On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 2
Chapter 19
"I think you ought to come with me," a female voice chirped from behind her as she walked along Llanview Boulevard. Téa glanced immediately towards it. A soft-faced older woman, round in build and wearing plain white cotton pants with a short yellow wool coat, smiled at her. She looked nurse-ish with no hat on – she looked to be in her fifties.
"Excuse me?" Téa asked politely.
The woman laughed, "You don't belong here, honey, and it's very late. The police might stop you and that's always such a bother."
"Um ... I'm looking for someone." Téa chewed on her lip and directed her eyes towards a dark doorway a couple of feet away, someone stepping back into the shadows. Her eyes dropped down towards black leather boots. Imagination. Wishful thinking.
"Of course you were," the lady responded, not commenting on Téa's apparent distraction. "We're all looking for someone... someplace. It's just not always where we would expect to find it."
"You sound like a missionary," Téa said gently. "I don't need religious counseling."
The woman chuckled, "I never offer something that isn't asked for. My name is Rachel Bronson, Sister Rachel, and I run the local needle exchange. I was just making a last check for one of my regulars who didn't show up for his pick-up."
"Needle exchange?"
"Yes ... see over there?" Sister Rachel turned and pointed out a large mobile van across the street. It was very unobtrusive, bland in color with a simple sign on the door reading, "Llantano County Needle Exchange." Through a window, Téa could see a younger woman, volunteering perhaps.
The sister explained, "We try to get IV users…" She stopped to clarify. "Intravenous drug users... to turn in their dirty needles for clean ones. The goal is to prevent the spread of disease such as HIV and hepatitis. So many addicts can't afford to purchase new needles or are intimidated by pharmacists who won't sell to them, or ... they're just too sick to even try to get new ones."
Téa let out a sharp breath, "I had no idea Llanview had one. I've read about them, about this kind of program, but for some reason I was under the impression the most local one was out of town."
"We're new. Just got funding and the okay from the city council. It's been hell getting established." She laughed. "Now why don't you come with me? Hang out with us a while – then we'll get you to your car when we close up."
Téa shook her head, no. "Really ... I won't be out much longer, but you've interested me. Is it ... possible to ... volunteer? Talk to you at least?"
"Goodness! Of course! The lady in there now, Theresa, she's a volunteer. We love to have people help – believe me, this is a lot of work. Hard, painful work sometimes. Being that you're looking for someone, I would love to have you team up with me or Theresa in our outreach efforts."
"What's that?"
"We go door to door – it's the sick ones who really need us. They're the most vulnerable to needle-sharing. They won't come to us so we go to them." The Sister handed Téa a business card. "Call me. We'll set up a time to meet. Now ... please ... go home."
Smiling, Téa assured her, "Yes...yes. And I WILL call you. Definitely." Quickly, she searched for those boots in the darkness of the doorway, for the person hiding in the shadows, but saw nothing. He was gone. Téa sighed as the Sister walked away.
"Damn it," she said under her breath. Turning on her heels, she made a decision to cut through the alley. All she could think about was Todd and his safety. Would he be at risk for those diseases? Really at risk? What WAS he doing to protect himself? This was too painful – this hurt much too much.
The alley ... the alley would take her to where her car was a bit faster. Stupid she knew but it was late... and if that had been Todd following her, he was gone anyway. The Sister must have scared him off. Tears welled in her eyes. So close.
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
Téa started to walk, comforted in that she saw no one in the alleyway, no homeless people, no apparent loiterers. She just needed to walk quickly. She could see the street light of Fifteenth Street ahead of her. And beyond that was another alley with the light of Fourteenth Street at its end which was where she could cut down to her car in no time. Yes. It would be a little quicker. Safer, even. To head back along Sixteenth Street was very bad. Just like Bo said. Just like the Sister said.
So very dangerous.
She could hear her own shoes hit the pavement, brushing against ice on the ground. And some frustrated tears dripped down her cheeks. Suicide, she thought, she was being suicidal wasn't she? Losing herself to Todd. It had to stop, no? She glanced down tiredly, watched her boots for a minute or so as she walked.
All of a sudden, she heard a voice fire out, "Didn't yo mama tell you not to walk alone at night?"
Téa took a hard breath and stared at very angry eyes of a skinhead type of man, something shining in his hand. A gun? He had a shaved head and was wearing a worn, dirty trench coat. She swallowed and ignored the pounding of her heart, frozen.
"Hand me your money bitch."
She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Everything just stopped and all she could think was that she'd blown it.
Suicide...indeed.
"Didn't you hear me you stupid bitch? I said...give me your fuckin' money!" All at once, he ran at her and she felt something hit the side of her head, hard. Everything went black.
"Oh my God, baby, who you got there?" Brandy's surprised voice burst into the room as she closed the door behind her.
