Chapter Seven – Like a True Doctor

March has so far brought me two things: confusion and headaches.

Although Gabe despises Doctor Gregory Collins with every fiber of his being, he still allows me to converse with him in Resurgam's cafeteria. Gabe is never present whenever I am with his nemesis, but I can tell it frustrates him nevertheless. Or at least I assume that is the reason for his increased number of cigarettes per day. Maybe the large amount of nicotine helps ease the pain of Collins' return or the sorrow of Lisa's death. Although I can't imagine him being that affected by my mother's passing. He hasn't seen her in fifteen years, so I assume any feelings of nostalgia are nonexistent now. Then I remember when he first found me with Collins, however, and the look of desperation and exhaustion in his eyes causes me to question myself yet again.

In the end, I realize that Gabe is a surprisingly complex man.

I try to retrieve some information about Gabe and my mother's relationship from Collins but he knows very little. After Lisa left him he packed his bags and fled the area, never bothering to check in with them because it was just too painful. Even though he cannot answer those questions, he tells fascinating stories about dangerous operations and pranks him and my mother performed when they were children. He speaks so highly of her, and the way his blue eyes sparkle when he reflects on their time together, I know he loves her.

Collins is also interested in my life and listens to my stories about how unreasonable Miss. Piercing and how the swim team may be going to states (I'm not though, due to my absence this year). Throughout our conversations he is always nodding as if he already knows everything, and though it used to irritate me I no longer notice this habit.

Despite my new connection to Doctor Collins, the ache in my chest has only multiplied. I thought talking about my mother was supposed to ease the pain, but all I can think during his near death stories about running from rabid dogs and cliff jumping is that all those life threatening moments finally caught up to her. Her complaints about how I leave the toilet seat up, calling me her baby genius, and hauling me to art films have all vanished. As the weeks drag by I realize that I still feel as empty as the day I watched her coffin dip in the ground like a sinking ship.

On Saturday, March 17th, I pretend that this is just like any other day. I gradually wake up, eat a bland breakfast of Special K, look to see if we have any milk, return to eating my milk-less bowl of Special K, wonder why I even bought Special K, grow a hatred toward Special K, and then resort to flipping through channels on Gabe's crappy T.V., all the while telling myself that everything is fine. Fine fine fine. The anchorman explains how there is a bombing in London, two homicides in a neighboring town, a category three hurricane crushing homes down south, and a riot in China, but everything is fine fine fine. It's all just fucking fine.

As I mope around all Saturday, I recall how it used to be mandatory to have plans for the weekend. I often left my mom and her best friend, Penelope, at the house while I would hang out with Alyssa or go with the swim team to Crazy Pizza Movie Night. For a brief moment I am embarrassed that I haven't gone out in a while but I don't like the idea of trying to arrange something.

A knock on the door drags me away from watching another episode of That 70s Show, and I open it to find Justin standing in the hallway with a wide grin and his almond eyes are bright with excitement. Beside him is a girl I recognize from my literature class from last year, Ruth Fen. I know she is a member of the poetry club only because she would constantly boast about how her latest piece is so much better than anything Emily Dickenson ever wrote, and then she said my essay on Hamlet's feigned madness was too mainstream to be worthy of a passing grade. Like Justin, she has a tendency to wear all black but she is addicted to coffee rather than pot. Even now, a Starbucks cup is glued to her leather gloved hand. Her head is held snobbishly high as she looks up at me with her calculating gray eyes. Locks of her curly strawberry blonde hair is tucked up into a red knit cap – the only colorful piece in her ensemble. The one good thing about her is that she is half my height, meaning I can look down on her. How fun for me.

"This is the guy you wanted to invite?" She asks Justin in an incredulous tone with a cross look on her pale face that would be pretty if she weren't always insulting my writing. Sorry if I don't know thirty synonyms for iridescent.

"Cool it, Ruthie," Justin replies casually as he continues to look at me with an unnerving amount of excitement. "Joshua's cool."

"Oh, I'm sure the teacher's pet is a real party animal," she sneers while rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her leather jacket. Glaring at Justin, she quickly adds, "And refrain from calling me Ruthie, or I swear on Edgar Allan Poe's legendary grave that your heart will be stashed under floorboards."

