On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 2
Chapter 5
Prophecy. Murphy's law. Fate. All played a role in Todd's leaving the hospital before he was well. The doctor knew drug abuse lurked in the background of his patient's complicated psychic tapestry. So he addressed it, de-mystified it, offered options. But the foreground took urgent priority: the flashbacks, the nightmares, the catatonic episodes, the gut-wrenching depression. Have patience, the doctor had told him. Give us time.
I gave you time. I don't want to remember this shit anymore.
In the dark of his office, Tim easily called up Todd in his mind, hazel-colored eyes that softened his history-laden features, that made a person forget the violent scar on his cheek, pleading eyes focused on the doctor. Such fragility. Give me some good feelings, he said, take away the pain for just a little while.
The phone on his desk waited for his next move: calling Viki Carpenter to tell her he had lost her brother. He failed to find the right balance to fix him. The psychiatric industry was unique because while based in science, it also called for subjective interaction, where the right focus, the right behavior of a doctor or therapist, the right environment, all could resolve a person's mental health. Journal writing, painting, mediation, sharing a personal life. Being kind, being firm. Being patient, being insistent. A great balancing act to lead a person to healthfulness.
"I couldn't find that balance, Todd...I'm sorry," Tim said aloud, banging the side of his closed fist against the desk a few times. He dialed Viki's telephone number and she answered and he heard her breathe out when he said he was calling about Todd. Like she knew.
"He left with someone in a dark-colored...looked like a late 70's BMW. No license plate." Tim raised his eyes and saw Shane Lansing in his doorway, a terribly welcome sight. He tried to smile at the date he was supposed to meet for a late-night dinner, but the effort faded quick.
"It was his decision to leave," Viki said. Tim had expected her to fall apart. He was surprised by her detachment.
"I tried to stop him. I was so close - he reached for me. I think it was his supplier, Paulie Smith… I'm sure that's not a traceable name. I reported him to the police, but-" Tim suddenly choked up, "I don't even know what the man looks like."
Shane stepped into the office at that and walked behind the desk, leaning down to wrap his arms around the doctor. Staying there. Tim laid a hand on Shane's. Turned just enough to see that handsome face, full of gentle understanding. He smelled like the woods, green, fresh...
Viki drew in Tim's attention. "Why don't you find out which nurses were on duty when Mr. Smith visited before? Maybe they can describe what he looked like. Maybe his entrance was even filmed by a security camera?"
"Yeah...I'll check on that," Tim said. "They were headed west… north exit. He left with just the clothes on his back. Didn't have shoes, socks only. I'm so sorry." He felt a warm kiss on his cheek… a squeezing of strong arms around him, a simple act.
"It's not your fault," Viki said. "You've done everything you can for him. I have so appreciated your hard work, your valuable time. Like you said, it all comes down to Todd. Leaving was his decision."
"Of course. I'll call you if I hear anything and certainly, you know my cell number… if he contacts you. I'll call his wife-"
"No, let me do it. Thank you again, Tim."
He hung up and Shane let him go, turning and half-sitting on the desk. Eyed Tim, features gentled. "What happened?"
"Patient left. I must have missed something. I didn't address his problem with drugs enough. I wasn't meeting his needs enough. Nobody was meeting them. He's so closed up - so depressed - he didn't trust me enough-"
"Hey… why are you personalizing this?"
The picture of Jonathan blurred… Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, pinching off unhelpful emotion. God, this hurt. As he took a deep breath, he felt a kind hand resting on his shoulder.
"Graham…?"
The admission was harder than he thought, the feelings deeper, more intense than usual. A weakness he supposed. A tear in his calm. "My ex… my first… he died on the streets. I wasn't able to help him. When I lose patients, I don't handle it well."
"Ah." Shane smiled, disarming. Letting the fellow doctor just be. Tender awareness warmed his voice. "This is your seductor who left, the one who tested your trustworthiness. And he reminds you of… your first great love."
Tim reached for Shane, the heaviness in his heart showing in a sigh. "Yet they're nothing alike other than being sick, being victimized by something out of their control. And he's run off in much the same way and I'm afraid he's suicidal. Deep, black depression. I called the police… we'll see if they can wrangle him back."
They were quiet a few moments. The hospital outside the door moving along like nothing happened. Same as ever.
"Your patient was fairly forthcoming as far as surface motivations go. He told you exactly why he was attempting to seduce you… why'd he leave?"
"You're quite astute."
"I've been told."
"He said he wanted pain relief - physical, emotional. Left with his drug dealer. It's suicide."
Shane crossed his arms, taking on his doctorly pose. "Opiates are for pain. Drug dealer means illegal opiates… so chances are heroin. That's a great way to go. I tried it once in med school. A science experiment. It's delicious."