"Shut up," he said. "Don't bother her ... she's hurt." Todd patted Téa's hair shakily and touched his fingers to his lips as he knelt on the floor by the bed.
Immediately, Brandy took off her little jacket and rubbed her arms to get warm.
"Baby…who is that?" It was dark in the room, too dark to make out any facial characteristics of the person in her bed, but she could see Todd hovering over whoever it was. And he looked real concerned. Brandy clicked on another kitchen light.
"Téa ... wake up, come on," he said softly. "Delgado, wake up. Please..." She was tucked underneath the covers and her eyes fluttered a bit, more at the light of the kitchen than at the pleading voice. Brandy remained transfixed in the kitchen, her heart aching at the realization that he was talking to his wife. The one who had come to the motel room.
Opening her eyes abruptly, Téa swiped her hand at Todd, fighting the air, and sat up, yelling in terror, "GET AWAY FROM ME! GET AWAY!"
He popped back onto his butt, scooting away quickly. "It's me," he said, "It's me, Todd! I … I didn't hurt you… I swear! Téa!"
She stopped screaming and stopped trying to get away, looking at his shocked face a second and then around, breathing hard, her face quickly crinkling in a combination of fear and pain. She touched the side of her head, "Oh my God ... oh God ... my head's killing me." At that, she started to cry and covered her face with her hands. "Oh my God ... that man ..."
"Don't worry about him," Todd said plainly, looking down at his cut-up knuckles. "I took care of him. He won't be workin' the alleys anymore."
Brandy looked at Todd, her face reflecting ever-present sadness, feeling sorry for the poor woman crying on the bed. "Someone hit your wife?" she asked.
"Yeah, I carried her here ... after I…never mind."
"You okay, baby?"
"Yeah ... yeah."
Todd looked back at Téa who was sniffling quietly. He wanted to hold her, to tell her everything was going to be okay … but he knew it would be lie. She finally stopped after a bit and turned to Brandy, "Do you have … an aspirin or something?"
Before Brandy could answer, Todd said in a whispery voice, "You shouldn't take stuff. Um ... I think it's not safe or something. You…can't sleep either. Might have a concussion. That guy...he hit you pretty hard."
Téa was afraid to look at Todd, afraid to really look at him, keeping her eyes on Brandy who was staring back with the expression of a stunned deer in the headlights. Such round black pebbles for eyes. Brandy was easier to look at because she didn't change; it was the same face Téa remembered from the motel room, from the police file. Todd on the other hand, well, she didn't want to see how much further he had deteriorated. She didn't want to know. Moreover, she didn't want to know what he did to the guy who had hit her. Kept her eyes on Brandy, unconsciously checking for bruises ... for ... damage.
"Delgado?" he asked softly.
Téa sighed at the sound of his voice saying her name and she slowly turned towards him. She dragged her eyes away from Brandy, across the floor, moving to his boots… the ones she'd seen earlier. The boots of the person in the shadows watching her, following her. She visually crawled up his pant legs, faded blue-jeans with holes in them, a certain dirtiness there, then his black woolen sweater. One of his hands was fisted, the other hand cradling it. Was that blood on his hands?
When she finally reached his face the tears started all over again. She didn't look away; she kept her eyes on his empty ones with the dark circles beneath, on his pale, unshaven face; a face thinned by the heavy drug use. She took in his long messy, tangled hair and the anxious, repetitive biting of his lip. His neck was marked with red grazes. Glanced up and down, from head to toe once more… finding him utterly unrecognizable. She must have passed by him in the alley, on the streets. She had not known what she was looking at. My god, she thought, a stray dog, a mangy, flea-bitten thing who had no hope, no owner, nobody to love him.
He rubbed his hair and shrugged, a child-like smile playing on his lips, "I would have gotten dressed up had I known you'd be stopping by."
Even his voice had changed - darker, scratchier… emptier. Téa laughed sadly through the insistent tears while Brandy giggled nervously in the background.
"Oh Todd," Téa cried pitifully, "It doesn't matter. I've been so worried about you ... oh my God, look at you."
He crawled over to her and laid his head on her lap, wrapping his arms around her waist, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
She bent her head down, and put her arms around him, kissing his hair, feeling the tangles and smelling his sweat and dirtiness, feeling him hold her tighter.
Her voice was nothing but a string of hurt. "What have you done to yourself? What have you done?"
He only tightened his hold still more, emotions alternately fading and intensifying and ultimately wracking his insides. Then it was like he was drifting, floating above himself. All he could do was grab onto her, feel her in his hands, doing it so he wouldn't fade away entirely. He wanted to touch her, to know she was real. It was upsetting...this half-alive, half-dead feeling. His hand moved up her side and he pressed his cheek against her breasts, sighing unconsciously, at her continued tears and affection. Affection that ripped through him like nothing else could.
