Brightside Page 4

  I squeezed in behind her, the thinnest layer of clothes between us, her hair sweet vanilla, a home I never had. My right hand rested on the curve of her hip, my left arm under her neck, holding her closer, my hand on her chest, the thump of her heart. “This is perfect.”

  Michelle thought it was too, but bad thoughts started flying, ones about how I would eventually leave her, move on like every other guy.

  I took her hand and got it scratching Lily behind the ear, knew there was no way to keep thinking bad things with that tongue licking the air, those two brown eyes so full of love.

  Michelle recovered, kissed Lily’s nose as a thank you. I massaged Michelle’s shoulders and she sank back against me, let her mind go all dreamy. Then she thought something that tore open my heart.

  She loved me.

  And for the first time, I wondered if I could tell her the truth.

  The next day I heard my boss, Saul, thinking I was making too many sales. Before BMW, I’d never stay at a job too long. Couple of months, tops. Just make some cash and quit. But I was so close to buying the house, I’d stayed there almost a year.

  To ease Saul’s suspicious mind, I tanked the next three customers.

  “Boy Wonder having an off-day?” Saul laughed.

  “I’m only human, Saul.”

  “Yeah…”

  I knew my time there was up. I asked Saul if I could get my commission early, said I wanted to get something nice for Michelle. Saul said he’d think about it.

  When I got home, Michelle thought I was acting strange. I’d been thinking about telling her the truth about me, but I didn’t want to screw things up before I got my commission. Once the check cleared, we could take off, move anywhere, and I’d tell her everything. In public, Michelle spoke just like everyone else, saying Thought Thieves should be locked away, but I figured she’d change her mind if she knew I was one of them.

  Still, I was too stressed. I just needed to clear my head and hers. I poured her a drink and took her to the bedroom.

  Later, we were back in the living room, the lights off, a soft glow from Letterman because I was too comfortable to grab the remote off the coffee table next to our half-eaten dinner. Michelle and I curled up, our clothes back on. I felt calm, relaxed. And it wasn’t just because Michelle took me to the place where all I can hear is myself saying Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, holy shit that feels good.

  It was the closeness. The closeness to someone still awake, even if barely. Being able to lie with someone who wasn’t constantly judging or whining or worrying. I wanted to live like this forever.

  Lily was down below us, back from her banishment to the kitchen while Michelle and I had been busy. I was proud of her for not eating the leftover steak.

  Then Lily’s ears perked. She raised her head above the coffee table, looked toward the door.

  I got up on my elbow and reached for the remote.

  Lily got to her feet and I muted the TV, thought I heard a whisper by the window.

  Michelle mumbled and I shushed her, said everything was okay. I concentrated hard, focused on the sides of my head, an inch above my ears.

  A man outside the window. This is gonna be a blast. Fuck yeah. Rock n’ roll.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  Then bam. The window shattered and the door boomed, flecks of wood flying through the air. Michelle’s head jerked back, smacked my mouth. Lily barking.

  I went for the steak knife, but Lily tipped over the table. The front door cracked open, a wall of yellow lights. I covered Michelle and looked at what just clanked off the floor, a metal canister rolling toward the couch.

  The blast of light snuffed out my sight, an unbelievable pop and I couldn’t hear. Everything was black, my shouts just whispers.

  Michelle was flailing, not knowing anything, falling off the couch. Then came another pop and more whispers. A loud angry voice rushed toward me. He thought, Take that.

  The blow to my back felt like a baseball bat at full speed, the pain immediate. I screamed but couldn’t hear it, just the shrill ringing, piercing my brain.

  I lost Michelle’s thoughts, but felt her below me. Then fingers sunk into my arm, lifted me up, let me go. I bounced off the floor and weight came down on my neck, paralyzed my body.

  The ringing continued. One hand then the other wrenched behind my back, metal pinching skin.

  My vision came in, white and fuzzy, couldn’t make out shit except someone had turned on the lights. It took me a second to see the puffy clouds were the carpet up close. Then Lily came into focus less than a foot away. Her eyes open, looking at me, the rug turning red around her. “My dog!” I shouted, “What the fuck did you do?”

