Timeline:
1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
3. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.
4. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.
5. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve
6. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
7. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
8. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
9. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.
10. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
11. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
12. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
13. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen
14. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
15. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
16. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 & 37) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
17. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen
18. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)
19. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen
20. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen
21. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
22. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
23. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen
24. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
25. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
26. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
And sequels after they move away!
'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17
'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'
'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19
'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'
'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20
'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20
'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.
'Reconstruction' - set after movies.
22nd December 1978
He was woken the next morning by a knock on the door.
Yawning, he rolled out of bed, and if it was possible he'd swear he actually felt more tired than when he fell asleep.
Mom was standing at the door when he opened it, looking cheerful and disapproving all at once. "Are you not dressed yet, Daniel?" she started. "It's nearly half nine."
"Good morning, Mom," he said quietly, standing aside obediently as she swept inside.
"This vacation is not an excuse for you to stay in bed till all hours of the day watching TV," she stated, glancing pointedly at the television.
Was showing some talk show. Danny had no idea what it was about. He flushed dully and turned it off hastily. "Sorry," he muttered.
"Now, Mr and Mrs Merrivale have been kind enough to invite us along on a trip to a couple of the museums. We're meeting them downstairs in ten minutes. You'd better hurry." She turned to leave.
"I'd thought..." Danny started before he managed to stop himself. He'd thought maybe they could have a quiet day together. He'd thought maybe she'd let him talk about Dad. He'd thought...
Mom turned round and looked at him enquiringly.
He shook his head and forced a smile. "Nothing."
"Ten minutes," she emphasised and the door closed behind her.
God, he wished Rusty was here.
Took him fifteen minutes to get downstairs, showered and dressed and presentable.
Everyone was waiting for him. Mom's lips were in a thin line. "There you are. Honestly. You're never on time."
For a second he contemplated pointing out all the ways that was unfair. For a second he contemplated pointing out all the times he'd been the one waiting and all the times she'd never even shown. But he already knew that there was no way of saying that which wouldn't leave him accused of being a petulant teenager.
"Sorry," he said instead, the picture of contrition, and he contented himself with imagining the look of indignation in Rusty's eyes.
"That's quite alright, Daniel," Mrs Merrivale said, amidst a general murmur of agreement and sympathy.
Inside where no one could see he stilled. Something felt very wrong here. They were looking at him completely different to the way they had yesterday.
"Barbara was telling us about your father last night," Mr Falconer explained. "And I wanted to say how sorry we are. Such a tragedy."
"And I'm glad you're dealing with it better now, dear," Mrs Falconer added. "You need to be strong. For your mother."
She'd told them. She'd told them? These people he'd met yesterday, these people he was never going to see again and she'd just given away his weakness and his vulnerability like it was nothing?
He couldn't let them see the hurt.
"Thank you sir. Ma'am," he said, voice brittley polite, smile distant and tight. He didn't think it would have fooled anyone who knew him for a second.
They were all oblivious. Even Mom.
"These things are so difficult," Mrs Falconer went on, and the pity was real enough. Just that he didn't want it. "But really, life goes on. You need to make the best of things. There's no point in spending all your time moping. Time heals all wounds, you know."
"Thank you for the advice," he said, his voice low and steady, and objectively he knew this shouldn't be as painful as it was.
Mercifully they moved on then, talking about the plans they were making for the day. Danny didn't hear a word.
The museum was unbearable. They just wouldn't stop giving him these sympathetic looks and all he wanted to do was melt into the floor.
Mom grabbed him by the elbow right at the entrance to the Renaissance exhibit. "For heaven's sake try to cheer up a bit, Daniel," she hissed. "I know it's difficult for you. I'm not completely insensitive, but you're bringing everybody's mood down."
"Sorry," he muttered, plastering a smile on his face.
He managed to make it last three rooms. Until the classic sculpture display when Mr Brownlie stood behind him and murmured "You really need to think of your mother, Daniel. You're the man of the family, you should be looking after her. Think of what she's lost. You don't want her worried about you as well, do you?"
Just for a moment he wondered how it would be if he told the truth. If he pointed out that Mom and Dad had been separated and Mom had already been seeing someone else by the time Dad died. That Mom hadn't loved Dad for a very long time, if she ever really had. That Mom had said, on the night of Dad's death even, that she wasn't sorry he'd died.