Tim shook his head, "Where'd you go to med school again?"
"In the Caribbean."
"Figures," Tim smiled, a smile he didn't think he'd be capable of under these circumstances. He then grew thoughtful. Reflected on every suicide he'd handled over the years. Blades, gunshots, drownings, jumps… and yes, overdoses. But… most heroin overdoses were accidental. Actually, he couldn't think of a single suicide by heroin. The high was worth living for. He studied Shane, eyes roving his beautiful self as he waited so patiently against the desk, ankles crossed… brown-black hair… green eyes… slacks fitting so fine beneath his tweed blazer. An antithesis to Tim's hippy California style.
"My patient landed a spot on my rounds by cutting himself up. Painful. Violent. Determined to die." He paused. Thinking. Eyes on papers strewn across his desk. "If he really wanted to end things he'd have gone to the roof. Might have even thrown himself in the way of a truck… right on this boulevard. He looked both ways before crossing the street."
Shane grinned, "Looked before crossing… wanting to get high… I'd say your seductor wants to live, Graham. That's pretty hopeful, don't you think? The opposite of suicide?"
"You ought to think about switching to psych."
"No thank you, my friend. I prefer my patients to be in and out of my office. Stitch and run."
A frown pulled at Tim's mouth. "Now we just have to worry about him accidentally dying."
"Gah! Ever the optimist!" Shane took Tim's hand… "Come sweetheart, let's get a bottle of wine and go to my place. We can wait for the cops to call there since it's nearby. You can tell me more about sweet Jonathan. Let's see if we can get you to separate him from your patient a little…"
"Todd has chosen to leave the hospital, Téa. Dr. Graham believes he left with his… drug dealer."
"Oh… oh no." Viki's voice was calm on the phone as she began to share details on what happened and Téa tried to emulate that. Her heart had jumped into her throat though. Her mouth had dropped open in shock. Fear tore through her.
In front of the hospital… no shoes… drove away in an old black BMW...
She breathed to calm herself, still hearing his words about the dead boy at his feet…
He's here with me. It's so gross – maggots and worms have bloated him. He's rotting. I don't like being with it – it suffocates me.
He was that boy. A boy who had been raped as he himself had admitted to her. On her own, she had wondered if the rape was the only incident of sexual abuse. Experience with clients who'd suffered similar fates... being a naturally analytical person… her research in recent weeks… logic... Todd's aversions to all intimacy... told her a definitive NO. Peter Manning had abused Todd beyond the one rape at age fourteen. Perhaps… Peter had begun the torment when Todd was very young, which is why the rotting boy Todd saw at his feet seemed so very young. He agreed unwittingly that he'd been "just a baby," when Peter had wounded him. Not the phrasing one would use if describing a teenager. Perhaps a more protracted history of sexual abuse was why Todd was so very sick. Of course, she knew nothing for sure. The doctor and Viki were quite protective. Keeping his secrets.
Hold me tighter. Like that, just like that.
"Kevin'll be at the hospital first thing," Viki went on. "They're going to try to figure who this man is that Todd left with. But maybe you know?"
Shaken, Tea tried to concentrate on Viki's voice. She rasped, "Um… know what?"
"Who Todd's supplier is? He was on that… methamphetamine a while. Did you ever hear a name or see… anything? He goes by Paulie Smith or at least he registered that way at the hospital."
"No...no… never… I had no idea he was doing anything like that at the time… I completely missed it. I was so stupid. His behavior was so… obvious. He was… tweaking." Terminology she knew. From her work. Viki would have no idea what that meant. Tweaking according to the Urban Dictionary: being high on meth or crank; frantic or compulsive behaviour associated with methamphetamine use. He was most definitely tweaking during that ridiculous hostage situation at the cabin. When he punched her.
"Shhh, Téa… we all missed it. It's not stupidity… it's choosing not to see someone you love killing themselves." Her voice caught. A break in her calm, a splash of mud on her ever-professional deportment. "I wonder where he would go?"
Viki sounded so unlike herself, so sad. Tea put her hand in her hip, eyes on the large windows of the Penthouse. She was standing in the middle of his darkened living room. She'd come here... just to... what? Precognition. Eyes on the door. "If he's determined to be independent of the hospital… he'll come home. Here…to the Penthouse. Might be our best shot at confronting him."
"I should come, then."
"No. Too much like the intervention. If he shows up... one of us will be enough. More will upset him."
Delgado, I want to go home ... please let me come home ...
I'll wait for you, I'll be here for you ...
Jed was about to storm into Kevin's bedroom so he could really push him into going to West V. despite the Phillip Manning threat. He stopped short at the door when he heard Kevin mention Todd.
