finding his best friend’s dog, who ran away over a month ago. Margie hasn’t been the same since. Colin thought, as he often did, about what might bring Margaret out of her depression. He’d tried bringing puppies and kittens from the local animal shelter in attempt to begin filling the void left by Casper, but Margaret would only begin to cry and close the door. She was listless always when he came over now. He knew she was fragile. It’s not even really because of the damn dog. He gritted his teeth in frustration. Agoraphobia. She already had this glitch in her brain, this defective sparking of neurons that caused her to be terrified of places she could not easily escape. Terrified to be away from her safe, snug apartment; to be in the company of any person she felt she could not control. No wonder I’m the only person she ever sees. They fought sometimes, and Colin could be stubborn, but not nearly as stubborn as Margaret. They both knew, in unspoken consent, that no matter what words were said, in the end it would always end up to be Margaret’s way. Whatever makes her feel safe. Colin thought. If letting her win battles against him would make her feel strong and safe for just a moment, the submission was worth it to him. She didn’t used to be this way.

He remembered their years in college together. They met on the campus mall. A big black Labrador Retriever trotted to him expectantly, eyes full of that elated confusion that can only be seen in the eyes of kind dogs.

“Casper!” She had called as she ran to him. She hooked his leash to his leather collar. “I’m sorry, normally he’s really good but I guess he just liked you a lot.” She smiled and offered her hand. “I’m Margaret.”

“Colin”

“Ah, like the Secret Garden!”

Colin had resisted rolling his eyes. “Yeah, the Secret Garden.”

“That was my favorite book when I was a kid.” She said, ruffling Casper’s ears. For some reason that pleased Colin.

“They don’t allow pets on campus, you know.” Colin warned her.

“Oh I know, my mom just brings him to visit me sometimes, when she goes out of town for work.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t tell anyone. Casper usually spends the night in my dorm when he comes, and my mom takes him home the next morning.” Colin had to smile.

“Your secret’s safe.”

“Thanks!” She said and bounded off toward the parking lot, Casper in tow. Colin watched her leave, smiling.

They passed each other in the cafeteria at lunch, they went with mutual friends to the college’s sporting events. Margaret only went once in a while, but Colin came every time, hoping she would be there. He didn’t know what it was about her. Of course he considered her beautiful. But there was something else, too. Maybe the way her eyes alternated between bright with excitement for what might come next, and dark with righteous anger when faced with the concept of some injustice.

She looks so different now, Colin thought. She was of average size for a girl of twenty-two, but these days the way she carried herself made her look depleted and small. Vulnerable. He still thought she was beautiful, but he couldn’t deny that her beauty had changed from the color of boisterous life to the melancholy, awkward elegance of a Gothic-era stained glass. Her tragedy and his salvation, that’s what he saw in her now.

Colin looked at his watch. He had been out for two hours, looking. Sometimes he stayed out longer, but the notion that Margaret might be up for company tonight drew him away from the sidewalks of downtown. He hadn’t seen her in almost a week. He missed her so much, he barely even felt like he needed a drink before going to see her. Just real quick. And it was; he was proud of himself. He was just a little bit tipsy—easy to conceal—when he knocked on her door.

“Hey, Colin.” She was listless, he could see already. Her eyes flitted about the hallway, around him but never alighting on him. One finger twisted her hair, the other twisted the knob of the open door.

“Hey, Margie. Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” She stepped aside, then closed the door behind him.

“What’s up? Missing Casper? I looked for him for two hours today but—“

“My mom’s dead.”

Colin stared at her, stunned. “What? What happened? Margie I’m so sorry! How are you? Talk to me!” He took her gently by the shoulders.

“They found her in her car in the garage.” She said, unresponsive to his touch.

“Oh, Margie.” Colin murmured with a sympathetic sob in his voice, and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him back, limply though she was leaning into him. They stood for a moment before she stepped back.

“It’s ok. Thanks.”

“Are you sure? No, no of course it’s not ok. Here, sit down.” He pulled a chair out from her small kitchen table. She sat absently, hardly seeming to notice the chair.

“Really, it’s ok. The funeral’s tomorrow. You’ll come with me, right?”

