Real
2427 Words
The next morning, Anthony darted to the front door without saying a word.
“Anthony, wait.” Kay rushed toward him.
He stopped, but he didn’t turn to face her.
“I’m sorry.”
A grimace crossed his face. “Yeah.”
She grabbed his arm and gently made him look at her. “Please, don’t be mad. You know how much I love you. I was just worried.”
He lifted furious eyes ready to pour his rage on her. He gazed at her for a few seconds, and then for some reason he found himself swallowing his feelings instead of letting them all out. “Well, don’t be. I’m going to see Nancy now.”
“I’m glad you are.”
He squinted against the sun as he headed out to his car.
“Put your shades on. It’s too sunny today.” Her voice trailed after him.
He jammed his sunglasses onto his face and drove away.
****
“I hate her.” Anthony paced the room, his feet pounding the hardwood floor.
“Okay, someone is angry,” Nancy said. “You can’t hate your mother for looking after you, Tony. She’s worried now that you haven’t been showing up for our appointments.”
Anthony plumped on the cashmere couch. “I’m not talking about Mom.”
“Who is it then?”
He bit the inside of his lip and reached for his cellphone. He swiped through it and gave it to her. “See for yourself.”
Nancy looked at the screen. “Wow. Is this your work?”
“Um-hum.”
“She’s definitely beautiful.”
“Devastatingly gorgeous,” he mumbled.
“What’s her name?” she asked, handing him the phone.
He stared at her for a second. Then he placed the phone back in his pocket. “I don’t know. She calls herself The Queen.”
Nancy blinked and jotted down some notes. “Interesting. And where did you meet?”
“She barged into campus on a motorbike with her gang.”
She raised her eyes to meet his. A smile stretched on her face. “Care to elaborate?”
He told her his story in detail, not leaving anything out.
“Fascinating,” she said. “Are you sure someone like her really exists? She’s too good to be true.”
“Good?” He scoffed. “She is a complete knock-out and wild and sexy and everything, but she is not good. She is anything but that,” Anthony said, jabbing his index finger in the air.
“And how do you exactly feel about that?”
“I’m pissed!”
“Okay,” she said. “Could you tell me the specific reason behind this anger?”
He sat straighter. “I’m mad because … I can’t wait to see her again.” He shook his head. “I’ve waited for her to show up on campus, wishing I’d come upon her in the hallway or the parking lot, but she’s never there. I’ve looked in every class, and nothing. Even Egyptology, she missed it three times in a row.” He swallowed. “I am terrified that she won’t show up to the next one.”
“Terrified? That’s a big word, don’t you think?”
“I know it’s a big word, but that’s exactly how I feel. How can I find her again if she doesn’t show up? I know nothing about her. She’s a ghost online...” His face heated. “How could she do this? Invade people’s lives that way with all her charms and mystery, then disappear like she doesn’t care a single bit about anything or anyone, as if she doesn’t know we even exist.”
“Anthony—”
His gaze bounced from one place to another. “She has to know that we exist. I need to tell her that I do exist.”
“Tony, calm down.”
He tilted his head back and shut his eyes. “You know what else I’m more pissed at?” He lowered his voice.
“What?”
“Myself,” he hissed. “For letting her take over my mind like that.” He cradled his forehead. “She’s probably an evil, selfish, egotistical girl, who’d diminish and destroy those around her. How can I feel that way about someone like that? The same stereotype again? What am I, a masochist?”
“No, Anthony. You are not a masochist,” Nancy replied. “What you are experiencing here is an attempt at recovery.”
He peered at her, speechless.
“You’re liberating yourself,” she added. “It’s a little bit extreme, but manageable.”
“I can tell you, there’s nothing liberating about what I feel these days.”
“I’m sure it feels that way now. But give it time,” she assured him. “Any blackouts?”
“Not since I started high school.” His forehead creased in bewilderment. “Why bring this up?”
“With anxiety and stress they can reappear. I had to check,” she answered with a pale smile. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
He heaved a sigh. “So now what? I go home and pretend everything is fine?”
Her lips stretched as she grabbed a prescription pad. “I’ll give you something a little stronger for your anxiety.”
“More pills?” He snorted at the dusky purple wall on his right.
“It will make you feel more relaxed. You go on home, and I’ll see you next week. Tell Kay I say hello.”
He snatched the piece of paper from her hand and stalked away.
****
Anthony’s phone went off. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes when he saw the name Claire blinking on the screen.
“I’m so sorry,” he answered.
“Where are you? I’ve been waiting for an hour.”
“I’m … still at home.” He swallowed. “I … forgot.”
“What do you mean you forgot? You know what? Never mind. Just get here.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Actually … can we … reschedule?”
“Again?! You cancelled yesterday, and promised you’d come to my place today.”
“I’m really sorry, Claire. I just can’t go make flyers tonight.” He pressed his lips. “I have to go. Take care.” He hung up and tossed the cellphone on the bed.
Until he’d met The Queen, he would have never treated any of his friends with such rudeness. He’d met her only once, and she had already turned him into someone he detested, however, he couldn’t put her out of his mind.
