I wake from a real piece of shit nightmare, and jump out of my skin, when I'm greeted by my mums worried face. She's sitting on my bed with a:" Good morning Morty, had another nightmare?" I just nod, not seeing a point in lying. Her lips tighten and she gains years in the form of wrinkles.
"I really have no idea how to help you with that one, Sorry. Maybe just try to decrease your stress?.. Anyhow I came here to tell you that the Rick from last night will be staying here a while. He came back last night in shambles. His own family got killed while he was here… I offered him the garage, but he was in no shape for a civilised conversation last night. I'm glad you got those sleeping pills so you didn't hear it. It got pretty ugly. He's out cold in the guest room."
I don't want to tell her I took none last night, but just slept like a baby with alcohol and a good bit of making swift love to myself. She doesn't need to hear. "Ye-yeah. Don't we have that spare mattress in the attic? If he agrees, maybe we can make that work for him. The garage is mu-much -much bigger than that guest room."
She agrees with a nod and says:" If… then while you're up there why don't you get that big green tarp for my car.- Thanks sweetie, what would I do without you?" She kisses my forehead and on the way out shuts the light, knowing I won't wake up at the ungodly hour she does. I'm awake long enough to hear her driving off.
I'm permanently awake all too soon. Going out to brush my stinky teeth isn't good enough a reason to stop me from a good hour of escapism via the internet. I embrace my soft blanket castle, and scroll through some animated porn. Nothing catches my eye, yet again. Bored I scroll some forum for furry porn, and manage to get a semi. Fuck it. I dress up and go brush my teeth. I wash my face and warily look at the reflection. "Not looking so hot, am I?" I ask myself, and pinch some life to my pale cheeks. If it's cloudier than yesterday, I'll catch some rays on the backyard. This I promise to myself, as I exit.
I stop on my tracks tho when I reach the hallway. On the ground next to the guest room door lies a pair of familiar pants. He flaunted them on his long lean legs by lifting them often into sight. It was just yesterday, it's still crystal clear in my memory. "So this is it now. If things go down smoothly, this is the thing that fixes all our biggest problems," I think to myself, while lifting the pants onto a mini sofa mum found at our neighbors yard sale last week. It still smells like fresh paint.
When I turn around I almost squeal in fright, as Rick has seemingly silently opened the door and is stretching his hand towards the pants. He looks like steaming hot trash. I give them to him dutifully. He grunts a thanks and retreats back the way he came.
I stand there a moment unsure what to do. Should I make him some breakfast, cause I don't believe people who went through trauma can cook on the first day after. I tell myself to stop being a little bitch, and just go back to browsing. But I can't help myself, and a while later I'm back on the same spot. In my hands is a plate of bacon, cheese omelet, and some toast, and a hefty carton of oj. I knock on the door with the hand with the juice. There is no answer. A small wavering feeling of panic rises within. "If the door is not locked I ca- could bring you some breakfast ...if you let me." I sound pathetic but who gives a shit, when I can only seem like exactly what I am: overwhelmingly unequipped to deal with this situation, and purely riding on instinct. "It's open," is what I think he says. I poke my head in the door. He's lying face down, clothed, on the bed. "I'll just put these here on the dresser," I tell him, looking at the back on his head. I'm still looking while I'm leaving. He lifts his head and catches my stare with his own bloodshot eyes. I feel rooted right to that spot on the floor. His tired gaze just looks from beyond the haze, and he blinks slowly like a vulnerable feline. I answer with the same, and for a moment he looks shocked, then his eyes crinkle. "Gotcha," he whispers into the pillow. I hear it loud and clear, and quickly hide beyond the door, and soon under my blanket.
My fingertips feel like firecrackers. He couldn't have meant what I think he did. Right? Right?! I mean who-... I mean how even would-... I bite back a whimper as I palm myself under covers. The door is locked, walls very soundproof, so why the fuck not. It's not like anyone could find out what I fantasise of in my own mind. So I let go of the pier and let myself drift off to sea.
It's four o'clock, and I'm getting some school done at my desk. I hear a bang from the hallway, and jump onto my feet. I'm in the hallway without a second thought. Rick is just starting to climb up the ladder to the attic. He stops in his tracks:" Thought I'd go see if you also- If - If you have one of those blue and white striped mattresses. Thinking of bunking in the garage like your mum suggested. She talked to you di-EURP-dn't she?" He sounds very even, and even looks like nothing has happened. Looks like he he even got some sleeping done, evidenced by the lighter colouring under the eyes.
"Ye-yeah, she also wants that big tarp for the car. It should-should be on the black shelves at the back," I tell him like the proud mommas boy that I am.
" 'Kay," and he's gone.
I stand there for a moment not knowing what to do. He soon re emerges and hands me the mattress. It has been rolled like sushi, and held together by a belt. I receive it and place it on the ground, while he disappears once more. I fidget with the belts buckle, until I remember mum telling that it belonged to grandpa. I let go of it like hot iron. I think this Rick is wearing one just like it. When he climbs down, my suspicion is confirmed. This is so fucked.
We walk down to the garage (I pick up some linen on the way) and set up his new bed. I hold the belt for a moment before placing it on a counter, that sits empty in a lack of tools or other gardening stuff. That all left with dad. Now we just have cabinets full of dust bunnies. We even just stopped mowing the lawn out of defiance on moms part to re buy something Jerry took. "There's a spare one for you I guess," I mutter, and move to place the tarp on a shelf. I do it just to have something to do. It would have totally been just fine on the ground. I feel awkward and move towards the door:"Beth said she'd ..um be home at nine. I'll warm- put some food in the oven right before. You're welcome to join." I don't wait for a response, and just leave.
