Experiment in Terror 06.5 And With Madness Comes the Light (4 page)

That was the ball-sucking thing about
heartache. It didn’t follow logic or physics or any sort of rules.
It wasn’t that you started off in absolute grief and then slowly
got better. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, from hate to love
and back again. Each day was different. It was a roll of the dice,
a turn of the cards.

Some days I’d feel fine. I had started
eating better thanks to the girls and their new vegan lifestyle.
Unfortunately, because I was spending Christmas with them now, it
meant eating something called Tofurkey. Still, my body and mind
were responding to the weird tasteless veggie loaf, rejoicing that
I was filling up on healthy foods, and I felt like I could handle
anything life threw at me.

But on other days, when I’d see a girl with
a fantastic, excessive ass, or hear Slayer on the radio, I was
plunged into turmoil. I’d be reminded of Perry, of what she was to
me, and I wished I could have realized how I felt sooner. I wished
I could have told her how I really felt, that she was more than a
friend and a partner, that she was my everything. The only person
who really understood—who really loved me for me. But if wishes
were fishes, this whole place would really stink.

A few days after New Year’s, when I was back
at my apartment with Fat Rabbit, trying to piece my life back
together, I got a call from my friend Dean. Dean was a good guy,
dependable and funny, and the co-host of Gamers with our friend
Seb. I guessed that even though Dean had a good physique and slim
build, he’d yielded to one too many video games lately and was
looking to get back in shape. I had a feeling that Rebecca had
probably let him know that I’d devolved from a dick-grabbing monkey
to a defecating parasite (which, by the way, is much worse), and I
needed help.

Dean had the goal of entering a few
half-marathons and wanted me to train with him. He said he needed
the motivation and accountability and that I was the perfect match.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to a little exercise. But
knowing Dean, our training sessions would start making up half of
our lives. It was a good thing then that I didn’t have a life
anymore.

The first couple of weeks were the toughest,
but fuck did it feel good to put my body through the ringer rather
than my heart. When we were running I didn’t have energy to think.
All I could do was put one foot in front of the other, pushing
through the pain in my shins or my lungs that were threatening to
explode. It was cathartic and torturous at the same time. Hurt so
good.

Then we started weight training. Dean was
African American so it was extremely unfair that he bulked up in
what seemed like days, whereas for me it was a slower process. But
with my diet improving (I tried to follow Rebecca’s diet, except
that I was back to eating meat…worst vegan ever) and my alcohol
intake cut drastically, I could see the changes. And as my body
improved, my mind improved. My soul improved. Everything was
feeling stronger.

The great thing about Dean was that we never
talked about anything too serious. He never asked me about my
family or my past or ghosts or Perry. All talk about women was
carefree and easy and he let me be the pervert that I was.

But I guess on one suspiciously sunny day,
his curiosity had gotten the better of him. While we were winding
down our run at Lawton Park, he said, “So, Perry. Were you in love
with her?”

I nearly tripped over my own feet and caught
myself before I face-planted into a tree. “What the hell kind of
question is that?” I asked, fighting for my breath.

He shrugged, which is kind of hard to do
when you’re running.

“It’s a good question,” he said with a sly
smile. “Everyone wants to know what made Dex Foray fall to his
knees.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“What can I say, man? You’re a celebrity at
Shownet. People care about what happens to you. Besides, Jimmy told
everyone you went crazy and tried to eat your dog or something so
he had to put you on sabbatical. I figure if you tried to eat that
fat thing, someone must have broken your heart good.”

I slowed down my pace, finding it difficult
to defend myself and exercise at the same time.

“I didn’t try to eat my dog…and I’m not on
sabbatical. I haven’t even talked to Jimmy since all this shit
happened.”

“Dude, you know when you pull that shit,
you’re on sabbatical. No one can just leave Shownet, especially not
Mr. Popular like you. Well, actually it was Perry that was Mrs.
Popular. So tell me, were you in love with her? What happened?”

I don’t know why I thought it was anyone’s
business to know that, but with the whole turning over a new leaf
and becoming a new man thing, I figured being honest would be a
good start. Lying had never done me any good before.

