Beautiful Madness: Laughter is My Love Language

Suzanna’s choices were always wrong. It was a curse stamped on her early, like a bad tattoo she couldn’t scrub off. If the directions said left and she took that left, they would turn out to be wrong—only to ensure she’d get lost and arrive late to something serious, like a funeral. If she picked vanilla, the entire large milkshake would be slurped while she wished she’d gone for chocolate. Seemingly small things, when added together, became rather large disruptions.

This phenomenon wasn’t just reserved for small decisions. The big crossroads-type stuff would inevitably take her down a worse path. No matter how she tried to outsmart it—choosing the opposite of what she wanted or making a snap decision at 11:12 rather than lucky 11:11—she ended up paying for it somehow.

Sometimes it was a stubbed toe. Sometimes she needed a tow. Big life events meant even bigger life consequences.

She knew one thing for sure: she was never going to Vegas. Why bother?

Her life read like the welcome sign of some twisted club:

Welcome to the House of Beautiful Madness.

Dress code: None.

Emotional baggage: Yes, please.

It could have explained the trouble she had keeping friends—or boyfriends, for that matter. All she wanted was an earnest conversation, but it came out as complaining, needy, or tedious. She often replayed those conversations in her mind:

“Yep, I can definitely see that looking like...”

“Did I really say...”

“Ouch. Okay, I would’ve dumped me too.”

She had one true girlfriend—Sue. She showed no signs that Suzanna was someone to be “put up with.” Sue was a curious creature, with a research-based job, which made sense. She was the perfect combination of eccentric and intelligent. She hated her name, which instantly bonded them.

At the DMV, waiting for their numbers to blink on the signs, Sue introduced herself. Suzanna replied, “My mom tried to call me that once and I threw a temper tantrum. I was thirty.”

They laughed until they both peed a little. They even confessed it, which only made them laugh harder.

That meeting wasn’t a choice. Suzanna had to get her license renewed. Take that, curse. She made a friend.

She always wanted to know what made her the way she was. Had her family been cursed? What the heck could they have done? Mostly, since she was the common denominator, she simply thought she was just a drama queen—the least liked of all the queens.

Sue was convinced it was real. She’d been fascinated with lore since she was a kid. Witches, voodoo, you name it—she knew her stuff.

One Saturday, they met at their favorite coffee shop, Uncommon Grounds, for work and caffeine. It had to be that location. Despite spills, falls, and one near-electrocution, they accepted them and all their quirks. They even liked them—probably because they tipped generously, partially for the service and partially for the damage.

Sue had texted Suzanna a dozen times between the day before and that morning:

“Are you sure you’re still going to meet up?”

“Yes, for the seventh time. I’m not going to bail!”

Then: “Are you sure, sure?!?!”

Suzanna was confused and slightly annoyed. She had recently broken up with someone who had potential. I got it. She was bored or maybe sad. Even after all these years, she was still tough to read.

Suzanna was the first to arrive at Uncommon Grounds and Sue was practically out of breath when she arrived.

“Sue, are you sure you’re alright? You seem off.”

“No, no. I’m fine, really. I just have news for you.”

Her mind ran in a million directions.

Maybe Sue was sick with something awful.

Suzanna checked her face for paleness or weight loss. There was nothing suspicious.

Maybe she got back with the farts‑too‑much guy. She wouldn’t settle, would she?

Her eyes went to Sue’s ring finger.

Ew, maybe she was engaged? Again, nothing.

“Damn it, Sue. Sit down and tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Geeze. Okay, okay. I’ve been doing research. I mean deep, twisted, scary, rabbit-hole kind of stuff.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“And after days of digging, it was there in black and white. I have the answer. Answers, Suzanna!”

She leaned in.

“Tell me. What do you know about hauntings?”

I began laughing. Hard.

I waited for her to join in.

She didn’t.

The entire mess seemed like someone else's story. It was like she was part of it, but also watching it unfold from a distance.

“Surely this isn't my life now.”

That night at Sue’s house, Suzanna lay awake at 3:00 AM, feeling like the only person in the world awake. She wondered if they could sleep, despite going through something so odd. She chose the fainting couch—or Levi, as Sue had called it. The old blanket was supposedly from the 1800s. Suzanna doubted it, but Sue was a sucker for anything with a good story.

“What the ffff—” The word trailed off as she sat bolt upright, hairs on her arms stiff.

“Caw,” she heard it again.

Okay, this was getting borderline horror story. Except neither she nor Sue had that main character energy. Why them? More specifically, why her?

She had sworn earlier, “That damn bird moved its beady little eyes again.”

Sue laughed. “You say that every time. Stella’s eyes don’t move. She’s too pretty to be creepy.”

Stella was the taxidermy crow on the wall with a string of bright white pearls around its neck. Quirky, but kind of cool at first. Now it was cawing, and there was no mistaking it.

“Sue!”

She rushed out, tripping over her own feet, glasses askew. “What happened? Was it the curse again?”

“I’m not sure how to answer that.”

