I'm starting to turn everything on, and about to pull up the anchor when the nausea hits so hard. I don't make it to the bathroom but there was a bucket out on the kitchen floor and I flop down and puke in that and then just lay by it for a moment catching my breath.
I must fall asleep because I wake up, achy and sore, but I can pull myself to my feet and back to the cockpit.
No, apparently I can't.
It fucking hurts. It feels like my legs are tearing themselves apart as I try to stand and my arms are going to pull out of their sockets when I reach for the counter tops to pull up with. Fuck, fuck, holy fuck. But I can't chicken out of it this time. I threw the shit overboard. I'm pretty sure I got all of it. I did, didn't I? There isn't any in the bathroom, or behind the...? No.
No. Fuck.
I roll carefully on to my side.
Come on. Don't be a fucking wimp.
There's that shrieking almost laughing scream. Makes my ears ring. Vibrating through my teeth and skull. I want to run but I'm also fixed to the ground, and in front of me his face—his skin almost melts away as the tentacle? Fleshy pink tentacle disappears out of view and he falls down screaming a different scream.
Everything's vibrating and he's chasing, tongue lashing...and growly rumble from all around. Creaking, light shifts. No—wait...
I turn, careful. Light shift. Shadowy shapes.
“No, he's here...” I know the voice, “Do you smell that?”
“He's sick...” I know her voice too.
I try to move, but I'm still tearing and snapping myself into pieces. Fuck. I'm going to cry. It hurts so much.
“Duke?” she asks, crouching down by me. I feel a hand reaching to my head, and flinch away it hurts, but the connection is made at the same time, “You're burning up.”
“I'll rinse this out,” he says, “You...”
“Yeah,” she says, “I'll find a way to cool him off,” she rubs my forehead again. Her hand feels so cool. I want to lean into it, but I...I shouldn't, “Stay,” she says to me, and I can just make out her blurry form as she goes towards the sink.
I don't see him. Him. Nathan. Nathan, you idiot. Nathan came with her. I try to shift around, especially when I hear Nathan's tread angry stalking towards me where I'm lying on the floor where Julia lowered me after feeling my forehead.
Nathan crouches down, “What is this?” he demands, shoving something close to my face.
Is there still something here? Can I take the pain away? No. I don't—I screw my eyes shut for a moment, and open them again. It's just a bag with three needles and a plastic tie. I must have left it out when I threw the dope over board. I did kinda just do that and then pilot for a bit and then crash out in bed before I changed my mind and tried to dive for it or some stupid shit.
“Duke?” he says, again.
I can barely make out his face, but I know his mouth's gotta be in that thin line and his knuckles are probably white gripping the bag so tightly.
“Nathan?” Julia says, softly and I feel her kneeling close to me and putting her hand on my shoulder, urging me to move closer, but I can't.
“I fucked up,” I tell them, forcing my mouth to work, “I fucked up, but I threw it away. I threw it over board. I swear. I swear it's gone. It's gone. I swear,” Red hot lines are searing their way down my face as Nathan shoves me up towards Julia and she puts something cool and wet over my face and carefully wraps an arm around my shoulder.
I hear footsteps and then, a door open and close again after a small burst of sea air.
Julia moves the towel to the back of my neck, “You seem like you have a pretty high fever, Boss. What did you do to yourself?”
“Something stupid.”
“Don't say that.”
“You saw what he had, didn't you?” I move away from her as best I can.
“Duke,” she says, “I don't care what he had. I care that you're sick. Come here and let me help you. You have a fever. Do you have any ibuprofen or anything?”
I shake my head, but that was a dumb shit thing to do because I start to feel sick again, and then it's retching.
She moves quickly around in front of me though, “Shit. He didn't bring back the bucket.”
She just holds my hair as it goes on to the floor. Fortunately there wasn't much left in me and she mops it up with the towel, and then goes and rinses it out in the sink and goes into the bathroom. I lay down on the floor again.
“We should probably get you out of your shirt. It'll help you cool off,” she points out coming back with the bucket, “and get some water in you at least. You don't need to be puking bile if that happens again.”
“I guess,” I mumble to the floor.
“You're dripping with sweat,” she says, crouching down next to me, “and you're wearing a long sleeve shirt. I don't care how thin the material is it's still not helping, especially if you have a tank or something underneath like you usually do...”
The door opens again and Nathan comes back in, “How is it going?” he asks. I'm not sure which of us he's talking to.
“He threw up,” Julia says, “I'm trying to get him to take his shirt off to help with the fever...” she sits down next to me, “because he says he doesn't have any meds or anything on board.”
“Idiot,” Nathan remarks.
“I know,” I tell him, “I shouldn't have...”
“No,” he says, crouching in front of me, “but you did.”
“I tried before,” I tell him, “I did—but it didn't work,” that's not the right way to put it. It's not like trying to fix an engine or something, “I didn't work. I gave up. It hurt too much. I fucked up,” I'm picking at the deck but I can't stop, “I just...”
“What is it?” he asks.
“What?”
“What are we dealing with genius? So we know how to help better.”
Fuck. Fuck. But I have to. I need to admit it. It'll help or some shit, right? My name's Duke and I'm a dope fiend. Hello, Duke.
Julia pulls my hand away from the deck and holds it.
“Heroin,” I tell them.
I hear more than see Nathan rock back on his heels and then stand up, “I'll be in the cockpit,” he says, “the sooner we get back to Haven the better. Do your best to keep him comfortable.”
“No shit,” Julia answers, “You think you can make it to the bedroom?” she asks me, “or maybe take a cool shower?” there's an odd tone there, “I can't believe you don't have painkillers,” she tuts at me, “We need to fix that.”
“Hmph,” I tell her, as we hear the rattling sound of Nathan drawing up the anchor.
“Come on,” she says, “Let's get you to the bed. Much comfier than the floor, and then we'll get this damn shirt off you.”
It takes a little bit of maneuvering but we get me turned around and then up on my feet, and shuffle through to the bedroom and flopped down onto the bed on my back. Then she's yanking on my shirt. Normally this would be the beginning of a great fantasy but right now I want to sink through the keel and to the bottom of the sea. I can feel us moving off now. It seems slow, but I don't remember when Nate last piloted her. He's probably getting a feel for the controls.
“Duke Crocker,” she scolds, sounding scarily like her mother and I relent pushing up as best I can on to my forearms and then up some more. I will not puke. Not like there's anything left to puke. For a moment there's a creepy thing in shadow behind her, but I know it's not there. It's not there.
We get my shirt off. It takes a little bit more...finagling, but she's right. It's damp, stuck to me, once it's off I'm shivering for a moment, and then I'm hot again as soon as she grabs a blanket. Stupid fever. Stupid me.
“Stop saying that,” she says, sitting down next to me. I've curled up against the back wall on top of the pillows.
“What?”
“You're not stupid,” she says.
“Got myself in this mess,” I counter, “That was pretty fucking stupid.”
“Why?” she asks, leaning against the wall herself but facing ahead, she glances over at me, “Why did you do it?” there's anger in her voice, confusion maybe? I'm not sure, “I doubt you just woke up one morning and said 'hey, I think I'll try heroin', so why...?” her voice almost cracks through me at the end and I'm sorta glad she's turned away from me.
I have to snort then because she's right, I didn't just go find someone and be like 'give me a sample of that my good man I'm bored with coffee'. I just...how do I fucking explain December without sounding like I've gone off the deep end or like I wasn't already on something?
“Fine...” she mutters, sounding both angry and disappointed.
“No,” I tell her, “It just...his face--” I can hear the words in my head but I don't know if I'm saying the words at all, that weird sound as it wrapped around his face and then his face wasn't there any more, and it was just, and the eyes pulling out...and him falling down, and the thing it's screeching noise, and the screaming laugh, and it just...disappearing and reappearing, “You know they say the Troubles are gone right, but they're not. They're not gone. They're just gone in Haven, and this—this was in New Orleans, and it just—it kept. I keep seeing it, but it's not there,” I realize she's holding me, and she's stroking my head, “went out a few times after trying for distraction and to forget the shit that happened, like maybe it wasn't a thing. Maybe it wasn't—and you know, hey, still alive, and it was a stupid good,” I snort again, “good...” because that's not even, “and you just,” fuck I shouldn't think about it. I don't have any. I don't need any. I don't need any. I don't. I don't. Fuck.
“Stop! STOP!” she's grabbing my head and I realize I was banging it against the wall, but then I'm pulled against her chest instead, and held there.
She's—I—what? I'm about to pull back but she's shaking--? And the sound?
Fuck. Idiot. She's crying. You made her cry. Asshole.
“I'm sorry,” I try to say I don't want to pull away for several reasons.
“I'm worried for you,” she says, through everything.
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't hurt yourself, please.”
“I didn't me--”
“But you were,” she says, squeezing me tightly against her and shifting her position on the bed. She has her back against the wall I realize. I'm still warm. She's warm. She's comfy. I should m—I'm just gonna stay still. The boat's moving around enough. I can feel her hand caressing the back of my head as I lay against her and try to listen just to her chest instead of my own heart racing against itself.
That's collision. I sit up—well, I try to I'm being held—then I remember—and she's still here?
“Julia?”
“Why are you so confused?” she asks, carefully letting go, and holding her arms out at ready as I pull away.
“You're still—what did we hit?”
“Nathan's docking—we're docking at Haven harbor,” she says, “and what did you mean 'you're still?' I'm still what?”
“Aren't you going to get in trouble?” I should go help Nathan, does he know where things are? I start towards the side of the bed but everything is so much jello.
“What are you trying to do?” Julia is there to catch me, “and it's not like I'm missing school...”
“That's not what I meant,” I tell her, “and...” she takes the hand I was trying to point to the door with.
“And?” she asks, though she is helping me stand up.
“Help Nathan,” I tell her.
“Help Nathan...” she's staring as though I just told her I was going to sprout wings, though my stomach is starting to grumble at me, but that's a whole other--“Duke—no, that's not...”
“What's not?” Thankfully we're close to the bathroom because it's not puke, and, thankfully again, urgency gets my feet working, and I manage to get inside and slam the door behind me before anything explodes.
“This is why I'm not leaving you alone to go help Nathan!” Julia calls through the door, “and you're obviously not going to be able to help him.”
I don't say anything because I'm too busy silently praying to something I don't believe in that my intestines stay in my body. There's a jolt I recognize as the anchor hitting sea bed and I just try to focus on the boat's motion as it settles into the lull of being in one spot and not what's going on with me. Thankfully it stops after a little while longer. I have to wait while the tank refills from the mid experience flush and I can make out Julia and Nathan talking but not exactly what's being said, and cautiously mop myself up and wash and flush again, and pull myself back together.
There's nothing in here, Crocker.
You're just gonna have to suck it up and power on through.
Another however many lovely days of this bullshit. That wasn't so bad, right? Maybe an hour of soreness...yeah...that can't be...I can't be that lucky.
“You coming out?” Nathan wraps on the door, “Because I will break it down and make sure you weren't lying about the drugs...again.”
I pull open the door, “There's nothing in here.”
“You don't sound to happy about that,” he remarks.
“Well, I don't feel to great right now,” I retort, “Feel free to check, again. I'm sure you did earlier.”
“I'm sure you've got hiding places I don't know about.”
He has a point, but they are empty and the whole point of having hiding places he doesn't know about is so he doesn't know about them and doesn't go telling his father and therefore the whole police force. He's staring me down though.