"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," he whispered hoarsely. "I don't know who or what I am."
"I know, amor, I know. Look at me. Please."
Brandy slunk away at that, and shut the bathroom door quietly, feeling like an intruder. Unwanted, really. Inside, she ran the water for a bath. Gotta clean herself up, gotta wash away her life. They had company.
Todd then lifted his head and Téa held his stubbly face in her hands, her thumbs gently rubbing his cheeks. She could see the drug in his eyes, could see it all over him. She couldn't help herself and kissed him gently on the lips. A kiss like a prince of Snow White. Maybe if she kissed him, he'd wake up. Maybe if he felt her devotion, he'd shake off the heroin daze and come home and get better…
When she pulled away, Todd had closed his eyes and his mouth was slightly parted. As if waiting for her to kiss him again. An unfinished kiss. She kissed him more, and he put his head back down. Then he crawled up on the bed roughly and lay heavily on her, holding her tightly.
"Don't go," he said. "Stay with me."
"I can't do that ... you're dying, do you understand that?"
"Yes. And I don't want to die alone. I want you with me."
His passive acceptance infuriated her. "NO!"
She tried pushing him off of her, but couldn't. He kept her beneath him, pressing his mouth against her hair. Breathing her in as if he could take her life from her, as if it would mean something.
"It's my destiny," he said, as he began to touch her body, running a hand roughly along her ribs to her hip, to move on top of her, to kiss her cheeks and neck. "Don't you get it?" he whispered against her skin. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be."
Trying to turn away from his aggressive pawing of her, Téa said hopelessly, "Not again – I'm not going to go through this again ... you're not making sense ..."
He raised his head and laughed slightly, shaking his head as if she was the one who made no sense.
"Sense?" he said, looking at her wildly. "Of course it makes sense, Téa. I owe Peter for leading me here. I don't even hate him anymore 'cause he's my savior. He's my fucking savior! I'm free as a bird thanks to him, thanks to dope ... thanks to love in a needle ... thanks to ... to this LIFE. I found peace, Delgado. What doesn't make sense about that?"
"Oh my God ... oh my God ..."
"Yes, GOD…yes! Don't you see? God doesn't exist… only hell does… and when I die… I'm going to be with Peter and with Satan and I'm going to pay, FINALLY, for everything I've done. I'll be his slave forever … and that's okay 'cause it frees me from paying now … here … I'm fucking DELIVERED!"
Téa's heart skipped a beat and it was she this time who wished to float upwards and out. She heard his deep brokenness, the insanity, breaking through his suffocating need for her and it was like he was driving a knife right through her heart. He kissed her mouth again and started to touch her all over, like he wanted to absorb her into him, feel her skin and her heart and life and ... love. She turned her head and felt him rest on her shoulder. They stilled for the longest of moments. Panting, both realizing in the madness that they had never really been in this situation. Well, HE had never been in this situation before, with her.
On a bed… ready… able… willing…
He dragged his eyes up to hers and watched her as he carefully slipped his hand under her sweater and gently, gently, as if he were touching chicks in a nest, squeezed her breast over her bra. He moved that same hand down to her hips and slipped over to her rump. Then he pressed against her, pressed his own hips against hers, with his cold hands against her back. They both instinctively… gasped… ever so quietly...
"Let me show you freedom, Téa ...you'll know what I mean," he said breathlessly.
Téa shook her head, for all her quelled desires. He was so very SICK.
"No, Todd…no…I can't…"
He didn't quit his fumbling attempts at loving her…his hands so cold on her skin… the room so cold she couldn't even smell him, couldn't smell the sweat… the dirt of Sixteenth Street… but the cold didn't silence him, didn't stop his thoughts from being vocalized, thoughts too warped, too twisted…
...and she finally scolded, "Todd, stop!"
When he quickly looked up at her, she cupped his face and looked deeply into his eyes. He was trembling and breathing hard, and there she could see the intense pain he always had… only so much more of it. He didn't believe anything he was saying. He was still lost, still trying to make "sense" of everything in his life.
"Please get off me," she said gently.
He looked down at her body, seeing how he had restrained her. He rolled off passively and lay on his back next to her, still affected. He looked about to cry and Tea shook his head at him. He rubbed his lips together and then said innocently, "What's the matter? I thought you'd be happy to know I dealt with Peter. That I ... get it."
