Suzanne Young - A Need So Beautiful

A
NEED
SO
BEAUTIFUL

SUZANNE YOUNG

Contents

I SIT ON THE FRONT STEPS of St. Vincents Cathedral and pick at the moss nestled in the cracks of the concrete. Im waiting for Sarahas usual. She begged me all through calculus to go shopping with her, even though she knows I dont have the money for it. She promised itd be fun. And she promised that this time she wouldnt be late picking me up. I rarely trust her promises, and yet Im still here.

Traffic whizzes past the church and I look across the street to the bus stop. A thin woman is alone on the bench, a black umbrella open above her, blocking her face. But its not raining. I glance up at the blue cloudless sky over Portland. The rainy season hasnt started yet. We have until November at least.

Just then a drop of water hits my hand. Then another smacks my cheek. No way. When I look across the street again, the woman has moved to rest the umbrella on her shoulder. Shes smiling at me, her blond hair spilling over her black jacket, her boots zipped high on her calf. She looks familiar. Something about her

A bus pulls up to the stop, erasing her from my view. The sprinkles continue and I look back at the church, considering going inside for cover. The loud rumble of the bus pulling away startles me, and when I look its gone and so is the woman.

And then the rain stops.

Charlotte, Harlin whispers in my ear, and I jump. I hadnt heard him walk up.

I look sideways at my boyfriend as he straightens, grinning down at me. His unshaven chin and messy dark hair are a delicious contrast to me, sitting here in a plaid schoolgirl outfit with my fine, straight blond hair neatly combed.

What are you doing here? I ask, standing up. Sudden urge to confess your sins? Harlin lives on the other side of town with his older brothers. Six months ago hed decided to drop out of St. Vincents Academy, and although Id hoped hed enroll somewhere else, so far he hasnt.

Nah, Harlin says. Pretty sure youre the only thing that could get me this close to church again.

I sound inspiring.

He laughs. Well, that and I thought you might need a ride. Figured Id swing by and check before heading to my mothers. Ive been summoned for a chat . He looks away, clearly not wanting to talk about her. He never does.

I step closer and take his hand. Well, Im glad youre here.

He glances at me, his hazel eyes narrowing. Is that right? He pulls me into him and I get on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck. He leans down, his mouth barely grazing mine. How glad?

I smile, motioning toward the church. Maybe not here? Harlin shrugs and grins wickedly before kissing me again.

You absolutely need confession, I whisper, and when he laughs, I take out my phone and check the time. Sarahs nearly forty-five minutes late, I say, exhaling.

You sound surprised. When in your life has Sarah ever been on time? Harlin asks.

Once last summer... Wait. Never mind. She sent her driver instead.

Im coming! Sarah calls from around the corner. Before I even see her, I can hear the sound of her shoes clacking on the pavement until she finally appears near the street sign. She waves to me, gasping dramatically for air.

And she arrives... Harlin says, putting his arm over my shoulders. He turns and the scruff on his chin prickles my cheek. Come to my house after? he asks, his breath warm on my face.

Mm-hmm. I close my eyes, loving the feeling of him so close. The security of his arm around me.

Gross, you two, Sarah says, smoothing her red hair as she walks up. Shes still in her uniform, although its rolled at the waist, the hem well above regulation length. Shes switched out the usual black loafers for a scandalously high pair of spiked heels. Sarah likes to say that St. Vincents dress code is only for the fashionably challenged. Maybe thats why my skirt is currently grazing my kneecap.

Unlike Sarah, Im at St. Vincents on a tuition adjustment, which is code for I cant afford it. Its not like were that poor, but when the yearly private school dues are enough to buy a BMW, its a little tough to work into the family budget.

Truth be told, St. Vincents is the best school in the stateeven if half the people here are snobs. And that definitely includes Sarah. But at least shes my snob.

Hey, Harlin, she says, glancing over at him. You here for church, or will you spontaneously combust if you walk in?

Not today, he answers. Seems they have a strict one-Antichrist-per-service rule, and you fill the quota.

Ah, well. Guess Ill save a seat for you in the netherworld, then?

Harlin grins. Appreciate it.

Sarah turns to me, looking impatient. Are you ready? I have ten zillion things to do before tonight.

I nod, sure that shes exaggerating. Its probably more like five zillion. Sarahs what the nuns like to call a social butterflynot to be confused with a tramp. Which is what some of the other girls in our class like to call her. Of course, Sarahs family is richer than all of them combined, so theyd never say it to her face.

As the bells of the cathedral start to chime, I lean down to grab my backpack off the stairs. Suddenly Im hit with heavy, bone-shaking vibrations that seem to run through my veins. They fill me up, take me over. Oh God. Not now.

You okay? Sarahs voice is far away, and when I turn to her, her eyes widen. Again?

Before I can answer, Harlin is next to me, pulling open my backpack. Do you have your inhaler?

I dont have asthma. Its just easier to pretend that I do. How else can I explain these episodes? No one would ever believe the truth.

Harlin shakes my inhaler and holds it to my lips. My eyes meet his, and he watches as I make a good show of taking the medicine even though the inhalers empty.

The bells stop ringing and the humming inside me eases up, giving me time to catch my breath. My body is pulling me toward the cathedral doors, every inch of my skin aching to be inside. I dont know why. I never do. Not until Im there. But right now I have to get inside that church.

Harlin puts the inhaler back into my bag, his jaw tight with concern.

Thanks, I tell him, trying to sound calm. There are prickles of heat searing my skin. The throbbing will build slowly until I do what Im supposed to. Resisting isnt an option.

You scared me. Harlin looks away like hes over it, but I can tell hes still anxious. Weve been through this before, but we both know that Im getting worse. Its happening more often.

The Need.

Ive been having these episodes since I was seven years old. An intense compulsion to go somewhere, see someone, do something. Its the most helpless feeling in the world, but I cant stop myselflike I have no choice. It used to happen only once a year, me telling a kid in my class not to steal, or stopping an old lady from taking the wrong medication. But then it became twice a year. Three times. Each Need becoming more intense. And lately, the compulsions have been coming on once a week. Sometimes once a day. But Ive told no one. Im not sure how.

You use that inhaler way too much, Sarah says, shaking her head. Cant you take a pill or something?

She tried, Harlin answers, not looking back at us.

Its not true. Ive never taken any asthma medication, but I told him that to keep the cover believable. I dont want him to know about the Need. I dont want anyone to know. Im still hoping itll just go away on its own. But every daywith each Needit looks more and more unlikely. I dont know what to do anymore.

On the wire stand next to the double doors of the church is the newsletter with todays service. I reach over and grab one, looking for a name. Anything thatll give me a clue.