Mad Love

“Never trust the mindset of a madman.” That is what I’ve been told since I was small, but I never heard the mumbles of the madman they warned me about. However, it wasn’t until all the leaves turned into an amber-gold and glided peacefully in the cool, fresh air that I finally understood how their words turned to actions. The madman in particular is Edward Gidion, once a normal boy who was forced to become his father. The townsfolk mimicked the tales their mothers and forefathers had before told them. And like all ancient stories, there’s going to be some changes to the narrative.

“Elias Gidion, Edward’s father, was once a respected man among our community.” The town’s frail storyteller, Arthur Madrick, comes every Wednesday with a cigar in one hand and a sharp tongue in the other. He always continues where he left off for those who are willing to listen, he mainly does this to entertain the children, but as more and more wrinkles appear on his face, the adults start to join in on the gossip.

He puffed his cigar before speaking once more, “But during the ceremonial ‘Party of the Town’ at his residence,” he looked into the listening eyes, “Sadie Gidion, Edward’s mother, died in their kitchen by mysterious poison in her drink. But who could’ve done such a thing? Well, it was none other than Elias Gidion himself!”

The townsfolk murmured as one child spoke up, “Why would he do that to someone he loved?”

The old man peered into the innocent eyes of the child, but no answer came to mind. Finally, he killed his cigar and shakenly got up from his seat to go home. This marked the end of the story.

The crowd took awhile to go back to their normal duties, they chatted playfully amongst themselves and created theories as to why Elias Gidion might’ve poisoned his wife. I, however, decided to return home after I bought the necessary medicine for my own father.

“Send my regards to your father for me, Aliena.”

“Hope he gets well soon!”

I nodded and found it almost comical how they wanted a tax collector to get ‘well soon.’ Nonetheless, I relayed their heartfelt message to my sickly father in bed.

I ensured that the fire was alive, tidied the rooms, and cooked father's recommended meal of chicken soup.

“Aliena, my beautiful daughter, where would I be without you?” He tried getting up, but I insisted that he should stay prone and rest. “Ah, that reminds me. Tomorrow is tax day!”

“But you’re sick, father! You can’t possibly collect the town’s money in this state, but…who will?”

“Aliena, you will. You seem friendly with the townsfolk, so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind either.”

“Does this mean I could wear your beguiling, blue suit?”

He wheezed what sounded like a laugh, “But of course! You will take the title of ‘taxman’ afterall.” He laid back as his eyelids drooped gradually, I took his bowl away to wash and turned off the lights as I made my way out the room, easing the door shut behind me. Thereafter, I retired for the evening.

The suit is extremely handsome, a little oversized, but perfect nevertheless. I told my father I would be heading out early and went into town. The people looked at me strangely, however they recognized the suit and remitted payment swiftly.

I collected most of the town’s money and transferred what I got back to the gentleman in the carriage at the edge of town.

“Did you get the money from the madman’s manor also?” He looked past me and shivered upon seeing the dusty, gloomy manor atop a hill, outcasted from the rest.

I followed his sight, I haven’t…but is it really necessary? I heard Arthur Madrick’s stories and I don’t think I would ever want to meet this man. The horse neighed impatiently as the man cleared his throat, “Well, I’ll give you time to collect his portion.” And with the money secured, he galloped out of town.

The trip to the manor was tiresome, but the towering of the mansion woke me up. I knocked, “Hello Mr. Gidion, I’m here to collect your taxes. I know that you always pay behind time, but I’m not Mr. Rosemary, so that means that you need to pay on time.” As he opened the rusty door of his house, he hid half of his face, showing only a beautiful, vibrant green eye. But also allowed a smell of decay to exit.

“Tax collector? Ah, of course! Come in, come in.”

He extended his arms out and moved out of the way for me to enter. I distanced myself as he led the way to his living room. The huge faded family portrait hanging symmetrically atop the stairs seems to be missing a member. The mother’s face was jaggedly torn off from the frame.

The rest of the house might’ve reeked of death, but the living room had a welcoming scent of a field of roses. He whirled around as I sat on the silk chair.

“Tea? You must be parched after the trip.” He looked down and around while talking, “Oh! And can I interest you in a song from my mother’s phonograph?” I declined his generosity, but it seemed that he didn’t hear me and gave me what he offered nonetheless. How interesting…

“May I ask you when you’ll gather the money to pay?”

“You may.”

“I may what?”

“You may ask,” he sipped his tea from the seat across from mine.

A smile escaped my lips, “Yes well-” but he suddenly got up and paced to the next room. It only took a couple of minutes for him to come back with the money he owes.

“Here you go Miss Rosemary, or would I call you Mister?”

I obtained the bags of money, “Miss would be proper.”

He chuckled, “Never seen a miss’s in a suit.”

“I’ve never seen two different colored eyes.”

He looked down briskly and gently grabbed my arm to lead me out.

“Wait, I’m sorry if I came off as rude-”

His green eye sparkled, “Of course you are, but I can’t really say much unless I want my taxes to be raised.”