“There's nothing here,” I sigh, “If there was I would have—okay, there's probably a 75% chance I would have taken it, okay?”
“So, there's a 25% chance there's something here?” he says, “Is that what you're saying?”
“No,” I put my hands up towards him, “There's nothing here. I swear.”
“You swear?” he shakes his head, “Like you swore in December?” there's sarcasm there, “because that was obviously a bunch of crap.”
Fuck. December...
“Look--” I start, but I'm not sure what to say on that, because...things.
Nate leans against the wall, “Yes?” he says.
I sigh. My head's starting to throb, “So...I wasn't drunk.”
“Yeah,” he says, “We established that; but there was something and you convinced me. I believed you because how did you put it? 'Why would you do that to me?' was that it? You weren't going to lie to me. You weren't going to do that.”
“What can I say?” I tell him, “I've already said I was an idiot, and I fucked up. I was high.”
“It was heroin then?” he asks.
I nod, “It's only been heroin since it started then. I mean I've smoked pot. You know there's been pot, but that's pot.”
He makes a disgruntled noise but then reluctantly nods. He probably realizes I've sold that pot to people...right? I shouldn't make any assumptions at this point.
“When did it start?”
“What?”
“The heroin,” he says, moving one hand near my head, “When did it start?”
I have to think. Why is he making me think?
“Duke...” he has warning tone.
“It's not like I keep a diary,” I snap, “but maybe two weeks before I came back? I don't know...”
He runs his hands around his head, and exhales slowly, and then turns away for a moment and then turns back, “Alright then.”
I lean against the wall and then slide down it to sit, standing is a pain. Nathan sits on the edge of the bed facing me, “You know it's April, right? You missed her birthday.”
“I know. That's what--”
“That hurt her.”
I have to swallow then. It's not like...I thought she might have been angry or annoyed but...
“Tell me you at least brought her a present,” he says, “Getting clean is not an acceptable birthday gift. That's something you should have done before now anyway.”
“Fuck, Nate.”
“Don't 'Fuck, Nate' me. You have to make it up to her.”
I scrub my head, “I mean to, and I do have something for her. Really, I do. It was that—realizing what time it was—when it was, I mean...”
He leans forward, and I look over at him. He's searching my face for lies.
“...it's suddenly the end of March—and all these people, and no way to get back in time, and I'm just like fuck what am I doing? I swore I'd never...”
He leans back again that grimace on his face. I'm starting to feel cold. What did she do with my shirt?
“You're an idiot,” he says.
“I know. I said that.”
“What even got you into--?” he starts, “If this was to get in bed with some--”
“I'm not that much of an idiot,” I throw a shoe that's sitting nearby at him. It bounces off his calf and he cusses at me while rubbing the front of his leg and looking around to see where the missile went. Bet he wishes the Troubles were still active right now.
“How am I supposed to know?” he demands, “Feels like I know nothing about you any more right now.”
I lean back against the wall again.
“Well?” he asks.
“I feel like you'll say I'm lying.”
“How are you going to know unless you actually say?”
“I ran some—I ran something to New Orleans for Dad, right? Around the end of last year...”
“If you say so,” he replies, “I just know you went down there. Don't ask, don't tell.”
“Right,” Don't start scratching. I sit on my hands, but that's not comfortable so I stop, “Places the Ursa can get to that the Cape can't and so...anyway...that's how I was down there and things...went...”
“So, you had a bad job?” Nate is sarcastic because this is an equally stupid reason to become a junkie, not that the other reason was exactly great. Nothing is great. I just...
“You weren't there!” I snap at him, “and it wasn't—you didn't...and that wasn't—the guy brought. It wasn't even there at first.”
“What wasn't?” he asks.
Then there's a knock and Julia also says, “Knock, knock!” and Nate tells her that things are relatively safe, and she comes in the room closing the door behind her even though there's no one else on the boat, “You made it out of the bathroom,” she remarks.
“Yeah,” I muster, “I'm alive.”
“And confessing his sins...” Nathan says.
I shake my head.
Nathan almost manages a smile, “Getting into everything should help though, right? Aren't you supposed to tell your stories and make amends and things?”
“Are you gonna be my 12-steps now?” I mutter at him. I do need to find my fucking shirt though. It's getting cold in here.
“We're gonna be whichever steps you need,” Nathan retorts, “You told me you were coming back here. You said you fucked up and you threw it away. You're not going to get through this by yourself--”
Julia clears her throat from the other side of the room where she's opened my dresser, “I have to go to HPD in two hours to pick up some things Gloria said would help,” she says.
“What are you looking for?” Nathan asks me.
“My shirt, from yesterday.”
“Here,” Julia says, “A clean shirt. The other one is not good,” she points somewhere, and Nathan picks it up off the floor and then drops it again.
“Yes. You are not wearing that in my truck.”
“Where am I going in your truck?”
“Well, I'm not leaving you alone when I take Julia to get whatever it is she's getting from Gloria—” Julia tosses something else in the direction of the bed, “Here, you should probably put on fresh pants too, Boss. I'll turn around,” she faces the corner, “in case Nate needs to help you were kinda unsteady earlier, and you don't need to drive me.”
“But--” Nathan protests, offering me the pants. Which—she's right it probably is a good idea. I undo the pants and start to shrug them down where I'm still sitting on the ground. He bends down and yanks them by the bottom and pulls them off the rest of the way and then drops the clean pair on me.
“No, buts Nathan,” she says as I start pulling on the clean pair, “It'll be a lot less suspicious if I just bike on over to the morgue by myself like I do when I visit Mom all the—well, you know some of the time. No one needs to know it's not her I'm seeing. You can stay with Duke and make sure he doesn't get any stupid, crazy ideas that he'll regret later.”
I reluctantly let Nathan help me stand so I can pull the pants on the rest of the way. He hasn't said anything to Julia's comment, and remains quiet as I take off the tank top and put on the clean shirt.
I realize after a moment Julia's turned around when she starts up again, “Gloria said this would take a few days, at least, and that we...should keep him company. I'm thinking study sleepover at your house.”
At...Nate's...house?
At... “What--? No! Your house?” I point at him, and thankfully remain upright, “With your father?”
“Where else?” Nathan asks.
Fuck. I...can't go 'home', who knows what fucking drugs Carolina has there...and...
“My dad will scowl and maybe yell,” he continues, “Your dad will beat you.”
“...and my mom will skin you with a cheese grater,” Julia adds, “even if you weren't about to be...really sick.”
Fuck, but...I realize after a moment I've wrapped my arms around myself because I feel even colder, and I don't know that has anything to do with my body being super annoyed with the heroin that I should have taken by now. I don't even know if the Cape's in dock because I wasn't the one who moored us. If Dad's here it's not going to be too long before he knows I'm back in town and then he's going to come looking for me...they're right, we can't stay here. What was I—oh, right I wasn't thinking.
“So...” Julia continues, “I'm going to go pack for a few days before going over to HPD and my excuse will be telling Mom I'm going to stay at your place and study,” she taps her hand on the top of my dresser, “We should probably pack you a bag, too, Boss.”
“Right...” I walk towards her a bit but I...fuck, we're actually doing this...I sit down on the edge of the bed. Why did I come back here? I could have just gone some place else and avoided this whole situation. Dealt with this and they wouldn't have ever had to know. She's going to be there? How? It's not summer break? No, Nate said it was April. Fuck. Is it Spring Break? Way to go, Crocker.
I lean forward and scrub my scalp.
“Boss?” Julia asks, from near my left side, “I somehow don't think you have a suitcase, so you got a bag somewhere?”
“Right...um...it's...it'll be in the cubby over there...” I point to the small cabinet built into the wall.
Nathan opens the door and pulls the bag out, and then looks at the mess of various things in the cabinet and the bag pockets some of which are half open and with things half stuffed inside, “So, this...was a go bag?”
I sigh, “Yes, but it had stuff in it and there was...it was...but it went overboard.”
“Okay,” Nathan says, putting the bag down on the bed.
“That's good,” Julia says. She reaches towards me but then puts her hand down.
Good, right. Tell that to my itching shoulders. I lean forward and hold the back of my neck for a moment. I can hear someone rumbling around with things and clothes shoving them in the bag, and someone else goes in the bathroom and gathers things in there.
I need to get the thing I told Nate I had but Julia's right in here, and it's...shit...no, it's under the bed, in the cubby there.
Nathan gives a rundown of everything that he's put in the bag and sure, whatever.
“Okay, then,” he says.
“The motorboat!” Julia says, suddenly, “It needs to go back!”
“I'll take it,” Nathan says.
Julia hesitates for a moment.
“Who's going to say anything to your Mom?” he continues, “I'm sure not.”
She nods reluctantly. Not that I can really blame her not wanting to be stuck here by herself with me. Maybe I should go with Nathan but I don't think being in a motorboat would do me much good, and I don't need to be retching or shitting over something they've rented. Nathan pats his pockets for a moment produces a key and heads for the door, “I'll be back soon,” he says.
Julia follows him to the door, “Well, Boss. We better clean out your fridge. Don't want anything growing legs before you get back.”
“Yeah. Whatever,” I push myself off the bed and towards the door, as Nathan goes through the main cabin and out onto the deck.
Julia pokes my shoulder, “Get some fluids into you, too, considering you've been sweating so much I could wring your shirt out.”
“Right,” I follow her into the main cabin myself, and she has me sit at the table while she investigates the cabinets and the fridge and sets a glass of juice down hard on the table in front of me.
“Here,” she says, “Drink.”
I take a couple of sips of it, “Thank you.”
“You're welcome,” she replies, and then asks if I have any trash bags, for a while it's just sorting through what can be taken and what should be thrown away, out of the cabinets, and putting the first in a wooden transport crate and the others in the trash along with the bag of needles which Nathan apparently left on the counter.
As she goes back to the fridge I hear quietly, “I missed you.”
I swallow, toying with the glass for a while because I can't form the words, “I'm sorry I wasn't here,” for your birthday doesn't make it out but surely she realizes...
“You missed seeing me in a dress,” there is some teasing tone there, so I guess she does realize, “Now you'll have to wait until my next birthday to see it.”
Not completely destroyed things, maybe? “A dress...”
“Well, it was my sixteen,” she points out. Right. Shit, “Mom insisted. I didn't like it very much. Too frilly.” Right her sixteen. Nate's eighteenth back in December. You're just on a roll Duke Crocker.
“Ah,” I push the glass away across the table because I'm playing around with it so much I'm probably going to tip it over or break it or something, “...just fucking up everyone's birthdays.”
“It's probably better you didn't seem me in that stupid dress,” she grumbles.
“It was that bad?”
I actually catch sight of her then and her cheeks are very red from blushing. Shit. I find myself grabbing the glass again.
“We don't have to talk about it any more,” I swirl the juice around in the bottom of the glass and keep my eyes on it.
Neither of us says anything for a while, though she doesn't seem to be doing anything with the food in the fridge either, “....why didn't you come back?” she asks.
Fuck. I promised and everything. Talking about Nathan's gathering and we were joking around but then it was a “no, seriously.” “I am being serious.” and then I go and do this shit. Stop looking at your crotch and confess your shittiness—how you were too wasted to realize what day it was.