"What exactly are you talking about?" I interrupt uncertainly. Justin's eagerness makes me wonder if I should jump out the window now.

"Only one of the most illustrious high school gatherings of the year that consists of gratis booze and a surplus of other wonders," Ruth describes in an aloof tone, and I can't help but be slightly embarrassed that I have never heard of this "illustrious" party.

"Come with us, Joshua," Justin urges with a crooked grin on his face despite Ruth's flagrant scowl. "It's healthy to get out of the house and party, and being the son of a doctor I'd assume health is important to you."

"Well, the doctor you are referring to is actually the unhealthiest person I have ever met, so your form of persuasion doesn't really work here," I respond in a slightly bitter tone as I glance back into the messy apartment that reeks of smoke.

Gabe is currently at work, as usual, and it'll be another night of cold pizza and old television shows since there is no cable. If I don't go out, I'll probably end up cleaning because I'll be so bored. Looking at the empty, disgusting room, I realize that if I spend another moment in this lonely apartment on the one-month anniversary of my mother's death I might just go completely insane.

"Yeah," I mumble in a bit of an uneasy tone. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nod and repeat with confidence, "Yeah, I'll come."

Justin's grin widens while Ruth rolls her gray eyes again. "Great," she grumbles and places her hands on her hips. "Fine, whatever. Can we vacate the premise and go now? Those drinks are going to be gone by the time we arrive if we linger about any longer."

We both nod and I quickly grab my tattered brown jacket before jogging down the stairs and to Ruth's car outside of the apartment building. It is a sleek black Mercedes Benz that reflects the city lights so clearly they look like golden stars in its flawless metal. Ruth slips into the driver's seat and Justin calls shotgun, leaving me to ride in the back. I run my hand over the leather seats and inhale that strong, new car smell.

"Pretty nice ride, huh?" Justin grins when he catches me admiring the glowing red buttons surrounding the built in GPS.

"Yeah, is this yours?" I ask Ruth with awe.

She smirks. "It's my dad's, so don't puke it in or else there will be toil n' trouble," she replies and her voice becomes a strange hiss when she recites Shakespeare.

I don't say much on the car ride over and focus my mind on Justin and Ruth's conversation about how much Mrs. Powell is such a whore and how this whoriness caused Ruth to fail her math test because she is just such a whore. Mrs. Powell actually wears a lot of clothes and is nowhere near to being a whore but I refrain from correcting Ruth. Their ridiculous conversation helps distract me from today's horrible date and that is enough for me.

We travel quickly through the city and run a few red lights before Ruth swings the car around to the side of the street. I instantly step out with the two of them, grateful to be on solid ground again.

As Ruth and Justin rapidly walk to the front door, I take a moment to observe the obviously expensive stone house. Tucked away in the corner of Portland, the home has enough space for rows of colorful flowers and lush bushes to surround the building like a fortress of foliage. Delicate vines circle the ivory columns and all three floors have clear glass windows with their own individual balconies. Inside this exquisite house, however, is an enormous group of rowdy teenagers destroying the home's tranquility. I listen to the din of pop music and cheering as I cautiously approach the building. For a second I am irritated with my peers for being so obnoxious in such a fancy home, but my annoyance dissipates once Justin grabs my arm and drags me inside.

The first thing I notice is that everybody (and I mean everybody) has a bottle of beer in their hand. Some of them gulp it down like fish out of water while others casually sip at it. I then realize that I actually know these people. I'm not surprised to see the members of the basketball team taking a round of shots and then roaring with laughter when somebody spits it out all over the once pristine white carpet, but then I am stunned to see a few girls from my math class drinking beer. They wear glasses and rarely wear shirts that show more than their collarbone. During class they are silent as the dead and never seem to miss a homework assignment. I never imagined those shy girls would ever even touch a bottle of beer.

