Wild Awake

up. Skunk has been more worried than usual about thought control, and we have been reading the Tao to throw the agents off. I smile and say hi, assuming she will realize in one look that her nephew and I are hopelessly in love and give us one of those wistful glances like the old couple we walked past at the Zen garden.
    She looks right past me to Skunk.
    “What’s going on?”
    Her voice is sharp. Maybe she wasn’t already awake. I don’t see how we could have woken her, though—we were being very quiet. I lean my face down to the teacup Skunk’s holding and lap it with my tongue like a cat.
    “Kiri, this is my aunt Martine.”
    I swallow my tea. “Hi.”
    She frowns. She has a pale, puffy face that says I Have to Work in Three Hours. A face like a day-old hamburger bun. She looks at Skunk.
    “What are you doing up this late?”
    Skunk indicates the teacup.
    Martine sighs and rubs her forehead like he’s giving her a headache. The way her glasses sit on her face looks unnatural, like she’s a person who normally wears contacts and on the rare occasion she actually wears her glasses people look confused and say, Whoa, I didn’t know you wore glasses . She takes off her I-didn’t-know-you-wore-glasses glasses and presses her thumb and forefinger into her eye sockets. Her hair is cut short in that I-don’t-have-time-for-hair style that my mean kindergarten teacher had. Her face is square and droopy. With her glasses off, she looks like a haggard dingo.
    “It’s four in the morning. You should be asleep. Don’t you take your meds at eleven?”
    Skunk stiffens. “Not always.”
    “You’re supposed to take them at eleven. Every night at eleven.”
    “Only if I need them.” Skunk’s voice is strangely petulant. I get the feeling they’ve had this exact same conversation before. Martine’s hand flies off her eyes.
    “ Mon dieu . Does this mean you haven’t been—”
    “Can we talk about this later.” He doesn’t say it like a question. I glance back at him and see a coldness I haven’t seen before. His face has closed up like a cardboard box. He won’t meet my eyes. On the stairs, Skunk’s aunt is shaking her head and muttering swear words in French.
    Maybe a little mediation’s in order. I sit up.
    “Sorry we woke you up, Martine. We were trying to be quiet.”
    She glances at me, then raises her eyebrows at Skunk. Her jaw tightens.
    “Who is this?”
    I can feel the muscles in Skunk’s arms clench like he’s trying to bench-press a minivan.
    “Kiri’s my girlfriend.”
    Even though my presence here is obviously getting Skunk in trouble, I feel a pleasant tingle when he says that. Martine’s glance swoops over me.
    “What’s she doing here at this time of night? Why isn’t she at home?”
    I’m not sure why she keeps talking about me as if I’m not in the room. I clear my throat. “Actually, I don’t have a curfew.”
    She ignores me.
    “Did you tell her, Philippe? Does she know about your condition? Does she know you need to be careful?” I’m assuming she’s talking about Skunk’s paranoia thing, but I don’t know why she has to say it like that, like an accusation. Look, lady, people are gonna worry about your condition if you talk to my boyfriend like that.
    Martine the Dangerous Dingo takes another step down the stairs and looks around with a brief, disapproving glare. I try to fend her off telepathically: Away, dingo! Out of our temple!
    “Explain to me why I am seeing this, Philippe. Why did we have that long talk full of promises and today already you are not taking the medicine like you’re supposed to, like you promised Dr. Winterson you would?”
    Martine has a bit of a Quebecois accent. You can hear it when she says “Philippe.” Which is Skunk’s other name. I reach down and squeeze his ankle. Hi, Philippe . He puts down the teacup.
    “I am taking the medicine. I take it when I need it.”
    “You need it every day, Philippe. It’s only been six months. You’re not better yet. Do you understand what could happen if you stop taking your meds now? C’est un problème, Philippe. Un grand problème .”
    “I’ll decide when there’s a problem—”
    Martine holds up her hand.
    “No. Don’t interrupt. We’ve talked about this before, Philippe. We agreed that as a condition of you living here you would do everything Dr. Winterson said. You’re supposed to be taking your meds, seeing the counselor, going to the support group, and getting your life