Love Is a Serious Mental Disease

Mom was embarrassed when she had to confess to Nick that she was planning to walk us to the Mexican restraunt two blocks away since she had burned the dinner she made us. Nick refused, saying he knew a way better place and he could take us there with his car. Noah and I begged our Mom to do that instead, but she said no. Mom kept "friendly bickering" with Nick (which was probably her idea of flirting) until she finally gave in; but only if she paid.

With honor, I sit down in the booth seat of Little Italy, the best Italian restaurant in the city, like I belong here. It was awkward with my mother and me sitting side by side and Nick being right in front of my mom.

I order a hefty plate of spaghetti and meatballs. I instantly dig in. I stab my meatball and bite down on it, sending juice down my chin that I don't bother to wipe off. "So, Nick. I haven't seen you in awhile. When did you get back from California?" I remember that Nick was taking courses in Los Angeles.

"Didn't Peter tell you?" He waited for a response. I shake my head. "I came back to Pennsylvania about four months ago. I wanted to be closer to my family. My new house is like an hour away, but I'm staying over with my parents for the weekend."

"Do you work?" I ask, slurping on my spaghetti.

"Uh, yeah. For now, I do odd jobs." He takes a bite of his friselle.

"How'd you meet my mother then?" My eyes don't leave his.

"I met her when I was meeting up with a friend at St.Laetus."

"What do you mean?" I look over to my mom.

"Well, I was waiting to tell you this but....I'm a receptionist at the St. Laetus hospital." She and Noah both gleam.

"Great," I say in a monotone. "That means I don't have to get another job right?"

"Well, you don't have to. But I would like it if you did because if I make enough money, I plan on buying a house."

A smile inches across my face. "Really?"

She nods. "Really."

"So....." I smile diveously. My attention goes back to Nick,"how'd meeting get to dating so fast. And don't you think this is a little weird? I mean... I'm with Peter and you're with my mom. Plus, she's like fifteen years older than you."

My mother glares at me. If looks could kill...

"Wow, Scarlett. You're quite candid," Nick says.

My mother pales. "I am so sorry. I don't know what's gotten into her."

"Don't be. I respect her honesty. And Scarlett, age doesn't matter to me. As long as we're the same age mentally, then I'm set."

"Is this a date then?" Noah questions.

"No!" My mother rushes.

"Well, I see it as taking a beautiful young lady and her wonderful children out for dinner," Nick compliments.

I give Noah a look. Gag.

Later that night, I get home and instantly go to my room. I know I'm in for a load of trouble, so I'm going to bed before my mom nags me. I wear my pajamas which is basically an old oversized T-shirt with a barely visible hole in it, and grey sweat pants that almost reach my ankles. I go to the bathroom and wash my face. I brush my teeth before walking back to bed.

My body doesn't feel as tense as it did earlier, and I instantly loosen up. I close my eyes and a few minutes later, I feel the weight of my brother as he scoots over to his side of the bed. In the next minute, all is silent.



Clank! Click! Clank! I wake to the sound of something hitting my window. I rub my eyes and walk over to see what's making all that noise. Peter is holding a handful of pebbles.

I mouth:What are you doing here?

He waves his hand. Come here. I step away from the window and quietly tiptoe to my boots and jacket. I peer at Noah before I leave. His deep breaths fill the vacant spaces of my room.

I'm careful when shutting the door behind me and soundless when drifting down the stairs. The coldness of the wind instantly permeates the air and as I walk out, it's stronger. My hair sweeps over my face as I try to pull it back.

I walk to Peter. "What are you doing here, Peter?"

"What, aren't you happy to see me?" He brushes my hair to the side and gently kisses the corner of my lips.

"I am. Just, not this late in the night." I tug at my sleeves. A small yawn escapes my mouth. "It's really cold out here. I'm going inside soon."

"No." He loops his strong arms around my waist and pulls me closer to him so that I am mere inches away from his face."My parents--they're gone for the night to celebrate their anniversary. Stay at my place."