And then I see Cathy. She stands amongst them with her shiny black hair pulled up into a sloppy bun and her dark brown eyes glancing around the room, as if she is trying to take it all in at once but just can't. A tight red sweater clings to her tiny frame and her jeans follow every curve of her legs. We went to the movies a few times together our freshmen year, and I kissed her, but that was all we ever were. She's a genius and shy and kind of tasted like Chinese food, but seeing her giggling with a bottle in her hand makes me feel like a loser because I've never had beer before. She sees me and waves. I wave back with a twitch of my hand. Why am I so awkward?

Unlike the movies, people aren't swinging from the golden chandeliers or having sex on the couch (they are standing on it though). The teens are split into their little cliques and hover around different objects. The shot-drinking basketball players are by the stereo that is blasting another rap song while the Cathy and her friends are hiding in the corner by a potted plant. Another group of girls (who often wear shirts that are too short for them and are often sent to the office because of it) lounge on the couch as a few guys linger by them. I can hear people moving around upstairs and I'm sure groups of kids are dispersed throughout the house.

"You look like you could use a drink," a deep voice muses to my right and I turn to find Art, a member of the swim team and a senior, holding a beer to me. Despite my mistrust for the drink, I take it from him with a polite "thank you." His dark eyes close for a moment as he takes a quick swing of his drink, and when he is done he looks at me expectantly, so I put the cold bottle to my lips and dip my head back. The liquid runs down my throat but it doesn't burn as much as I thought it would, though it smells a little too much like Gabe for me to thoroughly enjoy it.

"Feel better?" Art asks as he grins.

I nod though I honestly don't feel any different. I take another sip, wondering if that will change me, but I'm still unaffected.

Art suddenly leaves me then and I'm not sure what I should do now. Justin and Ruth are gone and people that I barely know surround me, but I feel more confident now that I have a drink in my hand because I finally fit in. I know it sounds slightly twisted, but the beer helps me blend in and no longer stand out as the kid who we should all pity because his mom died.

Standing by the wall, I continue to drink the bitter tasting liquid. I focus on how my heartbeat locks in with the steady rhythm of the music's loud bass while the rest of the noise – singing, voices, and car horns – become static to my ears. The confidence boost the beer has given me gives me the courage to chat with a few strangers. I'm actually about to go over to Cathy when Justin and Ruth step in front of me.

"See, Ruthie," Justin brags as he looks at me with pride. "Joshua's already downed one drink and he isn't puking all over your car."

"Truly remarkable," Ruth mutters sarcastically as I glance down at my beer only to realize that I've already drank all of it. "Now come on upstairs, it is so much more vivacious," Ruth brags. She spins on her heels and walks away with her head held high

Once she is gone, Justin asks casually but with a hint of longing in his tone, "Isn't she so sexy when she uses big words?"

Not at all. "Err…sure," I respond uncertainly. "Big words are so hot?"

"Do you think she'll sleep with me?" he asks eagerly, oblivious of my dislike for her, and his almond eyes are round with excitement and hope.

I'm a little taken aback by the question, mostly because I am surprised anybody would want to be near Ruth but I guess he could do worse. "I don't know…are you guys dating?" I answer uneasily.

"No," he replies though he doesn't sound discouraged in the least. "She slept with Mr. Stein, so I figure if she is willing to sleep with an old man than she wouldn't mind me."

"Wait, she is the one who slept with our chemistry teacher who was arrested!" I gawk in a loud voice and a few heads turn to look at me, causing my face to heat up. I wish I had another beer right now to blend in more.

"Yeah, you didn't know that?" Justin wonders in a casual tone like it is no big deal.

"Well…no."

A moment of silence falls between us, and Justin just stares at me for a few seconds before he takes a sip of his beer and decides, "I'm going to try getting her a bit drunk and then make my move. See yah, Joshua!"

He saunters off and, after a second of hesitation, I follow him up the stairs and to the second floor, and Ruth was right: it is much more vivacious. The music is powerful and seems to come from all around me as the sound bounces off the walls and flies into my ears. People crowd the halls and opened rooms, some of them dancing but most simply chatting. There are a few closed doors, one of which Justin approaches and, after sharing a few words with a guy standing outside, he slips inside.