"How can you say that? Look at you, you're…you're so sick…"
In a softer voice, calmed somewhat, Todd offered, "But…for the first time in my life, I feel something good. And it's only because I was so scared to face things with Peter that I finally got here ... that I finally ... found ... heaven. Even if it's only for a short while. At least when I'm dead and in hell, I'll have the memory of right now… of what I get from the heroin. Téa ... I feel ... I hear … my mother. Can you imagine how you'd feel if you heard yours? She talks to me ... I can see her." Tears filled his eyes and a couple of drops rolled down his face, Téa following the wetness into his hair. "I remember what it's like to feel loved, unconditionally… just how it was meant to be. It's ironic. I mean, because of Peter, I lost the memory… and because of him, I got it back. Got it all back."
She moved close to him, rolling over to her side so she could put her head on his shoulder and her bent leg on his, while draping her arm across his chest. She gripped him. Like she could prevent him from dying. Like she could keep his body together. My god, she thought. They fit. They fit like a hand and a glove and she had never known it. Their bodies… fit. And in that burst of awareness, words she did not expect fell out of her mouth. "I love you unconditionally," she said. "I love you, now, I love you, always. I will continue to love you until you feel it. Until you KNOW it."
He looked at her and... he heard her. He huffed and stared at the ceiling, bewildered, really. Lying here with Téa was death and life and it made sense and yet it didn't. He could feel what she was trying to say and at the same time… it wasn't the same as when he was high. But then… it was. He wanted to die right at this moment and yet he didn't. With Téa here, warming him, with their bodies knitted together in this heap, he almost felt like another life was possible, like… he could see the silver lining of that dark cloud that HE was. This was more than the physical, more than sex… he almost laughed… this was so fucking transcending!
But then, then his eyes glanced upon his jacket on the floor where the money he stole from Starr was. He looked at the place where he was living in now, this little apartment of Brandy's. And he then remembered the park bathroom… remembered the flashback he knew wasn't a flashback, remembered how easy it had all been... remembered what he did to Brandy, what they were doing all the other times, and with that, a powerful rush of that need for dope flowed over him, making him shudder. The drug was … everything ... it was peace and violence and hotness and life-giving and … and death… and blissful insanity...
Heroin was ... LOVE. Perfect godly LOVE.
"I don't know anything, Téa."
"I know you broke into Dorian's house," she said gently. "What kind of heaven is that? Does that make sense to you? Where does that fit in? Where does stealing to support yourself fit in with love?"
"I didn't steal anything. Stealing means taking something that isn't yours. What I took was mine."
"What did you take? Blair said you didn't take anything."
Todd turned away, not answering.
"Tell me."
"Some dope I left behind and ... well ... some money."
"Money? What money?" Téa sat up.
"Aww… don't get all indignant. It was money Blair stole from me for sure, damn it. It's mine!" He sat up, too. A little pissy, suddenly crabby. He sniffled and looked angry. "You know, you're one to talk, Delgado. You tell me you love me and then you judge what I do. That's not unconditional love! And you know what? You're not exactly showing me a lot of gratitude for saving your life."
Téa laughed in the face of everything. She looked incredulously at Todd, at his ability to close his eyes to reality when it didn't work well with his deformed visions. And breaking into Dorian's place was a definite stick in the spokes of his proverbial wheels of heavenly, perfect, heroin love.
"I don't believe you," she said. "You want my gratitude? Fine ... thank you, Todd, thank you for saving my life. For saving my life in a situation that YOU CREATED! I was looking for YOU! If you were at home or at the hospital, this would have never happened! I'm not judging you… and I'm not putting a condition on my love for you. I am AFRAID FOR YOU. What you did at Dorian's place ... it scared me. What's next Todd? What will you do next to support your staying hidden, to support your ... heroin habit?"
Todd glanced at her, looking guilty, thinking of the stranger in the park. What you want, baby? No ... no ... he would never do that… shhhh…. and he would never steal anything, either ... not really. That wasn't Starr's money. No ... he would be dead before anything like that happened. He sort of smiled at Téa, wondered how long he would have her with him. He reached over and shyly patted her hand.
She sighed in frustration and rubbed her face. She then looked back at him and could see how thin he was, how he was damaging himself. All for that peace he so desperately wanted. For his ... destiny. For love.
"Are you eating enough?" she asked.
He shrugged and grinned slightly, "You sound like Carlotta. Or like some Jewish mother."
"Answer me."
"I don't need to eat."
Téa got up in a huff, swaying a moment when she stood. Todd only watched her, knowing she would shake him off if he tried to help her. She walked slowly to the kitchen, noticing that she didn't have her shoes on anymore. He'd taken them off and had set them down neatly at the door. As if waiting for her to leave. She opened a few cabinets, finding them poorly stocked. There was some white rice, though, canned tomatoes and oil.
"I'm making you some rice. A recipe from Abuelita," she said.