I search his eyes. "Are you serious? My mom would kill me if she found out. I'm already on her bad side. I know she's just waiting for me to slip up one more time so she can call me out."

His light golden brown hair is tousled from the wind. His cheeks are a light shade of pink, and a scarf is securely tied to his neck. A neck that didn't exist months ago.

He cloaks his head in my shoulder and I hear him whisper, "We don't have to tell anyone. I'll get you home before anyone wakes up."

I scrounge my brain for an excuse; I'm not going to get in trouble again. "Alright, what about your brother? He's going to be over at your house for the weekend, right?"

Peter pulls away, his eyes wide. "How'd you know about that?"

"Well," I use my pointer finger to pull a curl of hair out of my mouth,"we had a lovely chat when he took my family out to dinner."

He held a confused expression on his face. "Why was he taking your family out to dinner?"

"I think Nick and my mom are dating now." I made it sound more like a question than a statement.

"You think or you know?"

"I'm pretty sure. They were "flirting" all through dinner." I made air quotes. Noticing his perturbed face, I add, "Don't worry. It's nothing serious...for now."

It doesn't take his troubled look away. I suck at making people feel better. You'd think by now I knew when to shut my big mouth.

"So you see, I can't come." I step back from Peter, but he grabs my hand.

"Wait. Since my parents aren't home, Nick went back to his house. We would be all alone in my house." For some reason, that makes me uneasy.

"I don't know..."

"Please," he takes a hold of my hands,"I swear I'll take you home early morning."

"Fine."

Peter parks his car in the garage and pulls me into his house. I take in the familiar scent of lavender the house always seems to invite. I step on the heel of each boot to take them off and walk towards Peter who was waiting for me on the stairs. He leads me up to his room.

There is a collection of clothes building up by the closet. A telescope is set up by the window. I smile, admiring his Superman blanket he stills sleeps with. "You still have that?"

He rubs the back of his head, and I notice him slightly blushing. "My other ones need to be washed." My grin grows wider and I kiss him on the cheek. I remember him telling me he used to be obsessed with superheroes, and we use to spend our afternoons looking through his comic books. Gastric bypass surgery changed him. More mentally then physically.

Peter leans in to give me a kiss. Short and sweet. Four months ago, he was too nervous to even look at me. "Want something to drink?" He awkwardly shifts from one leg to the other.

"Uh, coffee if you have some please." He nods and walks out of the room. I take my jacket off, revealing my oversized tee and cringe. I touch the mini hole on the breast area of my shirt. If I'd known I'd be coming to Peter's house, I would've changed.

I lay back in his bed and absorb the warmness of his pillow. I sit up and lean my back against the headboard. There is a low hum coming from Peter's computer. The power button is orange meaning the monitor is asleep.

I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Peter appears with two ceramic mugs. He keeps the one with the Batman logo on it and gives me the one with an owl having a speech bubble that reads: HOOT! I murmur a thank you and take a sip from the dark liquid. The coffee burns my throat in a satisfying way.

"Remember when we used to spend the summer laying on this bed reading your comic books?" I say.

"Hmm? Uh, yeah. I guess." He looks deep in thought. "But that seems so childish now."

I scrunch my eyebrows. "Childish? What do you mean?"

"I mean we could be doing so much more now." His eyes hungrily examine my body. He takes the mug from me and lays it on the table beside his bed.

"What are you doing?" I smile nervously. He leans in and gives a slight peck on my lips which gradually moves to a full on make-out. His kiss is fast and slobbery, while I try to slow down for my sake before he devours me. He stops the kiss for a moment to sit beside me. He picks me up and I position each leg on either side of him so that I'm straddling him.

He smiles, a smirk I've never seen on his face before. An evil, mischievous smile. It isn't long before he continues the kiss. He keeps one hand around my waist and the other in my hair. Every once in awhile, he'd slowly run his tongue along my lips indicating me to open them, but I kept my teeth clenched.

