Perfunctory Affection Read online

  Mood souring, Meg ran her thumb over the jewels set in her necklace, thinking they felt like braille dots as she remembered Rorry’s comments about it making her sad and Haley’s staunch, oddly possessive remarks that Meg was not going to get rid of it.

  Grimacing, Meg dropped her necklace. She still felt embarrassed for having nearly poisoned him. Haley had been positively repulsed as she’d thrown it away. Maybe they didn’t have peppermint in Perfection. She’d have to ask Haley while they apartment-searched.

  A tiny trill of excitement traced through Meg as she reached for her phone and the list of furnished apartments she’d made up last night after Rorry and Haley had walked her home. They were all on campus so they wouldn’t have to get a car unless they wanted to. Most were in good locations and away from the worst of the university’s frat and sorority houses, though Rorry would have probably preferred being right in the thick of them. Haley could pick out her favorite three or four right from Meg’s phone over breakfast, and they could be done by noon.

  “As long as I don’t forget to take it,” she whispered to herself as she dropped her phone into her purse waiting for her on the kitchen table. It slid out of sight under her still-empty diary, and Meg ignored the guilt. She hadn’t had time to write in it last night, busy with making Haley’s list.

  Rising, Meg took her empty mug to the sink and rinsed it out. Her shoulders slumped as she dried her hands on a towel, wincing at the brown sameness of it. Austin’s things looked even more ugly now that he wasn’t around to use them. That Haley might want to come in when she came over to pick Meg up filled her with a near terror. Somehow she’d managed to convince Haley that she was friend-worthy even with a night of putt-putt, but that would change if the classy woman ever saw the inside of her apartment.

  “Something has to change,” Meg said, her voice loud as she hung the towel up, despairing at the faded dullness of it. The dishcloths on Austin’s space-remake show had always been pristine-white sackcloth, sporting whimsical designs that showed the homeowner’s playful side. All she had were frayed tan that Austin had gotten cheap somewhere before they’d met. Why haven’t I changed them? It’s been three years.

  Lips pressed, she vowed not to call him today. It wasn’t any of his business where she was or who she was with. Agitated, she spun the pinky ring he’d given her. Maybe after a little silence on her end, he might appreciate her more.

  Chin high, Meg pulled the brown towel from the rack and, with a firm conviction, threw it away. Pulse fast, she tugged her purse closer, digging through it until she found the bottle of pills Dr. Jillium had given her. Shaking them all into her hand, she counted them, funneling all but one clattering back into the bottle before capping it. She’d thought she had more than that. There was hardly enough to get her through the weekend.

  Filling her coffee mug with tap water, she took her pill. Head down, she stood in the slice of moving sun as she waited for it to take effect. That Dr. Jillium had talked to Austin behind her back grated on her, but she didn’t want to lose access to her meds. It wasn’t as if she could just change psychiatrists and get a new prescription.

  Brow furrowed, she found her phone. She could leave a message with Dr. Jillium about how she was doing with her homework and that she might need to come in Monday for a new batch of pills. Six forty-five, she noticed as she scrolled through the short list of contacts and hit call.

  It rang once, and Meg took a breath, exhaling when Dr. Jillium answered, not the expected voice mail.

  “Meg. Is everything okay? Where are you?”

  Surprised, Meg exhaled. “Ah, I’m great. I was expecting your answering machine is all. I’m sorry to be bothering you this early on a Saturday.”

  “I was up,” Dr. Jillium said. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes.” Wondering at the woman’s worried tone, Meg inched deeper into the vanishing sun. “I just wanted to let you know that last night was the best night I’ve had in three years.”

  “Oh, Meg, I’m so happy for you,” Dr. Jillium said, her relief obvious. “You talked things over with Austin, then?”

  She hesitated, her anger seeping back into her. “Not exactly. I took a woman I met on campus out to play putt-putt.” My God, it sounds so lame when I say it like that, Meg thought, putting a hand to her forehead.

  “That’s even better,” Dr. Jillium said as if Meg had done some great thing. “I’m looking forward to hearing about it when you come in.”