“I meant to...but I didn't know when it was...” No, that makes it sound—I shift around and lean forward on the table pushing the glass out of the way again, “I mean I know when your—it's March 22nd,” I add, quickly, “but I—fuck, I lost track of things,” I snort because it's so fucking stupid and one of the many reasons I said I'd never do something like this, all the times of Carolina not knowing her what's up or down, “and—and...”
“It's okay,” she says, softly. It's not though, it's really not, “as long as you wanted to,” she's actually looking at me now, and she has a smile like she's not sure things are quite right, but she really, really wants them to be. I do too, but I've fucked a lot of shit up, and I just...I want to get things back to right, but I just...I've pretty much screwed up everything and Nate's right. I need to make it up to her.
“I did,” I tell her, “I...did,” should I say, should I give things now? I don't...I can at least, “I brought you something.”
She smiles again, cautiously, “When you give it to me, can we pretend that it's still my birthday?”
“Sure,” I tell her. Two birthdays, maybe Nate won't have to shoot me now.
I don't know if her smile could actually get wider at this point. I might actually be smiling too.
“You should drink some more of that, Boss,” she teases, pointing to the glass that's still half full of juice, “Sounded like you were turning inside out earlier.”
No shit, or well, all the shit, really, “...felt like it too.”
“Well, hopefully that doesn't happen again,” she says.
I hear someone outside on the deck, which is hopefully Nate coming back and not my father showing up or something, “Yeah, that'd be good.”
The cabin door opens and it is indeed the junior Wuornos, “Mission accomplished,” he says, “How about here?”
“For the most part,” Julia answers as I take another drink, “but you're back so I'll run...” she makes apologetic look, “things will go over better with Mom if I make sure all the chores are done and there's food on the go before I disappear, aside from packing things up to head out.”
Nathan nods, “I can understand that. We'll head over to my place once we're sure things are sorted out here, so we'll see you over there.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she replies.
I lean my head on the table.
“Finish the juice, Boss,” she warns as she goes out of the door trash bag in hand.
I sit up and take a few more sips while Nathan checks the kitchen and then looks at the counter where the bag was.
“Julia threw it away,” I tell him.
He nods, “Alright then. Lets get your bag.”
“I need to get something first.”
He looks at me face full of questions.
“The gift I got for Julia,” I remind him, “I told you I brought her something. I didn't want to ask you to pack it while she was right there.”
“Oh,” he says, “Where is it?”
“In my room.”
“Okay,” he says, “Where?”
I have to grumble at that, because it is going to mean showing one of the hiding places but it's not like it's all of them, “I'll show you.”
The juice has helped some because I'm a bit more steady, as I move by him and back into the bedroom, but things are spinning again by the time I bend down to the far side of the bed closest to the bathroom and slide the panel across towards the bottom of the bed and I sit down on the floor. Nathan leans over the top of the bed and opens the cabinet the panel has revealed and I point to the box inside which he pulls out.
“This is pretty solid,” he says, bringing it around on to the bed, “Did you bring her a gold brick?”
“That would be smaller and heavier,” I point out, “or a lot heavier for that size.”
“I'm not going to ask,” he shifts around on the bed and puts the box in my bag between layers of clothes, and zips it back up, “Anything else? You need the bathroom before we head out because I'd like the truck to stay clean and everything...”
“I'm good.”
“Are you sure?”
“If it turns out I'm wrong I'll clean it up.”
Nathan gives me a look, “Sure, I can see you being in shape to clean it up.”
“Well, then I'll wash your damn truck from top to bottom once I am. What do you want me to say?”
“I don't want you to--” he stops, hand in mid air, “Just get your ass to my truck, alright? Where are the keys to lock up the boat?” he picks up the bag and slings it over his shoulder despite my trying to take it from him. I get the keys from the top of the dresser, and he picks up the crate in the kitchen on the way out as well, and we lock up, and head carefully down to his truck a little slower than I would like but I don't fall in the drink so there's that. He puts my things into the back seat of the truck and then I go to climb in but stop and look around instead.
“What?” Nathan demands.
“She's not here.”
“Wha—oh, the Cape. Sorry, I didn't think to tell you. No, she's not, but the harbor master told me she's due back tomorrow, so...”
I get in the truck, “Fine. Okay. I admit it. You're right. Let's get going.”
Him being due back tomorrow means he could be back any time in the next six to seventy two hours. Depending on what he actually went off to do, or if he ran into anyone Troubled while he was off doing it. Not like I can ask Nathan what he went off to do, and I'm not calling Carolina either—on the off chance she was paying attention to where he was going and not just planning the celebration that he'd be gone. Of course there's no telling if they've even paid the phone bill while I've been gone it's not like I was calling home.
Nathan doesn't say anything as we're driving the terrible familiar streets of town, and I lean one elbow on the window frame and try not to chew on my hand, because things are starting to get itchy and I don't know how much I might chew. At least I'm keeping to my promise because my stomach is behaving. I really hope Garland's on duty today. Please.
His truck isn't there when we pull up much relief. Nathan grabs the things and we go into the familiar green house. He puts things down on the table and starts putting the food away, setting my bag to the side.
“I figure we'll hide you upstairs for the time being. Julia usually stays in the adjoining room to mine when she has study stay overs.”
“Hide me? You're going to lie to your father? I'm impressed Wuornos.”
“Stop it,” he says.
“And Eleanor lets Julia stay over here? What store are you registered at?” I know it sounds bitter but I can't help it, but the probably going to be Chief of Police one day's son who is probably going to be Chief of Police one day himself is a much more appropriate match for the budding morgue attendants daughter than me. She must be beside herself that they get along so well.
“You know it's not like that.”
I do. I do, “That doesn't mean she doesn't have visions of sugar plum wedding dresses dancing in her head.”
“I'm not the one who has avoided asking her out for the past how long?”
“Pitch forks and lynch mobs?” I retort, leaning against the table, which was a stupid idea because my nose starts running, fortunately there's paper towels on a spindle right there which I grab and blow my nose, “Especially now. I mean...”
“You do see how much running off she's not done?” he remarks, “She's out there getting medicine to help you get through cleaning up right now. Stop being an idi—more of an idiot,” he acts like he's going to throw a mango at my head but then puts it on the counter in the fruit bowl.
“Woah. Hey, is that squeezy yet?” I tell him, “I didn't check it today for obvious reasons.”
“What?” he says, confused.
I blow my nose again, “Can you squeeze it? If you can and it's slightly squishy it needs to go in the fridge.”
He puts it in the fridge.
“And it needs to get eaten soon.”
“Okay. Okay,” he says, testing the other two and putting them in the fridge too.
“He's not going to notice all the new food and get suspicious? Where the hell do you get mangoes in Haven?”
“You could have just given them to me,” he points out, “You do do that sort of thing. Alright, let's get you upstairs. You want to take a shower, maybe?”
“That is probably a good idea before I get too off again.”
“That is why I asked. I'll get you a towel.”
Nate had given me a towel and a different tank top and pajama pants rather than the jeans he'd helped me into earlier to change into for once I was done with the shower. Once I'm actually ready and dressed in those I feel self-conscious about it given my arms are fucked up in places and find where I'd dumped the shirt Julia had given me on the boat and put that on over the top and trying not to fall into the shelf over the toilet. The steamed up air is making everything dizzy.
I open the door and let things air out and carefully pick up everything else and then try to remember do towels get left in the bathroom or taken into the room? How long has it been since I've actually stayed over here? I can hear Julia and Nathan talking across the way which answers the question of if she's actually back or not and I make my way over there.
“Seriously,” Julia is saying, putting shirts into a drawer, “My algebra could actually use some work.”
“Only you,” Nathan says, with teasing tone, and then turns when I come in the room, “He lives.”
“That's not going to get old,” I tell him.
“Well, you were in there for almost an hour. There had been talk of breaking the door down, except we knew you hadn't passed out under the water because that did turn off.”
Julia looks away for a moment, refolding the t-shirt she's holding and putting it in the dresser drawer.
“Sit down,” she tells me when she turns back, “before you fall over,” she points to the bed, and I swallow the protest and follow her instructions because I'm not feeling so great, and I don't want to prove her right and actually face plant into the carpet. I knot my hands into the blanket on that I'm sitting on because I'm not going to start scratching. I'm not.
I'm. Not.
Though I realize when Nate's looking at me that I'm kicking my feet back and forth a lot too.
“So...” I ask them, “what did Gloria give you? A mallet to knock me unconscious with?”
“She was tempted,” Julia smiles, “but no, there's some over the counter things like painkillers and imodium,” that sounds awesome, the less I'm in the bathroom losing my intestines or puking out my guts the better, “but the main thing was these,” she produces two prescription bottles out of a paper bag and shakes them carefully and then looks at the bottles themselves, “naltrexone and clonidine, she said they're good for detox and apparently better than methadone as far as time goes because she said only about four or five days. Okay, so one of both of them now, and one of this one later on,” she holds up one of the bottles again. There's already a glass of water on the dresser I realize and she starts opening the bottles. Nate goes to the bag and roots through it for other things.
Yeah, this is happening.
No backing out now.
But this is good. This is good. I don't need to be worshiping the needle and this shit needs to be out of my system.
“And it's just sweating it out, right?” I tell them.
“Apparently,” Julia says, “but we'll be here.”
“Right,” I nod. It'll be fine. It'll be fine. It'll be fine.
Nathan makes me move closer to the top of the bed so that it'll be easier when things start to kick in.
“What about Julia?”
“Don't worry about me,” she says, handing me the pills and the glass of water.
I take them trying not to appear too reluctant given these are strange tablets but I've been injecting myself with other things so I have no say, really. Seriously. These come from a much more reputable source when you think about it. Then it's a couple of Imodium and we agree to hold off on the painkillers until I start to need it given right now I'm just trying to ignore itchiness but not really hurting.
“But earlier--” Nate points out.
“Yeah, well, that was...there were other reasons for that...” I admit, “I took more than I usually did so there was just a bigger crash. I was—it was,” I shake my head, “I don't know, maybe part of me thought it would be easier to get home? Junkie logic is not, because I mostly just passed out, but it was after that I tore through the boat throwing everything out because I realized that weaning off wasn't going to work, so...there's that?”
Nate pats me on the head and I bat his hand away. There's silence for a bit after that.
“Yeah, that was stupid,” Nathan says, eventually, as Julia rearranges bottles and things in the top dresser drawer, “How are you feeling?” he asks after a little while more.
“Like a tiger in the zoo?” I reply, “You're kinda hovering and watching me waiting for me to do something and all.”
“Well,” Nathan leans against the wall, “Do you want to talk about anything while you're still awake? We never finished talking about the job in New Orleans...”
“I...don't know if that's a good idea,” Julia's still in the room after all. I don't say it but I know I look towards her because our eyes meet. I don't want to get into all that shit and possibly freak her out I vaguely remember her crying and hugging me yesterday? Earlier?
“Well,” Julia says, coming a few steps away from the dresser and closer to me, “You sort of told me some things on the way here—but it was freaky and jumbled.”
Shit. Shit.
“So,” she continues, “if it could be less freaky and jumbled and more with explaining that might be good, especially with, you know, less of you trying to concuss yourself.”
There is some small satisfaction in Nate's shocked expression at that, “So, not just a 'job going bad'.” he says.
Julia looks like she's going to say something but then just shakes her head at him.
