A Tangled Love

Too many people, I assess the second I am through the door. I shouldn't have come. But by then it is too late.
The moment my feet land on the arrival mat I am swallowed by a clump of relatives and in laws crowding towards me with teeth barring smiles. I scan them quickly. Some faces I know, most I don't.
"Merry Christmas!" Everyone says, not quite together, as I am bundled through the doorway and into the main room. I repeat those two words, smile and laugh obligingly as a distant relative beside me resites an old family reunion/Christmas joke.

"So, how's your love life?" Someone jokes loudly as I try to escape the attentions of the people swamped around me. Instantly everyone looks towards me, as curious as stir crazy neighbours.
"Great," I lie, biting back the ugly taste of uglier memories. More questions bubble at the lips of the mob but before any words can escape a loud knock on the door snaps their attention away from me once more.
Another person swings through the door with presents piled high in their arms and a pair of little kids hopping in behind their heels. I step back, thankful for the breath of air their arrival has offered me.

I love my family: one by one. When we are squished together like this, not so much.

Someone presses a glass of champagne into my hand as I pull myself away from the people around me, heading towards a slightly less packed part of the room. One sip and I instantly regret it. The liquid is bitter and stale. My first experience with the more ladylike drinks I should be indulging myself in. Wish I had a beer like the guys.

Soon people are giving gifts to all those small enough to stand under the mantelpiece. A baby starts crying after opening a present only to discover a grinning clown toy. A seven year old stares disappointed at her teetering tower of gifts and her twin brother finds endless fun playing with the wrapping paper. A puppy begins to chew on a toy unnoticed as cards with candy canes are handed among the teenagers. I was given one despite being a bit too old to fit into the 'teenage' category. The card was fat, with an even fatter Santa on the front and my name written under his arm.

I tuck the striped candy stick into my pocket.

Then I pull open my card.

My heart rushes to my mouth as everyone stops what they are doing to look at me. A devious grin is spreading across the lips of my twin sister almost hidden behind the swollen belly of my uncle Jake.
"Now," someone said, "why does Kristina get a musical Christmas Card and not any of the others?" I looked for who had spoken but couldn't match a face with the voice.
"That isn't even a Christmas song," the seven year old girl commented bluntly.
"It's a love song," I heard myself say before I could stop myself. I'm not sure how my sister did it but she had somehow not only switched my boring normal card for a musical one, but had switched the music from Jingle Bells to that haunting song from my past.
"Sorry Kristina," Katie said stepping forward, her lips still grinning tight, "couldn't resist."

Five years ago when we both still shared a bedroom and a life I had confessed to her the story behind this song. We had giggled together, hugged each other and stayed up all night whispering to each other. But things had changed. Things she could never imagine.

"Thanks," I say anyway and close the card, cutting off the chiming music. No one bothered to ask and soon the party had forgotten the startling event. I waited until I thought no one would notice my absence and slipped out silently, heading for the back door.

I had only been in the party for twenty minutes but already I needed air. Katie's trick hadn't helped either. The card in my hands was too fat to hold comfortably and the tune trapped inside it too memorable for me to forget about.

Not wanting to stay where I could hear the party I slip outside and march a short way across the backyard, leaving footprints in the crunchy white snow. Blowing out a puff of mist I close my eyes and embrace the cool quiet of the winter world outside. Christmas lights flash off nearby houses. Moments pass and with trembling hands I open the card once again, letting the music spill out. The sweet tune punches through the calm world of winter and surrounds me in it's flat recorded notes.

God, how I had loved him. How I still did. I needed to stop loving him. But how could I? It's not like love is as simple as music which can be trapped inside a card and locked away.

"Sorry about that." I snap the card closed as Katie walks up behind me. "I just meant it as a joke; I didn't think you would take it so hard."
"No," I shake my head, "it's fine."
"Want to talk about it?"
"There really is nothing to talk about," I tell her honestly. "Not anything real."
"Look Kristina," Katie puts her hand on my shoulder. "You were a young teenager. You're allowed to make mistakes. You're allowed to fall in love." She sighed. "I have never seen you so happy as when you were with Brandon. Well… I never did see Brandon either… but, that's not the point." She licks her lips. "I don't know what happened between you two but…" she trails off, "if that wasn't real I don't know what is."
"Huh," I smile, and look up at her. "You hit the nail on the head with that one, sis. It wasn't real. Not one bit." She pulls her hand uncertainly off my shoulder, startled by my harsh tone.
"What do you mean?" I don't answer. I don't want her to know. No one but me needs to know. Knowing brought pain. "Did he break up with you?" If only it were so simple.
"Yeah," I lie. "I'll be back inside soon. Just give me a sec."
"Okay," she allows. "But don't stay out too long. It's cold outside." She turns and quickly hurries back towards the house, disappearing back inside and back into the party. Unlike me she wasn't awkward around people.