Kevin was hunched over on the side of the bed tying his shoelaces as he cursed, "Why'd I have to find him that night, Cass? It's like punishment or something...I can't shake him...can't get rid of him."
"You know," she answered, touching his back, looking at him compassionately. "It's interesting he chose you to do the story on Michelle...to find him. I'm torn between the reason being that he hated you, or that in some way, he trusted you."
Kevin sat up and looked Cassie, "Trusting me?"
"Yes. He trusted you to clean up the mess, so to speak. To do right by him and Michelle. To tell the truth."
"You mean by having the Banner over the Sun do the story."
"Sure... that and everything else. Todd could've called Sam, but he didn't. He didn't... trust him. He could have called Viki, Blair even. Granted, he probably was protecting them, didn't want them to get a shock. It was like he knew you would be up to it. That...you would..see it all through. He trusted you."
"I don't know... what with Marty and all..."
"You're talking about him resenting you for not lying at the trial."
"Yeah, old wounds."
"But that's what I mean. You told the truth when he couldn't. You stood up to him without fear. He went after everyone else...Nora, Marty, Luna...all based on betrayal and yet he left you alone. It was as if... he respected you on some level. He... trusted you."
"You're giving me way too much credit... he hates my guts and I'm sure he really does now, considering I have Jed here. I'm betraying him by taking his property. You know how he is..."
Jedediah stopped breathing a moment, waiting to hear what Cassie would say. Property? Todd thinks his children are... property?
"I think it's quite the opposite. He's taken off with his pusher to God knows where... in search of who knows what... because he knows Jed is safe. Because he knows you will take care of his son."
Jedediah was confused for a moment. Todd had taken off? Again? No.
"I guess so," Kevin griped. "I mean, assuming he has real paternal feelings to him. That he really cares about-"
"You don't think he cares about me?" Jedediah stood now in the doorway, his voice full of stress and hurt the weeks had brought him.
Kevin closed his eyes and breathed out heavily. He forgot he and Cassie weren't alone anymore. "Oh Jed, I didn't..."
"You been telling me he cares... that he feels something... that he might even love me... and now..."
"That's not what I meant!"
"You talk about him hating you...but the truth is, YOU hate him. Why don't you just admit that?"
Cassie got up off the bed and went to Jedediah, reaching out to touch him, "Sweetie..."
"Don't 'sweetie' me! All of you hate him... no wonder he doesn't wanna stick around to get better! Why would he?! You know what, I'm outta here, too. Fuck all of you."
Kevin got up quickly, yelling as the kid stormed down the hall, "Jed! Come back! COME ON!"
"No... you guys don't care about him and that means you don't care about me or my mother..." Jed went down the stairs quickly. "You've been putting me off...putting West V. off ... so you can sit back and punish him. And me! He needs closure with my mom and so do I! Phillip Manning is just your latest EXCUSE!"
"No, you don't understand! Todd and I have a long history together! I told you we were frat brothers...when he got arrested for raping Marty, so did I!"
Jed stopped a moment. This was new. The two were at the bottom of the stairs.
"Yeah," Kevin huffed, "...Marty accused me of being in on the gang-rape along with Todd. Todd... being guilty, hung onto that. Used that. He wanted me to help him... to go along with his story. I couldn't. I was cleared and he went to prison. We've been at odds for a long time."
"Meaning everything I just said is right! You really hate him. Which means... you hate me, too. Simple math. Adios." He turned, heading towards the front door again.
"No! I don't hate him anymore. I was just... being an idiot upstairs. I'm pissed that he left the hospital... I'm pissed that he can't seem to get better. Because you and Tea... Starr... all need him to be well."
Jedediah looked away, Kevin's words not filling up that persistent emptiness he felt. For all the trust Todd supposedly had in Kevin, Jedediah felt a distinct lack of it. He wanted to tell Kevin about the stranger, but found himself unable to. Kevin had a history with Todd. He couldn't possibly be all that interested in Todd's well-being. Even his taking Jed in could be interpreted as a play on Todd. A getting back at him. With a hard breath, Jedediah stormed the large living room, grabbed the door knob, and pulled the front door open.
"You can't leave, Jed! Not with that maniac out there," Kevin shouted. Cassie had since come down the stairs now and stood next to Kevin.
Jedediah turned and hissed, "Screw you." He slammed the door shut.
"God! WHY DOES HE HAVE TO BE SO MUCH LIKE TODD?! Jesus!" Kevin ran outside, just in time to see Jed flip him off and take off down the driveway on his motorcycle.
Cassie called the Mole and let him know that Jedediah had left, but seriously did not think he was going far. Kevin chased after him but lost him quickly. The Mole promised he would go looking for the little squirt to make sure he'd be safe. As usual. But before he buggered off, he just had to know...