“No, asshole,” I say to him, because seriously, what the fuck? “I was telling you that on the boat but stopped because, well, I didn't know I'd already fucking--” I wave at Julia instead of going into all that again, “It didn't go bad. It exploded in a shit storm of freaky ass mutilation and death.” Fuck, did my voice just catch? Hold it together, Crocker.
Julia's sitting next to me, suddenly, and I'm being hugged. I'm being hugged. Do not cry. Do not cry, damn it, but Julia is hugging me and no one is telling me I'm lying, or was hallucinating right now, and fuck. It's so warm and comfortable.
I realize when Nate speaks that he's pulled a chair over and is facing me but leaning on the back of it with his hands, “What happened?” he says, crisply.
Skip over all the bullshit with the pick up and all that, “What it comes down to is the final hand off. The Ursa can get down closer to the bayou than the Cape could, so I'd picked up three guys along with the 'order' and gone down to the place. We walked it to the actual meeting point, and there's the collector and his guy...” stop fucking shaking. I can feel Julia's grip on me tightening, “But the—he—it wasn't anywhere at first, and then just was. I don't know if he was dude's security who turned on him or if he was there for someone else to take stuff, but we were in the bluster about money bit, 'Are you sure it's all there?' 'Do you want to count it?' 'There's a crowbar if you want to check' etc, and then there was this...this...” I don't know what I think gesturing with my hands is going to do to explain that screeching...skittering, “...noise and this it wasn't exactly a tentacle but it was...it,” I move my hand across, “out of nothing and around his—his head.”
“Whose head?” Nathan asks, cautiously.
“The guy we were dealing with. Guy whose order we were filling.”
“Okay,” Nathan nods.
“But I mean—he doesn't matter so much any more the thing came off his face and well, his face was—he had no ski—no skin on it any more and then it flipped again, just fwap-scre--” I stop myself from trying to make the noise, “and his eyes, they were on it—the tentacle—whatever, and that's when we saw it, the sort of person, but it was all shimmery and weird, and then it was over there, before he even hit the crate as he fell over, and then it just—gun fire, and the thing. I shouldn't say thing, there's a person under there—it's a Trouble, but it just...ripping people to pieces, and skin coming off them, someone's whole arm at one point. I just—it was...it was a fucked up mess. I couldn't...”
“Stop,” I hear Julia's voice near my ear, almost a whisper, choked and wet, “Stop,” her arms squeeze me tightly, “please don't...”
I put my head down, and take a deep breath.
“...you're here,” she tells me, “...you're safe.”
and fuck I can't hold it back any longer. I'm crying. I think Julia might be crying too. She's rocking me against her, and one hand is around my head for a moment I think, but things are sort of blurry. I almost think I hear Nathan curse.
“Duke...I'm sorry, I...” it makes it's way to me through the noise of that thing, and I try to let him know it's okay, because how the fuck was he supposed to really know. I don't know if he even believes they're going on or were going on before. It's not like—but that fucking thing, and it's noise, and the peeling, it's not like bananas or anything, or even an orange, I don't know what it's like, really. I don't want to see it, but I'm quitting, I can't, I can't have it. I can't. I can't.
Someone's holding my hands, “It's okay,” Julia murmurs with a deeper echo, “You're safe.”
Where am I? This isn't the...boat...nothing's rocking for one, but it's also too bright in the darkishness and the mattress is weird. The more I blink the less real it looks, especially when a hand appears near me offering me a glass of something, and then Julia's voice follows it, “How are you feeling?”
My arms are awkward as I try to push myself into a sitting position, and Nathan appears on the other side to help me, which I reluctantly accept. Then I can make out things wrapped around my arms given my over shirt has been taken off.
Julia's face looks apologetic as she helps me with the juice, “You were scratching yourself all up. You hadn't done any damage to your arms but we didn't want to take the chance...” she looks away for a second, “especially after you scratched your face,” she makes a motion near my eye and I put my hand up, feeling the scrape there.
“I don't...” remember really what was going on. Maybe that's a good thing.
“Trimmed your nails too,” Nathan says, “In case you start that again,” though his tone is on the please don't, “I'm sorry I was giving you crap about the job thing.”
“You didn't know.”
“I know,” he says, as I realize that I'm smelling pizza in the room, “but I should have known that you would have had to go through something rough, more than, to...” he trails off, looking towards the wall.
“Boss?” Julia changes the subject, “How are you feeling?”
I stretch a little, assessing things more, “...sore. A little bit hungry.”
“Well, we have pizza,” Nathan says, relieved for the topic shift.
“Home made,” Julia puts in, “The first has hamburger and bacon, and then there's white and veggie.”
Nathan goes and puts pieces of each on a plate, and brings it back. The meat does look good but just smelling it turns over my stomach not that there's anything in there to purge. He sits down on the opposite side of the bed from Julia and offers me the veggie pizza and eats the meat piece himself.
“It's good,” I tell them, “Thanks. Nice work.”
“Nate did most of it,” Julia says, “I was on chopping duty and pre-cooked the meat, but he did the dough and all of the things...”
“You're going to make someone a good wife someday, Nate.” I tease.
Julia makes a strange noise then and hands Nathan the juice, and says she needs the restroom, and walks over there. I look at Nate, “Was that..?”
Nathan purses his lips for a moment and shakes his head, “I don't...and don't try to get out of what you just said,” he makes like he's going to throw the last piece of pizza at me.
“If you do that you're going to have to do laundry,” I point out, “and that's not going to disprove my point if you can do it well.”
Nathan makes a grumbling noise and then shakes his head, “Fairly sure you can do laundry too.”
“That was necessity,” I counter, pressing against my chest when I burp, worried something might try to escape but it thankfully doesn't, “Simon considers that women's work and Carolina's...” a crack whore, “rarely in a good state to do it. She'd probably put crack in with the—no, that'd be a waste of crack. She'd probably put salt in, and then try to cook with the detergent.”
Nathan looks uncomfortable. Yeah, probably shouldn't be talking about drugs and my junkie mother right now even if it is a different kind. Yeah, junkie mother you swore you weren't gonna turn out like. Well, that's why this is happening, right?
Speaking of parents.
“How exactly are you going to keep your Dad in the dark about me being here?” I ask him, as Julia opens the bathroom door and comes back into the room. She looks...unhappy? That's not quite right. Her eyes are wider than normal, and maybe a little pale. Maybe shouldn't have been talking about those things.
“You stay in the room,” Nathan says, “and if he comes upstairs and this way you hide in the bathtub. We'll help you move if you're too out of it.”
“There's a pillow and sleeping bag in there,” Julia waves a hand that way.
Pillow and sleeping-- “You're not sleeping in the bath tub, are you?” I ask Julia.
“No!” she exclaims, “We're just storing it there during the day to make sure Garland doesn't see it. I'm going to sleep on the floor,” she's got that stubborn tilt to her chin that she got when she was working on the plug for the oven when we were installing it on the Ursa and it was refusing to cooperate, but I can't take, well it's not exactly her bed, but still.
“You can't be in the sleeping bag,” I protest, “You should have the bed I can be on the floor. I imagine a good portion of the time I won't be comfortable anyway...” I find myself trailing off because she's glaring at me. A lot. I'm so glad she doesn't have anything sharp or that screwdriver she was threatening Nathan with that one time.
“I...but...” I didn't think that glare could get any deeper, apparently it can, “thank you?”
She nods at me. I can almost hear her saying, “Damn straight.”
I wonder if I actually breathe that say of relief or if it stays inside. I think Nate might explode from holding in laughter.
“Besides,” she says, “It's the closest Mom will let me get to camping.”
I find myself laughing slightly me and shaking my head. She is one strange fun size wench.
“I'm worried about you, Boss,” she says, quietly.
Well, my stomach's doing pretty well, and I'm not...oh, right, friends do that, and she...well, she might be, don't think about that, “It'll be fine!” I tell her, cheerfully.
“It better be, or I'll hit you!” she retorts.
“I'll hold him in place for you,” Nate remarks.
I'm really not sure what I can say to that, because I've—I'm pushing, and she maybe realizes that, but this concern is...weird. Dad would just...yeah. This time I don't have anything to say, so I close my mouth again.
“...more juice?” she asks me.
“Sure, okay,” that seems like a safe thing to do.
She sits back down next to me, and picks up the glass again offering it to me, and I take a drink. I wonder what time it is but at the same time I don't want to ask might make me too anxious for dope. It's getting later in the evening, definitely. It's darker outside, but there are streetlights coming on. Nathan goes behind him and turns a desk lamp on but not the overhead in the room.
Why did I start thinking about it in the first place?
Fuck.
I lean my head back against the wall, and I see Julia move towards me hand outstretched but she leans back a little when I don't start banging my head.
Instead she takes my hand, “Doing okay, Boss?”
I give her a so-so motion with my other hand because I don't really trust myself to say anything that isn't going to come out horribly whiny at the moment because while I'm thankfully only a little bit achy, the itches are coming in really bad, and I can't start clawing at myself no matter how much I want to, probably a good thing they bandaged me up.
“Is there anything that will help--” she bites her lip, and I give a sarcastic laugh which I manage to stop because she probably realizes just as I know that heroin is the first thing that is right there that will stop it all dead, “help...distract you?”
There are no bugs. There are no bugs. I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. Fuck, I'm not cutting the circulation off in her hand am I? She'd say, right?
“Is there anything I can do?”
Is that Nate pacing? It's not like Julia can be pacing and sitting here holding your hand genius.
“I don't know,” I tell her, slowly. They already know you're a junkie idiot you may as well just say what's going on, “I feel like there are things inside my skin...” well, now that's out there. If they're going to pitch you out—well, that would be a fucking asshole thing to do, wouldn't it? Is it getting cold too? Shit. I pull my knees up under the blanket. I am I'm cold. She leans forward and puts her free hand on my forehead.
“Well, cold we can do something about?” she looks at Nathan.
“Yeah, that's easy enough. There are spare blankets in the closet out there,” and he disappears out of the door.
“Well, hey,” I muster, “at least shivering is distracting me from itching.”
Julia laughs slightly, as Nate comes back with a blanket and another comforter. I wind up on my side curled up in a sort of cocoon. Maybe if I'm warm enough I won't ache, oh, but hey there are pills for that. Though there seems something wrong about taking pills to counter being addicted to something.
I'm too hot. The evening is too hot, and sticky. Bugs chittering, in the undergrowth as we lug the boxes along to the meeting spot. I can feel my heart climbing it's way up into my throat though, because I know something's going to go wrong. It does every exchange. It's just a matter of time.
We set the cargo down, and he gets up from where he was sitting, flanked by his muscle. It's here somewhere. I know it is. Waiting.
I can't breathe. It's too hot. Wrapped up all over, hands, legs, everything pinned, sticky. I can't move either. I can't.
“Boss—Duke--” she wasn't there. The voice is far away, muffled. My head is covered too. If I move too much my skin will peel off too. There are other words through—but I can't hear them. Then things are getting a bit clearer, and I think that's a window?
“Julia?”
“Guess you stopped being freezing?” she asks, and there's a thwump and another and a hand. She fades away again. No. That's not where I want to be, “Hey—hey,” I hear from the other side, “don't start that again. Come here,” there's a shift, and things tilt.
It's not the bayou then. We're in a bay near here, laying on the deck looking up at the sky. She puts a hand up in an L shape around a cloud, “You've never thought about flying in a plane?”