Sue was excited to have a new clue and to begin searching. She hated what her best friend was going through—but things can be two things. Sue had figured out it was either a haunting or a curse—or maybe both. The whole topic was very nuanced.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“Considering the way you’re wringing that blanket and haven’t blinked since I came in, I’m going to make you some tea. You need to sleep at some point. Come get in my bed. Lord knows nothing exciting happens in there.”

They both did one of those small laughs that snowball into a nice long session. Suzanna was beginning to feel better. The lights were on, Sue was right there, and the caws had gone quiet.

“You know, it could be a sentinel and it's protecting me from you destroying my home and breaking another heirloom plate.”

They both agreed that made sense. Besides, Stella wouldn’t hurt a fly. At least now, anyway.

Early the next day Suzanna did not burn the eggs or set off the fire alarm. She looked over at her friend. It wasn’t unusual for it to go dormant, but it always resurfaced. Sue said, “I’m going. I’m going.” The truth was that she was a little too excited to look into this new development.

A few days later, Suzanna was at her parents’ place for dinner. It had been a week since the cawing crow incident, and her curse appeared to be staying dormant. Her boyfriend Steve was with her. He had been out of the country for months on an assignment. She was grateful for the timing.

Noone knew about the “curse” debacle except Sue and Suzanna. Her parents would think she had lost it, and Steve might leave a Steve-shaped hole in the wall.

She excused herself and went to the bathroom to text Sue, “What should I do? It’s decision time!”

They both sent an “lol” at the mention of a Steve-sized hole. And after a few texts, she realized she’d been in there—laughing—entirely too long. It was beginning to look like she was taking her time in the bathroom. Mortified at the thought, she sent Sue a text saying, “Thank you. You’ve been less than helpful and I have to get back. Uuggg.”

Suzanna had a pit in her stomach. This was such a huge part of her life for months—years, if you count when it all started. She took a deep breath in and began, as casually as possible, to tell the tale of the curse and how she and Sue had been looking for answers. She told how it was consuming her life but added a forced chuckle at the end in an attempt to keep it light. She had so much energy built up, she wanted to just blurt it out. Instead, she spoke calmly, with a hint of sarcasm, as if to say, “Yeah, I know it’s crazy.” Steve was just observing without comment—but also without judgment.

Suzanna’s mom and dad began to chuckle. She couldn’t tell if they were laughing with her or at her, and she felt herself embarrassed, turning red.

Her father leaned back, voice deep, words measured, one leg over the other.

“A long time ago, when I was just a boy—couldn’t have been more than 14—I loved watching my mother get ready for evenings out. Your gam-gam had a flair for the dramatic. In front of that large ornate mirror, she’d beam with satisfaction and pride some evenings, then irately begin chanting in some strange language the next.” He shook his head and grinned, feeling nostalgic at the memory.

“The one she left me? Hanging in my home that I look at every day before I leave my house?” Her father replied, “Yes. The one she gave you in her will.”

“Did she say anything about haunting or curses?”

“I think so. Something like that. She made a big show of it.”

Suzanna’s jaw dropped. “Gam-Gam! You’re telling me all of this—” arms flailing wildly “—was because of my grandmother?”

Her mother chimed in, “Oh yes, honey. Your gam-gam could be quite vain.” They roared with laughter. Suzanna felt as if she got it. She was finally in on the joke.

Steve squeezed her thigh under the table, grounding her. Suzanna excused herself again, went to her childhood room, and screamed into the pillow. She noticed it smelled like dust and the old. She thought, “Okay, enough of that.” Then returned calmer. Sad and relieved, she knew the mirror must go. She would ensure it never surfaced again.

This was the tipping point. She thought, “I might as well swim in the madness rather than fight it.” Sue was rubbing off on her. Suzanna was about to make her most outrageous move yet.

She looked at Steve—eagerly, lovingly, and perspiring just a bit. “Will you marry me?”

The room froze. Wide eyes. Silence. Her parents stared at Steve, waiting. Suzanna thought she might actually need the bathroom now. Maybe it was because he put up with her. Maybe it was because she had missed him like crazy. Maybe it was because of that one simple squeeze. Whatever it was, she meant it.

“Yes,” Steve said. “Of course I’ll marry you. I was going to ask tonight. I was only waiting to have all your attention to myself.”

Her father grinned. “Well that took a twist.” Her mother cried happy tears. “Congratulations, you two!”

The next day, Suzanna and Sue met for coffee. Both had news.

“You tell yours first.”

“No, you go first.”

“Okay, let’s both go at the same time. On 3.”

1-2-3.

Suzanna: “I’m getting married!”

Sue: “I’ve been writing a book about you and it’s getting published!”

Both: “Wait, what?”

They collapsed into their ritualistic, side-splitting laughter. Raw, unfiltered, endless.

They were bonded now, closer than ever. Two beautiful, mad souls uncovering the absurdity of their lives.

Then, a loud crash of broken glass resonated beneath the table.

“Sorry, Randy. I’ll get you in the tip jar tonight.”