“Of course! Of course; anything you need.” He knelt by her chair. “Will you be able to…you know…leave?” He asked.

“I think so. I don’t know. I’ll wait and see. I think so.” She seemed so stale he almost believed her. “I’m giving the eulogy, so I have to be there.” This baffled Colin, but he tried not to show it.

“Where is the funeral?” He asked, deciding to leave the agoraphobia concerns alone for now. “How much gas will we need? Plane tickets? If you tell me now I can—“

“Oh, no, she just lived three blocks away.” Margaret waved away his questions. He stared at her in disbelief.

“What? When?”

“A couple years ago.”

“Your mother has been living three blocks away for the last two years and you didn’t tell me?

“It didn’t come up.”

“Margie…is that…is that why you got so much worse that spring?”

“I don’t know; maybe.”

“Margie why didn’t you tell me? I could have at least helped you feel, you know, safe.”

“I do feel safe.”

“Emotionally, I mean.”

“Oh. Well that’s not really your thing anyway.”

Colin sat the rest of the way down on the floor and sighed. “No, it’s not, is it.” Margaret climbed out of the chair to sit next to him, her chin resting on her knees. Silence settled for a while.

“You don’t have to go to the funeral, you know.” Colin said.

“Of course I do.”

“Margie, you have no obligation.” Colin began. “After everything she did to you—“

“I still have to go to her funeral, Colin.”

“But do you have to give the eulogy?” Colin was growing agitated. “How can you stand up and say a bunch of shit about what a great person she was?”

“She tried.” Margaret’s voice was small.

“Pelting you with frying pans is not trying.” Said Colin, growing angrier as he spoke. “Pushing you down the stairs is not trying. Yanking out patches of your hair is not—“

“Colin stop! She had problems after my father died and she was bipolar, she’s crazy like me—“

“Whoa, Margie, you don’t really think you’re anything like your mother, do you?”

“We’re both crazy. She hurts people. She wrecks people’s lives then retreats back into her own inner chaos…I have the same inner chaos…I just try not to hurt other people the way she did.”

Colin let silence linger for a while before he said, “Your mother was bad at her core. You are good. That’s why she hurt people and you don’t. You are nothing like your mother. You may feel some of the same things, but that doesn’t mean you are the same things.”

Margaret gave Colin a sad smile. “Thanks. I hope you’re right. But either way,” She sighed. “I have to do the eulogy.”

“But why?”

“No one else really knew her that well, and I’m her only child. Everyone’s expecting it.”

“Fuck their expectations. You need to do what—“

“Colin shut up!” Margaret rose to her feet, exasperated, brushing floor-dust from the back of her jeans. “Letting them all down will stress me out more than just doing the damn eulogy. Besides, I can’t dump it on anyone else on this late notice.”

Colin rose as well. “Sorry. I’ll support whatever you want to do. That’s what people say, right? I’ll support you.”

Margaret sighed, closing her eyes for a few seconds. “Yes, that’s what people say. Thank you.”

Colin sighed. “You’re welcome.”

~*~

No one felt comfortable at funerals, and Margaret least of all. The flat, numb bravery that had allowed her to leave her apartment earlier in the day was wearing off, and Colin could see the pinched look growing on her face, the one that often precluded a dash back to the safety of her apartment.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” They all said that, great aunt, a cousin, her mother’s accountant, many others she did not recognize, a few whose faces seemed vaguely familiar but not enough to speak any further to them. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” She said in automated response.

“I’m not sad.” She said to Colin flatly in a quiet corner of the sanctuary. “I’m not glad, but I’m not sad either.” When she had moved to the dorms her freshman year of college and began to observe other people and their functional family relationships—and realized how abnormal her own relationship with her mother was—she’d had a meltdown and met often with a counselor from the school’s psychology program. They talked about her mother, the Instances, how they were before her father’s death, how they were after, what it meant to have a healthy relationship. How her mother had hurt her in so many ways, ways she hadn’t realized and ways that would be hurting her for the rest of her life. The dysfunction—the unfairness—of it all, after the despair and anger had passed, ultimately left her with nothing more than a vague disgust for her mother. And that was all she felt today, walking to the podium to give the eulogy.

