Author's Note: So hopefully I've been intriguing enough with my cryptic little synopsis. :) I hope what I have in the works will be worth reading! And I promise I will make the POV distinctions as clear as I can. They won't necessarily change every single chapter, but I will make it clear at the outset whose thoughts you're hearing. I made this POV choice in order to fully immerse in the characters' heads and hearts for the purposes of this story, for a level of raw honesty, or in some cases, what they perceive to be the truth, and both brothers' inner perspectives are equally important. Although admittedly, Hank is slightly easier for me to write (that may be because I am the "Hank" in my family, with my own personal "Evan").
Thanks for reading. Things will start to pick up and I'm going to try to get two more chapters up before I have to leave. I hope you'll bear with me. :)
Evan
That little painkiller thing Hank gave me sends me to La-La-Land about ten minutes after I take it. I vaguely recall talking to Hank and Divya and sounding like a complete doink, but I don't really remember them leaving, and aside from getting up once to go to the bathroom, I don't do much else except lie around. For a while, I just stare at the television, amazed at how pretty everything is. And the ache in my back is down to a dull roar. I hope Hank has plenty of these things in stock, because I feel juuuust fine. I haven't felt this groovy since I had my wisdom teeth out back in college – I had some great pills for that, too. I really think a meteor could hit the house and squish me right now and I would be completely indifferent. I fall asleep at some point, though I actually have no inkling of specifically feeling tired.
I wake up suddenly, as I feel an icy stab inside my back. But after the initial jolt, it kind of fades, and it's not quite so bad - about like it's been during the worst of the spasms, which is tolerable. I must have shifted funny or something. There is some kind of noise coming from somewhere. That doesn't bother me so much as the fact that I have absolutely no frakking clue where I am. Oh, wait. I'm on the couch. Ok, now I remember. And I think that noise is my phone ringing in the kitchen. I must have left it in there. I don't make any effort to go get it though. For one thing, every time I blink I half-forget why I'm on the couch to begin with. Whew, that was one wacky little pill. I did think it would last a little longer, though. I don't know how long I was asleep for, but I'm still kind of feeling it. I'm definitely a bit disoriented. I think I'll go back to sleep… Then I hear the little message alert boop at me from my phone. Crap, I really should get that. It could be business. Or it could be my poor beleaguered older brother calling to check on me.
I don't know why I didn't ask for Hank's help earlier with my back problem. I guess I didn't think it was worth mentioning. I mean, nothing traumatic happened to me – I lifted a heavy golf bag one day, and later on I found I couldn't stand up straight. If I had fallen down a flight of stairs, or gotten into a car wreck, or even slipped on the sidewalk, I think I would have mentioned it without hesitation. But a golf bag? Lame. Hank's always fixing things for me, and it's great that he's there for me whenever I need him. But wish I didn't do so much that needs fixing. I actually sort of wish he needed me a little more too, at least as much as I need him… just to balance things out.
And it's not like I actually wanted to take the time off to take care of this whole back thing. I am a very committed CFO. If HankMed is a success, then Hank is a success, which means he's happy, so I'm happy. It also means I'm a success, and that makes me happy too. It's win-win. Bringing Hank to the Hamptons was the best idea I ever had. I just hated seeing him floundering after he got fired – it was so stupid, because if anyone deserves success, it's Hank, and up until he lost his job, the success always came so easily to him. Of course, my original intent in our little getaway was to lift his spirits with some high living. Sort of an escape. I never imagined he would be called upon to use his skills while we were here, but he was, and as usual he shined, and now everyone wants a piece of him, a piece of the light. Easy as that. Why not turn the good fortune of the circumstances to our advantage?