Todd shrugged, lying down. As she cooked, after a while, Brandy came out of the bathroom and sat quietly at the tiny breakfast table. She wore an old terrycloth robe, was damp-haired and smelled like vanilla. Brandy's scent, the warmth of the stove, his tiredness… lulled him to sleep. The stewing tomatoes made him think of fantasies he'd had as a child. How he would sit in the corner of the kitchen, hiding from the cook. He'd pretend she was his mother and they were waiting for the Good Dad to come home. He'd have imaginary conversations with his "mother," they'd share imaginary jokes. They so looked forward to seeing the Good Dad. With these memories, though, a certain truth picked at him. How when he heard his mother during his highs, how faulty those sounds really were. That ... it was ... maybe ... a lie? No ... no ... it was real. He really heard her. And his mother ... she really had loved him.
Brandy wandered over to Todd after a bit. She started to take off his sweater and he sleepily accommodated her by sitting up slightly. She left him in his tee-shirt. He watched her face, looked into Brandy's eyes, Brandy gazing right back at him. He took her hand in his but she pulled it way, moving down. She tugged off his boots.
From the kitchen, Téa could tell this was routine. Brandy did it with a kind of familiar distance, yet with equal intimate, tenderness. And Todd took it. Just let her baby him. Téa covered the rice, torn to bits about the image of the alley cat tending to her sibling, torn at seeing that damaged woman trying to be something ... trying to be special to someone. To anyone. It made Téa sick. She grabbed the edge of the counter, leaning on her hands, and closed her eyes to it.
Brandy sat on the edge of the bed and put some lotion on her legs, Todd studying her every move. He turned over onto his side, where he was suddenly looking at Téa, surprising her. They both stared at each other, words not having to be spoken, Brandy continuing to smooth on the cream, her nakedness blatant beneath the open robe – she was a sheer curtain between them. Black, see-through, lacy. Todd's words crawled out of Téa's dark unconscious like a spidery creature from the first time she saw him with Brandy… in that motel room...
She's my Johnny-girl. She's my sister ... my whore ... my mother ... my lover. Ain't that right?
Madre de Dios, what am I doing? Suicide ... soulful suicide. At what point is my devotion a sin? When do I give up on him? Tell me ... when is the end of the pathway? WHEN DO I GET OFF MY KNEES AND WALK AWAY? God, tell me.
Yes, Todd. This all makes perfect sense.
Tea checked the rice. Turned off the heat. Let it sit. She stood at the stove, an uncommonly small one. Had never seen one this small, not even her basement apartment with her papa was this tiny. It was clean though. Either Brandy was a fanatic for cleanliness or she never cooked. Téa was pretty sure the fanatic part was more accurate based on her fastidious bath. She could hear the scrubbing from that bed. She put some of the rice into what looked like a clean bowl sitting in the sink. There were two of them. A perfect set.
"Would you like some, Brandy?"
Brandy looked at Todd as if asking for permission, making Téa's skin crawl. That spider... had turned into an army of mites ... creeping along. "You don't have to ask Todd."
Brandy got embarrassed. It had been habit; you always do what your john wants you to do. You never go against them if they've paid for you. Todd had nodded, but for him it was more an assurance for her to not be afraid of Téa, a powerful woman in comparison to Brandy. One hurt person to another, one mangy cat to another saying that it's okay to take the food. It isn't poison.
Brandy readjusted her robe and then sat at the little table, her head down as she ate the rice in small bites. Todd got up from the bed and took a bowl, too. He leaned back against the counter as he held the bowl in his hand. Téa watched as he played with the food, pushing around the rice with the fork. Pressing his lips together like the food made him sick. Not eating.
Brandy spoke up when she saw Téa looking at Todd with concern written all over her face, "He don't eat much 'cause of the junk. It kinda messes with your stomach, you know. 'Sides, when you're stoned, your mind don't think your body needs nothin', huh baby?"
Téa closed her eyes momentarily, Todd smiling just a little, then not at all.
"It's alright," he said softly, his voice a near whisper. "It tastes good ..." He forced down a small mouthful of rice, nodding his head at Téa. She turned around and sat on the bed, watching the two creatures eat slowly. So, so, slowly. Like two sloths. She curled up on the bed and swallowed back the sadness. Todd wasn't going to come home, not when he thought the heroin was saving his life ...even though he admitted he didn't know what he was doing, admitting that that he'd end up in hell, that he was going to die. Now what? Call the police? Let them storm the place? Or would she sit back, knowing they probably wouldn't come for him because, like Viki angrily told her only a couple of hours before, Todd was low priority. A nothing. She pressed her head in her hands, the pain sharp and throbbing.
What now?
It was dark now in the small apartment, minimal light shining from a single low-wattage lamp next to the bed. Brandy had laid down some blankets on the couch by the window where she was now curled up, fast asleep. Almost purring. A very cleaned-up Todd was lying next to Téa on his stomach, wearing some sweat pants, no tee-shirt, no socks. His hair was still damp from the shower and Téa was running a comb through it, trying to get out the tangles. The apartment had finally heated up and he smelled good, she thought. He was so peaceful.