He never would of course. But sometimes it was nice to imagine the reactions, assumptions crushed.
He ducked his head, hoping that the urge to hide the pain would be taken for guilt or contrition or anything else.
First opportunity he ducked back behind the group, finding a radiator and crouched next to it, holding his face against it for as long as he could stand the burning. Then he hurried back to Mom before it wore off.
"Mom, I'm really sorry, but I don't feel well," he said, making his voice waver just a little, putting the tiniest hint of a sway into the way he was standing.
She looked at him sharply, sighing in exasperation. "You do look flushed," she agreed and she grudgingly raised a hand to his forehead and it was all he could do to stand still and bear it. Felt so different than when Rusty did the same thing. "Yes, you've got a temperature. Really Daniel," she said crossly and she never liked it when he was ill.
"Sorry," he muttered again.
"I suppose you want to go back to the hotel and get to bed," she went on.
He nodded eagerly. "Yes. Please," he said then waited a second. "You don't need to come though, Mom. Stay here and enjoy yourself. I don't want to spoil your vacation too."
She hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," he said. Oh, yes, he was very sure. "I don't want to be selfish."
That seemed to convince her. "Very well," she nodded. "Here's something for a cab. Mind you go straight back and to bed. I'll come and check on you after dinner," she added. "And try and feel better. Drink lots of fluids and order anything you like from room service. Don't worry about the bill."
He smiled at her. "Thank you, Mom," he said in a low voice, genuinely grateful and just a little bit guilty for the lie. She really was thinking of him. "Tell the others I'm sorry please?"
"Of course," she agreed. "Feel better, Daniel. Get a lot of rest."
Mom had given him money for a taxi and that meant that even though the walk was kind of tempting, space to clear his head, he had to get a taxi, and he was back in the hotel before he knew it.
He paused in the front door of the hotel. Yvette was standing by the front desk and she looked every bit as beautiful today as she had that first night. He smoothed his hair down automatically, glancing at his reflection in the glass door. He was looking okay. Certainly good enough that he wasn't going to turn around and not even risk being seen by a girl.
Satisfied he walked through the door and as he neared the desk he realised what he couldn't have seen from the outside – Yvette was talking to a woman who was standing behind the desk. Not just talking though. Arguing. And the woman was elegant, in her late forties, and the family resemblance was marked. Had to be her mother. Oh, fuck. He was walking into a family argument. He tried to speed up, tried to look like he was paying no attention and couldn't even see them.
Just before he drew level with the desk, Yvette yelled something that Danny was pretty certain would be covered in one of Rusty's tapes, and stormed off towards the stairs. Her mother sighed loudly and Danny smiled awkwardly at her and kept walking.
Didn't really surprise him when he found Yvette sitting on the stairs. She didn't look up as he approached and he didn't think she'd heard him.
He stood over her and suddenly he couldn't remember a single thing from French class. "Etes-vous bien?" he asked awkwardly at last, and he was almost certain that was what he was trying to say.
She looked up at him and smiled somewhat shakily. "You can speak English," she told him. "I must practice."
He nodded, admittedly relieved. "Are you alright?" he asked again.
"I am not good," she admitted with a sigh. "Ma mere...it is troubling."
"I'm sorry," he said and with full sympathy. "Parents are difficult."
She looked at him thoughtfully. "I would like to get away from here for a while. There is a cafe, dans le parc. Would you like to buy me a coffee?"
He didn't hesitate for a second. "I would love to."
Yvette grinned at him, then as she looked towards the door her smile faded. "We will need to walk past ma mere," she said reluctantly.
He could understand how she felt. Made him think of all the times he didn't want to face his parents and the tree that was the solution. "There's the side door at the restaurant," Danny suggested instantly. "It leads into the garden and there's a sidegate as well, isn't there?"
She blinked at him, clearly startled.
He shrugged. "It's always good to know where the nearest exit is."
"Pardon?" she frowned.
"Doesn't matter," he said with a smile. It was still true though. A habit that had been drilled into him by Rusty. Walk into a room and the first thing to look for was all the possible escape routes. Rusty wanted him safe and Danny took that seriously. "Anyway, we can leave that way and your mom wouldn't see us."
"I like the way you think, Danny," she said with a smile that made him feel warm inside.
Sneaking out was easy but it still made Yvette grin. In fact she was still smiling by the time they got to the cafe. Mind you so was Danny.