"Hey, gotta question… who is Phillip Manning… to Todd Manning? Same name and all… coincidence?"
Silence. She sighed noisily. "Phillip is Todd's cousin."
"Who is Jedediah to the two of them?"
"Jedediah is Todd's son by an old girlfriend who passed away a long time ago. Phillip was a rival for the girl."
A low whistle followed… "And lo the worm turns…"
He snapped his eyes at his sleeping half-naked client in the China Moon Motel. Spread out on the bedspread, he was snoring lightly, like a happy dog. A heroin sleep that would leave him feeling clean and fresh when he woke up. The best nap ever. BUT...with Manning's throwing up, no way did the Mole want to be responsible for his aspirating and dying in that wonderful sleep. Manning was too...valuable. Too good a client. Plus...he was providing a little entertainment in this whole Phillip Manning thing. Todd certainly got under the Emperor's skin. The Mole always did like a good soap opera. And babysitting the kid was intensely boring and tested the limit of his fuckin' charity but he had to keep the kid safe and that meant leaving.
So he called his favorite whore, Brandy.
He smiled when he saw her at the door, all dolled up like she always got. "Now, like I said, you treat him right, babe. Make sure he's on his left side in case he starts to puke. But if he wakes up and wants more dope, go ahead and give it to him. No more than half a bag. Less is better but should be ok." Dropped his voice. "And do your thing… if he wants it. In fact… do everything you can to get him off. He ain't been laid in months. If something goes wrong… call me."
"Sure thing, Mo'." She got on her toes and kissed the Mole's nose. He patted her on the ass and closed the door behind him. Brandy shrugged her shoulders, hugging herself, and eyed the sleeping man. He didn't stir at all. She thought he looked familiar but didn't trust her impression. She didn't know nothin' about nothin'.
Put her little package of food on the table and made herself comfortable. Could be a long while she was going to be around.
Someone hummed a song from when Todd was a kid. Her voice was so sweet, he nuzzled even further into the warmth. He could tell he was smiling and put fingers to his lips, a tongue to his fingertips. When was the last time he felt like this? Oh yeah, never. Even the memories of his mother, of her loving him, were tainted because Peter ripped him right out from her affections so many times. Rough violent separation. That wasn't going to happen this time. The heroin would just wear off. He would just ease out of the warmth.
At which point he fully intended to shoot up again so he could come back here, to this place. Wherever it was. Technically, he didn't really know nor did he care. It just felt so good, so damn good.
After a long while, more consciousness came and he ventured a sneak peak at his surroundings. He was in the motel room, the same one from earlier. The China Moon. Dug his way to China, after all. He was on his side, tucked into the bed, under the sheets. Right at the edge of the bed. He could see a trash can. All the cold from earlier was gone. He was quiet inside of himself. The storminess reduced to a breeze, the voices and pictures broken, static-y, like a failed TV signal.
He had no pain.
A woman sat at the table. She was pushing around a plastic fork on a paper plate of white rice, it looked like. She had a youngish face, but her skin was not young. She looked old, beaten. Todd soon realized it was because she was sporting the remnants of a bruised cheek. She had long dark hair and was wearing a clingy, well-used, red silk dress. Had high heels on. He watched her a while, unblinkingly, watched her like she was a hallucination. He knew she was real though. He couldn't make something up like her. The careful way she lifted the fork to her mouth, afraid to spill a single grain. The way she licked her too-red lips. The way she flipped through the muted television stations as she pointed the remote control at it. Clicking away absently. Staring like he did. She licked the fork even though nothing was on it.
He must have moved or made a noise because she put the control down and turned to him, smiling slightly and cooing, "Hi." Her voice sort of drifted over to him and it was like hot chocolate ... yeah ... thick, creamy hot chocolate. His eyes dropped closed again, a little beyond his control, but he forced them open.
"My name's Brandy, baby. Mo' left me here to care for ya'. Make sure you don't puke on yourself. You been a little...erpy."
He must have said something or made a face because she then said, "Yeah...you been tossin' your cookies."
The trash can. Must have puked into it. She must have washed it out.
She laughed. Lightly, a twitter. Like a bird. He closed his eyes, lost a second or two in the sense of spring, twitters of birds outside, a sun outside. He came awake again. No, no, it was still night. Still winter or fall or something cold. Tossing his cookies. He scratched his belly. He had a vague recollection of being pulled so he'd vomit into the trash can. Faraway. Far, far, far away.
"Smack does that to some..."
With a gleeful look, she got up and all of a sudden pulled off her dress and kicked off her shoes, revealing a skinny, completely bare body. She climbed into the bed behind Todd, getting under the covers with him. He just lay there, too disconnected and dreamy to fight her. She was lying on her side like he was only she had propped herself up on an elbow, peeking over him, at him.