  The brush-off in her voice was clear, and Meg panicked. “Can we move my appointment to Monday?” she asked, trying to keep the urgency from her voice. “I’m going to be out of pills by Friday.”

  “Oh.” There was a slight hesitation. “You’re taking four a day, then?”

  Arm wrapped around her middle, Meg pressed back against the wall and into the shadows. “You said I could. They’re working. I’m not seeing any of the side effects. Everything tastes the same. I fell asleep fast and didn’t wake up even once. No rashes.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Dr. Jillium said, and Meg tried to ease the breath from her so the woman couldn’t hear. “If nothing changes over the weekend, I can certainly give you a new bottle Monday.”

  “Thanks, Dr. J.” Meg slumped against the wall, eyes closing. She didn’t want to go back to the way things were. “This is amazing stuff.”

  “Just so you know that it’s you making amazing strides,” Dr. Jillium said. “It’s not a magic pill. Tell me about your new friend.”

  Meg’s lips twitched in annoyance at the sudden, clinical tone. The woman was fishing to make sure Meg wasn’t lying about her progress to get more meds. “She’s a guest teacher. I’m helping her find a new apartment today.”

  “Is Austin driving you?” she asked, and Meg’s anger flashed to a slow burn.

  “No.” Meg opened the drawer beside the sink, staring at the clean brown dishtowels waiting to be used. “She wants to be on campus, so we’re walking, I assume. She doesn’t have a car either.” Eyes narrowed, Meg threw every last brown dishtowel in it away. “I’m kind of mad at Austin right now. Did you really ask him about how I was handling the Fitrecepon and that he should move out because he was a crutch?” Her pulse raced at the hint of anger she let color her voice—just a hint.

  “Meg,” Dr. Jillium coaxed. “I didn’t tell him to move out. You know I can’t do that.”

  Meg frowned, sure she had couched it so it would seem like it was his idea. “No, you were right,” Meg interrupted breezily. “He is a crutch. But I would’ve liked to have been in on that conversation instead of having things decided for me as if I was a child.”

  “I’m sorry this happened,” Dr. Jillium said, and Meg hated her cool, calm voice, always in control, always judging her. “Fitrecepon is highly experimental. That you continue to metabolize it well is important. We’ve had issues in the past, and your health is my main concern.”

  Meg was silent, the phone feeling hot in her hand.

  “Meg,” Dr. Jillium coaxed. “I’m embarrassed to be having this conversation over the phone. Please believe me when I say that there won’t be any more conversations with Austin without you there.”

  “I don’t think that will be an issue anymore, anyway,” Meg said tightly. Leaning against the kitchen sink, she took a long, slow breath and stared out at the brick wall. “I love him, and he loves me, but you’re right that I’ve been using him to avoid moving forward. I can’t keep doing this.”

  “Possibly,” Dr. Jillium said, and Meg frowned, never having allowed herself to do it when actually in her psychiatrist’s office. “Meg, don’t do anything out of hand. Fitrecepon impacts your brain in subtle, deep-set ways that are not always easily apparent.”

  “Fitrecepon is not responsible for Austin talking about me behind my back,” Meg said boldly. “Him making decisions for me that we should be making together.”

  “True, but it might be a part of why you’re so angry with him,” Dr. Jillium said. “You’re doing wonderful on
it, and after such a long time of being down on yourself, even a little confidence can make you feel unstoppable. Fitrecepon isn’t a maintenance drug. It’s to jump start positive patterns that will allow you to permanently alter your behavior. I don’t want you to make any changes that you’re going to look back on and regret.”

  Meg tried to slow her emotions, well versed in what medication could do, both good and bad. “I hear what you are saying,” she said, but her eyes were on the pills in her purse. She couldn’t imagine not taking them. Not yet.

  “I want you to come in on Monday, okay?” Dr. Jillium said, and even though that was why Meg had called her, an uneasy feeling took root. “I’ll have a new prescription for you, and we can devote the entire hour to you and Austin. He cares very much about you.”

  Meg grimaced, willing to bet that her new prescription wouldn’t be as potent. “I know. I love him, too,” she said softly. “I’ll try to get him to come in.” But she already knew that Austin wouldn’t step foot inside Dr. Jillium’s office. She’d tried before. For someone who was enthusiastic about her going to therapy, he was adamant that he didn’t need any.