"You look happy," Yvette murmured as she raised her cap to her lips.
He grinned. "Here I am, in France, sitting across from a beautiful girl, drinking coffee and watching the people go by. What more could I want?"
That was a different sort of smile. "You think I am beautiful?" She sounded delighted.
"Oh, yes," he nodded. "Very much so."
She lowered her eyes, looking at him daintily through her eyelashes. "Well you are very handsome. Tres...sexy."
Oh. That was...unexpected. She had to be at least three years older than him. And he might have wondered, might have, well, fantasised, but he hadn't actually thought that his interest might be returned. If it was. Maybe she wasn't meaning what it felt like she was meaning.
"Cigarette?" She offered the packet to him and he smiled and took one.
"Thank you," he said, and he quickly gave her a light.
"Thank you," she said in turn, inhaling slowly.
Danny lit his own cigarette and promptly had to fight the urge to burst out coughing. Oh these were stronger than the brands he usually got back home.
"Danny?" she said after a second. "Thank you for taking me out like this."
"It's my pleasure," he said with truthful gallantry.
"My mother...she is too strict," Yvette started, staring down at her cup. "I am only home for three weeks over Noel. Ma mere, she asks me to work in the hotel all the time. I want to enjoy myself. Is that wrong?"
"Not to me," Danny said at once.
"She has all these...what is the word...expectations? She wants me to study hard at l'universite, and she wants me to work hard here, and I want to relax. She does not remember what it is like to be young."
"I know how that feels," Danny said slowly. "My Mom expects lots of things from me. And I disappoint her a lot."
"Ma mere is disappointed all the time," Yvette nodded. "I tell her she should get used to it. She shouts a lot recently."
From what Danny had seen Yvette had been doing most of the shouting. But there had been times – many, many times – when he'd had the urge to shout at his parents. He wasn't going to go around judging because someone else had actually gone through with it. "It's painful, isn't it?" he said instead, his voice soft and understanding.
She shot him a look of surprise and empathy. "Yes," she agreed quietly. "It is painful. Papa died three years ago. It has been me and ma mere ever since. Things are not as they were."
"My Dad died five weeks ago," he told her before he'd even thought. "I miss him."
"I miss my papa so much," Yvette said wistfully, and instinctively he reached across the table and laid his hand on hers.
There was silence for a long time.
"I should be going back," Yvette said, with a sigh. "I am working soon."
Danny nodded. "I'll walk you," he agreed.
"Merci," she said, smiling again and her dimples were showing. She hesitated as she stood up. "One of my favourite films is playing in town tomorrow evening. Would you perhaps like to see it with me?"
"I'd love that," he said immediately.
"Well, good." She smiled some more.
"Good," he repeated. Then he hesitated. "Uh...except Mom might have plans for me. I don't know. I'll check and let you know."
Yvette raised her eyebrows. "Do you always do what your mere tells you?"
"She's paying for this vacation," Danny pointed out and Yvette nodded and seemed to accept that.
They left the cafe, walking back to the hotel, and Yvette glanced sideways at him. "I do like your jacket."
"Thank you," he said with a smile, and somehow they had stopped walking and they were standing in the entrance to the park as Yvette smoked another cigarette.
"It makes you look like a bad boy," she went on and her grin was wicked. "Are you a bad boy, Danny?"
He smiled back at her. "I have my moments." He fingered the sleeve of his jacket, still smiling. "I like this jacket too. 's an early Christmas present."
"From your mother?" she guessed.
"No," he said, laughing at the thought. "From Rusty."
She looked at him, her lips pursed. "Rusty is your girlfriend?"
He laughed, making a mental note to tell Rusty that his name sounded girlish. "Rusty's a guy. He's my friend." He paused for a moment and that wasn't nearly enough to explain Rusty. "My best friend," he expanded further. Still not enough. Still not even close. He sighed. "If the world ended tomorrow, Rusty is the person I'd want to spend my last hours with."
She blinked at him and he got the idea that she didn't entirely understand what he'd just said.
"Never mind," he told her, knowing that he'd come close to revealing more of himself than he really should. Right now though it almost didn't seem to matter.
She grinned happily at him and with just a little encouragement she was telling him about the movie theatre and about the times she'd had there with her friends, and about getting thrown out for dropping paper planes over the balcony, and in return he was telling her about the movie theatre back home, about him and Rusty sneaking in behind the concession stand, about everyone betting Rus' he couldn't eat a whole bag of popcorn in less than three minutes and about the looks on their faces when Rusty promptly used his winnings to buy a bigger bag.
