Folie à Deux

“Rise and shine, pumpkin,” said Zoe, jumping on my bed. I don’t understand morning people.

“We’re going shopping, you in?” said Hadley, poking her head around the corner while still in the process of attaching one of her extensions.

I considered it. A shopping trip with the three of them is always the same: Hadley’s convinced she looked terrible in everything, when the exact opposite is true, and we have to try and change her mind. Zoe gravitates automatically to the brightest neon thing in any store. Dylan keeps up a running commentary on passers-by, which tends to be both brutally bitchy and hysterically funny. And I’m bullied into trying on all sorts of revealing and/or ridiculous clothes when all I really want is a nice soft t-shirt. Keep in mind that they can keep this up, without tiring, for as long as there are stores.

“I’ll pass,” I said.

So, an hour later, I found myself blissfully alone, sitting on a bench in a public park with my sketchpad and iPod. I drew, wrote a little, and drew some more, perfectly content on my own. I headed back to the hotel around three and had time for a quick nap before the others burst through the door.

From when they arrived it was a whirlwind. A quick fashion show, of course, to show me their purchases (Zoe’s highlighter-yellow skinny jeans were a standout) and then we had to get ready.

I always used to stick out when we were on stage together, a black hole in their sea of crazy clashing colors. So we made an agreement for this tour; as long as they didn’t pick on me too much about my offstage wardrobe, I had to submit to nightly makeovers before each performance.

Zoe shoved the night’s selection into my arms; a neon blue and black zebra-striped tank top and orange skinny jeans. I couldn’t bring myself to put it on, so I just stuffed it in my messenger bag next to my sketchbook. I’d change between sound check and our actual performance.

The four of us took a cab to the ballroom-style theater, wandered around lost for a while, almost got thrown out by some security guards, and eventually found the dressing rooms. Sound check was fine, aside from a brief tantrum from Hadley, and before I knew it, I was sitting in a chair in our dressing room, letting Zoe apply unnatural colors to my face.

My makeup (slashes of hot pink eyeshadow) and my hair (teased beyond recognition) were done a full hour before we were supposed to go on, so I wandered outside in search of some peace and quiet.

I know it sounds bad, but I can never stand to be around them for too long. I can’t stand to be around anyone for too long.

I found the door that said “Exit” and sighed happily. As I pushed it open, the cool evening air washed over me, and I could feel myself calming down already.

It was a beautiful night, beyond the ugly security lights. I took in a deep breath and tilted my head back, staring up at the just-emerging stars.

“Hey,” came a quiet voice from my left, and I jumped a mile. Ryan was sitting against the wall, arms around his knees, looking up at me. His skin was practically translucent in the dull yellow light.

“You scared me,” I said, a bit unnecessarily.

“Sorry,” he replied, with just the slightest hint of a smirk. “Nice hair.”

“Nice stars.”

He touched his hand to one of the black stars that was drawn on his cheekbone, rolling his eyes. I sat down next to him.

“At least I don’t look like a disco girl from Mars,” he said, quietly as ever, but his eyes were twinkling. I didn’t argue, just smiled.

“What’s your tattoo?” I asked randomly, seeing a bit of curly writing on one wrist. He rolled up both sleeves and showed me.

“Mad as a hatter, thin as a dime,” I read.

“It’s from a song.”

“I know. Tom Waits,” I smiled.

His eyes twinkled at me in approval, and my stomach fluttered. “You like him?” he asked.

“Hold On is my favorite. I listened to it pretty much constantly when…When my parents died.”

His change in expression wasn’t what I had been expecting. It was some strange mix of surprise and comprehension, not the pity that I was used to.

“When?” he asked.

“Three years ago. Car crash.”

“I’m sorry. My dad…my dad died about a year ago. I can’t imagine how it would be to lose both.” His eyes weren’t sparkling any more: they were staring directly into my own with an understanding that made me tremble. I didn’t reply, just stared down at the sidewalk to avoid eye contact.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” he enquired in a near-whisper.

I shook my head, and my heart pounded painfully. In that moment, I wanted desperately to talk, to reach out and breach the gap between us, to find out what else we had in common, besides Chuck Palahniuk and Tom Waits and the horrible sickening feeling that comes when the person who was supposed to protect you is irrevocably gone. I had a feeling he would have listened. I just wished I knew what to say.

I was saved, in a sense, by Brendon, who opened the door just as my blush was becoming unbearable.

“Hey, where the fuck did you go?” he said to Ryan, shutting the door behind him. “Hey, Claire,” he added, almost as an afterthought. As he looked at Ryan, I thought I saw a vague hint of panic behind his broad smile.

“I’ll be just a second,” Ryan said.

“’Kay,” said Brendon, and disappeared as suddenly as he had come.

Ryan sighed and ran his hand through his hair, staring down at his knees so I couldn’t see his face.

“Sometimes I wonder,” he grumbled, almost to himself. I looked at him inquisitively, and he seemed to remember I was there. He bit his lip and continued. “I love Brendon. I’ve never had a better friend in my life. But he just doesn’t understand when I’m quiet, or when I want to be alone. He always freaks out and thinks I’m mad at him. And sometimes I just need my space. Being alone is just so much easier sometimes.”

“Being alone, there’s no need to say what they expect you to say,” I said without thinking, and as soon as it came out I wished I hadn’t.

“Exactly,” he said, eyebrows raised in surprise, and then again, slower, “Exactly.” He studied me for a long second, eyes curious, then abruptly got up and brushed himself off. “I’d better go back,” he said apologetically, and I nodded.

With one hand on the doorknob, he paused one last time and smiled sideways at me. “You should talk more,” he said softly.

“I’ll try,” I promised in a whisper.

“See you in a few,” he said, and I was left alone, taking deep breaths and trying to calm my racing heart.