  The knee dug down on my neck and I pushed back because it felt like I was dying. The guy on top of me just put more pressure, made his forearm a lever between my arms and back, hoped I’d try something so he could fucking break me.

  I closed my eyes and grit my teeth, said okay, okay, and gave up the fight. It got hard to breathe, even harder to think, my skull ready to crack.

  His knee let off enough for me to open my eyes, the ringing beginning to fade. I watched Lily whine like never before, her back legs kicking slower and slower. From behind me, Michelle screamed, “Let me go! Lily!”

  The ringing was gone, but I could only hear out my left ear. No more Michelle, just Lily and the sound of heavy footsteps shaking the floor.

  Someone yelled, “Gomez, get him over here.”

  All the pressure left my neck as Gomez told Hendricks, “Yes, Sir.” I got yanked up by my forearms, dragged three steps, screaming because that’s all I could do. Gomez used his knee to knock my head the other way then dropped me down on the carpet, right next to the knife that would’ve got us killed if I’d been a little faster.

  Gomez’s knee came down on my neck, made it so I couldn’t look away no matter how much I wanted.

  Hendricks had Michelle bent over the edge of the couch, her head smashed on the cushion, eye shut and mouth open, somehow holding back a scream. Hendricks stood behind Michelle, wedged in tight between her trembling legs, his hand on her cranked back wrist. He wore all black, no letters anywhere, hid behind the helmet and face shield, ski mask beneath.

  His eyes were the warning. Two black hollow points aiming at me.

  Thanks to the mask, I couldn’t see Hendrick’s lips moving, but he asked if I could hear him.

  Even then, all jacked up, I had the wits not to say shit.

  There was no question Hendricks was talking out loud when he said, “Tear this place apart. He’s got something somewhere. Everyone does. Grab his computer.”

  Michelle screamed, “Why are you doing this?”

  He told me to go ahead and tell her. Tell her what I could do.

  My vision was too clear, the biggest crack tearing through Michelle.

  “Joe, what’d you do?”

  Hendricks shut her up with a twist of her wrist. I didn’t see the mask move when he thought, Nine plus two.

  Say it, and it’ll all stop.

  I kept quiet, felt the puff of breath on my arm, Lily’s nose on my elbow.

  Gomez must’ve seen it because he thought it was some sad shit, didn’t get why Hendricks lit her up in the first place. “Someone do something about this,” he said.

  Boots stomped across the floor, each one rattling my chest. All casual, like the guy was ordering a coffee, he said, “Friendly fire.” Then two blasts, each a jolt through my body.

  The whining was over, Michelle’s face buried in the cushion, sobbing like Lily was her child.

  Hendricks let go of Michelle’s wrist, put his hand on her waist.

  Nine plus two, fuckhead.

  I said nothing and he said, “Fine. Get this piece of shit out of here.”

  The ski mask covered his smile, but I knew it was there. He thought about what kind of questioning he’d put Michelle through. How she’d do and say whatever he asked once she found out the prison term for harboring a terrorist.

  Gomez jerked me to my feet and Hendricks asked, “What’s it going to be?” All I had to do was say it. Nine plus two.

  Michelle didn’t deserve any of this. I told her I was sorry.

  Then I said it.

  “Eleven.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I met with Sharon on Day 41, holding off as long as possible after the Rachel incident. I didn’t want to hear her bullshit or talk about my feelings. Sharon invited me in, asked me to sit. I stared at the steady stream from her Zen waterfall. We didn’t speak for at least a minute, Sharon smiling, her back nice and tall, perfect posture. I felt myself slouching, almost to the point I thought I’d slide right off the couch.

  “What would you like to talk about today?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  I hated how easily Sharon sifted through my thoughts. I tried not to think about Rachel, Lily, this whole fucked up place.

  You don’t have to say anything, Sharon thought. We can just do this silently if it makes it easier.