She was laughing right along with him, her eyes smiling, hanging on his every word, and somehow they stopped in the little patch of trees just outside the hotel, and she was holding his hand in hers, and somehow it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean forwards and kiss her.
Time seemed to stand still. The kiss was deep and perfect and forever.
"You are so beautiful," he told her softly, a second after they broke apart.
"Thank you," she said, her lips glistening. She glanced at her watch and sighed. "I need to run. Tomorrow night though, yes?"
"If I can," he cautioned and part of him was already considering all the ways he could sneak away if Mom said no.
"I will be crossing my fingers," she assured him and she ran off towards the hotel. "Au revoir, Danny."
"Au revoir," Danny said and he followed at a more leisurely pace. He wanted to at least try to stop smiling before he got upstairs. Not least because he was supposed to be sick and a lovesick smile wasn't one of the recognised symptoms.
Not that he was lovesick.
This was just...one kiss and a bit of flirting. All just a bit of fun, a fleeting holiday romance. He'd listened to her problems and of course she was going to feel close to him. And just because he felt...all the connection, the magic, it didn't mean anything.
God, he'd give anything to be able to talk to Rusty right now.
Mom wasn't back as far as he could tell, which was good. He lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about Yvette.
After a while he fell into an uneasy sleep.
He was only woken up when Mom knocked on the door to see if he was okay and to tell him that, since he was sick, she was going to go out with Mr Brownlie.
That was just fine with Danny. He ordered a grilled chicken sandwich from room service and sat and watched incomprehensible old black and white TV shows until he couldn't stay awake any longer.
He hated being alone.
By the time morning came Rusty must have fallen asleep a dozen times. At no point did he think he'd managed to stay asleep for more than an hour or so. He thought it might be the cold that kept waking him up. Like it was actually too cold to sleep. God, why couldn't this have happened in summer? It wouldn't have mattered a damn.
And as cold as he was, he still didn't want to get out of bed. Would be worse when he got up, he knew that. Too bad just not getting up wasn't exactly an option here.
Eventually it was hunger that got him up. Still he shivered and swore the moment his feet touched the air. Cold, cold, cold cold. And he was even wearing two pairs of socks.
He hurried through into the kitchen as fast as he could. Might as well get on. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he'd wasted enough of the day already.
Huh. It actually seemed to be a little warmer in the kitchen. No windows of course. That was probably the difference. He should maybe remember that.
Right now though it was time to check out the fridge. Might as well eat up anything he could; the power was out so it wouldn't keep. Although really he doubted that the kitchen was that much warmer than the fridge was meant to be...better safe than sorry anyway.
Breakfast turned out to be a mug of mildly soured milk, a small lump of cheese and five slices of processed ham. Probably just as well there hadn't been much else there.
Afterwards he took the time to go through the cupboards. Couple of tins of spaghetti-o's...he could eat them cold, no problem there. Likewise the tins of baked beans. Jar of peanut butter, tiny scrape of jelly...might be worth while picking up some bread if he had the time. An almost-empty box of frosted flakes, and he was immediately cursing himself for not having them with the milk. Still, they tasted alright on their own. Finally a packet of instant noodles. And they were supposed to only be made with boiling water, and that was in short supply. Mind you he had eaten them dry before and even though it was like eating wood, they hadn't actually killed him. If the worst came to the worst he sure as hell wasn't ruling it out just cos he didn't like it.
Still food wise it looked like he was set till after Christmas. He still had the chocolate and half the Cheetos from last night as well. He could pick up a little more junk food when he felt like it, but at least he wasn't in any danger of starving.
He could imagine the look on Danny's face, the quick covering quip to the effect that junk food would always be Rusty's priority.
God, he wished Danny was here.
He spent the morning downtown among the Christmas shoppers and stealing from them hadn't got any easier. Even the loud woman with her nose in the air, even she had two bags piled high with kids' gifts, and he couldn't bring himself to take her money.
Yes, he knew logically that these were the same people he saw every day. They didn't magically need the money more now than at any other time of year. But that didn't change the way it felt, and he went after the business people, the shoppers who seemed to be avoiding Christmas, the empty handed.