“My mother was five foot four and weighed a hundred and forty pounds. She had brown hair, and freckles; she liked Friends and ate too many trans fats.” Margaret felt stiff and rehearsed, because she was. “My mother was an average woman in most ways, but exceptional in a few as well. She was afraid of many things, more than most people. But that means that every day when she got out of bed, she braved many more things than most people, too. She cried more than most, but that just means that she dried and moved on from that many more tears. Mom may have seemed weaker than all of you, but that also means that each night when she went to bed, she had worked twice as hard. Mom tried hard, and failed hard. Better both of those things than just the last one.”
Margaret stood there for a moment. She looked down at the podium, tapping her finger on it slowly as she processed the end of her own speech.

“Bye, Mom.” She said in a tone that was perhaps inappropriately unceremonious, and sat down. Those gathered in the pews sat awkwardly, waiting for the somewhat baffled priest to resume the proceedings. Margaret was unaware of the general reaction.

“That was good.” Colin said softly, staring at his hands clasped in his lap. “You didn’t lie. You respected her but you didn’t lie.”

“Of course I didn’t lie.” Margaret replied. “I loved her, once,” she said, even more softly, “but I would never lie for her.”

“Good.” Colin whispered, more to himself than to Margaret. “Good.”

~*~

Margaret and Colin lounged next to each other on her bed in relative silence. Margaret spoke when she heard the slosh of Colin’s bottle of Goldschlager as he raised it to his lips. “You know I don’t like it when you do that.” She said in a tired voice.

“I know. Sorry.” But he didn’t put the schnapps away. “I think you should join me.” He said as he waved the bottle under her nose, already slurring his words. “I can’t imagine how hard today must’ve been for you.”

“I’m fine.” She sighed. “I’m just really tired.” She sat up and looked absently out the window at the strange shadows cast by the outdoor lights. Colin lay beside her, swirling around what liquid was left in the bottom of his bottle.

“You’re pretty, you know.” He said suddenly, after a long silence.

“What?” Margaret looked surprised, as if the notion were preposterous. Colin’s unsteady hand reached up to brush her collarbone with his fingertips. His arm shook. To steady it he wound his fingers into the shoulder of her blouse.

“You heard me. You’re pretty. I like you. You’re a pretty girl. Like…a picture.” He giggled. “Pretty as a picture. You know what?”

“What?”

“I want to kiss you, Picture Girl.”

Margaret blushed visibly, bringing her hand to her face to brush away nonexistent strands of hair. “Colin, you’re drunk.” She said.

“Ugh.” Colin dropped his arm. “Stop saying that! I’m trying to tell you something here and you won’t shut up about—“

“No, no.” Margaret stopped him. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just…you don’t know what you’re saying and if you even remember later you’ll wish you hadn’t said it. I’ll pretend you didn’t, but it’ll still be weird cause we’ll both know that you did…you should just go back to sleep.” She began to untwist Colin’s fingers from her blouse, but he snatched his hand away and grabbed her wrist.

“No. No, Margie. You blew me off like that last year, so I waited to see if time would make you come to your senses, but I’m done waiting for you to take me seriously.”

“Colin, stop—“

“No, listen. Just cause I’m drunk when I say it doesn’t mean it isn’t true, and you know it. You’re always hiding from things. You’re hiding from the entire world outside and you’re hiding from me—“

“Colin, you’re hurting me.”

“No I’m not. You won’t let me close enough to hurt—“

Margaret tried to pry his hand from her wrist. “Ow! Colin, you’re hurting me! Colin, let go!”

Colin let go and yanked his hand back as if he’d been burned. In the same motion he sat up. “Margie! Margie I’m so sorry!” He reached for the offended wrist. “I didn’t mean to—“

Margaret pulled her arm away instinctively. “It’s ok. It’s fine.” Colin paused, then dropped his hand. He sat up in shameful silence, cracking the knuckles of his fingers. Margaret looked at his pure, unadulterated guilt and softened slightly.
“Colin, it’s fine, really. See?” She held out her wrist to him like an olive branch. Colin took it gently, staring wide-eyed at the reddening finger marks growing from underneath her skin.

