4: Ulysses

Trent would have wanted to comment how her parents are strangely unperceptive. I mean you'd have to be damn good sleepers not to hear Daria scramble out of the house in her ubiquitous heavy boots and not very graceful walk. But he decided he liked that about Daria's parents and that it was to his benefit, after all.

Not even when he started his engine which usually caused a big ruckus, was there any movement from the house. Daria got into the car without so much as a look back.

Guess she had been wrong about them. They hadn't even stirred.

'Okay, let's make this fast and easy,' she whispered, throwing her backpack in the backseat.

Trent chuckled and coughed. 'Nice choice of words, Daria.'

'Yeah, it's after two a.m. after all. I can only talk in punch lines,' she said sleepily.

Trent didn't know if he should consider this a joke or not. Normally he would and he'd smile about it and call Daria funny, but now he noticed she really looked tired and worn-out. His smile sobered. He looked blankly ahead.

'You okay, though? You look kinda...exhausted.'

He had a hard time pronouncing that long word. He hadn't used it in such a long time.

Daria looked at him slightly surprised.

'Me? I'm as fresh as a daisy,' she said in a dead-pan voice.

'School working you too much?' he continued, ignoring her comment.

'Trent, it's Lawndale,' she said rolling her eyes.

He nodded, his hand playing with the buttons of the radio stations. He was only met with static.

'Then it must not be school related,' he said.

'How perceptive of you,' she joked.

Trent felt this was more than a jab. Her sarcasm, though pleasant and entertaining, could be slightly acerbic, sometimes. But Daria didn't care whether he noticed things or not, did she? She wasn't bothered by his nonchalance, was she?

'So, what's making you feel down?' he drawled.

'Oh, a chockfull of things. Like my computer. The guy's not letting me write. And my toaster. She's not letting me eat. Or the...'

'So...Janey wouldn't be on that list, right?' he asked tentatively.

'Jane?' Daria echoed surprised. 'Why would she be?'

'Uh, cuz she's your best friend,' he reasoned, rubbing his back awkwardly.

'So?'

She wasn't making it any easier for him.

'You guys seem stressed. Like something's up.'

She remained silent. He bit his tongue, peeling off some skin. The cracked lips bled into his mouth. He was thirsty.

'Can you hand me a red tape from the glove compartment?' he asked, trying to get back to a neutral ground.

She opened it and shuffled through the junk in it, trying to find the tape he was asking for.

'Wow, there's a newspaper here from 1989. Did you know that?'

Trent smiled and extended his hand towards the glove compartment. He was going to look for it himself but since he was staring at the road ahead he couldn't prevent his hand from accidentally brushing against her knee. And of course she was wearing that damn skirt.

There was no way he could now continue looking for his tape. There was no way he was looking her in the eye. It was just too embarrassing.

He pulled his hand away and glued it to the steering wheel. Yes, he usually drove with one hand but right now he wanted to see that hand in front of him, where it couldn't cause any more trouble.

What if Daria now thought that his intention had been to feel her up?

He shook his head annoyed. No, no, she wouldn't think that. She wouldn't think he was a pervert.

She knew he respected boundaries. She knew he was not like that all.

'Uh, Trent? Do you know where you're going?'

Damn. He'd just realized. He was driving like an idiot around town. He remembered what he was supposed to do.

The night around him had grown darker and the suburbs had acquired a red shade of dawn.

'Right. Janey. We have to get to Tom's. Er, lead the way, Daria.'

'I never get tired of that sentence,' she said half-smirking. 'Okay, take a left here.'

Trent felt a bit more relaxed. She didn't seem to have noticed the hand incident. She was quite unfazed actually. He thanked his stars.

'Still need that tape?' she suddenly asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

He winced and shook his head. He should have known he couldn't just get away with that.

The lights were off.

There was definitely no sign of anyone being awake.

The house looked unoccupied.

This got him even more concerned. If it looked so quiet it was because they were sleeping.

Maybe together.

Maybe more than sleeping.

Maybe Tom and Janey were in the middle of it right now. Just as he was parking in front of his huge tall mansion. Just now.

On second thoughts, why wouldn't Janey want to sleep here?

It beat the old house by a milestone.

Someone was touching his little sister. It sounded worse than it was, but it felt real. All of Janey's previous boyfriends had only got to second base, at the most.