The problem, other than his unexpected stupidly sentimental streak, was the cold. He thrust his hands deep into his pocket and repeatedly wiggled his fingers, trying to keep them as warm and supple as possible, but it wasn't enough. And he was shivering too and that was hardly helpful.
This just wasn't his day.
It got worse during the lunchtime crowd. He slipped between a couple of men heading to the sandwich shop and his hand dipped casually into the one on the left's pocket, and the second his fingers closed around the wallet, he felt the hand close around his wrist.
"Gotcha, you little thief!"
His instincts said to freeze, to look up at the man to see how mad he was, to wait for retribution.
Instinct wasn't always helpful.
He yanked his arm away hard, and it hurt like hell, but that was the least of his problems right now. At the same moment he ducked his head – trying to make sure the man saw as little of him as possible, and he was running.
The other man tried to grab him, but he wrenched his shoulder out of the way of the reaching hand, and kept going, knowing they were right behind him.
"Stop him! Stop the thief!" the man yelled, and Rusty winced as everyone turned to look. Not good. A thousand times not good.
He had to get away from the crowds. He had to lose his pursuers. He had to avoid the cops.
In his mind was a map of the surrounding streets, and if he cut left through here, and a sharp right down this alley, and then wound left here, all the way down to the next street, and now he was away from the crowds, but the men were still chasing him. He could hear them behind him, breathing hard and still calling for him to stop, but the snow was everywhere, frozen and treacherous, so if he looped down the hill behind the phone booths, they'd see what looked like a shortcut to reach him and...
"Arrrghhh!"
"Fuck!"
He heard the sounds of them slipping on the steep frozen slope and grinned to himself, vaguely hoping that they weren't hurt. Not like he blamed them for any of this.
He kept moving until he was absolutely certain he'd left them far behind, then he ducked into a doorway to catch his breath.
Alright. Well, that had been stupid. Simple fact of that matter, it was far too cold to be picking pockets. His hands were numb, hell, his brain was numb, and he'd got caught. Was only the luckiest chance he'd actually got away. Next time he wouldn't be so fortunate. He couldn't carry on like this.
At the same time he was nowhere close to how much money he needed. He'd been keeping track and he had somewhere close to fifty dollars. Which was pretty good, but it wouldn't do.
God, he wished Danny was here right now. Everything always seemed so much simpler when they were together.
No point in thinking about that now. He needed somewhere he could steal that was far away from here and anyone who might have seen him running, and was warm. Indoors, even.
Oh...
Department store. Of course. Why had he never thought of that before? He'd stole clothes from the one down the street often enough. It was always full of people, all concentrating on their shopping. He'd bet they'd never even notice a pickpocket.
Still, the one down there was a little too close for his liking. Not to mention that the store detective there had been eying them suspiciously the last time they'd been there, and that had been a couple of months now, but he still worried.
No, there was that new one uptown. A far better prospect.
It took him an hour or so to walk across town to the store, and by that time he was even colder.
He took an hour out to get warmed up. Wasn't time wasted. Wandering around the store, learning the layout, checking out every exit, the quickest routes through the store, looking out for store detectives, figuring out the cashiers line of sight, knowing where the managers tended to congregate. He might be on a deadline here but there was no point in doing it if he wasn't going to do it right.
Once he was satisfied that he knew enough to be going on with, he set to work.
Oddly it was actually easier here than it had been on the street. Might be Christmas, but the two women who got into a fight over the last novelty dartboard, the man who called the cashier a silly little girl and made her cry, the group of teenagers who took every dress in the shop off the hangers and left them in a heap for the harassed assistants to pick up...oh, these would always be acceptable marks and their money jumped happily into his hands.
This was a better way of working altogether, in winter at least. He'd have to suggest it to Danny for the future.
He didn't look at the holiday decorations, the Christmas food, or the excited children and their indulgent – loving – parents, looking at the toy department. He didn't even hear the cheerful Christmas music that echoed through the store. He was here to work. And nothing else mattered.
The store closed at six o'clock on the dot, and he followed the crowd to the front entrance, pausing only to let a couple of packets of candles accidentally fall into his pocket.
It was dark outside and the snow was still lying on the ground and the wind was fierce and icy and blew straight through him.
What now?
It was a bit too early to go and hang around outside the bars, but it was a lot too cold to hang around the streets.
He sighed. Maybe he should head home for a bit. Get some dinner and come back out when the drunks did. That sounded like the best plan.