“Shit. Oh, shit…” His voice was choked with tears.

“Colin, it’s ok.”

“I can’t believe I did that—“

Margaret took her arm away from him. “Shut up already.” She said, exasperated. “I said it’s fine. Stop being so dramatic. God, Colin, you’re a little bitch when you’re drunk, you know that?”

“Yeah I know.” The tension seemed to soften as silence ruminated. “I think,” Colin began after a while.

“What?” Margaret asked, deciphering the look in his eyes.

“I think…” Slowly he reached toward her again, and this time she didn’t pull away. He cupped her chin in his hand and leaned in to kiss her right cheek, then her left. Vaguely he hoped she wouldn’t notice the roughness of his lips on her breeze-soft skin. When he drew back she looked at him like a fawn at a butterfly, so innocent and quizzical. He loved that look, though it made him feel all the dirtier himself. Then she blinked slowly and when her eyes opened again, they appeared shy but knowing, as if the brief blindness had reordered the world inside her head.

“I think so, too.” She murmured.

She fell asleep in Colin’s lap, and Colin lost himself in stroking her hair until the morning came. He had already realized that he did not know what to say; what would come next. He didn’t care, though. He rose slowly from the bed, placing Margie’s head gently on a pillow and kissing her cheek once more as she slept on.

She thinks so too. He tried and failed to suppress the smile pulling at his lips. She thinks so too. He didn’t know what she thought, or what exactly he thought, but whatever it was she thought it too and had let him kiss her cheek. When he got back they would talk, and they would finally be together. No commitments right away, Margie would insist. She would also insist that Colin attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. He would do that, for her. If it meant being with her. Over time she would grow to love and trust him and maybe even have a picnic outside with him. Nowhere far—he wouldn’t be so cruel as to force her far away from her sanctuary—but maybe just on the lawn in front of her apartment complex.
I’ll start today. He thought ambitiously. When I come back I’ll be one day sober. He declared to himself, and left the building to walk in the downtown streets once again.

~*~

He’d had such high hopes for sobriety when he’d left Margaret’s apartment. He was almost skipping with resolve, thinking of how he’d change her mind, starting right now.

But then something amazing happened. He heard a snuffling around the corner of the convenience store and followed it, as a force of habit. He saw a big black smudge against the echo of neon lights, and ventured closer with disbelief.

“Casper?” The smudge stopped moving. “Casper? Casper, come!” The smudge trotted unsteadily toward him. “Oh my god, Casper!” Colin reached down enthusiastically toward the dog, who shrunk from his hands. “Aw boy it’s ok.” Colin knelt and softened his voice. “It’s alright. I won’t hurt you. It’s Colin; remember me? Come on, boy, you know me.” He put his hand out, palm up. The smudge that was Casper crept toward him. “It’s ok, boy, it’s ok.” Colin crooned. “Margaret will be so happy to see you.” Casper sniffed his hands, the tentatively licked at them. “Good boy!” Casper wagged his tail and allowed Colin to scratch him behind the ears, growing visibly more comfortable as he seemed to realize that Colin meant him no harm. Whether he remembered him or not, Colin couldn’t say. “Good boy, good boy!” Slowly Colin unbuckled his belt, slid it off, and buckled it around the dog’s neck for a makeshift collar and leash. “God I’m so glad you turned up!” He patted the dog’s head as he rose to his feet.

Colin was an instinctive person, and his first instinct was to celebrate. And to celebrate, his first instinct was to get a drink. Not anymore, was his first thought. But as he walked, he thought about a bit of a burn in his throat, a warmth in his stomach. The back of his throat began to tingle, to tighten. One more night wouldn’t hurt. He knew it was a stupid, stupid justification, but that didn’t keep his mind from using it. The pathways in his brain had been entrenched so deeply by dopamine, they were flooded with just the thought of alcohol. And the convenience store was right there, his fix so close. The temptation alone made him euphoric. Unable to resist, he shuffled hesitantly into the parking lot. The glow of the florescent lights through the big glass windows made him less hesitant with every step. Casper. There was a bike rack right there.