When we pull away to breathe, I blush. He is the worst kisser in the world! Not that I've kissed a lot of boys to be a judge. In fact, Peter's the only boy I've ever kissed.

Peter smacks his head. "I'm such an idiot. I forgot; I have to give you something." As soon as his back is to me, I quickly wipe off the saliva Peter left on my mouth.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Just close your eyes and don't open them until I say so."

I playfully smile. "Why?"

"Because it's a surprise. Now close your eyes." I shut my eyes tight until he told me to open them.

Instantly, my smile disappears. Peter is holding a see-through black lace lingerie set. "You're kidding, right?" I waited for a "just joking" but his face just hardens, letting my hopes down.

"Please, wear this? You would look so sexy." His eyes were begging like a dog waiting for a treat.

"Are you crazy?! I'm not wearing that," I firmly say. Finally understanding that there is no way in hell I was going to wear that, he huffs and returns the clothes--or whatever it is--back in its place in the closet.

He jumps on the bed and takes off his shirt. I can see the developing lines of his abdominal muscles. He leans in to continue the kiss. I pull away a little, but as his persistence grew, I gave in.

I try hard to enjoy the kiss. I move my hands around his chest. I've never made-out before. Was this how it was supposed to feel? Boring and all kinds of messy? I'm guessing this is Peter's first time too.

I fling my eyes open when he bites down on my lip. I taste blood in my mouth. I try to disconnect our lips but he holds me down. He slips his tongue down my throat and I'm trying to remove his grip bur he tightens his grip. He takes one hand and puts in under my shirt.

All at once, I'm taken back to the dreaded day. I remember the sound of the bathroom stall slamming shut. I remember their wicked smiles. I remember their cold hands reaching under my dress. The sound of the zipper. The taste of my tears. I remember every detail.

I use all my force to shove Peter off me and onto the floor. "Get off of me!"

"What's wrong with you?! Freaking slug!" I spit.

"What are you talking about? You were enjoying it a second ago," Peter says. I plug my ears and shut my eyes. I try to calm my heaving.

"Why are you crying?" Peter asks. I hadn't realized I was crying until now.

"I--I know... I sh--shouldn't ha--ve come here in th-the first place!" I say in between sniffles. I jump off the bed, falling back and slamming against the computer. I turn around and gasp. There is a paused video of two girls in tight see-through lingerie posing hungrily on a bed. "What the hell?!" More tears pour out. I pick my jacket up off the floor. "Take me home now!" I demand. Without arguing, Peter lightly nods and grabs his car keys.

I stomp my way down the stairs and slip my shoes on. I wait for Peter as he puts his shirt on. We don't talk the whole car ride back home.

I'm silent when opening my door and walking into my room. I throw my jacket and boots into a corner. When getting in my bed, I make sure not to touch Noah.

More than two hours have passed and I can't go to sleep. I've been silently crying since I got to bed. For the longest time, those memories were locked away in the back of my mind. Now they're set loose, running free in my mind. No one knows how excruciating the pain I'm feeling is. It's pitch black in my room; I can't even see my hand directly in front my face. One of my many fears, the dark. It doesn't mingle well with my PTSD. As my last tears drop down my cheeks, lightning and thunder roar outside my window. Great, my other fear. What's next? Snakes under my bed? As the next roar booms, I squeal.

Before I know what I'm doing, I shake my brother's foot. "Noah. Noah?" He's usually a deep sleeper but after my third call he wakes up.

"Mmm..." he mumbles.

"Could you sleep next to me?" I vulnerably ask. He moans which I can't decipher if it means yes or no. In just a matter of seconds, he's deeply breathing again. I shake his foot. "Noah!"

"What?" Noah slurs.

"Sleep next to me," I say.

I almost didn't catch his whispered sentence. "I am."

"No, I meant put your head here." I pat my pillow.

"Fine," he mutters and crawls over to my pillow to lay his head on.

"Hey, Noah?" Noah turns in the bed and pulls the covers over his head.

"What?" he whispers.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Scar."