Chapter Three: Aunt Angela

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Reno fell extremely ill around the age of six, somewhere during first grade. Reno's father took him out of school and brought him home, and deposited him unceremoniously on the sofa. He threw a blanket over him and went to the kitchen.

Rude and Toriko could hear the telephone conversation behind them. "Angela, it's Paul. Yeah. The kid is sick. I don't know what to do with him. You better come over. … You know I can't afford any more doctors' bills; I'm still paying the ones from when he was born. … Goddamnit, Angela, you're a nurse; just tell me what I'm supposed to do. Chicken soup or some shit, right? …The school nurse says he's got a fever and a cough. He's breathing kinda funny. …Okay. I'll be here." The telephone clicked.

Reno's father wandered back into the living room and crossed his arms in front of him. "How you feeling, kid?"

Reno's memory swam, unable to focus on anything in particular. His father's voice echoed meaninglessly in his ears. The entire world seemed unimportant. He groaned softly.

"Yeah, I've had days like that. You… want some water or something?"

Reno nodded.

"Okay. That, I can do."

Paul disappeared into the kitchen, then appeared again with a plastic cup full of water. He knelt in front of Reno and showed him the cup. "Here."

Reno didn't move. He squinted at his father and inhaled, but couldn't make himself move.

Paul sighed, irritated; he slid his free hand under his son's shoulder and pushed him up to sit.

Reno grabbed his father's forearm to balance himself, and his eyes widened at the sudden movement. His father pressed the cup to his lips, and he drank slowly. After a moment or so, he stopped to cough. Paul put the cup on the end table and patted him on the back softly. Reno instinctually leaned forward and extended his arms a little, hoping for a hug. Instead, Paul caught his arms and helped him lie down again. He returned to the kitchen with the cup, came back with two bottles of beer, and rearranged Reno so that he could sit on the couch with the child's head in his lap. He shoved a smelly throw pillow under Reno's head, then turned on the television and started on his first beer.

Reno made no movement aside from the occasional sigh or cough. His vision floated in and out of focus, and his memory abbreviated minutes or hours into an eternity or seconds. He drifted in and out of consciousness, but seemed contented to be near his father. He drifted back into consciousness as a familiar face hovered in view.

"Reno?" Angela knelt in front of the sofa, playing with his hair. His father had removed himself from the sofa at some point and was standing at the front door, waiting for some kind of order from his sister.

"Hm…?"

"How are you feeling?"

"Hn…" he sighed.

"He's feverish." She dug in the bag at her side and pulled out a thermometer, popped a cover on it, and stuck it in his ear. Reno made a disconcerted noise as she hit a button, then removed it and checked it. "Holy hell. Reno, honey, sit up. Paul, I need you to run a bath. Cold tap."

"Okay," he complied, moving toward the only bathroom in the apartment.

"Auntie Angela's gonna take care of you, okay Reno?" She picked him up gently, and carried him toward the bathroom. She sat him on the toilet as Paul shuffled to get out of the way, and removed his shoes and T-shirt. "Paul, don't you wander off. I need you to put some blankets on Reno's bed and get a bowl of cool water and a washcloth ready."

Again, he complied and wandered off.

"Reno, I want you to stand up, okay? We're gonna get rid of your blue jeans, then you're gonna take a bath, okay?" She helped the boy dispose of his pants, then set him in the cold water.

Reno made a quiet noise of malcontent that might have been a whine, but stayed in the water. He shivered.

"What did you do in school today, Reno?" Angela was digging in her handbag again with one hand, but kept hold of Reno's hand with the other.

"M-maps. Coloured Wutai. T-teacher says they eat raw fish."

"Ew," Angela stuck out her tongue. She produced a pill bottle from her bag and popped the cap off with her thumb, then set it on the tile and selected a single white pill, holding it out to Reno. "This is gonna be gross, but not as gross as raw fish. Do you think you can swallow this for me?"

"'s it?"

"It's medicine to make your fever go down. It will make your head feel better."

Reno stuck out his tongue obediently, but made a face as he swallowed the pill. "Blech."

Angela smiled gently and squeezed his hand. "I know. Tastes bad."

"'s like chalk," Reno mused. He shivered more thoroughly.

"It will start to work soon."

"Reno doesn't feel so good."

"I know, baby, I know," she told him.

"No. Reno feels sick. Reno is going to throw up."

Angela hurriedly snatched up the short plastic garbage can from beside the toilet, and brought it beside the tub. She helped him sit up and lean over the side, patted his back, and held his hair back for him.

Reno retched over the can a couple times, but produced only bile. As he finished, he slumped against the side of the tub and sobbed quietly. "Auntie Angela? Reno is cold."

