Chapter 19
I didn't expect to dream that night. I didn't think I'd sleep much because I couldn't be bothered to get out of bed to take a sleeping pill. Warm and comfortable with Arthur in my arms, languishing in the aftermath of a powerful orgasm, I didn't want to move an inch. Eventually, I drifted off to the sound of his soft snores.
I catapulted out of sleep to the sound of someone yelling. At first, I thought it was Arthur, until I opened my eyes, found the light was on, and looked into his frightened face. Cold sweat stuck the sheet to my body, and my heart hammered in my chest. I panted as if I'd run a mile. I kicked the sheet off my legs and sat up.
"Travis?" Arthur reached out timidly and placed his hand on my chest.
"Fuck," I gasped as the images from the dream swam behind my eyes.
"What happened?" Realising I wasn't about to punch him, Arthur moved closer and slid his arms around me. "How bad was it?"
"It, um, it was—" I scrubbed a hand over my wet face and found tears there as well as sweat. Christ. "I need a cigarette."
Arthur slid out of the bed, grabbed the cigarettes and lighter from the kitchen counter, and returned to the bed. He lit two and placed one between my lips, then snuggled up to me again. "Can you tell me?"
I sucked on the cigarette and blew smoke out of my nose. My hand shook when I took it from my lips. "I was back in Vietnam. I haven't dreamed about it in a long time."
Arthur waited patiently, not prompting me to say anything. I smoked the rest of the cigarette and lit another. My pulse slowed and my hands had stopped shaking. I slid my arm around Arthur and held onto him. "I was out there for about three months before anything much happened," I began. "We started to get blasé about it. It was October when we got ambushed."
My hand started to shake again as I lifted the cigarette to my lips. I finished it and passed the butt to Arthur to drop into the ashtray at his side of the bed. When he'd disposed of it, he took my hand and gripped it tightly.
"Me and one other guy were hiding behind an anthill. They didn't see us. The rest—" I paused, choking. "They were shot up so bad, they were barely recognisable. After, me and Jeff crawled across the battlefield looking for survivors. There weren't any. Not one. Just blood everywhere, and body parts strewn all around. I found my best friend with all his guts coming out and one of his arms gone. I can remember looking at my hands and they were covered in blood."
"God, Travis, I'm so sorry." Arthur gripped my hand tighter and hugged me against him with his other arm. I slumped against him, my face against his shoulder.
"We were shipped out a few days later." My voice stuttered and croaked as I tried to get the words out before I broke down. "They put us in the hospital in San Francisco. I barely slept. I was scared to because the minute I closed my eyes, I saw it all again and again. Jeff was in the next room to me. I heard him screaming every time he fell asleep. Then one day I went in there to see him and he was gone. They said he'd hung himself."
Arthur let go of my hand and slid his arm around my neck, hugging my trembling body. I couldn't even bring myself to be embarrassed at the tears dripping onto his chest, or the fact that I was sobbing so loudly the rest of the block probably heard me. I held onto Arthur like he was a lifeline and bawled like a baby.
It seemed a long time before I got myself together. I pulled away from Arthur and went to the bathroom to wash the tears and snot off my face. When I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes were wild and bloodshot with dark shadows underneath. I got in the shower and stood under the spray until it ran cold. By the time I returned to the other room, Arthur had folded up the bed, switched on the main lights, and made coffee.
"You didn't have to do all this. Don't you need to sleep some more? It's the middle of the night."
"I'm okay. I doubt you want to lie in the darkness anymore. Here." He passed me a coffee and another lit cigarette. If I'd been on my own, I would have drunk whiskey, but Arthur's comfort seemed to do more good. Already the memories had begun to fade, and all I wanted to do was snuggle up on the couch with him and watch TV.
By the time we'd watched an old black and white crime thriller, Arthur had fallen asleep again. He'd taken sleeping pills, unlike me. I didn't pay much attention to the next movie that came on, which was some sort of comedy romance. Arthur's head was in my lap and I didn't want to disturb him to get up and change it. Instead, I thought about my situation.
I loved Arthur, I realised. It had crept up on me without me noticing and because I had nothing to compare it to, I didn't accept it right away. He was good for me, despite all his problems. If I'd woken alone from that terrible nightmare, I'd still be shaking, sweating, and trying to drink myself unconscious. Instead, I was relaxed, and the remnants of the dream had already faded. Perhaps talking to him about it helped. It never had with my therapists, but they were paid to get me to talk. They didn't give a shit whether I had bad dreams and struggled to get out of bed in the morning when the worst days of my depression hit.