At least he seemed that way.
She had never seen the tattoo of the Grim Reaper on his back before and found herself staring at it, at the eyes of the Reaper, death forever on Todd's shoulder. Waiting for him. She touched it periodically, each time causing Todd to look at her. On the other shoulder was a sunrise, the name, "Lord," etched in black cursive. There was an unusual looking colored star on his upper arm. There was a small scorpion on his back, across from the left foot of the reaper, looking like it was crawling to his master.
She had braided some parts of his hair because when she was young, her mother would do that to hers to prevent it from matting into unsalvageable "rats' nests." Todd was awake and letting her do what she wanted. Sometimes, he would reach up and touch her work, her hand. She would pause at that, both of them needing to feel each other, study each other's faces, and then she would start her work again when he let go. Their being together was both painful and relieving. Again, it was confusing for both of them; it made their once "clear" thinking ... decidedly murky. As a result, they didn't talk. There was nothing they could say that would change anything.
As Todd lay there, as Téa made her way through her delicate solace, he was soon facing something he didn't want to do, didn't know how to go about it. He could feel the heroin need pecking at him, clawing at him. He could see his canvas bag where he was keeping his works and it almost looked liked a vulture or a crow in the darkness, clicking its beak at him.
Come here to me, come here to what I have for you. Click, click, click.
It had been hours since his last dose and he could feel a certain discomfort, a certain … sickness creeping up on him. Despite the goodness of Téa being here, the drug need was louder than her presence, than the love she was giving him. The call was was ... very ... very ... loud.
Téa finished a last braid and he sat up, twisting his mouth as he patted the braids threading his long hair.
"Mmm… interesting," he said, smiling slightly. He'd shaved also, leaving his usual goatee. Tea touched his now-smooth cheeks. He eyed her body and knew if it wasn't for the sickness, he'd want to slowly get to her, to touch her, to see how she reacted. He had broken through a huge barrier because of Brandy, and he wanted, deep inside, to touch Téa. To giver her what she'd so wanted before. To love her the way she had always wanted. It was possible. God, he wanted to see her face when he was inside of her, wondered if she'd like it like-
He cut himself off. Turned away.
Which time, Manning? Would she like it the way Brandy did the first time you fucked her? Or the way Brandy didn't like it when you raped her?
It didn't matter anyway. All those mixed-up wants took a second seat to a much bigger want.
"Thank you," he said softly. As he looked at her, he wanted to explain what he was feeling, except no words came out.
"What's the matter?" Téa asked.
He rubbed his neck, sniffling back a runny nose. "Um ... I ... uh ..." Nothing intelligible was willing to show itself. He lay back down and cuddled her.
"Todd? You can tell me."
"Destiny, Téa," he whispered, pulling her to him ... again too tightly, maybe, too desperately maybe. Touching her made him feel like he was soiling something perfect and he let go. Rolled over and gripped the side of the mattress. He was Todd again, that ugliness coming back like it always did, belief in the silver lining fading along with the effects of the drug. He dug at the mattress, bit the sheet. Shivering now. Fucking need. Fought getting up from the bed to answer that crow's call.
Téa watched him suffer with something he wasn't telling her, her headache having gotten worse. She knew she should see a doctor, but to leave him ... she only touched his shoulder. There was nothing she could say.
He hunched in the bed at a bad stomach cramp, a low groan rolling out of his throat. Beyond his control.
There wasn't any question anymore. He was a full-blown heroin addict.
Todd finally got up and grabbed his bag. Walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Téa knew what he was doing and waited some moments. The process scared her. Terrified her, really. She left the bed and went to the closed bathroom door. Listened and could hear him fussing with something. Then it quieted. When she at last got the nerve to open the door, she saw Todd sitting on the ground with one outstretched arm along his bent leg, pulling off the latex tie with his teeth and pressing down on the syringes plunger. Téa whipped around at first, then turned right back to him as his head dropped forward and he fumbled blindly to press on the bleeding vein, the rush of the drug grabbing him up through the core of his being and slamming him into heaven.
Téa sat next to him and pressed tightly on the pierced vein as she watched him react to the shot, watched his body tighten, his feet turning against the floor, and she bit down on her teeth to prevent herself from getting sick. He relaxed at last and leaned onto her shoulder and kissed her neck. Moaned softly into her skin. Téa wrapped her arms around him. Stroked his hair and cried softly, "God damn it, Todd ... god damn Peter, son of a bitch. What the hell did he do to you?"
"Saving me ... he's saving me ..."
"This is death, amor ... this isn't being saved," Téa said tearfully as she felt Todd sink deeper into his high, as he weighed more heavily against her.