  “Certainly.”

  Meg’s gaze flicked to the shifty-eyed cat clock over the archway to the living room. Haley would be here any moment. Just the idea of having her knock on the door and ask to come in made Meg’s stomach knot. “Thanks, Dr. J,” she said, trying to end the conversation without looking like she was. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  “Have a great weekend.” Dr. Jillium seemed to be in no hurry, and Meg leaned over the sink to try to get a glimpse of the sidewalk. “Keep up the good work with your diary, and call me immediately if anything changes.”

  “I will.” The beep of the phone disconnect was a relief, and Meg leaned farther over the sink. But the sidewalk was empty, and she rocked back to her heels. Again her eyes went to the empty diary, and she vowed that as soon as she and Haley were done this afternoon that she’d write down when she’d taken the Fitrecepon. The first one was at class, one at the fountain, one at the putt-putt, one this morning.…

  The sun was gone from the kitchen. Purse in hand, Meg went to sit by the living room window where she’d be able to see Haley coming long before she got to the door. She’d go out to meet her on the sidewalk and circumvent a tour of her drab apartment entirely.

  But she stopped, frozen before the window when she saw Christopher at the row of mailboxes.

  Meg’s breath caught. Her pulse hammered, and she didn’t move, knowing if she did, that he’d see her past the long brown curtains. Daniel Hun, she thought, never taking her eyes off the man at the mailboxes as she fumbled to find his card in her purse. Then she hesitated. Haley was coming. She couldn’t ask her to hang around so she could tell a man from the government that she’d seen the guy he was looking for. Haley would think she was a loser.

  Christopher looked up. Meg’s eyes widened, her grip tightening on the card. He sees me, she thought in near panic, but then he turned, wedged something into her mailbox, and walked away.

  Meg inched to the window, breathing easier when she saw him halfway down the street, yelling at a car that nearly hit his dog. Her eyes flicked to the mailboxes. Curiosity burning, she found her mailbox key.

  The sun on the raised walkway was almost a shock, and holding her keys like a claw, she made her way to the mailboxes, wondering how it could be so bright outside, and so dull in her apartment. A quick look up and down the street assured her Haley wasn’t here yet and Christopher was gone. Key rasping, she opened the mailbox to find a torn square of newspaper.

  Puzzled, she flipped it over to see it was a coupon for an Asian eatery. “What the hell?” she whispered, studying it as she locked her box back up and turned to go back inside. A coupon?

  “Can you see them yet?” a raspy voice asked, and Meg jerked to a halt, terror slicing cleanly through her.

  He was standing there, between her and the stairs, that yappy dog in his arms and a wild look in his eyes. His hair was matted, and he looked as if he hadn’t shaved in a week.

  “What do you want?” she asked, dropping back a self-preserving step. “I saw you last night at the putt-putt course. Are you following me?”

  Christopher took a step forward, and she gasped, retreating to the sidewalk. His clothes were filthy, and there were no socks between his feet and dirty sneakers. A white, institutional-looking tee was tucked into his baggy, long pants, and it and the red plaid shirt he wore over it looked splattered with something that might have once been red. Blood? she wondered, becoming more frightened. She could smell him from where she stood, sort of a swampy, burned-leaves smell that caught at the back of her throat.

  “Have they asked you to go with them?” he asked, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses as he struggled to keep the dog in his arms. “It’s not too late. Not for you.”

  “Get away. Go on!” she demanded loudly, scared to death as she gestured wildly, as if he was a squirrel or cat, but it was early, and no one was walking their dog or taking a run to hear. The street was deserted.

  Christopher put up a hand as if trying to reassure her, and she scrambled back almost to the pavement. He’d escaped from a hospital. Who knew what he would do? Frantically looking up and down the street, she kept retreating, hoping he’d follow enough that she could get around him and back in her apartment.

  “You’re a patient of Dr. Jillium,” he said, struggling with his wiggling dog, and she stopped stone cold in the shade of the old oaks. “Throw them out before it’s too late. Can you see them yet? Can you!”