The walk back to the apartment felt longer than ever and even though his hands were shoved deep into his pockets and his coat was wrapped around him as tight as it could go, he still felt like he was in imminent danger of turning into a human popsicle.
Wasn't that much warmer when he got in either. The windows were rattling with the wind and there was a frozen puddle of water in the sink.
Oh, this was no good. It was only going to get colder and he wouldn't be good for anything.
He opened a can of spaghetti-o's, grabbed a fork, retreated to his bedroom, lit a bunch of candles and settled down to eat, sitting as close to the candles as he could.
Even the tiny flames made a difference.
Huh. He wondered what Dad would say if he came back and Rusty had set fire to the sofa?
He ate the spaghetti-o's slowly and planned his next move, remembering the last time he'd been in this situation, back before he met Danny.
Dad was away and Mom was sprawled on the couch with the dregs of a bottle of vodka, and Robert was huddled in a corner of the living room, shivering and reading the book that he'd got from school. Dad wasn't here, so it didn't matter that he was reading, and as long as he was good and quiet, Mom seemed okay with him being here. Maybe she even liked the company. Maybe she wanted him to stay. His room was cold and lonely and right now he wanted to presume on Mom's nice mood for as long as he could.
Only trouble was his teeth kept chattering. He tried to stop them because smaller things had annoyed Mom past the point of endurance before, but no matter what he did, he'd be back shivering again and the noise would start up all over again.
"Are you cold, boy?" Mom demanded, loud and sudden.
Robert looked up quickly, trying to figure out what the right answer was. Whining was worse than lying, usually, but in this case the truth was so obvious it might just be a trick question. "Yes," he decided softly.
"Come here," Mom said, beckoning him closer. Oh. That was rarely a good idea. He hesitated. "It's alright," Mom said, exasperation creeping into her voice. "Come here!"
And now it was all about whether to obey or to defy Mom, and to be honest neither sounded like a particularly good idea.
It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go. And Mom had been being pretty nice today. Maybe she just wanted him to go fetch something for her.
He crept over to the sofa, dragging his feet with every step, and he stopped just out of easy arm's reach. "Yes, Mom?"
She half stood up and hauled him closer so he was standing right in front of her, and started rubbing roughly at his arms. He flinched with every movement. It didn't hurt, not quite, but it was uncomfortable and he was frightened and he just wished she'd stop touching him.
"Your Dad's out getting some stuff to get warm," she told him after a few moments. "But we need to stay warm right now, don't we?"
He nodded dumbly.
She grabbed one of his arms and inspected it closely, rolling up his sleeve. "Like a scrawny plucked chicken," she told him, and he tensed, not sure what she was gonna do. Maybe she meant to beat him to warm up. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been acting nice and then suddenly lashed out at him. Sometimes he could be bad without even knowing it.
"Okay, boy, what I need you to do is go out and get as many newspapers as you can find," she instructed, standing up and shoving him towards the door. "Doesn't matter where you get them. Lots of people get them delivered. You should be able to find them no problem. And don't even think of coming back without a whole bunch of them, you understand me?"
It took a couple of hours of careful scavenging through mailboxes, doorsteps and dumpsters before he had enough newspapers to be certain that Mom would be satisfied. Not like he had any idea what Mom had meant by a bunch anyway.
She'd fallen asleep by the time he got back, and he approached the sofa cautiously, shaking worse than ever.
"Mom?" he said softly and she snapped awake, staring at him in confusion. "Mom, I got the newspapers."
"I don't read that garbage," she grunted without even looking. "Take them away. Where's Robert, anyway?"
"Dad's not here right now," Robert explained. "He went to get some stuff. You sent me to get the newspapers. To keep us warm."
"Right." She focused on him a little more coherently. "Yeah, we might as well do that." She snatched the papers out of his hand and dropped them on the floor, and he stepped back fearfully, but she lunged forwards and grabbed him, her hand closing around his upper arm, crushing and bruising, and while he was struggling to get away, she hauled his sweater and t-shirt over his head until he was standing there, bare and shaking.
"That's good," she announced vaguely.