“I have a boat right here. I know how it works. I know how to get places.”
“What about a car?”
“I'm learning that. You'll learn that too. I can teach you the ins and outs of the Ursa if you want.”
“There are places you can go in a plane though that you can't go in a boat.”
“There are places you can go in a boat that you can't go in a plane,” I point out.
“Is this just going to go round in circles?” she says, rolling over so she's laying on her stomach, watching me.
“We're anchored,” I answer, “We're going to stay in one spot.”
“That's not what I meant, Duke Crocker,” she pokes me in the shoulder, “and you know it.”
“Do I?”
“Yes!” She goes to poke me again, but I grab her and we wind up rolling around, jabbing and tickling at each other until we collide with a collection of tarp covered boxes and—well, it's a good thing Nathan's not around.
There's something on me. I can feel it on top of the blanket when I wake up. There's just one blanket and I'm face up, and the thing—it's an arm. There's an arm—please tell me it's attached to somethi—you're in a bed, genius.
Right. Bed. Nathan's house.
My brain starts to actually work, slowly. I'd been cold, there were lots of blankets. Now, there aren't. Whose arm is that though?
Trying to move to work that out proves to be the worst mistake of my life. Though the hoarse sound of pain it causes to escape my mouth gives me the answer I was looking for.
“Duke?” Julia sits up, managing to move her hand off me without putting any weight on me for which I'm eternally grateful considering I'm cursing everything that ever was. Fuck, I thought I was sore the other day on the boat, when even was that? Was that just yesterday? Shit. I want to curl up but that hurts, but stretching out hurts, but moving hurts, “Duke?” she moves again, so she's by my face, “What do you--?” she stops, again, and looks away for a moment, “What do we have here that will help? Is it your stomach?”
“No,” I force out, “Every--”
“Everything? Okay,” she scrambles off the bed and towards the dresser, reappearing with a handful of pills and a glass of water, which she sets down for a moment and we wrangle me up into a sitting position, “painkillers,” she says, when I look at her skeptically, “though you do need to take some of the clonidine, probably...should wait until after you can eat though.”
I sigh. This is probably why people give up on this shit.
“Is there anything I can do to help until that kicks in?”
Don't get pissy about how long that's going to take. That's not her fault. You did this to yourself, “distraction?”
“Well, I doubt you're in any state to play gin with me, so...and you...I could...” following her train of thought is not, “do you want to hear about things that happened in town since Nate's party?”
“Sure.” Why not?
She puts pillows up against the wall and I lean against them and she sits next to me, turned slightly off the edge of the bed so that she's looking over at me.
“So...” she says, tutting for a moment like she's not sure where to start, “there was kind of a brawl at the Rust Bucket on Christmas...” she says, “and about six people wound up getting arrested. I'm not sure exactly who...I think one of the McShaws might have been there...” and she goes on about a few other people who were arrested. Seems like Mom's managed to get in it again. She apologizes about that but it's nothing new and it's not like Julia has anything to do with the bullshit Carolina gets up to. That's all on her. She goes on about things at school, matches against Derry, pranks and mascots, graffitti on banners or something. There's something about a new teacher when Nate knocks and opens the door at Julia's okay. He eyes us on the bed. He's already dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and Julia and I are in pajamas. I wonder what time it is.
“How's everyone feeling?” he asks, though it's directed at me.
“Pain's going away,” I say.
“That's good,” he says, “I was wondering about breakfast things?”
“It'd be good if Duke ate so that he can take the next round of pills,” Julia says, standing up. I am not able to prevent myself from groaning in complaint. Julia turns to me, “You can not take them,” she points out, “but what were you just feeling like an hour-ish ago? I imagine it'll be like that or worse...so that's entirely up to you.”
Stupid people and their stupid logic.
“Fine,” I mutter.
“Fine,” Julia's is louder, then she turns to Nathan, “though Gloria had suggested toast and peanut butter for him might be a good idea. You do still like peanut butter?” she asks. I nod, “Easy on the stomach,” she says, almost to herself, “Maybe just make one slice? I'll stay here with him and then when you come back I'll get dressed and go make something...is--”
“Dad's not here at the moment,” he clarifies, “I'll be back with toast. Shouldn't take too long,” and the door closes again.
She turns back to me, “It would probably be best to wash off before you put clean clothes on. Um...do you think you can stand to take a shower?”
Sure, that shouldn't be too hard, right? Though I can tell as soon as I shift and put my feet forward on to the actual floor that maybe I was a little wrong but I'm not going to stop now. Have to push through. She hovers carefully nearby as I stand myself up as straight as I can and make the way towards the door. It's not very far. I've been across this room before. Twice, maybe? Of course it was years ago, but suddenly everything is falling further away, but I'm pretty sure I'm standing still—pretty sure. Though Julia's hands on my elbow and back make me question that again.
“Okay--” she says, when we've made it to the actual bathroom door, “Maybe a shower's not such a good idea...”
“I'm he--”
“No,” she says, “I mean standing is the thing...not the getting clean or were you--”
I nod, “Okay. No. I was meaning I'm here,” I wave a hand, “at the bathroom.”
“Yeah,” she says, opening the door, “Yeah, I'll just, um...” she hesitates, toying with an ear and pushing the door open, before going for my arm again even though I could brace on the doors. Then I sit down on the toilet.
“Okay,” she says, turning on the taps, “I've got you into the bathroom I'll...go get Nathan,” she hesitates in the doorway.
I'm about to tell her it's okay. She can leave me to go downstairs I'm not going anywhere but I wouldn't trust me.
Thankfully just then Nathan knocks and opens the door to the main room and sets a plate down on the counter, “Everything okay?” he asks.
Julia explains what's happening and I hear him telling her it's okay, to get herself something to eat and he'll keep an eye on me and then he's inside the room and closing the door, with a towel in hand.
“Alright,” he says as though he's going to say something and then he sets the towel down and goes and checks the taps, and then he hesitates again, “Do...you...need help getting undressed?”
“I want to say I should be fine,” I tell him.
“But?”
“But I almost fell over walking across the room...so I'm not sure I can stand up to get my pants off, or get into the damn tub.”
He nods, “Well, I helped you at the boat. I'll help you now.”
I bite my lip. I do not deserve this. He goes and checks the water again, mixing it around with his hand, and I take my shirt off and toss it into the corner not being sure what to do with it and then carefully pull myself to standing using the counter around the sink. Nathan is there quickly and it's that elbow hold again.
“I'll keep you upright. You get off the pants,” he says, “and then we'll get you in the bath.”
“Right...” I make sure I don't nod in case I make it worse but I do make sure I say thank you because this whole situation is so fucked up but I've only myself to blame.
Soon enough I'm carefully stepping into the tub while Nate has himself behind me and an arm under my right pit and holding me around the front so that he can lower me into the tub and I can sit, then he pulls the shower curtain along so that I have some semblance of privacy but stays in the room I hear him sitting down with his back against the side of the tub.
“There should be soap and a loofah sponge thing in there,” he says, “can you reach it?”
I look around, and there it is hanging around the taps of the shower, and the soap is on a shelf thing up there.
“Not as such.”
Nathan mutters something and stands up, and then realizes he still hasn't turned the taps off anyway. So, he gets the things, turns the taps off and pulls the front of the curtain slightly aside to hand me the things. I have to admit the bath is more than nice. The aches that the pills haven't touched are easing up and my head feels less sludge filled.
“So,” he says, after a moment of him sitting back down, “Julia was where this morning exactly?”
I just—but right—her arm was over me when I woke up this morning. She'd gotten in bed with me...over the top of the blankets but still but—she was probably just making sure I didn't go anywhere, right?
“She was on top of the covers. What ideas are you even--?”
“Do I have to get out a hose?” he asks.
“Oh, shut up,” I soap up the sponge loofah thing and start to wash my legs, carefully, “and even if she was interested I'm too sore for anything anyway.”
“And nothing can happen,” Nathan says.
I make grumbly noises at him, “You're on at me that she likes me and then you're on at me that nothing can happen. Make up your mind.”
He doesn't say anything to that at first. I'm about to ask him to clarify when he says, “You haven't heard her mother's rules.”
“It's not as if she was in the bed. She was on the bed I'm 90% sure. She was probably just make sure I didn't try to leave.”
“I swear for a horny Crocker you spend a lot of time convincing yourself this girl doesn't want to touch you.”
I slide down in the tub so that I'm mostly under the water. Even if she had had a crush on me I've probably shot that in the foot...though she is helping right now, and she hasn't run off, but I just...I can't imagine that she would. I mean maybe she's okay staying friends but...and I think we're okay about the whole birthday thing. Ugh. I lean my head backwards and am about to slide the last few inches but then there's voice from the other side.
“How's the twitchiness?” Nathan asks.
“What?”
“You've been pretty twitchy on and off. How do you feel?”
“Pretty good, right now. The water's helping.”
“Hey, if you get sore and twitchy again later maybe you can ask Julia to massage your legs?”
Really, Nate? Really... “You do realize how awkward that could get?” I ask him, “Why are you doing this to me? I thought you were my friend.”
“I'm her friend too,” he mutters.
“I'm not saying you're not,” I tell him.
“It's not just about you,” he says, “Things going on, I mean. I know we're getting you clean, but...” he trails off, “Never mind. I don't know words,” he stands up, “Are you clean?”
“Enough.”
“Alright then,” he pulls the plug and I hear him sit down on the toilet for a little while. I pull my feet up as the water drains some and try not to shiver, and brace on the side of the bath. He pulls the shower curtain back slightly and is standing there with a towel and hands ready to help me climb back out. I sit on the side of the bath to dry myself off, and Nathan goes into the bedroom to find clothes for me and then helps me get into my pants again, and leaves me for a moment as I put my shirt on to go check and see where Julia is at. Apparently she's in the bedroom because I hear them exchanging a few words with each other, and then Nate comes back in and guides me out of the room. It's a little easier for me to walk given the bath has soothed my legs quite a bit but he doesn't trust me without him being close by and it's probably a good idea, much as I hate to admit it.
Julia's made the bed, I see, as Nate releases me to sit down on top of it, and there's a pitcher of juice on the dresser. She's sitting on the floor with a textbook, well, not on the floor, I realize. There's a bundle of things underneath her, which I'm guessing is the folded remains of her pseudo-bed, the blankets and sleeping bag.
Nathan goes to the dresser and retrieves the plate of toast and pours me a glass of juice and hands me the plate, and then sits next to me holding the juice in his hand. Julia gives me a slight smile over the top of her book but goes back to studying. I manage half the piece of toast before I start to feel sick, and Julia goes to the drawer where the medicines are and starts figuring out things to hand out for me to take.
After a little while longer talk turns to what we're going to do for the day. Sitting around upstairs is going to get tedious and is likely to lead to tension, but walking around town is not really an option. Garland's going to be gone until the evening though so we have run of the house provided we're careful. So, we wind up downstairs in the family room with a movie on the TV, and Nathan and Julia on either side of me on the couch in case I get “droopy”. I don't know if this is better or worse than if she was massaging my legs or not. She's right there. I could reach for her hand.
Some older cartoon thing has been put on, about a mouse who is sort of like Sherlock Holmes or something. I'm not entirely following it very well, but there was something about not real people probably being easier to stomach and less likely to cause flashbacks, but I keep zoning out and skipping back into things and not really knowing where things are and not wanting to ask. There's some big burly mob boss rat guy who laughs a lot, and is generally pissed off at everyone and a dachshund who is like their car or something.