My brother's career is my biggest priority at this point. But of course, now I have the added obligation of attending to my dad. I won't say 'our' dad, because Hank really doesn't care to make the distinction. I think Hank's a little mad that I've been spending so much time with Eddie R. Of course, he can't realize (since I haven't told him) that I'm doing it for him. I have to spend time with Dad. I have to keep him interested long enough so that he and Hank can come to terms with each other. I'm doing my best, but I'm smart enough to know that what Eddie really wants is a relationship with Hank. I guess it's a father/first-born son thing – I am well aware of the dynamic here. Always have been. And you know what? That's fine. It doesn't bother me at all, really. I can't afford to let it bother me. And why shouldn't Eddie want to be part of Hank's life? Everyone wants to be in Hank's life! I'm a decent second choice, but eventually he could get restless waiting around for Hank to thaw out and he might leave again. As a kid, I always kind of wondered if he left us the first time because of me, given that we were never quite as tight as he was with Hank, though I think deep down I know that I wasn't the reason. At least, I know it now. But if Eddie leaves this time, it will be because of me, because Hank won't even get involved. I won't have been enough to keep him here, and both Hank and I will have lost our father a second time. And it will be because of my failure…
So I've got to work extra hard to prolong his presence, until Hank finally wears down and accepts him. Then we can try to be a family again… even though we no longer have Mom. In the long run, Hank will realize this is a good thing, though right now I suspect he might… sort of almost hate me just the slightest little bit for it. I can't help but believe if I was more like Hank, I wouldn't have to try so hard. But I can't think about this anymore, because it stresses me out. Geez, my back really hurts now. So much for my pill.
What was I doing again? Oh, yes, my phone. I prepare to heave myself up to see how many calls I've missed. I move my leg off the top of the couch – man, I did not move at all while I was asleep – and… oh, oh my God, that was such a stupid thing to do because a whole new type of pain is coursing through me. Ok, fine, if that's how it's going to be, screw the phone, I'll just put my leg back up there. Except I can't now, because it just freaking hurts too much to do anything! I feel my back arching a bit, as I am physically trying to get away from my own pain. Ow, but that just hurts even worse!
I'm dizzy. I'm lying down and I'm actually dizzy, but I don't know if it's because I took that stupid muscle relaxer WHICH IS SO NO LONGER WORKING or if it's because of how excruciating this feels. The fire in my back is worse than anything I have ever experienced in my whole life. I am starting to think this isn't a pulled muscle after all – I'm no doctor, but there is just no way a pulled muscle would cause this kind of agony. It's just not possible. Can't be. Whatever is happening to me now is much more severe than what I've felt previously. It is literally taking my breath away. Did I do something terrible to myself by moving my leg just now? Ripples of pain make me shudder. It feels like I'm being stabbed. Repeatedly. By someone who stuck a bunch of little ninja stars in the freezer for an hour and is now throwing them at my back. Damn. Ow, ow,ow!
I need Hank. Or Divya… or anybody. At this point I'd even settle for one of the ex-assassin people Boris employs up at the main house. But to get those people to me, I need my phone. I try to stand up to go get it. Needless to say, my attempt is a dismal failure – I make it about two feet and I almost immediately collapse to the floor with a cry. Somehow the pain radiating from my back is making me lose control of my legs; they won't support my weight. Well, that can't be good. I'm struggling to keep my breathing even, and all I can think about is calling for help, so I begin to crawl on my hands and knees towards the kitchen. I don't get very far, only managing to move a couple of feet before dizziness makes me lower my head and then the rest of my body to the floor. Oh, that nice solid floor. Now that I'm down here, at least I can't fall anywhere. What the hell's wrong with me? Why do I feel like this?
I'm beginning to sweat and my heart is beating a mile a minute. Crap, I'm starting to freak out here. No matter what I tell my body, it's stubbornly refusing to obey. In fact, it seems like it's openly attacking me as a new wave of pain rolls throughout my torso. Like my body is saying, 'Oh, you want to go into the kitchen? No, that won't be possible… how about I kill you instead? Judo chop!" Whatever I told Hank earlier, I am definitely whimpering now. I actually have tears in my eyes. And frankly, I don't think I can stop myself from crying, even if I wanted to.
