Chapter 38 of "Breaking Through"
A/N: The day after chapter 37.
Chapter 38
--Nigel--
I awoke to the smell of coffee drifting up into the bedroom, and I slowly opened one eye and blinked as the light from the window was bright even for an overcast London sky. Jordan wasn't next to me anymore, but then again, I wasn't sure if she'd actually ever been next to me - it could have been all a part of a dream. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling as I listened to the sounds of breakfast and activity downstairs, and the sounds of someone in the shower in the bathroom down the hall. Breathing deeply, I stretched and absently minded scratched my chest as I heard the water squeak off in the shower. I wasn't even sure of the date, the time, or the fact that I was even conscious at the moment. All that was known was the fact that I was in a bed, presumably in my aunt's house, and I was here because my father had passed away after a quick battle of cancer. After we'd reconnected, and after I finally realized why he had done what he'd done.
I sat up against the headboard on the bed and pulled the comforter up to my waist as I stared at the end of the bed and the door to the room blankly. No real urge was present in my head to go downstairs, because I didn't really want to talk to anybody before I'd had a chance to talk to myself and the demons that were running rampantly through my head. Fighting off the urge to scour the pockets of my jeans for a cigarette and the lighter, I merely bit the tip of my tongue to keep my mind off the craving that was coursing angrily through my veins. Upon hearing the sound of footsteps, I turned my attention to the door, expecting it to open, but whoever it was continued down the hall and down the flight of stairs to the kitchen. Many years and days spent in the house told me that there was no one remaining upstairs - my ear had been trained to listen for footsteps on several strategic floorboards which Bret and I were certain were put where they had been put for a reason.
Standing slowly, I walked to the end of the bed and reached for my bag, determined to find something to wear that was comfortable and casual, yet still clean. I decided on a pair of loose fitting jeans and a t-shirt. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I put on fresh socks, pulled on the clean jeans, and removed the white shirt I'd worn to sleep in. I caught sight of myself in the full length mirror on the other side of the room, and upon seeing that I looked like hell from far away, I stood back up and walked to the mirror. As I ran my eyes over the bare skin of my chest and ribs, I couldn't help but notice the dark circles which plagued my eyes and the fact that I was looking quite horrible at the moment. Lowering my head away from the vision in front of me, I neglected to see Jordan walk quietly into the room as I shut my eyes.
--Jordan--
Peeking my head in the doorway, I didn't see Nigel in bed, but I soon saw him across the room standing in front of the mirror with his head lowered. Not wanting to startle him, I stood quietly in the doorway and looked away for a moment before I was drawn again to the bare skin that covered his back. And it was in plain view. I couldn't help but look at it...the color, the way that the skin had attempted to heal itself over the burn. It was like a brand that one would put on cattle...burned straight into the skin and left to heal over as a scar. A deep, permanent scar, only this one was on Nigel's back and my brain continued to tell me that there was something horribly wrong with that fact.
He still didn't know I was in the room, and I could only notice that he had began to shake ever so slightly as he stood in front of the mirror. It wasn't the shake that comes when you cry, it wasn't the shake that comes when you're scared, it wasn't the shake that comes when you drink three double-shot espressos in a three hour time period. It was the shake that comes when you're utterly exhausted and unable to go on with any form of conscious thought or actions. I paused for a moment before walking over to his side and gently placing a hand on his back. "Nige..." I whispered. "It's alright...you need to lie down...please..."
--Nigel--
For some reason, when Jordan showed up out of nowhere and touched me, I didn't even flinch. I was so numb to all feelings...to pain, touch...even the feel of her hand on my skin didn't register in my brain as someone that cared about me laying a hand on me. It was just something that was there. Her voice seemed far away, almost like it was underwater and unreachable no matter how long I could hold my breath and dive beneath the turmoil of the waves that were crashing in my head. As I turned to head back for my bed, I felt my knees go slightly weak, and for a split second I lost consciousness. Jordan grabbed hold of my body and kept me from tripping, but she guided me over to the bed and I quickly crumpled into a heap on the surface.
"Nige...I'm gonna go get Bret...you need some help." She turned and started for the doorway before I stopped her.
"Jordan - don't." I sat up and stared at her blankly. "Don't. I'm alright...I just got...a little lightheaded." Smiling weakly, I attempted to play off my pain and weakness. "Honest."