I find a table stacked with bottles of beer and grab one from the top. The air is stiff and hot up here, so the cold drink helps cool me down a bit and I feel more confident again with it in my hand. I go up to a group of guys that I know pretty well. Their faces are tinted red from either the heat or the alcohol. When they see me approaching they cheer and some of them dance on their toes.

"I feel like we never see you out!" One of the guys yells over the music and chatter. He takes a step towards me but leans dangerously to the side and collides into the wall. The guys cheer again like they are watching the final seconds of the Super Bowl. Even the dude who just hit the wall starts yelling. After just a few minutes with them I learn that they are playing some dumb game where they cheer whenever they get the chance. A girl and a guy walk into a room together: cheer. I take a sip of my beer: cheer. Somebody farts: cheer.

Soon I am done with this drink and then I down another. As I travel with the guys to a larger area, I feel much more at ease and I'm grinning like I haven't done in a while. Somehow, I end up in a huge game of Thumper. Guys and girls sit around a table each with a bottle of beer in front of them and we all choose strange gestures for ourselves that everybody must memorize. With a loud round of whoop whoops, we pound the table like a drum roll. The game begins when Greg does his gesture – flipping somebody off – and then the gesture of another person. The game goes faster and faster, becoming more wild whenever somebody mess up. When the round ends, a roar of cheers overpowers the music as the loser drinks a shot. At one point I realize how incredibly dumb the game is but the raw energy of the music, thumping, and their exhilaration makes me feel like a normal teenager for the first time in a long while. I'm on top of the world, even though I mess up three times and have to drink while everybody starts chanting, "Chug, chug, chug!"

The people at the game eventually disperse and I find myself sprawled out on the couch as the world swirls around me like everything is just soup inside a blender. The spinning fan is over there…and then it is over there. It's under that. Underwear? Ha. Underwear.

Suddenly there is a weight on my stomach and I lift my head up to see that the person on top of me has two heads…. no wait, it is becoming one now.

"Look at you," the girl slurs and runs her finger down my chest. She leans forward and I recognize her to be Ruth from her black clothing and stormy gray eyes. "You're so…. cute when," she stammers and her heavy breathing is hot on my skin as she struggles with the words. "So much better than…be…"

And then her lips are crashing onto mine and I hear the distant sound of cheering. Her hands run through my bushy green hair and claw at my scalp as she slips her tongue into my mouth. I'm shocked by her sudden display of affection though I cannot think of why it is bad for Ruth to be kissing me right now. One of her hands travels under my shirt and runs across my chest, making my skin feel like it is on fire, and I still cannot remember why this might be unwise.

I jump when something vibrates in my pocket and Ruth leans away from me. The world spins a bit as I watch her reach in my pocket and pull out my phone. She looks at the screen for a moment and then a mischievous smile spreads across her pale face.

"Alyssa!" She chirps into the phone and her words slur every few seconds. "Are you at this greeeat party that isss tantamount to…something big?"

She doesn't say anything for a moment and her smirk widens as she replies to Alyssa, "Where is Joshua? Oh, why, he is right here." She leans forward again and runs a finger across my lips, and I realize that I shouldn't trust her to speak to Alyssa but when she touches me I just start laughing loudly. I don't know why, it is just so funny.

"And he is such a good kisser, did you know that?" Ruth continues in an obviously fake sweet voice that just makes me laugh even more. She says a few more words that I cannot hear clearly because of more cheering in the background, but her tone is bitter. She snaps the phone shut and tosses it to the side before a lustful glint returns to her eyes and she leans towards me again. Her lips interlock with mine and I feel her hands trying to lift my shirt up but suddenly I start imagining how hurt Alyssa might be feeling. Despite my dizziness, I can picture her face clearly from her large emerald eyes to her cute, small smile and russet hair.

Ruth is struggling to get my shirt over my head but her hands are clumsy and she keeps laughing every few seconds. Her lips suddenly feel disgustingly wet and her hands clammy. I grab onto her shoulders and push her away from me while prying my legs out from under her. Her gray eyes are dazed and ringlets of strawberry blonde hair fall out from her knit cap in an unruly manner.