"You real quiet," she said.
He got it into his head to move. Her skin was hot. Like fever hot. Like the hot of fireplaces. He inched away but was already close to falling so he rolled over onto his back and that made her shift a little. He looked at her quizzically. It took a moment or two or ten to finally choke out, "What are you doing?"
"You don't wanna fuck, baby?"
He blinked a couple of times. Processing was slow in this post-heroin world.
"What?"
"Mo' told me that I'm s'posed to do whatever you want." She got sort of shy, lowering her eyes, and then whispered, "I'm real 'sperienced. You can do whatever you like to me. Mo' don't like when I say this but if you wanna get rough, that's ok." She laughed. "Though you soft as a kitty cat now."
Todd closed his eyes, wishing he was asleep again. He didn't understand what she was saying. Something about liking it rough. Confused him. They forgave him, right? All his victims, right? He never did that, right? Getting turned on by...
A low wave rolled through him. The edges of a film strip caught in a projector. Light burning the center of it. Melting from the center out. He knew his breath had sped up. What did she say?
Shhhhhh...
Things quieted again. He watched the TV a while, soon realizing she was the source of the noise. She was talking, the TV still mute, soft bird-like chatter. He tried to make the words out. He watched her lips. Red lips. Remnants of lipstick. Now, now... he heard her talking about how nice his chest was, how handsome he was, that he didn't have to be shy, and so on.
All in one swoop, she got on top of him, straddling him, pressing her hips down on him, and she bent down and tried to kiss him, except he turned his head. Hands up, cringing, not touching her but feeling her.
"G-get off...off of me," he grunted. "Don't... don't touch me..." Tried to get away but he couldn't move, too close to the edge, too weak, too dreamy still.
As if she didn't hear him, as if driven, she lifted up and reached down in between her legs and started touching him. He stopped breathing. Stopped stopped stopped breathing through his shocked-open mouth and he was nine, he was eight, he was seven...
"Don't don't don't..."
What did I do wrong? What's the lesson for?
The mattress squeaked as her knees pressed down. He got he was naked, got she couldn't understand him, got that he was powerless and frozen and heroin had shut him down. The drug was bad, wrong, it was all wrong. He breathed again. Eyes stinging. Followed her breaths as she rocked on his hips. His arms fell slack to his side like spaghetti. She was stroking him. He wanted to fight the touching. He didn't give her permission. But something said to stay still or it could get worse... oh so much worse.
She was wide open, her mouth, everything. Not Peter. Not Peter. Or was it? He felt something now, knowing he was reacting to her, and he grunted softly. She made exaggerated sexual expressions. An ooooo... ooooo...
"Don't that feel good?"
"No, no, no..." He pushed against the mattress, hands pressed down. Feet pressing down. It was hot, so hot, she was fever hot and he was nine, he was eight, he was seven... He pitched his head back, fists at his side because he wasn't allowed to fight. Wasn't allowed to scream.
"Please don't do that... I...really can't do that..."
She intensified her hand strokes in combination with her hip motion, and he heard himself make noise, maybe groan, maybe moan... and he could feel he was responding strongly beneath her flying fingers, the reaction a body can't help even if someone is abusing that body, Tim had said that, promised that, it didn't mean he wanted it – he had swelled and she was noisy with her movements. Flesh and wetness.
"Oh yeah," she purred, "you like this a whole lot don't you? Oh yeah. I'm here to make you feel real good... that's Brandy's job, jus' for you, baby. Mo' told me to do everything I can for you and I ain't letting him down, am I?"
She kept up her rocking movements. Kept sliding fingers. Just the same. Just the same.
"Damn, you is beautiful and big. Oh god…don't that feel good? You got me all wet, too… you wanna fuck now, baby? Or you just want a hand job? What you want? Huh, baby? I'll do anything…"
Todd whimpered and rolled his eyes back at the feeling in his body, at her dirty talking, because it did feel good, real good, and the quiet lapped at his skull, but it was wavering, splashing up the sides, up and around his brain, making way for the other noise, for the dark voice, no, no, no, please no, please no, but it was too late.
Time to pay now. Time to learn your lesson... Don't move! Lie still... you bite me and I will fucking kill you... yeah... yeah... like that... like that...
He froze at the combined sound of Peter's voice and his own, frozen at seeing the pictures again, and hot tears ran down his face even as he jerked his hips. His dreams had come alive and he was going to react to them and he didn't want to. He so didn't want to.
"P-please...j-just...s-stop," he whispered.