The sunset is devine, and I snap a picture of it through the living room window, then head down to stick the casserole in the chicken tanning booth. When I'm done I scan the picture I took. There is a gaunt figure in the windows reflection holding a phone. I forgot to enjoy the weather like I promised myself. Not the first time I let myself down- More like a daily occurrence at this point.
Me and mum are in the middle of our meals when he shows up. Mum is looking at him intently, trying to find marks of anything. He eats half a plate and excuses himself to go stare at the tv. The dinner is silent. Mum seems worried but quite helplessly tonguetied. I place our dishes in the sink and urge her towards them with a nudge on the shoulder. I have no real strategy for what I'm about to do, but I flip the universe the double bird and just wing it. "So. Uh. Rick. Where do the other Mortys go with-with their Ricks?" I ask him, feeling moms ears on the conversation. Rick pats the place next to him, and I sit. He looks at the screen, but his eyes aren't following the action on it. There he sits a while looking into the distance, and then speaks:" Most Ricks don't give a shit ab-EURGHP-out their Mortys and just go where ever the fuck they want. But I'm pretty sure you just want to know what the few spoilt prats get to experience, like entire planets made of diamond, or the land of a million red waterfalls. Right?"
"I umh-" I stumble on my words and regroup my thoughts for a moment:" I ju-just don't yet understand how the whole, uh, Rick and Morty thing works I guess. So- so where do most of them go?" He assesses me a moment, and then answers:" Some go to this place called the Citadel, where loads of Ricks and Mortys hang. It's a government run by Ricks, kind of. But I think it's just a cesspool of elitist shitheads flinging feces at walls like monkeys, trying to see what sticks over their massive napoleon complexes. But really it depends on the Rick. What sorta jobs he does and shit."
I nod getting the impression that all Mortys are wet towels like me. "So. Uh. What do you do then, going Mortyless and all? I mean uh- I'm sorry. That came out wrong didn't it." I stumble through the sentence like a kindergartener. At the mention of his Morty his jaw tightens. It should make me sad, but honestly it's just damn sexy. I weigh in my head if I should just let him be when he doesn't answer ( and have a inside-the-head press conference to debate my morals in thinking him attractive), or press on. The first sounds tedious- into the traaaash it goes. "I'm-I.. uh. I just never really had a Rick, so uh. I think I'm just like those Citadel(?) people now, see-seeing if shit sticks."
He stares again. This time he really looks at me, like he sees something beyond the physical. I want to squirm like a guilty child, but can't let go of his stare even for a blink. I end up twisting my hands together on my lap instead of the full on butt shimmy I really want to do. I hear mum chuckle in the other room. He's still looking at me. He blinks slowly and returns to looks at the tv, all fucking casual. My hand twisting intensifies.
Once he has found a chanel he likes (telenovela with trunk people) , he finally answers: "I deal things to people that don't have access to cross dimensional technology. Like rare plant parts and shit. Some of it legal, some less so. My Morty … he took some speech therapy at this fancy institution. It cost a shit ton. Had to get that cash baby." The word 'baby' is said in the same monotone as the rest, adding to my discomfort.
Mum emerges from the kitchen with our wine glasses from dinner, and a fresh bottle.
"Did it work?" she asks Rick while setting the things in her hands on the sofa table. Rick accepts when she offers him his glass, still looking at the tv:" Yeah, but not really. The do-EURPH-ctor said returning to school always worsened it. I thought it might be a load of bullshit, but who knows. It did improve after a few years. But Beth-" he turns to her "-don't spend your hard earned money on it. Let Morty be Morty. Most Beths never even try. You're not a shit mother for not try-EEEURP-ing." They have a tender moment of bonding, and I let it roll out. Whatever makes Mum happy.
An hour later of making fun of the fact that movie tropes are apparently universal, and three bottles down, Mum excuses herself and goes to bed.
I doubt Rick's drunk, even though he drank the most. He's sipping from his flask and pointing out things on screen. I have gotten myself a blanket and probably look like a burrito. Mom has to get up early, but I'm no stranger to sleeplessness. I estimate I have a good five hours of awake time.
"Jeesus Morty! You scared the shit out of me with those ice cold toes! Are you even alive? I've felt corpses that are warmer." He exclaims and wraps his long finger around my sneaky toes looking for warmth under his legs. I chuckle maniacally and press my icy finger against his neck. He doesn't fret like normal people. He doesn't even flinch. He just closes his eyes and his mouth becomes a tight line. Oh shit...
He doesn't open his eyes, just starts massaging my feet. Fuck. He knows all the sweet spots. He presses his calloused index finger between my big toe and the next, and finds a perfect little button that says 'moans'. I completely lose my shit, and just melt deeper into my blanket and make the most wanton noise. He stops for a moment, peels back part of the blanket to reveal my face. And oh does he stare. He's hard to read, but as he presses the button again, and I very much without shame moan, his lids gain weight. He opens his mouth a few times like a fish before talking: "I… Another day."
I'm unable to scream in frustration as I'd want, because jeesh he just lost his family. And also it sounds like a promise of return. It'll taste sweeter when I'm all pent up.
"Ye-yeah, I get that," I really try not to sound too disappointed. Not sure I manage tho. "Yeah," he says, and gets up. He turns to me on the doorway and gives me a heavy lidded blink. I return it, and wait for him to close the garage door.
I drag my ass up, and become all too aware of my raging hard-on. "Oh god," I mutter to myself and grin as I press the off button on the remote. I drag my blanket back up to my bed and hide my sinful ass under it. This'll be one fantastic wank.