Then Nathan's hand is on my shoulder and I realize he's waking Julia up too. Both of us were asleep?
“Come on,” he says, “Let's get the lanky one back upstairs before Dad gets home.”
“Is the movie over?” Julia asks, sleepily.
“It has been for a while,” Nathan teases, “but you guys were just so cute...”
She bolts up to standing like her ass is on fire and turns around in a circle for a moment. I have to ask her if she farted. It's a good way to keep my mind elsewhere. She scowls at me.
“Alright,” Nathan says, “I'll get him upstairs. Why don't you see what there is for food? I'm sure there's leftover pizza. Maybe we can add something to it?”
“Sure,” she says, shooting me a look before disappearing through the kitchen door.
Nathan pushes me towards the handrail, “Really?” he mutters at me.
“She's the one who shot away from me like I was a poisonous snake,” I tell him.
“She--” Nathan starts and then stops, “That's--” we start to climb the stairs, “Okay, look—you know what, never mind. You're being ridiculous and you can just dig that hole. I'm not even gonna, right now.”
We walk the rest of the way up in silence and he pushes open the bedroom door and directs me back to the bed until I point out I need the bathroom. He stands outside the door while I go, still in silence. So, this is great. I'm back on, but not in, the bed, when Julia comes in with several pieces of pizza, chips, juice and a bowl of chopped up fruit. I can smell from here some of the mango we brought from the Ursa.
I eat half a piece of pizza and take the pills I'm supposed to take while there's some talk about the movie and what both Julia and I missed while I eat some of the mango, and have some more juice.
“You sure you've never seen it before?” Nathan asks.
“Really?” I ask him, “You think that's the kind of movie that's going to be in Simon Crocker's house?”
“I didn't mean like that,” he says, “You could have gone to see it.”
I wind up laughing a little at that, “No, mijo we don't go to see movies. There's nothing to be gotten from that. Though, we did sometimes get kids movies from the various give poor kids toys places she drug me round too. That wasn't one of them.”
“Let's talk about something else,” Julia says, as Nathan glances at his watch.
“We'd get the inspirational bullshit, about how life gets better. You just have to try your hardest and do your best,” I pump my fist in the air, though my arm feels sorta heavy, “and then Simon would use them for target practice.”
“Maybe we can play a card game or something later?” she says, “What games do you know?”
“Don't we have too many people for gin?” I ask her, “Isn't that what you said earlier?”
She thinks for a moment, “I didn't say we had—oh, well, three is—but we could play regular rummy if you're up to it, but I was thinking of games that didn't require so much strategizing in case you got...” I lose the rest of her sentence, which probably proves the point, “ord games might be better,” she's looking at Nathan.
“I can check downstairs,” he says.
“You maybe want to get into the bed?” Julia asks me, “You look like you're about to fall over, Boss.”
“Maybe I should then...” I move up the bed and almost slide off the slippery comforter.
Julia mostly catches me, though one knee hits the floor, “Up,” she says, as I carefully pull up on the bedside cabinet, and she shifts the bed coverings down so I can get back in, “I set some laundry things going...” she amends, “When the—when Nath—when Sargent Wuornos was at work. I'll have to see if Nathan can sneak them up here. I forgot about it with falling asleep,” she looks embarrassed.
Asleep...she fell asleep, too. Right...crap, “Did I? Did I keep you awake?”
She takes a moment before saying, “...not...on purpose,” as she pulls the blankets back up where I can reach them.
I can't look at her then, because obviously I did but she's trying to not blame me, but it is my fault, so she should just, “...okay. Sorry.”
“You were having a nightmare,” she continues, quietly, getting closer and then stopping as though something might bite her, “It's not your fault. I'm not just going to lie there and ignore you.”
Is that what...? Simon yelling at me to shut the fuck up is more, and maybe there were a couple of occasions with Carolina, was she trying to be comforting? I just remember mumbled slurriness and a hand sort of shoving me back into bed and covering me with blankets and patting me. Yes, because now is the time to think about this compared to—Julia knows more about what normal is supposed to be like, and she's fiddling with the edge of the blanket. You've been quiet too long and that has to be you that's sliding sideways. Julia is much more upright.
“Woah, hey,” she guides me down to the pillow and being more flat on the bed.
“Thanks,” I tell her.
“Well,” she gives a slight laugh, “You're already in the bed. You did the hard work there.”
“No, I mean for disrupting your sleep to deal with me.”
“And I'll do it again,” did she just kiss my forehead? She's really close, leaning over, hugging may as well be, messing with sheets and pillows, “If that's what you need.”
I hear murmurings outside and I want to see what's going on but my eyes don't want to open. I shift around moving the covers so that my ears are clearer. Who else would it be but Nate and Julia? There's something about boards or shooting? I'm not sure. Come on...I need to get up.
“Oh, you are awake,” Julia's voice, and then no, Nate's hands helping me into a more sitting position.
Now my eyes are agreeing to open and I see Julia's digging around for something in a drawer and then she says she'll be right back and goes into the bathroom.
“How're you feeling?” Nathan asks. I make what apparently passes for a verbal shrug he says and then goes, “That good?”
“It's been worse,” I point out.
He gets me water which is appreciated. I didn't realize how thirsty I was until I was having to make conversation, “Do you want to go back to sleep?” he asks, “Or were you up for doing something until the time that the rest of us normally turn in?”
I give an actual shrug then, “Distractions are good, I guess. Better than just sitting here given I imagine downstairs is full of your Dad.”
“Yeah, that's for sure,” he says.
Julia comes out of the bathroom in pajamas. Stay good. Stay good, “Board game, then?” she asks.
“Okay?” I'm not entirely sure what that means but I don't want to say so. It sounds familiar. Like I should know.
Nathan disappears out of the door for a moment and returns with a flat box and then I remember Carolina yelling in Spanish and accusing people of cheating because she hadn't put the right things in the tiny envelope. It's easier to read instructions when you're sober. The game was free though.
“Oh, right, like Clue.”
“Well, this is Chutes and Ladders,” he says, “but yeah. We figured it wouldn't be so taxing on the brain,” he bonks me gently on the head with the box.
“Gee, thanks,” I tell him.
Julia pulls over the chair that Nathan was sitting on yesterday so they can set the board up on it, “I'm going to be the spiral shell,” she declares, and hands Nathan a small black button. I pull myself up into a better sitting position, “Which leaves this piece for you,” she hands me a small pebble with a shell glued to it, “The wheat penny is Garland's,” she explains in hushed tones, “unless you have something you'd like to put in to use for you.”
“No, it's fine,” I hand it back to her, “put me at start.”
“It fits you, really,” Nate says, teasing, “You're stubborn as a rock.”
“What does that say about you button with nothing to button?”
“...so what does the shell say about me?” Julia asks. There's that challenging tone to her voice. One wrong word and someone's getting cut.
“You like pointy things?” I offer, hopefully.
She considers this for a moment. Nate watches as though this might be my last moments on this plane of existence though I somehow doubt Julia would leave him on his own to clean up my body. There's a moment of wondering just how much damage she could do as she mimes stabbing at both of us with the tiny pointed spiral shell and then she says, “Okay, Boss! Spin to see who goes first--”
Except then there's some...bickering over whether it's actually the oldest, or the youngest, or the prettiest, or the person whose house it is, or the oldest but do they mean oldest or who is mature? Because then—(no shut up or Garland will come up here!) the one who starts the game isn't going to be any—you know we'll just spin the dial (how it's supposed to be anyway!) and whoever gets the highest score will be the one who goes first.
Julia sits there shaking her head as I spin, and then Nathan does and she's still shaking her head as she takes her spin and wins, given she has a three, to Nate's two and my whopping one.
“I think it's rigged,” I tell Nathan, “It's your game. It's rigged.”
“If it was my game and I rigged it I would have won, surely,” he says.
“Well, not right away,” I tell him, “You don't win straight off. That arouses too much suspicion. It has to lead up to winning over the course of a few rounds, be all subtle.”
“I'll take that into consideration,” he says.
I can't quite tell if Julia is laughing or not as she moves her piece and then passes the spinner to Nathan for him to take his turn. Much as I hate to admit it I'm glad it's a simple game because every once in a while everything on the board becomes one blur of –
It's the all round body ache that wakes me.
It's mostly dark in the room. No sign of board game or Nate or Julia for that matter. I don't remember the game actually ending. I sit up and look around. Maybe if I just get a little bit—a dumb idea, worst fucking stupid—but it'll make things easier because this is fucking painful and—look, sixty fucking ibuprofen or one tiny, tiny little hit?
I'm out of the bed and trying to go across the room but my legs don't want to work right and if I bash into something I might wake up Julia whose probably on the floor—where is she anyway? The bathroom? The light's not on...I crouch down, and what the fuck am I doing anyway?
I lean against the side of the bed, sitting. I'm supposed to be getting clean, not sneaking out somewhere...okay, deep breath and get back in bed.
Get back in bed, Crocker.
Get. Back. In. Bed.
Get. Back.
And yet I'm crawling across the floor again. The door is this way, and...shit what—idiot! There's a questioning, murmuring mumble from the huddled bundle I just bashed into that was curled up in front the door in the mostly dark.
“Sorry,” I say, “Sorry,” Tell her you got lost trying to find the bathroom...that's twenty feet away at most? Right...
“Duke?” She rolls over a little, “Duke...what's going on?”
“I...was...wanted to leave,” I admit, sitting up and pulling my legs towards my chest. It's getting cold again and my shoulders hurt.
“You gotta stay, Boss,” she says, moving around in the sleeping bag. It makes her look sort of like a worm, “Gotta stay.”
I nod against my knees. Fuck, what am I doing? I can't explain this to her? She crawls closer to me and I lean over on to the floor trying to ignore the voice that's still yelling at me to ignore her and leap for the door, and down the stairs because what the fuck does she know? It won't take much, and I know it's right. It won't take much. Just losing any shred of respect for me that she and Nate have left.
Ugh.
“It's okay, Boss.”
“No, it's not,” God fucking damn it, am I crying again?
She pulls me into a hug, arms out of the sleeping bag, “It will be. We'll get you through this. Okay?”
Sure. Sure.
“Okay?”
I nod against her and feel her brushing my head with one hand, “Okay,” I answer, as I hear the sleeping bag unzipping.
“Okay. Good. I'm going to get you some pain pills and you're going to take some and I'm not going to hear any arguments about this because you're already miserable and I don't think either of us wants that to get any worse.”
I nod.
“Good,” she says, getting up. I hear things rattling about and then water running in the bathroom, and then she's crouching down next to me. I pull myself up, carefully. She doesn't have anything with her which is—I thought she was getting pills, “Come on, Boss,” she says, “Let's get you back to bed, and then you can take things and get all toasty.”
Whatever, so long as I stop hurting. I let her help me stand up, and we go the few feet to the bed and I sit down in the hole I made throwing the covers about. She hands me the pills to take and holds the glass for me to drink from and makes sure I've swallowed them, and then I lay down. The bed is really cold still, but we have plenty of blankets, something I know from the previous day, and she brings me several of them and then sits down next to me, pulling the desk chair over and brushing hair back away from my face so it's not sticking to me and I'm not eating it.
“Thanks.”