Tom was changing the game.

'Trent? What are you doing?' Daria asked, her eyes filled with something akin to curiosity...or concern?

He was stuck. He felt stuck. He couldn't get out of the car. He didn't want to care. It was better not to care. He had done that before and he had been happy.

Only he had been miserable. He loved Jane. He loved her. But he tried not to. He tried not to get involved. Becayse when he did, he lost it. When he made a step forwards, he was pushed two steps back and it didn't make any sense to keep trying when everything was against him.

He had no energy for this. He wanted to accept this. Janey was a big girl. She'd be safe. He trusted her.

He should just relax. He should have never gone out that night. He should have stayed in bed.

He regretted driving here and bothering Daria.

He felt bad for not having a cell phone to call Jane and tell her he was okay with whatever she wanted to do.

'Trent! Wake up before I slap you with this 1989 newspaper,' Daria said crisply.

'I'm awake,' he said quietly, rubbing his forehead. 'I'm just...ah, I'm a bit down myself.'

He got out of the car and walked up to the front door, Daria tagging right behind him.

He knocked at first.

Then he waited for a full-minute before he rang the doorbell. There was no answer.

He waited two minutes, then he rang again. Complete silence.

Daria sighed and walked back to the car, leaning against it.

'It's a big house,' she said lamely. 'I bet they hear it half an hour later.'

But Trent was feeling rather anxious. He beat his fist lightly on the door. His heart was racing for some reason.

And he realized that it wasn't because he thought Janey was here with Tom.

It was because she might not be. She might be somewhere else. Somewhere he didn't know.

'We should find a payphone. I'll call Tom's house,' she offered calmly.

His head snapped a little. That was an idea.

'I think I saw one further up the road. It's a short walk,' she said.

'I'll come with you.'

It was a cold night, despite what the weather forecast had predicted. He swore he saw some frozen ditches by the road.

Tom's house was on the other side of town, in a residential neighbourhood that looked cut out of a car commercial. But it was a tasteful commercial. The houses tracing the main road were not white-picket-fenced, they were solid red-bricked, white-washed, coloured-skewed, trashy-looking interiors, semi-transparent curtains, no-great-big chandeliers.

From what he could tell. His mind was thinking in composed words.

The walk proved to be longer than imagined. He could hear her buckles swishing in the dead air.

He could also hear her trembling. Well, not literally, but her body was making that furled noise that meant she was cold.

Damn, he didn't even have a jacket with him. Just his t-shirt and an over-shirt that barely kept him warm.

He had woken her at an ungodly hour just to have her suffer through cold.

The night sky looked like the cement. The road seemed endless.

Daria suddenly tripped over a large stone and fell to her knees on the ground. He quickly crouched down to her.

'Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?'

'I'm okay,' she said, standing on all four. 'But that stone won't be.'

He smiled. 'Let me see the knees.'

'No, really, I'm fine...'

'That was a pretty bad fall. You might've got the skin bruised.'

He offered his hand. She stared at it for a second, before taking it. He lifted her up and half-dragged her to the kerb. They sat down.

It was dark and he couldn't see very well so he didn't think it was a big deal to check her knees.

He was touching them again, but this time voluntarily. It didn't feel as awkward.

They were a bit red and sore and the skin was slightly peeled-off, but nothing big.

He took out a piece of cloth from his pocket and placed it on her knee to stop the droplets of blood.

'Thanks,' she said softly, staring at his hand placed tightly over her knee.

'This should stop the bleeding,' he said pensively.

He felt the blood pulsating under her skin.

'I'll wait up here. You can go ahead and find that payphone,' she suggested.

No way. Are you mental, Daria?

'Nah, I'm not leaving you here,' he said instead.

'It's a safe neighbourhood. And it's that time of the night when even the rapists are asleep,' she joked.

Trent winced and looked away.

'I didn't mean...that,' she said after half a second.

'It's fine. I'll just sit here with you and wait,' Trent offered. He finally pulled away his hand from her knee.

As they sat there, they didn't notice that someone had turned on the lights in the house behind them.

Maybe because the light was soft and imperceptible, but they didn't even turn.

Only when they heard a voice coming from afar did they make an effort to look.

A middle-aged man with a bald head was walking towards them from the house, holding a flashlight.

'Can I help you youngsters? You've been sitting there for a while.'