Angela stroked his hair and helped him sit back in the tub. "I know, but we have to keep you in the tub until your fever goes down, or it may hurt your brain permanently."

"Daddy says Reno is brainy," Reno sighed, staring at nothing and unable to focus. "Daddy says Reno is very smart, but Reno talks funny. Teacher says Reno doesn't grasp the function of first-person pronouns."

Disturbed slightly by the tangent but wanting to distract him from his current situation, Angela encouraged him to keep talking. "Do you?"

"Of course I do."

"But you talk in third-person anyway."

"Other kids are scared of Reno. They stay away if Reno talks in third person. They don't like it when Reno is different, so they stay away. Except for the really mean ones."

Angela put a hand on his forehead to gauge his temperature, and was relieved that he felt significantly cooler. "Are there many really mean kids at your school?"

"There are some." Reno's shivering became slightly more pronounced.

"Do they ever pick fights with you?

"Yeah. But Reno always wins."

She squeezed his hand. "Attaboy, Reno. You're a fighter."

"No," he told her. "No."

She waited for another few moments, until she couldn't stand to watch him shiver anymore. "You can get out of the tub now. I think you'll be okay." Reno sat up, but required Angela's help to get out of the tub. She wrapped him in a towel and carried him back to the main room, where Paul waited with a washcloth and a bowl of water. "Where does he sleep?"

Paul pointed at the dilapidated piece of furniture that used to be a crib.

"Oh, no way. Move those blankets to the sofa." She turned on her heel and marched into the living room, setting Reno on the sofa and removing the towel, using it to dry his hair. As Paul draped the blankets over his son, Angela retrieved the bowl and washcloth from the other room. "He cannot sleep under the window like that, especially in the winter time. The draft is awful." She soaked the washcloth, wrung it out, and put it on his forehead.

"Where else am I supposed to put him? It's a one-bedroom apartment. The dining room is the only room I'm not using," Paul defended.

"Put him in your room, then. It's warmer."

"He'll have to sleep on the floor. I'm not putting him in my bed, it might make him a queer or something."

Angela snorted. "Then get him a bed."

Robert scoffed. "Furniture is expensive, woman. I'm not a nurse, like you. I wasn't smart enough to make somethin' outta myself."

"Then quit drinking. If you saved the money that you spend on booze in a month, you could buy a pretty nice bed for your son," Angela snipped, tucking the blankets around Reno.

"Huh. Probly not even my son. He doesn't look a thing like me, and he's smart. Dunno where he gets that from."

She glared daggers at him and retrieved a stethoscope from her bag. "His birth certificate says you're his father. Now. Start. Fucking. Acting like it." She tucked the earpieces in her ears, folded the blankets back, and held the metal circle to Reno's chest, moving periodically. "Reno, what does your cough sound like?"

Reno coughed at her, half-heartedly.

She removed the stethoscope and tucked it back in her bag, then folded the blankets back up and kissed him on the forehead. "Auntie Angela loves you, Reno. I'm going to go outside and talk to your daddy, okay?"

"…put your coat on, 's cold," Reno told her fondly, drifting off to sleep as the fever medication took effect.

"I will," she promised. She stood up, and grabbed Paul's sleeve, dragging him outside. The door closed with a thump, and Reno's memory of that entire week ended.

I never heard of any Angela, Rude mused reservedly.

That's because she died when Reno was eight, Toriko reported, sifting through more of Reno's memories with a growing feeling of nausea.

Fuck. This kid just doesn't get a break.

It looks like his dad took it hard. He started drinking heavily, then.

Started? Rude thought, tongue-in-cheek.

Well. More heavily. He started… he started hitting Reno then, too.

"You're such a little girl, damnit! I thought I had a son."

Why? Rude demanded.

Who knows, Toriko shrugged. He was angry, bitter, demoralized, drunk, disaffected, and a complete ass-tard.

You have some pretty strong language for a twelve-year old.

And none of it can help me express exactly how much of a rat-fucking thrice-damned asshat this guy is.

…True. Rude conceded. I met Reno when he was eleven.

Oh?

I met him in the hospital when Tseng had me investigate him.

May I have a look? Toriko inquired politely.

…I suppose.

Toriko examined Rude's memory of Reno's father's apartment and of the meeting in the hospital. I see. He remembers it differently.

I always thought he didn't remember that day in the hospital. He paused. How… how does he remember it?

I'll show you. But you should probably see what led up to it.

Flashes of physical pain and the glint of dim lamplight on broken glass made Rude recoil mentally. No, I don't want to see that. I… understand.

Okay. Directly after, then?