Brandy's voice chimed in from the doorway, a soft voice carrying nothing but pure and pristine acceptance, "Sho' it is ... it's peace and ... salvation. He got a right to feel that. We all do."
Téa looked at Brandy, "Not this way. This is going to kill him. This isn't salvation!"
"And why ain't it? Some folks do other things, this is his. It ain't fair to take it away."
"Don't you care about him? Don't you want him to find the right way to deal with what happened to him?"
"I love him the best way I know how. And helpin' him with the smack, tha's jus' what I do. 'Sides, what's the right way to deal with daddies like his? I mean…we all have those daddies ... and we all do different things to deal with them. There ain't no right way ― they's only different ways. What do you do that makes you so special, that makes you think you got a right to take away his peacefulness? How do you deal with your bad daddy? Or was it your mama who did you wrong?"
Looking at the haunted, wounded face from the mug shot staring back at her, Téa realized that Brandy thought everyone had a "Peter" in their life, that everyone had been raped by some monster and everyone dealt with it differently. Téa looked down at Todd, who was so… damn… peaceful.
"Brandy, not all fathers do that to their children. Not all fathers rape and abuse their children."
The child in the door gave her a confused look, "What you mean? I think some is worse than others ... but they's all basically the same. They all rape in some sense or the other. Mommies and Daddies, both. Or maybe that's how you deal with it ― you just pretend it didn't happen."
Before Téa could respond, she noticed something… and pressed her hands on Todd, felt him. Listened. She said softly, as if something was slowly coming into focus for her, words through a fog, "...breathing...he's...uh...oh my God..."
Brandy then sat opposite from Téa and with a heave, took Todd from her, pulling him back against her chest as she leaned against the counter, pulling him like he was a baby. He was out cold, his lips parted, his face completely slack. Brandy blew onto his face, tilting her head, and he responded by taking a breath. She said in a soft voice, "He does this sometimes. All you gotta do is give a small puff. Sometimes I gotta splash water on him, real cold water. But this usually does it." Brandy did it again and, like clockwork, he took another breath. She smiled and whispered, "That's right, baby."
She did it again and again and again...
Téa watched this bizarre ritual, and in it, saw a look of humbled satisfaction on Brandy's face at her successful mothering of him, at her resuscitation of his broken soul and body. The scene blurred with Téa's tears and in that watery image, something struck her. It wasn't Peter or the heroin saving Todd, it was Brandy. Not necessarily, specifically, her, but rather her persistent effort at caring for him in this helpless state. It was clear that every day, several times a day probably, Todd was walking to the edge of a cliff and looking around for someone to stop him from falling over the edge into oblivion. Looking for someone to save him.
Salvation was literally being pulled back from death's door. And Brandy was doing it.
Salvation was proof to him that he wasn't being abandoned, that he wasn't forgotten. Salvation was being human in that he could die at any moment but that more importantly, he could be rescued. And it couldn't be words or kisses or the touch of a loving daughter or wife or sister. Or ... even unconditional love. No, it had to be more solid than that; it had to be literal. A literal saving of his life.
The lingering question, though, was how far would he go to test the saving of his life? Would there come a time when he would say ... no? When he would not take another breath?
Maybe twenty minutes later, maybe more, he was fine again in that he was taking regular breaths like he was supposed to, without Brandy reminding him to do so. She then said in a quiet voice, "See? He's alright ... and he's peaceful. He's so peaceful and happy and so much better. Don't you take this away from him."
Téa sat in a daze, looking at her beautiful husband lying back against this strange woman in a place that only existed in nightmares. She found herself both horrified and fascinated at how Todd and Brandy saw all of this as somehow ... making sense. How they believed he had a right to do this and how she protected the act like a mother over her child's right to breathe. It was sick and beautiful and ... so very ... problematic. Téa covered her eyes with her hands and she leaned back against the wall. No more tears at the moment ― they were all dried up. She literally didn't have any tears left.
"Yeah, his daddy did some bad things to him," Brandy said coolly, unaffectedly, while she touched the braids in Todd's hair. Téa lowered her hands at hearing her, looking up. "He's so sad about it," she explained, crinkling her forehead in a kind of disbelief, like she didn't understand why he should be sad.
"But I tell him it's only his body – it ain't his heart that his daddy got – it was only a few body parts and that ain't nothin' really."
"What about you, did your daddy only get to a few body parts?"
"Yeah, my daddy and whole bunch of his friends." She laughed in that same quiet way, a way not to disturb the baby in her arms. "But I got them back," she said, looking at Téa and nodding like she knew the punch line.
"How?"
"I made them pay for it. I MAKE them pay for it. Cold, hard cash. You can say all you want but I'm on my own – nobody tells me what to do. They pay to use those body parts. The friends pay, my daddy pays. Oh they ain't the same people exactly, but they are, you know? They all have dicks, they all have hair on their bodies, and they all stink." She smiled, "Oh except your man. He's real special."