I exhaled hard and chewed on my lip for a
few beats. “Yes. I was in love with her. And to be honest with you,
homeboy, I still am.”

“Shit, Dex. First you say you’re in love
with her, then you call me homeboy? Who the hell are you?”

I rolled my eyes as we jogged through a
grove of Douglas firs. “Why does everyone act so surprised when I
admit that? I’m not the motherfucking Tin Man. I have a heart.”

“Apparently. So what happened?”

“Didn’t Rebecca tell you?” I asked
wryly.

He shook his head. “No. You and Perry were
totally humping each other with your eyes at the Christmas party
though, so it was kind of obvious that something was going to
happen.”

“Well I guess you could say we took eye
humping to the next level. Then I freaked the fuck out because I
realized I was in love with her, and she had told me earlier that
she wasn’t in love with me.”

“Whoa, wait up,” Dean said, slowing down to
a fast walk. “She told you she wasn’t in love with you? Before you
had sex with her? How the hell did that come up?”

Good question. Because I was an idiot and
had to ask, that’s why.

I told him as much.

“Okay, man, seriously,” he said, holding up
his hand, palm out. “You mean to tell me that you asked her, point
blank, whether she loved you or not. Before you even had a clue
that you loved her. And you believed her when she said she
didn’t?”

“Uh, yeah. I trusted her.”

“You don’t know shit about women, do you?”
Dean actually sounded a bit angry.

I frowned. “I know how to get them off.”

“Not good enough, my man. Put yourself in
her fine shoes for a moment. She’s in love with you—that was quite
obvious from what I saw, but I can see you’re a bit of a dumbass
about the whole thing. So she’s in love with you and suddenly you
ask her if she loves you. You don’t say, ‘oh babe I love you’ or
any shit like that to give her an idea of where it’s going. You
just ask her, like you’re being good ol’ fuck-with-you Foray. Of
course she’s going to lie! What would her alternative have been? To
tell the truth and have you laugh at her or act all smug on some
ego trip?”

“Hey,” I sniped, “I wouldn’t have done any
of that. I would have told her how I felt.”

He jammed his finger in my face. “Only after
she had to go first. What were you trying to do, test her? That’s
not cool, man, not cool. You would have lied if you were in her
shoes, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Are you trying to make me feel bad?” I
asked. My lungs and heart couldn’t handle the revelation. I
stopped, leaning against a tree, feeling hotter by the second as
the sweat streamed off me.

“No, man,” Dean said, stopping beside me.
“I’m trying to tell you you’re an idiot for freaking the fuck out,
that’s what.”

“Thanks.”

“So then what happened? You kicked her out
of bed or what?”

I rubbed my sweaty palms on my face. “Pretty
much. Then I figured out the whole thing that you had no problem
picking up on. And then it was too late.”

“I got to tell you, that sucks,” he said.
“And you’re an idiot.”

Majorly. I was overheating now, feeling
trapped in my shirt. So much for turning over a new leaf. The
rollercoaster was heading down again.

Dean shook his head in mild pity and started
stretching. I took off my shirt, trying to get some cold air on my
skin, vaguely aware that with the way Dean and I were posed, him
bending over and me sweaty and shirtless, we could have been in a
gladiator porn. I suppose that was an option if I wanted to come
back to Shownet.

It didn’t help that he was staring at my
chest.

“What? Am I giving you a hard-on?” I
asked.

He shook his head and gave me a nasty look.
“No, I’m reading your tattoo. And with madness comes the
light.”

“I got it a long time ago. To remind
me.”

“Remind you of what?”

“That madness isn’t all bad.”

A chilly breeze picked up and I slid my
soaked t-shirt back on, shivering from the contact.

“Ain’t all bad?” he said. “Madness is not
your friend, Dex. You just treat it like one.”

“I didn’t say it was my friend,” I said
quietly, feeling a bit weird discussing it with someone. I never
even talked about it with Jenn. “I’m saying I made the most of it.
Sometimes you have to fall pretty fucking far before you can see
the light. Believe me, I’ve been through some shit that I wouldn’t
wish on my worst enemy.”