She was moving slightly faster and he groaned again, sure it was him who did that and not Peter. And he was getting to a point where his body had more say than his mind did. Suddenly, to his relief, she did stop and he took a deep breath. And he wiped his face roughly and pushed at the mattress to get away, to crawl away, to find his blue pajamas and cradle his wounded flesh...
But then he heard her spit and she started up again, the silkiness of her saliva only serving to intensify the feelings. "Oh god...," he moaned, his breathing speeding up and becoming ragged, all beyond him.
Brandy was panting as she continued to rub him from her hovering position, "You sure can do this... why you say you can't? God... I'm just gonna keep on so we don't got to interrupt nothin'…you going so good…okay? You want more, you let me know, baby. When you want, I'll fuck you, I'll fuck you real good… come on baby, I wanna see you finish..."
Todd grabbed the sheet in one of his hands, squeezing the cloth tightly, his feet smashing down. He couldn't move, frozen in place by Peter's command, the lesson had to be learned, had to be felt, had to hurt. Had to choke him into silence.
She slid down and put her mouth on him at which he bucked against her, whimpering more. He was deep inside her mouth, hot, fever hot, and it was sharp and his body wanted it and screamed for it no matter what his head said. He was older... he's older... gotta be nine, gotta be eight, gotta be seven. He writhed under her, shifting his hips, his legs, wanting to drive into her mouth. But he couldn't do that either. Her fingers found their way to his chest and she pinched his pecs, fingernails scratching skin. He thought he felt her slowing and panicked some. It hurt, God it fucking hurt for her to stop. Other words came out of his mouth now... fast breathy strangled words...
"D-don't tease me...don't tease me...you gotta finish now..."
"Sorry, baby...I sure ain't stoppin', no way. You want it faster…jus' the best part... tha's what you want…yeah…I'll do that, baby…" She hurried her movements using both her hand and her mouth and he needed it to end bad now so he grabbed her hair and pumped.
"Don't...don't...stop...God...oh God," he said, grunting.
The orgasm was finally there and his whole body jerked against her. She grabbed his hand to put it back on her head, wanting him to hold her like he was because she liked the feel of that but he wouldn't. Hands went right back to the mattress, to the sheets. He made no more noise, holding his breath through the rest of the powerful spasms that took over his body. She pulled away from him because she couldn't take that much no matter how much practice she had.
"God, baby, you needed that...that was good, you got me... I wanna feel you...I'll get it all outta you..." She straddled him again, pressing him against her, squeezing him and his skin crawled because he was sensitive. She hunched over. She rocked her head back. Her mouth open, moaned, "Oh baby, I'm done in too, you so so good. God, oh my god..." She was shaking, fast to him. Exaggerated. Something not real about it.
All the same. All the same. Lessons gotta be learned.
Todd turned away, breathing again. Noise deafening. His need for the silence... loud again, killing him. Needed the bad wrong drug. Everything would go away. Everything would make sense.
She collapsed on him, gently stroking his side, holding him. "Oh my, oh baby. You real good." She lay a moment or two. "Still don't know why you say you can't do this. Mo's gonna be real happy you got something good. He said you really needed that. And you so good, you got me going. That don't happen often."
She sat up, massaging the wetness into his skin. He covered his eyes, hiding from her, from him, hiding in the black. Smelling sweat and sex and a woman. Sheets tight now in his fists. She then carefully got up, going to the bathroom.
Todd lay still, recovering, while sounds tormented him. While images continued to play out in front of him. He tried to make them go away, pulling the sheet up around him. He curled onto his side. Back to the bathroom. Cupped himself. No more takings. No more lessons.
Flip-flop. Don't leave me here. He's only going to come back for more. Take me with you. Please...
She hopped back on the bed, "Pretty good, huh?" He was still breathing hard. Staring into the sheets. She was facing him. Got into his line of vision. "You okay?" she asked. "Why you holding your junk like that? Ohhh it tickles huh?"
He should have fought her. Had to be the heroin that turned things around. Nobody could touch him at the hospital without him going crazy. She had no idea how lucky she was. The heroin had to be the reason she did what she did without him getting blindingly violent. Never never never could this have happened. Tim flashed into his head. A warning.
Nothing your dealer will give you will be good for you.
He shut it down. No, he needed the silence. This was a fluke, a misunderstanding. He'll just explain...
"Don't ever do that again," he finally said. "P-please ..." He looked at Brandy and saw how hurt she was.
"You a man, ain't ya?" she asked. "All men want that."
"No... not all men. What's wrong with you that you say that?"
"Ain't nothin' wrong. This is what I do...I'm a pro. Been doin' it since I was 13," she said proudly, covering up her injured feelings. "On my own - I ain't never had no pimp."
"Oh God," he said softly.
"I ain't 13 no more if that's what you're thinkin'! I'm 24."