“Well, it wouldn't do for us to get you clean and you to choke to death on your own hair,” she points out.
“Yeah,” I manage a slight laugh, but it hurts, but no and at least I'm not as cold.
“It will be okay,” she tells me, leaning down close. She reaches through the blankets to take one of my hands with the one of hers that's not been brushing my hair free of my face. Then I could—this time I really could swear she kisses me on the forehead, “the pills will kick in soon and you can get some more sleep.”
“Good,” I admit, “I am tired.”
“I'm sure...” brush, “but it'll be fine.”
“I'm sorry I woke you.”
“No,” she says, “That was good. It's better that than you break your neck going downstairs, or worse wake Garland.”
“Right.”
“Now, come on, Boss. Just close your eyes.”
Uggggggh. Why didn't I leave last night? Oh, right. I was an idiot and talked myself out of it, and got back in bed. Fuck. I need to...I fail at being quiet untangling myself from the mountain of blankets and crap that are around me on the bed.
“Boss?” Julia. Shit, “Where are you going? You need the bathroom? I can get Nate to help you seem sore--”
No shit I'm sore. You didn't let me go anywhere.
I'm tempted to flop back down but then I'll just have to sit back up again.
“No. I don't need to bathroom,” I turn around on the bed.
“Okay, then,” she says, from the chair by the desk, “What do you need?”
“To go downstairs...” That should be safe, right? Fuck, is Garland still here?
“Why?” she asks.
God damn it. Why am I getting the twelfth degree? “Because I want to go downstairs! Is that a crime now?”
“No,” she says, with this infuriating tone, “It's just...” okay...decide what you're going to say then. I shift myself around some more, “...there's nothing for you downstairs that can't be brought upstairs.”
That is so not the point. I run my hands through my hair. Okay, you'll make a better argument if you can fucking stand up without falling over. Come on. I turn slightly and push up off the bed, and then okay, standing, and Julia's looking at me like now what?
“Okay, so...not downstairs,” I tell her putting my hands up and thankfully staying up right, “I need to go, okay?” Not okay, I can tell by her face.
“Oh, you want to leave?” her tone is not good, “You want to leave and find some heroin that you'll buy with...what?” I won't need much I can snag five bucks—ten easy. That's no problem, what is is the no longer happy, approaching furious tiny girl stalking across the room towards me, “And then you'll get high somewhere and Nate will have to call his dad to find you before Simon turns you into roadkill and I'll be grounded from every seeing you again—is that what you want?”
I fall back to sitting on the bed, “You don't understand—it'll just be...”
“And that's assuming you don't fall down the stairs and break your neck and leave me and Nate with options of calling his Dad--”
“Now you're just being crazy!”
“You're in no position to be calling anyone crazy,” she retorts arms folded, “Seriously, you want to leave us with the options of calling his Dad and my Mom and explaining why you were here, or trying to sneak your corpse out--
“You don't want me to break my neck—you help me downstairs--”
“--and back onto your boat and setting it to sail off into the sunset knowing that unless we also started a fire our fingerprints and hair and shit is going to be all over the scene and we could go to jail for killing you. Is that what you want?”
I shake my head, “No, seriously—help me downstairs, no falling, no one murders anyone and that's and I just—five dollars that's all I have to--”
“No!” she says, “Yes, I don't want you to break your neck, but you're going to KEEP YOUR ASS IN THAT BED that's how it's not going to happen because if you try to leave this room, Duke Crocker! You WILL find out how hard I can hit you with a chemistry book!” she shoves my shoulders and for half a moment I'm going to push back but I just—I can't—this is Julia, maybe I can--
“...I just need a little bit--” I plead, “It'll just—just to cut through--”
But it doesn't. She pushes me harder on to the bed, “Hang me for mutiny later, Boss, but you're not leaving until you come back to your senses even if I have sit on you for—I don't even know,” and pins my lower body with hers by sitting on my thighs.
Seriously?
Nate opens the door about then, as I'm debating how best to get her off me given the way she's pinning my legs I can't entirely roll, and when I try to move her with my arms she neatly deflects me with her own.
“You don't understand,” and now it's really fucking hurting. She might as well be sandpaper and spikes which sucks because I don't know how many dreams I've had that are, well, 50% like this anyway, much less percent once Nate actually opens the door.
“What's going on?” he asks, “I heard the yelling I was...going to offer help, but...now I'm just...confused.”
“Get her off me,” I plead.
He looks at Julia instead.
“He's being irrational. I think it's time for his medicine.”
“Isn't it...” Nate comes into the room and looks around at the clock on one of the dressers, “...not due yet?”
“I think there's some wiggle room,” Julia says, “it's only a little over 30 minutes.”
“You really think--” he starts, looking from her to me and back again as I was trying again to get away from her and she deflects me.
“Why don't you tell him how unreasonable I'm being, Boss?” she says, suddenly sounding weirdly cheerful.
“Please, let go of me. Let me up,” I beg her, hoping that with Nate here she might actually do it, or he might convince her that rather than this medicine bullshit she should just do that.
“Whyyyyy?” she draws it out.
“Because it hurts...” I point out. Freaking sand paper.
“It wouldn't hurt if you stopped struggling.”
It wouldn't hurt if you'd let me do what I need to do, “That's not what I'm talking about,” I tell her, keeping my teeth gritted, “It hurt before...and you still wouldn't let me out of here.”
“You're a witness, Nate. Duke doesn't want to be in bed with a girl!” she turns slightly, “But then again, I don't count,” she mutters.
“Yeah,” Nate cuts in, “I think we can push things ahead,” he goes over to the dresser and starts rustling through the things in there.
“Fuck you,” I tell him, “Fuck you both.”
“Are you sure about that, Boss?” Julia asks.
I'm not walking in to that. I just try to lift up. She's really strong. She shifts her position on me and it's like grating the pants against my legs.
“Just stop--” I tell her.
“If you still hate me when this is all over call me a mutineer and make me walk the plank,” she tells me.
“I don't want that shit.”
“Well, that's all you're getting. You're not leaving.”
Suddenly Nathan is hauling me up into sitting position, “I will force these pills down your throat if I have to,” he waves a fist in my face, as Julia shifts further up my body and grabs my hands and holds them crossed on my body, “Stop being a whiny bitch! You can beat this, Crocker!”
I open my mouth and he puts the pills in and follows it with a glass of water from somewhere and waits until I swallow and then lowers me back.
“Let's just talk about something,” Julia says, “Distraction. Until things kick in and you feel better.”
Right, that's gonna help me right now, “About what exactly?”
“You usually have some great stories about things you've done while you've been away...” Nathan says, as Julia once again stops me from moving but I don't want to think about anywhere I've been lately. I want to be away.
“Anywhere I've been lately I've been high,” I snap, “That's not what I need to be thinking about, is it?”
“Fine!” Julia snaps, “You don't have to talk. You're just going to lay there and shut up while we do some actual studying, given I do actually need to do that while I'm here.”
Whatever. I shove myself down into the pillows and will not think about the fact that she's sitting right there around my crotch, but about the fact that everything hurts.
“You're still willing to help, right, Nathan?” she asks him.
“Of course,” he says, of course. Eye roll.
“Then my Chemistry text book and notes are over there,” she shifts slightly and points to the sleeping bag bundled up by the opposing dresser. He goes over like an obedient little golden retriever and gets the things and then pulls the chair further down the bed so he can sit level with Julia and they can talk over their stupid school work. I can't move my hands to block them out because she still has hold. Nathan is holding the book and flipping through pages and talking about things.
This is all such bullshit. At least I don't have to look at them.
Assholes keeping me here. Stopping me from—shit--what was I trying to do? It hits me after a while. I realize because I'm facing the digital clock and the numbers keep blurring in and out that I'm the idiot. Idiot. Idiot. I'm the asshole. I am. They're doing what I asked them to do.
Saving me from being a fuck up. More of a fuck up. How did I wind up with friends like this?
And Julia—there is a Julia sitting on my junk. Shit. Think about what an asshole you've been and how pissed she must be at you. Listen to the confusing as fuck talk. Don't think about the tiny hot chick on you. That's the wrong thing to—you're an asshole—what shit were you saying to them earlier? You fucking asshole. They're trying to stop you screwing yourself up and you're cussing them out and acting like they're the terrible people.
“Yeah, that's right,” Nathan is telling Julia, “It would be H-C-L and N-C-3-O-2.”
“It would?”
“Yes,” he says, “Trust yourself with these things. That's five in a row now I think it's safe to say you've gotten this section.”
“Woohoo!” she says, “Stupid equation balancing.”
There seems to be a lull so I plunge into it before I can chicken out, “I'm sorry,” I tell them possibly a little too loudly, “I was being a dick, an asshole and you were just,” and Julia has released my hands and shifted around and is hugging me, which is a relief because it means she's not sitting on my groin directly as things were starting to get twitchy there and I would have had something else to apologize for in a few moments. You were being an asshole. Think about that. Think about her weird uncles at the paper place, and Simon, thinking about Simon, that's decidedly not sexy.
“It's okay,” she says.
“No, it's not,” I tell her over her shoulder before she lets me go, “You guys are trying to help me and I was--”
“If getting off drugs were easy it wouldn't be an addiction,” Nathan says.
Julia sits back on the bed and I roll onto my side, facing the wall, in case anything does become incriminating, “I guess,” is all I can really say to that one and Nathan snorts in response to that. It sounds like there's some sort of exchange going on between the two of them and then Nate excuses himself downstairs to make everyone something to eat.
Julia is sitting at the bottom of the bed by my feet, “I don't have to walk the plank, do I?”
I turn carefully so I can see her, “No, I-thank you for your persistent valor and your...um—unending ...determination in the face of...compromised? Boss.”
She waves a hand at me, “I would have kept that up even if you somehow did get downstairs and I'd had to knock you out and drag you back to my house and keep you bound and gagged in the basement so Mom didn't see you,” she says, defiantly.
I'm not sure there's anything I can say to that right now given the idea is more than a little arousing and that's the opposite of what I'm trying to do.
“Of course that would have been a lot less comfortable for you.”
“Yeah, this is true,” mrgl, and oh, man why is that so—think about something else. I should give her her present soon, maybe? Double as belated birthday and sorry you've been having to put up with me being an asshole. Not going to try and grab it right now though she doesn't need to see... I can ask Nate to get it for me when he comes back in don't have to move then and show her that I'm so excited—in case she's...hopefully I can calm things down by then.
Nathan comes in the room with some plates and bowls of food. I'm not sure what's in the bowls but it looks to be some sandwiches on the plates.
He looks between us for a moment, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Julia says, “I was just making sure I wasn't going to have to walk the plank.”
I carefully shift myself around into somewhat of a sitting position, adjusting the comforter in my lap at the same time, as Nathan sets things down on the dresser, “Hey, um...you remember that...thing we put in my bag, the...from my trip?” I ask Nate.
“Sure...” he says, and goes to wherever they'd stashed my bag and brings it over to where I am setting it on the bed by the pillow. There's another series of looks between him and Julia and then he goes, “You know I'm not really hungry at the moment so I'll just go...check that we've got enough stuff for dinner and maybe run to the store,” he gives a sort of salute with two fingers and disappears out the door.