Dean’s face grew serious. “I believe you.
So, what’s the light then? What makes the madness worth it?”

Shit. Dean and I had gone from workout
buddies to acting like a bunch of overanalyzing pussies. Next thing
you knew, we’d start having our periods at the same time.

Yet, pussy or not, I kept talking. “Perry
was my light. I didn’t know it at the time, but I know it now. And
in her light, I lost that madness. It only came back when she
left.” I paused, looking around at the tall trees and the sun
streaming through them, unable to stop my mouth from going on. “She
makes me want to live life as it should be lived. By the balls, you
know.”

“Makes,” he mused, stretching his
hamstring.

“Makes?”

“Yeah man. Makes. Present tense. She
makes
you want to be a better man. She’s still your light,
no matter what the rest of this shit is. That’s pretty deep.”

“Balls deep?” I asked.

“Dude, enough with your balls. Maybe that
should be your next tattoo.”

I raised one brow. “Balls deep. I guess it
would be applicable to the ladies.”

He sighed impatiently. “No. Perry is your
light. She helped you lose the madness. Something like that. To
balance out the other one.”

“Dedicate a tattoo to her?” I asked.

He shrugged. “You’re still in love with her.
She makes you want to live life. Personally, and this is just me,
man, if I ever met a woman who saved me that way, I’d devote some
temples to her or something. That’s how the Taj Mahal got started,
I’m sure.”

We hadn’t even left the park before a phrase
started floating around in my head—
Within your light, I lose the
madness.

CHAPTER FOUR

Even though my man Dean had been the one to
give me the tattoo idea, I decided to take Rebecca along to
accompany me during the procedure. It’s funny that I already had
two tattoos and this one would also be simple cursive behind my
shoulder, yet needles kind of freaked me out. I didn’t like to
admit it, but hey, the whole becoming a new man thing had me
spewing a lot of shit I used to keep to myself. Which was just what
the world needed—an even more uncensored Dex Foray.

I didn’t know if I was just on a down day or
if I was jonesing because I’d just quit smoking, but I was a pile
of nerves as the tattoo artist did his work on me.

Rebecca noticed. “Does it hurt?” she asked
as the first few words were completed.

I shook my head. It didn’t. Didn’t mean it
was comfortable and it didn’t mean I liked it, but it definitely
didn’t hurt.

She pursed her lips and looked me over
inquisitively. “Do you mind if I get Perry’s address off of
you?”

I flinched. Luckily the artist was fast
enough to feel it coming and lifted the needle away just in
time.

“What?” I asked.

“Are we okay?” said the tattoo artist.

I nodded quickly at him and the machine
resumed its buzzing.

I lowered my voice. “Why do you want her
address?”

“It’s not like that,” she said, taking a
tube out of her bag that probably used to be a hamster and dotting
sticky gloss on her lips. “Em and I might be in Portland soon and I
was thinking—”

“Don’t you dare,” I warned her. “Don’t you
dare go see her.”

She lowered her brows and snapped her purse
shut with a deafening click. “Dex, please. She was my friend,
too.”

“I’m your friend first.”

“
You’re
not going to go see her.”

“Obviously not, she hates my guts.”

“But you’re getting a tattoo because of
her.”

“Well I’m not dragging the tattoo artist
over there and getting it inked on her forehead, am I?”

“I just want to see how she’s doing. I’m
worried about her.”

I wished she hadn’t said that, because I was
worried as hell about her, too. Over the last week, I’d thought
about Pippa’s message again and again, trying to figure out what it
all meant. Why it was a warning. How Perry was doing. Just because
I’d been mercifully free from seeing ghosts—despite no
medication—it didn’t mean Perry was. I couldn’t imagine how she’d
deal with it all alone. Even though, looking back, I hadn’t been
much help—partially because of the medication, partially because I
was afraid—I knew she had felt safer with me. Because I always
believed her and I understood. Now who knew what was going on? I
had little faith in her younger sister, Ada, and zero faith in her
parents.

“Fine,” I said. “But I didn’t send you.”

“I know you didn’t. And I know you want to
know how she is. I just want to make sure she’s fine and see if I
can help in any way if she’s not.”