Robert didn't think so and he tried again to tear his arm away and his Mom didn't even seem to notice. "Now," she went on, picking out a paper and shaking free a single sheet. "What you gotta do is wrap this around yourself, okay? Just like this. Wrap a couple of sheets around your chest and stomach and then put on your tightest t-shirt to keep 'em in place, you get me?" She matched her actions to her wards and Robert was standing there in his t-shirt again and the paper felt strange against his bare skin. "Then you put another layer of paper over the t-shirt, put on another top, then more paper, more clothes...as much as you can get. Then you're warm, see?"
He did see.
"You can even stuff some newspaper down your pants if you like, though if you're anything like your Dad you won't need to," she added with a chuckle.
Robert wasn't paying attention. He was covering himself with another layer of paper and pulling his sweater over the top. He looked at Mom with wonder.
"Feels warmer, doesn't it?" she nodded. "Don't say your Mom never taught you anything."
He felt a whole lot warmer and he smiled gratefully at Mom. "Thank you," he said softly.
She smiled back. "You've got a really pretty smile, boy. You should use it more often. Men will do a lot for a pretty smile. Now, take your book to your room before your Dad gets back."
Layers of newspaper. It had been a long time since he'd had to use that trick – nowadays when he was cold and the power was off, he'd stay at Danny's. At Danny's insistence, after all.
Course they didn't get newspapers delivered, but Mr and Mrs Waterman downstairs did, and they got the evening edition, and Mr Waterman didn't get back till about eight, so chances were good it'd still be lying out in the hall.
He was in luck, he managed to sneak downstairs without anyone seeing him and pick up the paper. Hopefully there was no news in there that the Watermans couldn't live without till morning.
Stripping down to his bare skin in this temperature was most definitely not appreciated, and he might just have set a new record in pulling his clothes back on. There. Including the newspapers and his coat, he was wearing six layers. Should be enough to take the edge off. He sat in his bedroom for a moment, almost testing it. Certainly it felt a lot warmer, though it did nothing to help with the draft on his face and neck. And he rustled if he moved around too much. Still he wasn't going to complain.
There was still a few hours before he wanted to head out to the bars, so he took the tape player out of its hiding place and settled down to listen to his French tape.
Of course, he reflected, looking at the tape player. There was one obvious way for him to get some cash together. It's what Danny would want after all. When given a choice between Rusty freezing and putting his Christmas gift in hock for a couple of weeks, Rusty knew what Danny would pick every time.
That was the pragmatic option. The logical one. And Rusty could never ever even consider it. Might be rampant sentimentalism, but just the idea of discarding anything that Danny had given him...oh, it wasn't gonna happen. Not even if it was the only choice he had to get the cash.
It wasn't, of course, and after a few hours he headed out and wandered through the crowds of drunks, silently lifting as many wallets as he could.
Even with the paper insulation he still felt the cold. By midnight the snow was falling and with the wind picking up it was practically falling sideways. He huddled in a doorway and his hands were almost too frozen to light his cigarette. He kept his hands wrapped around his lighter for a long moment, burning the tips of his fingers painfully. The temptation to just call it a night and head home was enormous. But he hadn't even made seventy dollars total yet, and as long as there were still marks on the street he wasn't going to call it quits.
He managed to fall in with a large and raucous crowd somewhere outside McSorleys, and he stayed with them as they wandered to Pinkies and then out to the Bluebell Lounge. They all seemed happy enough to have him along, shoving him around and calling him names cheerfully.
"Hey! Rugrat. Your Momma know you're out?"
"Want a drink, sissy? I'll get you a beer at the next bar."
"Hey, sweetcheeks, you got a dollar? I'll show you something that'll put hair on your chest."
"Fucking tagalong."
He made no objection and he had the chance to steal all the change they shoved into their pockets. He followed them as long as he dared, and at the Bluebell Lounge he slid onto another group going to Rudie's, and then picked up another after that.
It was maybe three in the morning when he finally got home. Good thing he'd had the sense to leave a candle next to the door, he was able to get it lit and stumble through to his room.
God, he could smell the smoke, the booze and the cheap cologne on himself. But still the idea of getting changed for bed was remarkably unappealing. He got as far as taking his snow-covered coat off and he let it fall to the floor, before falling into bed and pulling the blanket over his head.
The wind was howling through the window. He was so cold
Oh, he wished that he was with Danny right now. It wasn't that he didn't think he could do this...he could get through this, after all. He'd get the money and everything would be fine. But it would be so much better if Danny was here. So much better if he could talk to Danny right now.
Quietly he crept under the bed and pulled the blanket with him.
He hated being alone.