I can't believe this. Why couldn't I have kept my phone closer to the couch? Another wave attacks me and I just sort of curl into myself, looking for any sort of relief I can, but finding none. I think I might be dying right now. This may just be me being overdramatic, but it sure feels that way to me. Something about being trapped on the floor, physically unable to do anything to help yourself, kind of brings a certain level of clarity. I'm so dizzy… I think I might close my eyes for a moment just so I don't have to watch the room spinning around me. I suddenly have this horrible vision of Hank and Divya coming back to the house and finding me, like, dead, right here where I'm lying now… Hank finding me… and I'm dead… and he isn't able to fix me and his face is just…
I kind of pop back into myself. I think I might have been on the verge of passing out just then, but now I suddenly feel hyper-aware. I can't let this – that – happen. I can't just die here, alone, and have Hank just walk in totally unsuspecting and find me. He should have the chance to try to help me, or he'll never forgive himself, even though it wouldn't be his fault. He'll spend the rest of his life wishing he had been able to do something, wishing he had even known I was dying. I owe him that.
And if I am dying, I really, really don't want to be alone.
Tears are streaming down my face now as I make a last-ditch effort to pull myself together. I get my arms underneath me and push my upper body up rather unsteadily, and I begin to crawl once again. By 'crawl' I actually mean 'drag.' My back is screaming at me to just stop, and then to make matters worse, it gets very hard to take a deep breath. I wonder if this is a byproduct of the pain, or the activity, or the anxiety of survival.
I'm so very close to threshold of the kitchen, but I am shaking so badly I decide I have to rest for a second. I need to catch my breath before I try to pull myself up to reach the countertop where I know my phone is resting, benign and innocent, totally unaware that it is the most sought-after object in my life right now. I allow myself to lie flat on the floor, and without even thinking I put my hand over my heart. It's beating so fast, like it wants out of my chest, and the rhythm is kind of hiccupy. Slow down, I try to tell it. Please slow down just a little bit. I'm begging you…
"Hello? Anyone home?" A voice calls from the doorway.
Oh thank you, God… With all the strength I can muster, I gathered what breath I can and call out weakly from my place on the floor. "Please, help me!"
Next thing I know, my father is standing over me, looking completely bewildered. "Evan, what're you doing on the floor?"
"D-dad…" I manage to stammer through trembling lips. I briefly toy with making some smart-alecky remark about why I'm on the floor, but decide this isn't the time. Not to mention that my mouth is suddenly quivering as though I'm outside in a snowstorm without a coat. This is new – yes, now that I think about it, I am actually kind of cold, but I have no idea why it is so difficult to get words out.
Eddie bends down next to me. He puts one hand hesitantly on my head, like he's afraid to touch me, and I wonder if he can feel how badly I'm shaking. He just looks so confused, like he doesn't understand what he's walked into. And I feel terrible to spring such a situation on him like this. He has a bad track record with intense life and death moments. "Son, what happened to you? You look awful. Are you sick or something?"
"No. It's my b-back… oh, Dad, it hurts!" So, I'm, like, sobbing now. I don't know why I pick this moment to completely fall apart. I guess I am just so glad that someone is finally here to help me… at least I won't be alone. That wish was granted. If he will just stay and help me…
"Do you think you can sit up?" Dad is eyeing me like I might explode.
"I-I don't k-know." He tries as gently as possible to raise me, his arm behind my shoulders. And I try to help, using every muscle I can to see if I can at least pull myself halfway up. It's a terrible idea though. I knew that even as I was doing it. When I hear the screaming, at first I truly don't realize I'm the one doing it. Dad goes white-faced with horror, and quickly sets me back down carefully on the floor.
"Oh, God. Ok. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Evan, I didn't mean to hurt you!" He cups my face in his hands as if I am a child. He has very big hands. I remember that about him, from years ago. They feel warm on my skin, which might just be further evidence of how chilled I feel…
"My phone, on the c-counter… P-p-please… c-call Hank…" I manage to stutter. The warmth leaves my face as Eddie jumps up to retrieve the phone and do what I set out to do an eternity ago. My brother is going to freak out. I don't care though. I just want him to make it stop. If anyone can fix this… fix me… I know Hank can…
To Be Continued...