He bit down and looked away from her because he could see her whole life in those hurt eyes of hers. "It's not you," he said. "It's me. I gotta thing. Just... don't. It's not safe for you."
She grew serious for once, looking at him close. She looked right into his eyes that kept shifting away from her, at the lines on his forehead. Looked at how he had his knees up, curled like a baby, holding his parts.
"Oh," she said.
And with just that, they seemed to know each other's history without saying anything. They were a brother and a sister from Hell. Whores. Abandoned, broken whores.
It had been hours since he had first shot up and although he felt good in his body and still warm, his brain was another thing. Peter has just been all over him again. Making him do things. He wanted to go back to his mother's arms. He wanted that nod. He wanted it bad because the memories had snuck back. And they stung. Not like before. Oh no...nothing like before, but just enough to remind him of the truth about his life.
"When's Paulie coming back?" Todd asked.
"Paulie? You mean Mo'?"
"Who the hell is Mo'?"
"He's my man. My favorite customer. He calls himself a mole 'cause he works at night and he know the city so well he like a mole. Can get around blind. Ain't that funny? He so funny. Always makes me laugh. Goes by Paulie to you probably." She dropped her voice to a whisper, "I think he wanna marry me."
Todd sighed. The fear and panic had lessened to unruffling white noise. But he didn't want reduction. He needed another hit. He wanted the roller coaster quiet, the atomic bomb of silence. When he sat up, he groaned from muscular pain in his abdomen, hunching over.
"Oh that's from throwin' up, I bet. I always heard that your body hates 'h,' but your mind loves it."
He breathed in and looked around, sniffling, wondering what time it was. Wondered how Tim was doing. Viki for sure would know he was gone by now. He shoved away his thoughts, stuffed them back under their rock.
I won't tell anyone what we do in this room.
"You want some more, baby?" Brandy asked sexily. "I know how to do it, lots of guys want me to do it for them. I just' never use 'cause Mo' says it's bad for me. 'Sides...the workers who on...they hurt real bad. They do most anything for money but all their hard work goes right into their veins. But you don't got to worry 'bout that cause you have money. Least tha's what Mo' says."
Todd leaned back again, struck by where he was, who he was talking to, what she had just done to him. Tea. Starr. Jed. Viki. Like spiders or snails, they were inching their way out from under the rocks. God, he needed another shot. He didn't want to think about these things. No ... no ... Tim had tried so hard to stop him from leaving, trying to save him. He didn't understand that Todd was going to be saved. Saved by heroin, by the Princess.
Give me heaven again. Oh let me be there again. I want to stay there. I want to stay forever. There...
The next thing he knew, Brandy had everything laid out in front of him on the bed, "Here, baby. You want me to do it? Or you wanna learn?"
Todd stared at everything, a tad sick at the sight. Sometimes, though, you have to go through fire to get to Heaven. To get to paradise.
"I'll do it," he mumbled. He looked at Brandy, at his fellow nothing, and she smiled at him. He picked up the latex cord and tied it around his left arm the way Paulie had shown him. Tied it so he could rip it off easily with just one tug. Brandy adjusted it. Then she stopped, her fingers hovering above his scars. Eyes seeing the wrap on his other arm. She smiled, her own dark full eyes on his. Got back to business. Mixed a packet of heroin with some water in the cap. Sucked it into the syringe through the filter and handed it to Todd. He looked at her, "How much is this?"
"Half a bag... Mo' said that should be okay."
He was doing it again. Handing over his life to someone else. Risking his life with people he didn't know. Comet. Cleanser. Yeah...that's what heroin is. Cleanser - cleans out your system leaving only the good stuff. Todd looked down at his arm and picked out a thick looking blue vein. Same as before. He lay the syringe flat onto his skin. He was paralyzed for a moment with total fear, breaking out into a sweat. God, he hated needles. Always did. Gotta go through fire...yeah, yeah, yeah...whatever.
Funny, how he could slice up his arm but broke into a sweat at the sight of a spike.
He took a couple of deep breaths and stuck the needle in, into what he thought was the vein. He pulled back on the plunger and nothing happened. No blood. Shit. He pulled it out and pushed down a little thinking there was air inside the barrel. Air. Oh God. An air bubble could get in and kill him. Oh God. He dropped some of the liquid onto the sheet. He tried again only this time he was so nervous, he sent the needle right through the vein. "Shit!" He hated this.
"You gotta get another line, baby. The dope'll leak right through if you try for the same place. Lemme do it for ya..."