Julia turns to me. She looks excited but at the same time it seems like she might be more nervous than me which is a little strange. We'd talked about pretending it was still her birthday...should I have given Nate money for cake is that what was going on there? Get the box, idiot. I unzip the bag and find it which isn't too hard considering a lot of the clothes and things have been taken out of the bag. It's a brown cardboard box given I don't exactly keep wrapping paper on the boat and didn't have time to buy any, and the guy who sorted this out for me has written his name and address on the bottom should I ever be back his way and want something else and then put the box in my lap as I turn around.
She's looking at me expectantly and there's a moment of jump for both of us when the bag falls onto the floor.
Deep breath, “So, um...Happy Birthday belatedly...from Jamaica...” I offer her the box, “I didn't exactly get to wrap--”
“That's okay,” she says, taking it, gingerly and feeling the weight, “Jamaica?”
I nod, “That's where I was—where I had it made.”
“Made?” she fumbles with the flaps a little and then gets it open, and is presented with several layers of tissue paper, “Tissue paper?” she says, with a laugh, “Just what I always wanted.”
“It can be very useful sometimes in fire starting,” I tell her as she opens the layers of tissue paper and finds the carving inside. The little gasp she lets out as she lifts it out of the box gives me relief because it sounds like a positive gasp, and she turns the falcon around in her hands, taking in it's pose, wings spread landing on the branch perch that is also carved from the piece of wood. The falcon's chest is carved hollow in a sort of knot work with another falcon inside.
She turns it around in her hands again, “I love it,” she says, running her hand up the length of one wing, “thank you,” she puts it back in the box and gently puts the tissue paper back over it, shifting up on the bed closer to me and putting the box down in my lap. Suddenly she's leaning up and over the top of the box so that our faces are level. I'm about to ask what but then she's kissed me and my brain has shorted out for a moment, and the only thing I can really tell other than that my cheeks are reddening is that she just kissed me—but why...?
She's—was that just a thank you kiss? Have I been ignoring—I mean...is Nate right? But I'm a stupid junkie asshole...
Oh, crap she's staring—how long has she been looking at me?
She seems like she might be blushing though. Relationship things are so much easier when you don't give a crap, “...I wanted my first kiss to be with you...on my sixteenth birthday.”
Wait...what? Is that why she asked...? So that's...
“...it's okay if you don't think of me like that,” she's staring at the wall.
So, wait...think of, “You..? Me..?” get out actual words can you. I carefully reach towards her hand, even though I've just been, “even...?” is all I actually get out though.
She nods, and takes my hand. No. I'm still out cold from the pills they gave me before, that has to be what all this is. It's good though. I have a chance to not be a total asshole, right?
“So...it's probably better you weren't there and Mom didn't witness this.”
Considering I can feel what's going on in my crotch area right now. That's definitely true, though there's blankets and present on top of there still so there's that, “Yeah, I'd have probably been kicked out of your house or castrated or...both...considering...” I tsch myself, let's not get into that, “but...I've had a...” man, how do I...? even explain... “had a...thing for you...”
She startles up to stare at me, “But I'm--”
“What?” I ask when she stops her sentence just as suddenly as it started.
She doesn't explain though instead she just plants her mouth on mine again and starts to kiss. Okay, no, this feels like there's really lips on mine, and the stirring below. Yeah, this isn't a dream, I put one hand on the back of her head and tilt hers slightly so that the angle is better and gently tease her mouth open with my tongue, and then show her how things can go from there. She follows my lead, and our tongues tease each other back and forth, hands tangling in each others hair. Somewhere in the exploration she moves the present box behind her and we close the distance a little, but I'm trying to behave and keep my hands from roving too far.
I'm not sure how long it's been but then there's a cough and knock at the door and Nathan's there looking kinda smug—more than kinda smug really.
“Shut it,” I tell him when he comes in the room with that grin. Julia turns round slightly curled up, chewing on one of her fingers, and maybe grinning a little I can't see her face, but I feel it.
“I'm not saying anything,” he replies, “I'm just glad I didn't come back to World War 3 again. That's it entirely.”
“Sure it is,” Julia says.
“Why don't you check the things I got downstairs?” Nathan asks her, “I'll make sure Duke's sorted out with the bathroom before we eat—I have a feeling he needs to go,” he gives me a look.
I can't meet his look for a minute, but obviously he saw what was going on.
“That's okay,” Julia says, “I need it too but I'll just go downstairs in the “public” one, and then stop by the kitchen,” she hops up, and then gently picks up the box of falcon and moves it to the dresser by her things and sets it down before going downstairs.
Nathan pushes the door shut and just gives me a look.
I don't say anything for a moment.
“Well?” he says, arms folded.
“Fine,” I say, “You were right. I'm sorry.”
“You are sorry, for many reasons,” he says, “I'm just—please tell me you can actually get yourself across the room right now. I'd rather not...”
“I should be okay.”
“Good.”
I'm glad too, really. It's weird enough that he knows for sure what I'm doing in the bathroom right now instead of just odd jokes and posturing that have happened here and there, but damn it I'm fit to explode between everything but things are evened out enough with symptoms and body right now I can actually balance to stand up in the shower so that solves many problems.
Julia is back before I'm out of the bathroom. I can hear her talking with Nathan, and there's a moment of disbelief before I open the door, that this whole thing was just nothing; but there she is giving me a different sort of smile, and there's the box not in my bag, but on the dresser, and there's Nathan still looking smug and shaking his head at the both of us.
When I sit back down on the bed, Julia jumps up next to me and nestles her head against my shoulder. There's a hesitant look for a moment from Nathan but then he just shakes his head and laughs.
“What?” Julia says.
“Nothing,” he replies, “You're just cute together.”
Julia sticks her tongue out at him, “You okay with this?” I realize she's looking up at me.
“Oh...yeah,” I nod, “I mean I don't want to go parade in front of your Mom if it's actually going to get you disowned but I'm happy to know that you actually...” I run out of words to explain the rest of that, she's blushing though it's cute. I boop her nose.
“Not disowned,” she explains, “Probably grounded until I'm eighteen though.”
“I'm not sure if that's better or worse.”
“Worse. If I was disowned Garland would take me in and I could still see you,” she says.
“Right...”
This loud, dramatic mournful sound escapes from her, “Damn it. I'm a girl!”
I wind up laughing, “...I'm not sure how to take that...”
“I swore I'd never go all soft and mushy over any guy, like my brain was made of chocolate and it melted,” she looks at me furious but not furious, “This is your fault, Boss.”
“My fault?” I ask, innocently, looking at Nate for help; but Nathan just puts his hands up like please leave me out of this I'd like to just leave altogether really but I live here. He's also eating so there's that too.
“Yeah...” she toys with the hand of mine that she's holding on to, “you weren't supposed to actually like me.”
“Oh...” I laugh a little at that considering the many, many conversations that Nathan and I have had over the past year or more, “...well, Nate knows how I thought you couldn't possibly...”
“Why would I?” she asks.
I snort at that. Really? I'm sure my man whore skankness is all over the school. How many STDs do I supposedly have now? And what she just said about Eleanor...
“That doesn't stop any of the other girls.”
Ah, right....the other girls who I don't give a shit about, explaining that is really going to make things better there, “...that's not...” how to get that out without...
“I know it's just sex,” she says, which makes me slightly more curious in the fact that she's still interested in me considering Eleanor, “I don't know that they all know that, though.”
“There's been a couple of...but--” I pause because that's a wait...what? With people she's been dealing with at school and how? What have they been—? But at the same time the more important thing is that I'm getting things straightened out with her about anything that could possibly be going on with the two of us, “...well, that's not what I was hoping for...with you...so...” damn it, words are so much easier when you're practically conning someone into sleeping with you, “...and with all that other I wasn't sure you'd be up for...”
Her eyes are suddenly huge, “Really?!?” she says, her voice squeaky, “You want more?”
Nathan coughs while I'm trying to come up with ways to put it in words again. It's so difficult for me because I want to explain it properly with no way for confusion but I've never said anything like that before. So, the interruption is both welcome and not.
“You guys should eat,” he says, pointing to the food by us.
Julia picks up one of the bowls and mashes at whatever is in it with a fork and then offers me some, shaking it carefully in front of my mouth so that nothing falls off. I take a bite. There's ham and pasta with a thick cheesy sauce, and there's a breadcrumb topping. It's got more flavor to it than just plain mac and cheese though.
I have to put a hand up to my mouth and catch some of the cheese sauce that dribbles down, “It's good,” I tell her once I'm able to talk.
“You like it?” she asks, there's some sort of thing coming I can tell by the glint in her eye.
“Yes.”
“Good. I made it. Does that mean I'll make a good wife?”
It's a good thing my mouth is empty. I might have choked.
Nathan laughs, “You brought that on yourself, really.”
I would throw something at him but there's nothing really appropriate nearby.
“Well,” she wiggles the fork at me offering another bite.
“I wouldn--” I get out before she shoves more food in my mouth.
“I won't torture you,” she says, “Well, not any more...right now.”
“Thanks, I think,” I tell her after I swallow the mouthful, “Maybe I can just feed myself?”
She shakes her head, “I don't know if I can trust you with a fork,” she says but she has a teasing tone, “you might try to stab us and run.”
“I don't think that's going to happen.”
“You don't think,” she points out.
“You don't want to be fed food by the girl you've been--” Nathan starts but I shoot him a look.
Julia sets the fork down at that though, “What was that about?”
“I don't want him to rub in how long he's been...” I sigh, “how long he's been saying things were...a thing, and I've been saying they weren't.”
“How long?” she asks, looking between the two of us.
I let out a breath, given it's been long enough it's going to be hard to sort out in my brain.
“Let's just say it was before he could sail off anywhere in the Ursa,” Nathan says.
Julia lets it go but she does then offer me another bite of the casserole which I take. I point out that she should take some herself which she does, and for a little while it's just alternate forkfuls of food and Nathan finishing his own food and then cleaning things up while Julia gets me another round of medicine and then sits down with me on the bed.
“Come on,” she says, “I'll lay up here next to you and you can rest on me.”
“Is that okay?”
“Nathan's not going to say anything to my Mom. Are you?” She pulls herself up on the bed into the position she talked about.
I pull myself around and follow her but don't rest on her yet, “I think if I could never talk to your Mom it would be a good idea.”
“Well, if you really want more like you said earlier that can't happen,” she takes my hand and sort of rocks it back and forth, “You never me answered me about that...”
“Words about things...aren't easy for me.”
“Things?” she says, with a slight edge.
“See? Already screwing things up,” I purse my lips, “but...I do—I do want to be with you,” I squeeze her hand, “I just—I figured with things now especially...and I mean I wasn't sure—I always told Nate that there'd be pitchforks and things.”
She gives a slight laugh, “That is a possibility, and I mean...there is that age difference for one...and you are—well, that Crocker boy.”
“Yes, the evil Crocker boy...” with the Troubled-murdering family.
“What was that look about?” she asks.
“I...was just thinking about Simon.”
“Don't worry about him right now,” she says, putting her hand to my chin, “and if you're going off thinking about the drugs thing, don't either. You're cleaning up. We're helping you. It'll be in the past soon. It...it was just a hiccup. Everyone makes mistakes. The important thing is what you do to fix it.”
How are you so...I can feel tears again.
“Duke...” she puts her hand on my cheek now, and then kisses the spot above my nose between my eyes, and brings my head down to rest against her chest, “...it's okay.”
“I know,” I tell her, “I haven't felt like it will be before.”
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