  I backed into the couch. “Don’t you have to want to share for therapy?”

  “Therapy can work in many ways.”

  “Just stay out of my head.”

  Sharon smoothed out her white slacks, her short blonde hair plastered down. Sharon had the longest range of anyone in Brightside. She could hear your thoughts from fifty feet on a clear day. I never understood how she stayed so calm. She heard thoughts wherever she went. I guess the meditation helped. She said it did. I heard that soft humming mantra flowing from her skull.

  Silent therapy made sense. Just cut through the crap and spill out every thought. Even with the waterfall’s soothing sounds and these yellow walls to make us feel comfort
able, people never say what’s really on their mind. It’s how society works. We glance off the truth, avoid conflict. We’re trained to keep it pleasant, hold back. Silent therapy allowed Sharon to get past all that, but I didn’t want her digging, not that I could do anything to block her.

  “Where’s Rachel?” I asked.

  “Safe.”

  Right.

  Sharon smiled, even as I imagined strangling her.

  “It’s perfectly natural to be angry, Joe. Brightside takes getting used to. We’re all on different timelines. But if you’re willing to open up, you’ll see how wonderful it can be.”

  I pictured Rachel, catatonic, staring at nothing in The Cabin, the place rule-breakers were sent to drool.

  “Carlos says you’re doing well. Your sales are up.”

  Carlos was my boss. He wore American flag pins on his tie.

  “How long do I have to be here?” I asked.

  “Not long.” Sharon studied me, staring, probing my head. “You know, I have a good feeling about you.”

  “You’re going to be disappointed.”

  “I don’t know. We’ll see.”

  I’d only been forced to see Sharon twice. The first time was the hardest: Day 1 in Brightside.

  There wasn’t a trial after the raid. They held a group of us in a cell for the night. They woke us by yelling. My right ear was still out from the flashbang, my left muffled with a light ringing. They brought us to the helicopter outside and took us up into the sky. Some thought it was beautiful, the rising sun over the cute mountain town. I never saw it, kept my eyes shut, too afraid to look down, see the drop. Someone was telling us about Brightside, gave us a quick history. I only heard every fifth word, focused on my clenched fists cuffed behind my back, my pounding heart. Seemed like we’d been rising for hours, but it was probably only minutes. My eyelids didn’t open until the helicopter landed. I took a deep breath. The air burned my lungs, so cold, thin. I thought I might pass out.

  They finally unlocked the cuffs, told us we were going to be processed. Brightside loved paperwork. We had to sign forms stating we were here voluntarily. They told us we had no choice, that if we didn’t sign, our stay would be unpleasant. If we just scratched our names down, things would get a lot easier. I don’t remember signing, but I must have, because they took me to human resources, helped me land a job. They liked I had a background in sales. People were smiling, nodding. They said this was going to be fun. They loved that word.

  “The ice cream parlor is fun.”

  “Karaoke nights are super fun.”

  “Summer is the most fun. We have intramural kickball games.”

  Next, I was sent to Sharon. All of us new residents were sitting in her pleasant waiting room. “Know Thyself, Love Thyself” painted in pink flowery sweeps across the yellow wall.

  I recognized one of the guys, Phuc Li, the world famous poker player. He’d won every major tournament, collected eleven bracelets, racked up millions. He even had his own late night poker show on TV. Some called him “Lucky Li.” Others used his first name. Turned out he wasn’t lucky at all. I realized I’d been in the wrong business. He’d made more money playing poker in a single night than I made in the year at BMW.

  Phuc stared at me from behind his sunglasses and smiled.

  Everyone else stared at their laps or the floor. I heard one guy thinking about his wife, the bitch who’d turned him in. Another woman thought about her kids stuck with their alcoholic father.

  Brightsiders weren’t allowed to keep their kids. There were petitions, but they wouldn’t change anything, normals couldn’t stay on the mountain. After some time, we could have visitors, not that I expected anyone to ever show.

  Someone mumbled, “Cut that shit out.”

  The guy beside me thought, Yeah, who brought the retard?