“I’ll be right back, boy. Be good.” The big dog sat obediently, the opposite end of the belt twisted around the metal bars. Colin went in, not knowing exactly what he would find, but knowing that, whatever it was, it would be just fine.

~*~

He loved this feeling, as if he were the water sloshing back and forth in the hull of a sinking boat, this lightness of brain and numbness over the surface of his skin. No, I don’t love it. He corrected his thoughts. I “lust” it. He loved Margaret; he lusted for this. The first, he would die for. The second, he lived for. Fuck. He knew it was true. But he also knew that denial would come with sobriety, and that this was not the time to start caring. He’d start caring tomorrow, or next week. Margie would be proud of him, once he went a couple weeks dry. He waved the bag under Casper’s nose. “Thirsty? I won’t tell.” Casper whined and licked the rim of the enclosed bottle. “Shit, I wasn’t serious. That’s disgusting.” Colin wiped the rim with the bottom of his shirt. “Stupid dog.” And he felt incredibly guilty. He knelt on the sidewalk and took Casper’s face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.” His eyes filled with tears. “You’re not stupid. Margaret loves you. I love you. I love you.” He sniffed loudly. Casper’s eyes rolled around nervously. He tried to pull his head from Colin’s grasp, but Colin kept his hold and pulled Casper towards him, planting a sloppy kiss on his forehead. Casper sneezed when Colin let go. “I’m sorry.” Colin said again before wobbling back to his feet. “We can’t go back yet, Casper.” Colin informed the dog. “I have to sober up first. We can crash at my friend Red’s place. How does that sound?” Casper gave no indication one way or the other, so Colin began walking in the direction of Red’s apartment. Momentarily he regretted keeping Margaret’s precious pet away from her for even a moment more than necessary. She’ll never know. He thought, his heart twisting a bit with guilt and shame. It’s been over a month; it can wait a few more hours. Besides, after the stress of the funeral, Margaret should get some rest. Colin knocked on a green door, in hideous need of a paint job. “Red! Red, it’s me, Colin!” His words slurred, but Red seemed to understand him.

“Hey man, what’s up? Come on in” A tall figure dressed in black answered the door, bright shocks of unnaturally red hair on his head and face. “Dude, what’s up with the dog?”

“He’s my friend Margaret’s dog, I’m watching him for a few days.”

“That’s one skinny dog, man.”

“Yeah he was lost for like almost two months before I found him.”

“Your friend must be so happy.”

“She doesn’t know yet.” Colin said, ashamed.

“Man why haven’t you told her yet? Especially if you’re trying to hit that. Then you really don’t want to piss her off.”

“I just need a few hours man, to sober up. I don’t want her to see me like this when I give her dog back. Come on man.”

“Alright alright, come on let’s get you a drink.”

“I’m here to sober up, not drink.”

“What’s a few more? You’re already hammered, what difference does it make? Come on man, we haven’t partied together in forever. For me, bro!”

“Alright, alright!” Colin chuckled, his head so light it seemed to float on each syllable of his own laugh, which made him laugh more. Red, eyes already rimmed in his namesake color from a few joints, seemed to think that Colin’s laugh was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, and they collapsed chortling in the entry hall.

“Shut the fuck up!” A muffled voice shouted from the room next door, accompanied with a succession of sharp raps on the wall. They young men tried to suppress their laughter, sniggering and snorting.

“Sorry dude!” Red called to the angry tenant.

“Whatever, asshole!” The muffled shout replied.

“Come on man,” Red wiped tears of laughter from his eyes and motioned for Colin and Casper to come deeper into the apartment. “Let’s catch up; I got party favors.”

“Hell yeah.” Colin agreed enthusiastically and followed behind Red.

~*~

Sunlight stabbed through Colin’s closed eyelids and into his tender brain. He groaned and rolled over, spilling from the stained couch onto the even further-stained carpet. “Red?” He grunted, feeling around for something to pull himself up with. “Red, man, you awake?” He found the edge of the coffee table and hoisted himself into a sitting position on the edge of the sofa. No answer from Red. Colin forced his eyes open, offensive light glaring at him from every surface in the apartment. He groaned again and rubbed his temples. His arms felt like they were filled with lead. Finally he made out the figure of his friend amidst a pile of blankets on the floor nearby, dead to the world.