"No...I gotta know how...damn it," he said, frustrated. He looked for another spot and quickly found one. He stuck in the needle, jacked back the plunger and there was blood. He breathed out and Brandy took the cord off. He pushed down partway and felt the warmth after a bit. Then, he eased the plunger all the way down. He pulled the needle out and it fell onto the bed, his finger holding the spot where he had injected himself. The rush hit him hard and he moaned, his head dropping forward. He fell to the side as the full impact of the drug pounded him with its whooshing quiet, its glorious silence of thought and memory.
Brandy lay next to him, watching his face and eyes. She stroked his hair and cooed to him. After a few moments, she helped him to the bathroom because she knew what was going to happen. Sure enough, he threw up into the toilet, violently and noisily. Hardly any liquid. All that strain and hard work for nothin' but stomach acid.
After, he sat back on the floor against the tub in pure heroin disconnect. Brandy covered him up with a blanket she took off the bed then wiped his face with a wet towel while looking into his glassy, unfocused eyes.
"Is that good?" she asked. "You look good. You look real happy." She smiled at him, but he couldn't tell that.
Todd only felt that wonderful heated rapture. He made up his mother's voice in his head and heard her laughing. The dreams of a little boy at nine, at eight, at seven.
I'm back and I'm gonna keep coming back to you.
I love you, my little Angel. You are the best little boy I know.
Really, mama?
Oh yes. I still have every picture you ever drew for me. I still have all the rocks you brought home from school...all your treasures.
Am I a treasure?
You're the best treasure. I have a secret. You want to hear it?
Yeah! I don't have any more secrets. They're all gone.
Remember that puppy you brought home? The stray you found outside school?
He had floppy ears and he licked my face. I liked him. But daddy told me he died.
He didn't die...sweetie...that was just Daddy being mean. Just telling you stories. I took him to a hidden place...far away. Where he grew up safe and sound.
You did?! Oh mama...but...why just the puppy, mama? What about me? How come you didn't send me away from Daddy?
I tried so hard. I died too young. Too young. I was afraid.
But you're here now.
Yes. I'm here now...Little One. I'm here now. Can I hold you?
Oh yes...yes...you hold me, you hold me close to you. I don't ever want to leave.
Brandy looked at Todd's dropped head, his hanging hair, and tucked the blanket all around him. For some reason, he looked kind of... sad. Dopers usually didn't look that way so she felt sort of sorry for him. Kept thinking of how he was holding his junk. How he said she wasn't supposed to touch him. Hadn't heard him protesting though, not one bit. But now she wondered if his little whispers had been for her to stop. She felt real bad about that. But he finished hard and a lot came out and men who do that been deprived and that ain't ever good 'cause it makes them mean if they get backed up and anyway at the end he needed her to finish. Never met a man like him. And now even a good slam of dope didn't really take away this sadness he wore.
He threw up a little more into a towel she had for him and he went back to his half-sleeping mode. His breathing was gentle and smooth. He was peaceful and based on all of his scars on his body, Brandy had a feeling this calm was kinda unusual for him. She hoped it would last a while, but she knew it wouldn't.
"I think we might have to give you more the next time around..."
Can I stay with you, mama? I have a way to do that now. I bet you were surprised to see me.
You have always surprised me, Angel. I love you.
Oh...I love you, too...I do...I forgive you, for all your transgressions...
Jedediah had spent hours riding around, accomplishing nothing except to get colder. He had tried to find Todd himself, checking out alleys and streets and parks. Even gave money to the guard at the Penthouse. Guy remembered Jed. No luck. Hadn't been there. Todd was gone. So was Jed's hope for that connection he had been wanting. He soon found himself in the driveway to Viki's house. The house was lit up. It looked inviting and safe. She was always so nice to Jed. So accepting. No wonder Todd loved her. No wonder he truly trusted her.
He rolled his bike down the driveway, parked it and shut off the engine. He took off his helmet and sat it on the seat. With some trepidation, he walked up to the front door. Rang the bell. Looked at the moon threatening to disappear. Wondering how in the hell his life had changed so radically.
Viki had heard the doorbell and with all her heart hoped it was Todd. She ran out of the living room and pulled open the door only to see Jedediah. Before she could even register any kind of disappointment, she realized that he was on the verge of tears. "Jedediah..." she said.
"I can't find him...I tried...and I can't..."
At that, Viki closed her eyes and pulled Jed to her tightly, feeling him weep softly into her shoulder. For all the wise-talking he did, for all the toughness he put out, for all his independence, she saw that Jed was still a boy, still a child, without parents to speak of. Without a home.
"Shh...it's okay," Viki assured him, assured herself. "We'll find him."
From across the road, the Mole flicked his cigarette out the window. "You did good, kid," he said and drove away, looking out for Phillip and seeing nothing. His radio crackled out a love song from the fifties and he shut it off. "Love only exists in your dreams, when you're...sto-oned," he sang to the melody of the ancient tune, laughing.
To be continued…..