"Where are you going?" she questions and grabs onto my arm as I swing my legs over the edge of the couch. I stand up and she tries to pull me back down while her other hand tugs at the waist of my jeans.

I shove her hand off and the world swims as I stumble away from her, grab my phone off the floor, and rush toward a table stacked with shots. My buzz is dying and I want it back, and as I drink a few I travel to a neighboring room. I don't take three steps before Justin pops up in front of me. His almond eyes are dangerously dark.

"When I said me and Ruthie weren't dating, I didn't mean you could take her!" he snaps but I hesitate because he suddenly has two heads.

"Look, I d-didn't mean to," I stutter but he and his two heads are no longer in front of me. I glance around the room and vertigo makes it so it seems like the world is gradually spinning, as if I am doing flips underwater in slow motion. I know something isn't right – or maybe it's more than just one something but two somethings. I don't know how Alyssa is feeling and I think Justin is pissed at me right now. Today's date is a sad date. Gabe smells bad. A lot of somethings are wrong right now, but then there is one thought that makes all of these somethings diminutive compared to this immense trouble.

I have to pee.

I begin to stumble around the room, bumping into various people, and opening random doors and walk in to too many awkward situations. I find a couple rolling around on a bed, and in another room is a group of kids lying on the floor looking at the ceiling with dazed expressions and the smell of weed is so overpowering that my vertigo increases tenfold. In the next room I catch a few guys riffling through an underwear drawer before I finally find the bathroom.

I quickly relieve myself (longest pee of my life, by the way), and as soon as I leave the room a hand latches onto my arm and before I know it I'm being dragged around the house and down the stairs. My head is throbbing and the music pounds with my fluttering heartbeat as I struggle to make the world stop spinning and focus on the person leading me away from the party. I don't even realize I am outside until a blast of cold air brushes against my hot skin and the music is dimmed to just background noise. As I am shoved into the passenger seat of a car, I wonder if it is Ruth extracting revenge on me because I rejected her, but as we begin to drive away I recognize the crappy interior of the car and the strong stench of smoke. Looking to the left, I see Gabe in the seat beside me. I squint to make it so he doesn't have two heads and four arms, and once he looks normal again I realize that he's unhappy.

I laugh.

"How much did you drink?" Gabe asks in a bitter tone and a deep frown creases his face. The night casts him in shadows but his ochre eyes shine like bright embers.

"One," I respond and then chuckle again.

"Can you seriously not remember?" He snaps and though his voice is threatening I find that I am not intimidated. When I don't respond he asks, "What's today's date?"

My smile drops and I look outside the window. My vision blurs dramatically as houses and street signs flies by and my stomach churns. Squeezing my eyes shut, I struggle to suppress my throbbing headache.

"Do yaah know the daaate?" I retort, my voice slurring like the drunk kid I am.

"March seventeenth, the one month anniversary of Lisa's death," he answers instantly and I'm surprised that he actually remembers. "Is that why you decided to get drunk today?"

"I'm not drunk," I reply confidently but he instantly bursts out laughing.

"You are as wasted as they get," he corrects and I roll my eyes.

"Okay, fine. I'm drunk," I agree in a sour tone. As we speed around a sharp corner, my stomach lurches. I lean against the window, grateful for the cool glass, and ask in a weaker tone, "Can you pweease drive slower?"

"Why, are you nauseous?" He asks though he obviously knows the answer due to his cocky tone. Cocky. Ha. Cock.

"Yes," I snap. "Do you want me to throw up all over your car?"

"Worse things have happened in this car than vomit, and that is what the bucket is for," he replies casually.

I look down to see a plastic bucket sitting between my feet. I want to interrogate him about what could be worse than puke stinking up a car but my stomach churns again and that shuts me up. My hands are clammy and I think somebody is pounding a nail into my head as the world blurs again and I close my eyes. Leaning my head back, I can feel the intoxicating numbness of sleep creeping up on me…

"Hey! Joshua!" a deep voice yells and interrupts my restful state.

