Wow, it's been a really long time since I last updated. Sorry about the delay, the last month has been pretty crazy really and I've been absolutely swamped with one thing or another. Anyway thanks for waiting and hopefully people will still be interested in reading this story… Here are the next three chapters, hope you enjoy them.
Consequences.
Gordie woke up on Saturday with a splitting headache. The sunlight that streamed underneath and between the blinds felt like individual knives stabbing him in the head. He groaned and put his head under his pillow.
"I'm never drinking again," he vowed.
"Gordon?" It was his mother's voice. "Gordon? Are you up yet Gordon?"
Gordie peeked out from under the pillow. He judged his mom to be on the landing just outside his room, any minute now she would open the door and come in. Gordie didn't want her to see him like this. He knew he looked like shit. He had stumbled in around three in the morning and had gone to sleep in his clothes. He was still wearing one of his sneakers. Also he noticed when he looked down at himself that he was sporting small vomit stains on his t-shirt. Now that was just beautiful. In fact it was all so beautiful it made him want to throw up again. Gordie was ashamed for his mother to see him like this and though it hurt all over he forced himself to get up.
"I'm up mom!" he called.
He heard her hand on the doorknob.
"No, um don't come in!" He threw his weight at the door.
"What's going on Gordon?"
"Nothing," Gordie called and his voice was unusually high. He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus.
"I got your breakfast, it's downstairs on the table," Mrs Lachance said hesitantly. "You're sure you're okay?"
"Fine! I'm fine," Gordie said desperately, willing her to just leave.
Finally she did and breathing a little easier Gordie stepped away from the door and stripped off his clothes. He threw the nasty alcohol splattered clothing in a pile by his bed then he opened the door and hurried along to the bathroom. A long, hot shower would help. He hoped it would anyway.
Across town Teddy had just reached the Chambers's house. He had been here a thousand times before, albeit not in the last two years or so. Still he could totally do this. He took a step up the walk, and then stopped. Could he do this? He didn't know what to say to Chris and how should he bring up the subject of Gordie? He was deliberating about what to do when suddenly the Chambers's front door swung open. It was one of Chris's younger sisters.
"Who are you?" she called.
Teddy didn't answer. He pulled nervously at the neck of his t-shirt.
"Who are you?" the girl repeated. She was about nine and was standing drinking from an orange juice carton. Teddy noticed idly that she chewed the straw just like Vern did.
"Who's there Ashley?" someone inside the house asked.
Crap. Teddy recognised that voice. He had come with the intention of talking to Chris but now hearing Chris speak he felt like he wanted to be a million miles away.
Chris came to the front door. He was dressed only in a pair of blue jeans. There was a bandage wrapped around his ribs. His hair was sticking up and almost the whole left side of his face was a purple bruise. Teddy winced at the sight of him. Chris's jaw dropped when he spotted Teddy.
"Son of a…" Chris whispered. He stepped out on to the front step beside his sister.
"Chris?" Ashley asked in surprise.
"Go inside Ash," Chris said and he leaned down so he was at eyelevel with his sister. "It's okay, I got this." He gave her a brief hug then she stepped back inside the door and he walked up the walk towards Teddy.
Chris was barefoot and Teddy saw that he was stepping on broken glass. Chris didn't seem to care, he just kept moving.
"What are you doing here Duchamp?" Chris asked in a low voice.
Teddy smiled weakly. "Just to talk."
"What the fuck would you want to talk to me about?" Chris asked. His gaze was fixed somewhere past Teddy which gave him a strangely robotic tone.
"I don't know…just… shit you know," Teddy said and he felt anger bubble up inside him.
Chris raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms across his chest. He looked so cold and guarded that Teddy felt a chill go through him. This was not the Chris he had remembered.
"We need to talk," Teddy said after a moment's silence.
Chris shook his head. "I have nothing to say."
"Then I'll do the talking," Teddy said and he narrowed his eyes. "Not here though. Let's take a walk."
Chris frowned. "Why?"
Teddy rolled his eyes. "Let's stop this fuckin' charade. Either come and hear me out or get the fuck out of here."
Chris sighed. "This is fucked up." He glanced wistfully back towards the house. "Okay Duchamp you got fifteen minutes. Let me go grab some shoes."
"Good," Teddy said simply. "I'll be waiting here."