Trent got up and stood in front of Daria.

'My friend and I were searching for a payphone actually. We need to make a phone call. She tripped and got hurt,' he explained languidly.

He felt irritated. He shouldn't have to explain. The kerb was free for everyone.

'Oh, were you trying to call your parents?' he asked concerned.

'Actually,' Daria intervened, 'we were trying to call the Sloanes. His sister is there, but no one is answering the door.'

'Oh, the Sloanes! Very good people, yes we know them well! We had them over for dinner. Well, you can come in and call them if you'd like,' he offered, smiling kindly.

Trent didn't like his smile at all. Daria looked reluctant too, but she nodded her head. So they followed the man inside his large house.

It was very warm and cosy inside. The two lit lights in the hallway gave the adjoining rooms a hollow feel. As if there should be something more than emptiness.

The man told them to make themselves comfortable in the lounge. He would bring them some water and the phone.

'Oh and maybe some clean bandages for you, Miss...?'

'Daria. I would be very grateful, thank you,' she said meekly.

They both sat on the green ottoman in the heavily decorated salon. Trent was holding his forehead in his hands.

'Trent, remind me again how I ended up here. One minute I was sleeping in my comfy bed and the next I'm in a strange man's house, with my knees torn.'

Despite the outcome of the evening, Trent felt like laughing.

Yes, things were looking rough, but on the bright side...

'You gotta admit, it's kind of funny,' he said hoarsely.

'I don't see the humour,' she said, but she smiled despite herself.

A grandfather clock in a corner showed it was almost four in the morning.

The man came back with the phone and a stack of clean bandages, but upon inspecting her knee he said:

'I think you should use the bathroom and clean up the spot a bit.'

Daria looked down and felt embarrassed. One or two drops of blood had fallen on the carpet.

She mumbled an apology. The man smiled and waved his hand. 'I'm a dentist. I see that all the time.'

Somehow this didn't make Trent feel any better.

'I'll go with her to help her,' he said quickly, not wishing to leave her alone and not wanting to stay there with the man either.

'Up the stairs, third room to the right,' he instructed them. 'And please be quiet, my wife is sleeping.'

They couldn't be quieter even if they tried. They were as quiet as mice. Daria particularly. Trent felt so out of place he didn't question her.

They bumped into each other on the corridor because it was quite dark. He steadied her from behind.

She shrugged it off.

They both entered the bathroom. It was painted in bright green and yellow. It hurt their eyes after all that dark.

Trent sat on the edge of the tub and looked out the window.

Daria opened a cupboard and took out some alcohol. She took some tissues and applied it to her knees. She sat on the toilet seat.

Trent watched her in fascination. He was mesmerised by her slow and precise movements. He tried to remember the last time he was this focused on one thing only.

'Do you think we'll find Janey?' Trent asked.

'I'm pretty sure she's safe and we're being silly,' Daria replied, but her voice wavered. She wasn't so sure.

'Do you think she's at Tom's?'

'Maybe. But I think they might be asleep. Like really asleep. And the Lanes are deep sleepers, as you can surely attest. I think she may have corrupted Tom.'

'I hope so. I mean I hope she's safe,' he said, feeling his arms go weak. He hadn't slept himself for quite some time.

She sighed and took off her glasses. She set them on a small table by the door.

She proceeded to rub her eyes slowly.

Trent thought she looked odd without glasses. As if a part of her was missing completely. At the same time, her small brown eyes looked larger now and more watery.

Maybe it was the fact that they were cooped up in a strange bathroom and Daria looked as tired as he did, but he decided to tell her something.

'I know you had a crush on me.'

The words just flew out of his mouth without him even making an effort to stop himself.

Daria froze on the spot with the tissue on her knee and one hand over her eyes.

She tried to articulate a sentence, but every time she tried, she failed and had to begin again.

She was like a deer caught in the headlights.

At least, that's what Trent saw when he looked into her frightened eyes. Someone truly fragile.

After a minute or so, she stopped pressing the tissues on her knee and applied the bandages instead. She threw the tissues the garbage bin and got up.

She washed her hands and looked in the mirror with a sour expression.

She avoided his eyes. He stared intently at her back.

'We should go,' she said at length. Her voice was so small, he thought it sounded more like a request.

When they came back down, Daria took the phone and dialled Tom's house.