“Never could sleep as long as you.” Colin muttered, then rose stiffly. “Casper?” He called quietly. “Casper, here boy.” He heard the clicking sound of the dog’s nails on cheap linoleum and found Casper in the kitchen, surrounded by a pile of excrement and two puddles of urine. “Damn, dog, now I have to clean this up.” Then he sighed. “Sorry. I should’ve let you out. You must be hungry too, huh? We’ll get you something at Margie’s. What time is it anyway?” He looked at the clock over the stove. “Oh, shit.” It was three in the afternoon. “I gotta get you back to Margie.” Colin stumbled around the kitchen until he found Casper’s belt-leash. “Let’s go boy.” He said, forgetting the mess on the floor.

It wasn’t a very long walk to Margaret’s building, but Colin took it slow, doing his best to compose himself. He thought this may have been the worst hangover he’d ever had, but then he thought that after every big night. He took slow, deep breaths as he rode the elevator up to Margaret’s floor, as he walked down the hallway, as he raised his fist to knock. “Margie?” He called, flinching with every bang his fist made on the door. “Margie, I have a surprise for you. Seriously, you’re going to love this. Margie? Margie?” She wasn’t answering. Maybe she was asleep; she tended to sleep a lot. In spite of his headache he banged louder. “Margie! Margie wake up! Margie!”

“Keep it down, mister.” The superintendant poked his head around the corner at the end of the hall. “I’m gonna get complaints.” Colin approached him.

“Where’s Margaret? The girl who lives there? Margaret O’Leary?"

“I haven’t seen her since the other day.” The super said, relatively indifferent. “I thought it was odd; she left the place. Looked awfully nervous. I know how that girl can be; yeah, it was real odd.”

“Are you sure?” Colin asked anxiously. There was no way Margaret left her apartment alone. “You sure we’re talking about the same person?”

“That her dog? The one that ran off a while back?” The super nodded at Casper. “And she’s the one you’re always comin’ around to see?”

“Yeah, this is him and that’s her, but…are you sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure. What do ya want me to say, kid? She left. Figured she went to see you.”

“She never comes to see me.”

“Well I wouldn’t know about that. All I know is she hardly ever leaves and it’s real odd, but I figured she had her reasons. Figured one was you. Maybe not. Rent’s not due for a few days; didn’t think I’d say anything ‘nless she missed it.”

“Why wouldn’t you report her missing?” Colin was growing extremely agitated. “Which way did she go? Was there a car? What—“

“Hey kid, I wasn’t paying attention; it wasn’t none of my business. You know ‘er bettern’ I do.”

“Well yeah, but…but I don’t know where she went!”

“Well where do you live?”

Colin closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand to his aching forehead. “I..I don’t have a place; I crash with different people. Usually her. I…I don’t know where she would be.”

“Well, sorry, kid; neither do I.” The super shrugged, looking honestly sorry he couldn’t tell Colin where to look. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to ya, but I just don’t know either.”

“It’s…it’s alright, I’ll look. I’ll…do something.” Colin muttered and wandered off, blinking tiredly. “I’ll do something.”
His head ached, and the sun was so, so bright, it’s reflection screaming up at him from the concrete. Damn hang over…I have to think…I have to think…He couldn’t think with this pounding in his head. Maybe a Bloody Mary, just to clear my head. Tomato juice was healthy right? You asshole. He thought to himself, his feet carrying him in the direction of the bar and grill not too far away from Margaret’s apartment complex. Just one. Casper followed him all the way there, trusting and unquestioning. Colin walked Casper through the parking lot, up to a spot with a “takeout-only” sign. Around the pole the belt went, and Colin twisted it into a flimsy knot like he had at the convenience store. He gave it an extra pull, just in case he ended up staying longer than he planned. I won’t, though. But he checked the knot again anyway. Casper’s claws scraped on the concrete as he tried to follow Colin in, but the belt-collar halted him sharply. “Stay, boy; be good. I’ll be back soon.” Colin said, disappearing through the big wooden doors. Casper sat, staring after him.