I stroked my fingers through his soft hair and ran my hand down his back. He was still far too thin, but not as bad as when I met him. Sleep had ironed out the lines on his face that made him look older than he was, and long lashes rested on his cheeks, hiding his beautiful green eyes. I was lucky—lucky I'd made the decision to go looking for the clown who'd killed Murray Franklin on live television; lucky I'd helped him when he collapsed, hurt and bloody, after the car accident.
"I love you, Arthur," I whispered. "I'll tell you properly when you wake up."
Daylight crept through the drapes, and Arthur slept on. I carefully lifted his head and replaced my legs with a cushion. I made more coffee and smoked a cigarette, then quietly let myself out of the room. Minutes later, I was in my car heading across town to a store near the porn theatre. I'd seen it many times when I lived here before, and I hoped it was still there. As I drove down the block and passed the theatre, I felt relief when I saw the bright green neon sign for George's Jokes and Parties. I parked around the corner and walked back to the door.
No one else was in the store, and I went up to the counter to find the proprietor, who looked to be about a hundred years old.
"Morning, Sir. How can I be of assistance?" He smiled pleasantly and I noticed half of his teeth were missing.
"Do you sell the puppets used in Punch and Judy shows?"
"Why, yes I do. Right over here." He came out from behind the counter and led me to a shelf where an assortment of puppets sat, propped against each other so they looked as if they were waiting and watching for customers who might want them. "Are you looking for any one in particular?"
"I need a whole set."
"Well, these are the main ones." The old man lifted down various characters. "Punch and Judy, of course. The policeman, the dog, and the crocodile. We have various extras, too. This one is a butcher." He showed me a character in an apron that came with a slab of steak and a string of sausages. There were others, too, meaning the operator could make up lots of stories.
"I'll take them all," I said.
"Certainly, Sir. I'll bag them up for you. Are you planning on starting up a show? There's one in the market, you know. A new young guy recently took over. He's very good."
I smiled. "Yeah, that's my friend. Some thugs attacked him and broke all his puppets. These are to replace them."
The old man frowned and shook his head. "The youth of today. Scum. Utter scum. I blame the parents."
"Me too. How much?"
He rang up the puppets and accessories on the till, and I handed over two hundred and fifty dollars, and even then, he'd done me a discount for buying so many. I left with a large paper sack containing all the puppets, individually wrapped in colourful tissue paper.
When I arrived back at the apartment Arthur was eating toast, his morning pills lined up on the counter waiting to be taken.
"Hey. Where've you been?" he asked. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, thanks to you." I put the bag down and wrapped my arms around him. "You were amazing last night."
"I didn't do anything much other than listen."
"Exactly. It was what I needed." I hugged him tighter, my heart pounding. "I should have told you sooner. It helped. You made everything better."
"I'm glad. You do so much for me. It's not one-sided, you know. You can lean on me too."
"I know." I met his eyes, my mouth suddenly dry. I'd never said it before, to anyone. "I love you, Arthur."
He gasped a little, his eyes widening. "I didn't think you were at that point."
"I was just too blind to realise what I was feeling. I was thinking about it last night when you were asleep. I know I love you."
His whole face lit up, eyes sparkling. "I love you, too, Travis."
I gave him a quick kiss, then backed away. "I have something for you." I indicated the bag.
"A present?"
"Yeah."
He picked up the bag and sat on the couch to look inside. When he unwrapped the crocodile and realised the bag was filled with all the puppets he lost, plus a number of new ones, his eyes shone with tears. "Travis, you didn't have to do this."
"Yes, I did. You're good. People love your shows. Even the guy in the shop that sells these had heard about you."
"You spent so much money."
"Who cares? I earn enough."
He put the puppets aside and got up to hug me. "Thank you, Travis. Thank you. No one's ever done anything like this for me before."
"Better get used to it." I grinned and turned away to pour myself some coffee and drop some bread into the toaster.
"I'd better practise. I'll need to make up some new sketches for these." Arthur held up the butcher. "This is new."
While I ate my toast, he made up a scene with Judy going to buy steak for Punch's dinner, and the dog stealing the string of sausages. Since the dog belonged to Judy, the butcher asked her to pay for the sausages. She refused and proceed to beat the butcher with the stick usually reserved for Punch.
I chuckled as I watched. Arthur was great and he had a different voice for each character, including a growly one for the dog and a high-pitched squeaky one for Judy that I'd heard before. When it was time for him to go to work, I drove him to the market and hung around to watch the first show. Then I made my way to the diner where Wizard hung out, deciding I would talk to him and find out what his thoughts on Arthur were. If he recognised him from the TV, I needed to know about it.