He hid himself behind the door and began to steadily shut it, “I hope you come to collect my taxes again next year, Miss Rosemary.”

And so I did. The townsfolk notice my lengthy visit to the madman. I tried to explain that he never pays whenever I arrive, but that only makes them furious. After learning from that mistake, I try to reexplain myself saying that he’s sometimes not home when I drop by. The townsfolk don’t believe this.

“So is he there or is he not?!”

Overwhelmed, I attempted to run back to my home, but I didn't want to bother my sickly father. Instead, I ran to the manor. The townsfolk don’t follow, as they now see the truth. The town’s frail storyteller, Arthur Madrick, tells the town to gather ‘round for a new addition to the tale of the madman.

I left out a sigh knowing that the townsfolk didn’t run after me as I knocked on the rusty door of Edward Gidion’s house. He welcomes me in and leaves tea on the living room table where his mother’s phonograph is quietly playing an upbeat, electric song. At last, all is calm as Edward joins me from across the living room table. I asked him if the story the town speaks of is true…but he only looked down and twirled a loose string from his old jacket.

Thereupon, he muttered, “That depends, do you believe it to be true?”

I stayed silent, but he took that silence as an answer.

He looked down at his mismatched shoes, avoiding eye-contact.

“Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to not respond, it’s just-”

“But you did not respond. It’s alright, I understand.”

He got up from his seat across from me, and I did too.

His mismatched eyes glanced towards me, then, in a sorrowful tone he asked, “Why? Miss Aliena Rosemary, must you willingly come to me?”

I averted my eyes, a wave of self-consciousness washing over me. However instead of taking my silence as an insult, he moved closer.

“Tell me that I’m wrong, Miss Rosemary. Do you…have feelings for me?”

In all the times I’ve spoken with Edward Gidion, I’ve never fully seen his eyes. But now, he’s looking straight into my soul. I inhaled before I spoke out the truth, “I do. And even despite all the warnings, all the stories about your madness…I find you-”

“Interesting? Not like all the other men who might’ve done anything to make you swoon?” His left eye gleamed with that beautiful hue of green, but his right eye seemed to darken its depressing shade of brown. A smile escaped me, and he softened. After all this time I finally noticed, he looked just like any ordinary man. He allowed himself to gaze at me longer, but for a split second, he glanced at the huge family portrait. He saw his mother’s ripped face, looked at his younger-self, and finally…he looked at his father.

And despite the happy discovery that it was possible for someone to love him, his expression turned grim after looking at his father’s face in the frame. But soon, that expression of grimness would turn to one of despondency.

“How about this, my love.”

Still studying his face, I pondered, “How about what?”

“Would you like a cup of tea? Or perhaps, wine?” He said these words with no whimsical emotion he had once before.

“You had wine this whole time and never offered it to a lady?”

He forced a grin, “A lady? I thought you were the taxman.”

Amused, I shook my head, “Even if I declined, you would still give me the drink, wouldn’t you?”

He turned towards his kitchen to fetch our drinks, he gave me mine first and then returned back to get his. Or at least that’s what I thought. As it turns out, it would’ve been the last time I ever looked into his eyes.

A crash of glass against the broken floorboards can be heard throughout the house, and I rushed closer to the scene. To my surprise, Edward was lying on the floor near the broken glass as some of the wine poured out his mouth. I got down to his level as the glass shards pierced through my pants and skin, burning me, trying to force me to get up…but I stayed by his side.

“Edward! What’s the meaning of this?!” My voice echoed and shook, could it be…?

He laughed as he saw my distressed look and attempted to place his cold hand on my cheek, I grabbed it to support his weak arms.

“Thank you,” he coughed, “for allowing me to finally know what it’s like to be sane.”

Tears blurred my vision, and some dripped onto his face as I held him close to me. “Why? Why must you willingly leave me?”

Both colored eyes lost their shine, “Because…I didn’t want to become my father…I didn’t want to hurt you…”

And then Edward Gidion, was no more.

I don’t want to let go. I just can’t let him go. Why? I poured my feelings out just like how he poured our wine. The wine…the pain I feel from the broken glass scattered across the floor is starting to get to me, but I can’t just leave him here. So, I mustered up all of my strength and attempted to carry him to the living room couch. However, a tiny, dark green bottle seemed to have been knocked over from the kitchen counter. I laughed. He really is his mother’s son.

Days have passed since Aliena Rosemary went to the manor. Her father, now well but embarrassed, left the town without his daughter. Arthur Madrick, a living skeleton, told everyone to come to his home so that he can finish the story of the madman.

“It wasn’t his father who killed his mother which led his father towards insanity,” he coughed as he shakenly puffed his cigar, “it was me.”

The townsfolk gasped, some tried to attack him, but many held them back with just sheer strength and curiosity.

“Yes it was I who poisoned Sadie Gidion, she wasn’t paying any attention to her drink. I was jealous of Elias for charming such a lady, and I thought: if I can’t have her, then no one can. I’ll admit, I wasn’t right in my mind at the time and I feel terrible for destroying Edward’s family as well as his own mind.”

Finally, the story came to an end as Arthur drew his last breath.