"How's that?" Téa said, her voice choking up, thoughts of Bo ignoring tens of women, children, like Brandy. Letting them be abused ... it made her sick. It made her sicker to think that maybe this was how Todd thought, too. That maybe he saw all people that way. Men and women, all disgusting things to be abused right back.
"He's real beautiful. And, and… he cares about me. He don't pay for me because we got an agreement. He gets mad at knowin' what those people out there do to me. Nobody ever got mad like that. He tries not to say much about it but I know. He shows me without saying it exactly so. He… understands me." She smiled again and looked down at Todd, "He always listens to what I say and acts like it means somethin'."
Téa swallowed hard and those dried-up tears made their way out again, like blood from a turnip as they say. "Brandy… you have to help me. You have to convince him to come home. He's so afraid ... he doesn't trust me and it's understandable because I'm not like him. I wasn't hurt the way you and he have been. Do you understand?"
The alley cat touched her sibling cat's cheek, nervously. She pulled back her hand and sat back partway. Hanging onto him protectively. "But I ain't- I got no…. convincin' power. I aint nothin'. He might listen to what I say but he won't DO what I say."
Téa moved over next to Brandy, making Brandy look at her. "You're very important to him," Téa said. "I think he really does care about you. You're… like a sister, you're like him. You understand him in ways that not many people can."
Brandy looked down, self-conscious, "I ain't his sister...brothers and sisters ain't supposed to do what we do..."
Téa tried to ignore that punch to the gut. She paused and worked at regaining her composure. Then continued, "What I mean is that both of you share a special kind of pain not many people have. And don't think I'm angry at you or him. I'm not." She smiled gently at Brandy and touched her shoulder, Brandy inching away from the contact, her eyes big, features stiff and defensive.
"Please don't be afraid of me," Téa urged. "I love him with all my heart and ... I want him safer than he is right now. I know you're doing something important and ... I don't know where he would be right now if it wasn't for you. But he needs something… that neither you nor I can give him independently. He needs to find another way to deal with the pain he has. You have a way and he needs one, too, but he needs one… that's safer than this."
Brandy sighed, looking down at Todd who was lying in such bliss. "You take him," she said. She moved and pushed Todd slightly so that he fell onto Téa's lap. He made a sound as if he knew he was back with Téa. She touched his chest, feeling for his heartbeat and for his soft breathing. Téa looked up at Brandy, who stood now, and who said sadly, "I aint nothin'. He does what he wants. I've tried to get him to stop, I said those kinds of things before. I even told him once to go home. But he don't want to. I aint nothin'."
"Brandy, you are something. And… you are someone very special. You have convincing power. Maybe with both of us talking to him… he'll listen. And DO what we ask. And when he leaves, you come, too. I would never turn you away. You don't have to do ... what you do. You can find another way to deal with the pain YOU have."
Brandy's own eyes watered and she shakily covered her face with only one hand. "I ain't nothin'...I ain't nothin special'."
"Brandy, oh yes you are … oh my God …you're … extraordinary! My god… you've survived all these years all by yourself. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Todd would never share any part of himself with someone who was… nothing. He cares for you so… so much. He has to."
The girl dropped her hands and she eyed Téa with furrowed brows. She then said, "You know, you don't gotta say nice things if you want to get with me. I been with girls lots of times. I do real nice stuff to girls. That what you want?"
Shocked, knowing she shouldn't be, Téa shook her head, no, no, realizing Brandy could not help. She was a girl who didn't know anything other than what she was taught. And her teachers had been such… monsters. Todd, too. He'd also been taught by monsters, doing only what he'd been taught. And now, years later, he was trying so hard to find a way to deal with such endless pain. Who was she to stop it? What could she possibly know?
After some time, Brandy went to her couch to sleep and Téa at last leaned back against the wall with Todd laying his head on her lap. He was awake now, gazing up at her through drugged eyes, through a hazy heroin mist of gentle love as she wiped tears from her own eyes, as she touched his hair and face and talked to him to keep him awake.
He listened silently and, while she talked of the things they could do together, places they could see, he let her touch the damage he'd done to his arms already, the puncture marks that would surely become permanent ... that would eventually become track marks. He let her touch the scratches all over his chest and neck. And he let her touch the scars from the violent cuts he'd inflicted upon himself so long ago. He let her touch him, period. And he did it because he loved her ... unconditionally.
Can I watch you dance, Téa? Can I watch you sway your hips and smile at the music and live life the way you were meant to? Will you love me this way from that dance floor... will you keep dancing even when I'm gone?
You're my angel, my sweet angel. Let me watch you dance.
To be continued...