"When was the last time you ate?" She walked back over to me and placed a hand on my forehead. "Possibly a slight fever..."
"Last night. But I wouldn't really call it eating...so I would be pressed to say when I had lunch back in Boston the day we flew out." Shrugging, I knew that she'd probably flip out. "I just haven't been hungry enough to eat anything...so I don't." Eager to change the subject, I looked up at her. "So has my aunt told you anything about the plans for the funeral or anything?"
Jordan raised an eyebrow at me - she wasn't wanting to let me off that easily. "Yeah...the service...it's tomorrow at some church on the east side - I guess your dad had a plot set up and the plans all made for the whole thing. He didn't want you to have to deal with anything."
I nodded before looking down and realizing that I still was missing a shirt.
"You get dressed...or do you need my help? I can go get you some breakfast ready if you'd like me to." Jordan read the look on my face like she always had been able to. "What?" She whispered softly.
"I'll be alright." Slowly, I pulled myself to my feet and nodded. "If you could just get me something ready, I'll be down in a minute to eat." I reached to the end of the bed and grabbed the t-shirt I'd selected earlier as she headed out of the room with a nod. I slipped it over my head, and when I was certain she was downstairs, I grabbed the pack of cigarettes and lighter from my jeans which were in a crumpled heap on the floor. As I removed one, I walked to the window and pushed it open as I lit up and took a long drag off of it. "After I do this." I muttered to myself quietly as I stared out the window and smoked.
--Jordan--
Heading downstairs, I entered the kitchen, intent on finding something that Nigel would eat without me having to force feed him like a child. Bret noticed that I had a concerned look on my face when I entered.
"Jordan? What's wrong?" He stood and offered me a chair at the table.
"Nothing. Nigel just...he hasn't eaten a real meal since lunch the day we flew over here and he nearly passed out while he was getting dressed." I looked up at him. "He promised me he'd eat if I got it ready for him...what does he like?"
"Give him toast or something light. He's never been a big breakfast eater." Bret smiled at me. "He need help with anything?"
Shaking my head, I grabbed two pieces of bread out of the bag on the counter and placed them in the toaster. "Nah, he was alright once he sat down for a minute." I paused before looking at him again. "That scar's pretty bad." I spoke soft enough for my words not to travel upstairs.
He nodded. "Yeah. You saw it?"
"He was standing in front of the mirror without a shirt on...I didn't mean to look at it but I couldn't keep my eyes off...it's so..." Pausing, I looked back at the toaster, unable to find a word to say what I wanted to.
"I know." Bret walked over and stood next to me. "It's alright, just don't say anything to him about it...he gets touchy sometimes." He whispered. "He's going through enough stress already."
Nodding, I took the toast out of the toaster and buttered it before looking at Bret again. "What does he eat on toast?"
"Strawberry." He walked to the fridge and pulled a jar of strawberry jam off the shelf. "Preserves. He likes it relatively thick too." As he took the lid off and set the jar on the counter next to me, I grabbed a clean knife out of the drawer and began spreading the jam onto the toasted bread.
"Thanks." I put it on the toast and then placed the two slices on a plate. Walking over to the table, I set the plate down and then got him a cup of tea, setting it next to the plate.
He walked downstairs a few minutes later and smiled at me as he sat down at the table. He took a sip of tea and sighed deeply before starting to eat the toast silently. Grabbing a chair, I sat at the table next to him and took a drink of the coffee that I'd poured myself. As I watched him eat, I realized that he was in fact, hungry, because he was focusing everything on eating the toast.
"You want more?" I spoke softly. He shook his head "no" and finished off the first piece, moving onto the second.
I sat and watched him eat the toast silently for a few more minutes before excusing myself from the table to go upstairs and change. Climbing the stairs, I sighed and pushed the door open to the room he and I were sharing. The slight tinge of smoke met my nose and I shook my head, walking over to the window and looking outdoors. The day was bright, and I could only hope that it meant something was going to turn for the better.
TBC...
((A/N - wow! Sorry this took so long for me to get posted! I wasn't really happy with this chapter b/c I kinda got stuck in the middle of it, but this story is going to get wrapped up within the next couple of chapters, so keep on reading and commenting, I really appreciate it! Thanks guys!))