Trent was standing close to her, so he could hear who it was. He had to bend slightly to get close to the receiver. His breath fell down on her long hair like a whisper.

After the eleventh ring, a rough, drowsy foreign voice answered.

It wasn't Tom's. It wasn't Jane's.

'Slo-Sloane residence...How can I...Who is calling?' the voice asked. The accent was Southern.

Trent saw panic spreading over Daria's face.

'I am sorry to call at such a late hour but I was wondering if I could talk to Tom Sloane or Jane Lane. It's kind of serious,' she said.

'Ooh...I'm sorry, but young Mr. Sloane and Miss Lane left the house earlier this e-evening. Mr. Sloane said they were leaving for the Cove. He wanted to show the Miss the place.'

'Oh...right, thanks then. I'm sorry for the bother,' Daria said quickly and shut the phone.

Trent could have mentally kicked himself. He hadn't expected this.

'The Cove? They left for the Cove?' he asked confused.

'I underestimated those two apparently. They're not boring at all,' Daria drawled upset.

'But Janey wrote saying she'd stay over at his place. She didn't mention any Cove...'

'Yeah, trust Jane to do exactly as she says... Damn it. We drove all the way here for nothing. And tomorrow I have school and I'm going to fall asleep on my desk again. Then again, that's no different from what I usually do,' Daria said more to herself.

'I'm really sorry, Daria... I don't suppose you know where this Cove is, do you?'

'Nice try, Trent, but I want to go home now. No more adventures for me tonight,' she replied, looking away. After their little conversation in the bathroom he could see how awkward she felt.

'That's fair, I guess. We should head home. There's not much we can do tonight,' he admitted, shaking his head.

'So, any good news?' the dentist asked as he entered the room carrying two glasses of water.

'Our friends are out apparently,' Daria said sourly. 'We're sorry for the inconvenience. We'll be leaving now. My friend will drive me home.'

'Oh, you've got a car son?' he asked, smiling.

'Just down the road,' Trent explained. 'No one steals it for some reason, so I just leave it where I can.'

The dentist chuckled. 'There aren't any thefts here anyway. Here, have some water.'

'I'm sorry, Sir, but we don't know your name...' Daria said.

'Oh, it's Mr. Williams. I work at Sunny Smiles, if any of you have any dental problems,' he said smiling awkwardly.

'Um, thanks, Mr. Williams. I'll keep that in mind,' Daria replied politely.

'Yeah, thanks for all the help,' Trent added.

They were walking towards Trent's car now, considerably warmer and cleaner thanks to the surprisingly kind neighbour. Trent hadn't expected such a gesture from the upper-crust. He always used to mock them and look down on them for not having the same beliefs and not sharing the same life style as he did, but now he was beginning to doubt his animosity.

Some people out here were decent.

Only when they had arrived back at his car and had got in, did the memory of their exchange in the bathroom resurface with painful alacrity.

The silence that had been natural before, now felt worse than ever, as if a hammer had stopped in mid-air but was going to fall on the head of a nail any moment now.

The air between them was constricted. He felt suffocated. He suspected she felt the same.

Why had he said that? Why? He could have easily shut up.

Why was he torturing both of them?

He turned on the radiator in his car. It got warm quickly. Too warm in fact, since the radiator was broken as was everything, really.

The warmth spread into his toes and filled him with such a good feeling he almost forgot himself.

He tried the engine listlessly. As usual, it was stuck. It needed a bit of encouragement. He tried again, then again.

He figured he needed to get out of the car and give it a bump.

But it was so warm here inside. He was going to ask Daria.

But when he turned his head to look at her he noticed she had fallen asleep in her seat.

Her breaths were shallow and soft. Her face was completely blank.

Her glasses were falling off her nose. He gently took them off and placed them in the pocket of her green jacket, careful not to touch her too much.

He smiled to himself.

She wasn't used to these hours.

Neither was he.

It came as no surprise then that his body stretched out almost imperceptibly and his eyelids fluttered most luridly.

His head fell against the edge of his seat and he slowly but surely fell asleep.

But before they were completely out, his head glided involuntarily towards her shoulder, where it remained stuck between her collarbone and her cheek.

It was almost morning

So, that's a wrap on an extremely long Daria chapter. I hope you liked it. Now would be a good time to hit that button below...hint, hint :D