He spent the days between working on art projects—which revolved around her—and sweeping campus to find her. At night, when he was alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than think of her: the unique eyes, the hypnotic voice, the sculpted-to-perfection lips, and the way she carried her sensational body. Even in dreams, when sleep finally came, he’d see her again.
He stomped on scattered sketches when he heard a knock on the door.
“Anthony, are you up?” Kay asked.
He rolled his eyes. “Come in, Mom.”
She entered with a grin that immediately vanished after she saw the clutter of paper on the floor and her son’s painter hands.
She closed the door and treaded carefully till she reached the forsaken, dusty desk. She looked around and puckered her lips. “What’s going on?”
“What?”
She drew a short breath through her nose and lifted her gaze toward him. “Do you still remember the bedtime stories I used to make up for you when you were a kid?”
He smiled. “How could I ever forget? I loved those. You made them sound so … real. The ones based on mythology were my favorite. They’re the main reason I’m into this stuff.”
“Is that why you’re so hung up on that character?”
He crossed his arms on his chest. “What character?”
“When I saw the painting the other day it reminded me of one of those stories. I just didn’t think you’d still remember.”
Anthony’s eyebrows wrinkled. He felt his muscles tense.
“I haven’t told you one in like what? Ten years now? What brought her up?”
Cold sweat beaded his forehead. “What are you talking about?” he asked between breaths. “What story?”
She chuckled. “The princess whose brother stole her kingdom and banished her. She looks an awful lot like the girl in your paintings.” She took a second look at the painting. “I mean not exactly as I’d described her for you, but I’d say it’s her.”
He experienced a pang in his chest. A lump blocked his throat as he plopped down on the edge of the bed.
“Are you okay, son?” she asked, moving closer toward him.
“Would you please leave?” he murmured.
“What?”
“I don’t feel so well, and I have a big day tomorrow at school. I need to sleep.”
“But—”
“Please!”
“All right.” She faltered to the door. “But if you need anything—”
“I’ll let you know. Close the door on your way out.”
As she left, he rushed to the balcony, hyperventilating. He went down on his knees, his face buried in his hands, thoughts burning his head.
He curled up on one side and stared at the moon. Do they think I made her up? The question banged in his head like a thousand drums playing at once.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “I saw The Queen on the first day of school. The whole campus saw her. My friends saw her. I talked to her in class. Then she vanished. I saw her again at the terminal. But she also vanished.” He tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. “No one at school mentioned her again and Nancy … Nancy asked me if someone like her really existed,” he whimpered. “And Mom now says…” His voice broke off.
“No!” He sat straight up.
With a huge storm of anger, anxiety, and astonishment mixed together inside him, Anthony darted toward the easel. He stared at The Queen’s painting with bloodshot eyes. He grabbed the canvas and ripped in half.
****
Anthony waited outside the Egyptology building for more than half an hour hoping to see the Porcupines. But there was no sign of The Queen or her gang.
He charged to class, his anxiety growing every step of the way. As the distance got shorter, he felt his heart almost popping outside his chest every time it beat.
Maybe her bike broke down or maybe she bought a car, he thought. That would be safer anyways. Or maybe she decided to go green and bought a bicycle. He clenched his teeth. “Gosh! What’s happening to me?”
He found himself in front of the classroom door. “All right, this is it. It’s either she’s there … or not.” He took a deep breath and opened the door. Carefully, he stepped inside the room and raised his head to take a look.
For almost ten seconds, he couldn’t move. His breath became gasps. Sharp, rapid, and painful gasps.
“She is not there,” he said in shock. “She is not there!”
Some students yelled at him for blocking the door, while others pushed him aside to get through. He dashed outside and stood in the hallway, wishing the ground would crack open and swallow him.
He looked around for a while, not knowing what to do or where to go. He felt a numbness creeping up his limbs. Covered in a cold sweat, he began to shake. Although he felt dizzy and his knees barely held him up, he wheeled and ran.
Down the hallway, he paused to catch his breath, but the dreadful thoughts in his head never did.
I didn’t make her up. Everybody saw her. He shook his head. I can ask any of my friends about her. They will tell me the truth. He swallowed. No, no, I can’t. I can’t tell anyone about this. They’ll think I’m crazy. He covered his face with his hands and exhaled. What am I supposed to do?
He shut his eyes and took long separate breaths. After a few silent minutes, he was able to calm down. “Get over yourself.” He opened his eyes. She could be real or a fantasy. Either way she’s gone. I won’t be losing my mind for her sake.
He dragged his feet back to the classroom. Most of the students were already in their seats. The professor arrived as Anthony reached his place.
As one of the students was about to shut the door, an abrupt push from outside stopped it from closing. The sound echoed in Anthony’s ears. His heart ticked like a bomb about to explode. Breathless, he raised his head and stared at the door.
She was there, carried by her Maestro and escorted by Blond and Angel. She was there, exactly the same as he had first seen her. Mighty. Smug. Real.
- Writer