  I wondered what I was doing and checked my feet to make sure I wasn’t tapping.

  Not you. My neighbor nudged his hand to the right, his last three fingers purple and swollen. Einstein over there.

  The guy reading the comic book in the corner looked old enough for college, but his extra tight Donald Duck t-shirt and white name tag with big blocky letters said it was more likely he’d been hijacked from preschool. The tag was scrunched up and falling off, but his bright blue hat with red embroidered letters spelled out DANNY for everyone to see.

  I turned my head so I could hear what was pissing people off. The rustle of paper and squeak of the comic book’s battered cover as Danny rubbed it back and forth in his right hand.

  Even though I hadn’t met many Thought Thieves before Brightside, I’d assumed they were all masterminds, or at least intelligent, definitely brighter than me. There were two guys between us, but I did my best to block them out and focused on Danny. I listened to him silently sound out each word in his head.

  It wasn’t right to listen in, but I needed an escape from reality and I’d never heard GI Joe in slow motion. There were more “BOOMs!” and “BLAMs!” than I was expecting, but never any death. All that noise, all those bullets. I guessed there was no friendly fire.

  The clack of heels stopped the story. Sharon stood in the doorway, cool and collected in her white pantsuit, hands folded in front of her. She was over fifty, but could have passed for thirty-five. All that age-defying meditation. Sharon retreated into her office, her short blonde hair sprayed into place. She called me by my first name like I was a friend and told me to step inside. She got behind her mahogany desk and waved me over like I was a puppy. “Come on.”

  She had me sit. Waited for me to speak first. When I wouldn’t, she told me about Brightside, how it wasn’t so bad, that I just had to settle in.

  I later learned that things hadn’t always been so cheery. The place had changed. In the beginning, people like us were kept in The Cabin or behind steel bars in the basements. Too many took their own lives.

  Then the politicians and lawyers arrived. Phillip, the ex-Senator. Grace, the New York D.A. with her perfect conviction rate. Phillip and Grace formed the Brightside Council. They turned things around, got us more funding, lessened the security, even put a stop to the sterilization. Brightsiders could have babies and families. We could live normal lives.

  “Things could be worse,” Sharon said.

  I didn’t see how, even after I was shown my new apartment and taken on a tour of the town. We were given free meals for the first two days. After that, we had to pay for everything with the money we earned. Outside contact was forbidden the first week. No calls, no letters back home. Once Sharon and the Council deemed us safe, we could make contact. Monitored contact. We could also receive gifts. Not that I expected anything. After they dragged me from my place, Michelle thought I was a piece of shit. And my parents…right. They’d forgotten half of my birthdays as a kid.

  The only gift I received was from the Council. A hundred dollar gift card I could use anywhere in Brightside. Day 7 I bought an iPod to block out all the thoughts. Danny bought comic books and a postcard to send to his sister, Sara. A bright blue pencil so he could sign his name.

  Danny stood by the rack, the sharpened pencil clenched in his fist, his thumb sliding down then up to the eraser. He kept doing it as he stared at the comic books, his thumb going back and forth, his hat down low to hide most of his face.

  Sara was there when they took him. Danny had been listening to a store clerk’s thoughts. Two black guys were standing by the rack of CDs. Danny said he’d watch them to make sure they weren’t stealing. Sara told him to be quiet, but the black guys had heard him, started shoving Danny. The clerk thought about going for his pistol. Danny told him no guns.

  Suddenly, the guys and the clerk were on the same side. Sara begged for them to just let her and Danny go, but the Boots arrived. Danny was cuffed, taken.

  I felt bad for listening and moved to the sketchpads. I used to sketch when I was a kid. Hadn’t done it in years, but something about the pad and colored pencils made me want to pick it up. From the end of the aisle, Danny asked if I was a drawer. He sounded like a six-year-old cowboy with a speech impediment.

  Thanks to the cowards too scared to knock, my right ear was still next to useless. I turned my head and Danny repeated the question. He used his finger to draw on the air because I was the one being slow.