My body is shaking and another wave of nausea swarms through me. I blink open my bleary eyes to see Gabe stretched across the car, tugging on my arm. A look of panic flashes across his face as the pale moonlight illuminates the edges his dark green hair, almost giving him a halo. I try to smile at the irony of Gabe being an angel, but then my stomach lurches again and my throat constricts. My body shudders violently. A disgusting gurgling sound breaks the silence as bile shoots out of my mouth and into a bucket that Gabe holds underneath me. I clutch onto the container, desperately spitting out the revolting vomit before the taste can make me puke even more.

For a few seconds I simply sit there, hunched over the bucket as Gabe's hand gently rubs circle into my back. Although the motion is soothing, my stomach still rocks with nausea and I'm puking again. It passes quickly, but the horrible taste lingers in my mouth. My skin feels sticky and hot while my breathing is raspy. Hair clings to the back of my sweaty neck. I really want to shower now.

"Feel better?" Gabe asks in a whisper and he stops rubbing my back.

"N-no," I sputter, my shaking hands barely clinging to the bucket.

"Don't worry, we're almost home," he reassures me. We begin to move again but at a much slower speed. "Just don't fall asleep again, okay?"

I nod and focus on breathing through my mouth so I don't inhale my vomit's vile stench. My head is still pounding and I wish I could just die right now. Soon Gabe is carefully leading me out of the car. I become limp as he drags me up the stairs to the apartment. With my arm draped over his shoulders, he takes me to the couch and gently places me down. Feeling incredibly weak, I just sit there until he returns with a platter of cups and food. My vision is so blurry that I cannot tell what exactly he is holding.

"I'm going to give you some water, Joshua," he informs me in a relaxed tone. "You need to drink this whole glass, okay? And then you can eat some crackers. Okay? Are you ready? Okay, drink this now."

I want to tell him to stop saying okay because everything is not okay. I feel like shit. I am shit. Oh shit, I don't want to be shit.

The time passes by in a daze and I actually don't know how long I let Gabe tip my head back and pour water down my throat in short intervals. He tries to make me eat the crackers, but since I don't want ay food he helps me drink Sprite instead. His hands are steady and his confident. The calmness in his voice is reassuring, as if I'm not one hundred percent shit. Hours must have passed but he is still beside me, caring for me till the very end like a true doctor. Gabe presses a cool towel to my head, making me remember how he treated me when I was in the hospital with Wermer's Syndrome. He refused to give up on me despite my resistance, and this persistence saved my life. For the first time since then I am grateful for Gabe's stubbornness, and when he offers me the crackers again I nibble on them even though the thought of food is revolting.

"Gabe?" I mumble between sips of water. I feel my eyelids droop but he urges me awake.

"What is it?" he whispers and holds another cracker before my mouth. I nibble at it.

"Are you mad at me?" I inquire in a mumble, taking the glass of water from his hand before sipping it without his help.

"Of course I am," he responds though his soft, deep voice contradicts his statement. "I'll discipline you later because I think you've punished yourself enough for one night."

A comfortable silence comes between us as I finish off the last bit of crackers. My hands are no longer shaking and I can eat and drink without Gabe's help, but my body feels deflated and my eyes continue to droop. Without a word, Gabe guides my body so that I am lying on my side. I snuggle into the couch's pillow – even though it still reeks of smoke – while he gently drapes a blanket over me. Closing my eyes, I listen to him move some objects around. A nearby chair creeks as he settles in to it.

"Gabe?" I murmur, which is proceeded by a quiet yawn.

"Yes?"

Pulling the blanket up to my chin, I release a deep breath and whisper, "Thank you."

Author's Note

First, HUGE MEGA EXTRA EXTRA LARGE THANKS to my beta reader, Tell-Her-This. I owe her big time because I suck, and she helped me so that I don't suck. Seriously, I should pay you but I have no money…so pretend you never heard that.

If you haven't, go read her stories because they are fantastic and better than mine. But of course thank you for reading and reviewing Big thanks to Tell-Her-This, Indochine Ramera, Liliafax, magikid196, and Canada Cowboy for reading last chapter. As always, I really appreciate your support and I would love to hear more of it! :)

And just so nobody gets worried, this is not a filler chapter and is important in the story's development. Joshua gets drunk for a reason! :D (oh goody)

Thanks again!

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