  The last was a pained shout, and she shook her head to humor him. “Leave me alone,” she whispered. “Stop following me.”

  “I’m trying to help you,” he said, but she didn’t move when he came forward another step. “I’m Christopher. Or at least I used to be until I was in one of Dr. Jillium’s trials. I know she’s giving you Fitrecepon. Can you see them yet? It might not be too late.”

  “See what?” she asked. Two more feet, and she could get around him, and she fidgeted, her heart hammering hard enough to burst.

  “Not what. Who!” he shouted, gesturing in frustration. “Them!”

  My God, he has totally lost it, she thought, eyes widening. Breath held, she rushed to get past him, panic making her heedless. “Let go!” she shrilled when he caught her arm. “I’ll call the hospital!” she shouted as she shoved him, and he pinwheeled back, grabbing her arm to keep from falling. “Let go. Let go!” she exclaimed, fighting for her balance.

  The dog was on the ground, barking wildly as she hit his arm holding her. But he wouldn’t let go, and she took a breath to scream. Someone would come. They weren’t all hung over.

  “Daniel? You talked to Daniel?” the man rasped. Eyes wild, he let go. Meg lurched back, heart pounding. “Oh, God. You can see them. Don’t call him,” he begged, cowering as he backed away, his little dog getting tangled in his feet. “He’s not from the government. He works for Dr. Jillium. He wants to take me back to Perfection. I can’t go back there. I’m not crazy. Stop taking the pills. Throw them out. Meg, it’s not real. None of it is real.”

  He knows my name, she thought, chilled hearing it coming from someone she didn’t know. “Stay away from me,” she whispered, scared but not as much as he was, his eyes wide and his expression drawn.

  “Throw them out,” he said, falling to a knee to try to catch his dog. “They’re flesh dealers. They want you because you have something they can’t do. Do you sing? Tell stories? Are you good with games?”

  He’d finally gotten his dog, and he stood, clutching it so hard it squirmed to escape. They had switched places, Christopher cowering almost in the street, her standing more confidently on the sidewalk to her apartment. Confused, she hesitated, her panic sliding from fight-or-flight to a more enduring fear of being in a danger she couldn’t yet see. Head high, she refused to let it take a grip on her, but the familiar anxiety settled in as if it belonged, and maybe it did. Maybe this fea
r was all she was.

  “No,” she said, but then went cold when she recalled how Haley had liked her painting. She’d seemed almost proud of it when she’d shown Rorry.

  “They tricked me,” he said, voice low and raspy as he crept closer. “They lied. I thought it was heaven, but it was hell. I escaped, but it will be harder now. You have to throw them away. Now!”

  “Leave me alone!” she insisted, inching back to the stairs. That Haley liked her work didn’t mean anything. Half the art faculty had commented on it. This guy was nuts, and if she listened to him, he would make her nuts, too.

  Wiggling dog gripped tight, Christopher looked furtively up and down the street. “They make you feel as if you’re one of them. That you can be perfect, but it’s a lie. You can never live up to their expectations. You’ll never be more than a clever pet.” He staggered, the dog slipping from him as he stared down the street with an open-mouthed fear. “Oh, God. It’s her.”

  Shocked, Meg followed his gaze, seeing nothing. She jerked at the scuff of his shoes, but it was only Christopher running away. She watched his awkward gait, the dog silent at his heels as they slipped between the parked cars and were gone.

  “Crazy ass,” she whispered, heart still pounding. She looked at her apartment window as she thought of Daniel’s card in her purse. The fruit loop was AWOL from a mental hospital. He knew Dr. Jillium, or at least her name. Worried, she decided she’d ask Dr. Jillium on Monday. Daniel had said he was unstable, and Dr. Jillium had warned her there were more severe side effects other than itchy skin and things not tasting right. The woman had been almost paranoid about making sure Meg wasn’t showing any signs of a bad reaction. Paranoia and hallucinations? Meg wondered, arms around her middle as she started back inside.

  “Yoo hoo! Meg!” a lightly feminine voice called distantly. “Isn’t it a beautiful morning?”