The second she is gone I open the card again, listening to the music, trying to forget and trying to remember at the same time. Brandon didn't dump me. No. I told him to leave. I shouted at him to leave. Why? Because another man told me to.
But it's not what you think.

As if on cue I hear the approach of his footsteps across the snow. He never leaves me alone for long. God, how I hate that. God, how I love it.

I know it's him because I can smell him as well. An odd mix of smells; freshly mown grass, cinnamon and a hint of aftershave.
"I told you never to come back," I growl and look up at him. He stepped forward, a haunted look in his copper brown eyes. He wore his usual loose shirt and jeans despite the tumbling snow.
"I'm nothing without you," he began.
"You can say that again," I spit. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"
"I love you."
"Doesn't change a thing," I remind him. "You need to go and never come back. Ever. I told you that a long time ago Brandon! Why are you still here?" He shrugged.
"Because I love you. I don't care what anyone else says." He takes another step closer. I can see the line of his jawbone dotted with light stubble and the rough uneven cut of his thick chocolate hair.
"What about me?" I snarl. "Don't you care what I say?"
"Of course I do, that is why it has been ripping me to pieces when you stand at the bus stop and never talk to me! Never even look at me!" His words echo off the nearby house.
"You know why I can't," I begin. He steps closer, his warm dry hands wrapping tightly around mine.
"You can't believe that," he says frantically, pressing his thumbs against mine yet still letting me awkwardly hold the card. So close, like we used to be. He leans forward, peering into my eyes. "You telling me you don't feel that?"
"I feel it, Brandon," I whispered. "That's what's makes this so hard."

We stand for a moment, listening to the end of the strange love song drifting from the musical Christmas card. It was during that love song I first met Brandon, and during it again a few days later when we first kissed. That was the night I had stayed up late with Katie whispering about first love and how we had giggled. That was before I found the truth that shattered our love forever.

"Kristine," Brandon whispers as we were surround by silence.
"Go away," I say back.
"You love me."
"I can't."
"But you do."
"Go away," I repeat. "Please, you are ruining everything, just go."

"Kristine," he shakes his head, "why?"
"You know why," I hiss, shrugging him off me. "You destroyed my life."
"No."
"Yes!"
"I love you!"

I couldn't take this.

"You're not real, Brandon!" I scream. "You're nothing!"
"So you keep telling me." He growls. "How can you believe that?"
"How can't I? No one else can see you. No one else can hear you or feel you." I am crying. Fat tears tumbling down my cheeks. I wipe them away, angry. I have already cried over this. "For so long I thought it was real. But I was really just talking to myself in that restaurant, I was really holding air under those stairs and I was really loving a shadow in the back of my mind, not a person."
"That's not true."
"It's me. All me." The tears wouldn't stop; pouring down my cheeks in the freezing night air.

Years after I started dating Brandon the Doctor Birchwood diagnosed me with schizophrenia. It's a long ugly word that meant only one simple thing; the life I was living was a lie. Brandon wasn't real and never would be. Our love was nothing, a dream I can't wake up from.

Long story short: I am insane. I wish every day I didn't know. That life was like it used to be, back when I believed Brandon was with me and taking care of me.

I can't tell my sister, my parents or anyone. It would ruin their lives to find out. I can handle it by myself. I will handle it by myself.

"Go away Brandon," I say again. "You're not real. You are nothing."
"One man," Brandon tries, using the part of my brain still in denial. "One man tells you that I am not real and you believe him."
"It's more than one man, you know that," I remind him, dropping the card into the snow at my feet. I didn't want it and its wicked reminder. I look down and my stomach rolls.
"Kristina," he begged, "please, you need to know I am here! I am real!"
"You didn't leave footprints in the snow," I observed.

I look back up at him and he is gone as suddenly as he had arrived. That one piece of logic had banished the delusion back to my mind, for the moment at least. Blinking away the last of the tears I kick the card lying in the snow and turn back towards the house.



Brandon McClay was my first love, the boy that opened my eyes and showed me the world. Brandon McClay is still with me today, exposed for what he truly is: a delusion and product of my sick, but slowly healing, mind.

I am Kristine Villder and I am a schizophrenic.