On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 2
Chapter 20
"I'm cool…very cool.'"
Phillip's mocking voice bounced off the walls and knocked about the bungalow, not finding anywhere to land as there was hardly any furniture in the place, no fabric to absorb the sound. He laughed, kicking back on the bed and sucking a toothpick, one leg across his uplifted knee as his foot tapped to music only he heard.
"You are just such a cool fuck, Toddy-boy," he said, rubbing his short, bleached hair. He'd spent the afternoon following Todd around and it was like watching Elmer Fudd or Daffy Duck, or ... whatever. For sure, his Uncle Peter's loser of a son was dying a slow, painful death. And the best part was that Phillip hardly had to do a thing.
Pure luck he'd found him in that bathroom, pure ... god-inspired luck. Phillip had been on his regular stroll through town, doing some business, when all of a sudden this creature got tossed out of Llanview Bank, and it was none other than his cousin Todd. He stayed close by, watching him stumble his way across town to South Llanview, break into that house, and finally disappear into the park bathroom. And the joy ... oh the breathless joy ... when he peeked over the stall barrier, there Todd was, huddled with a needle stuck into his arm, completely oblivious to the world.
Fuckin' beautiful.
And all that followed? The feel of his cock, the noises he made, his grip. The confusion... nothing short of amazing. Who knew Todd Manning could handle a man like a fuckin' pro? The game was on and it was a good one.
The computer chirped, a sign that e-mail arrived and Phillip hopped over to it, plopping down on the simple black ergonomic chair, swiveling back and forth. "King made contact with your Bishop," the message blinked, "King has a Knight - both will take care of business."
Phillip leaned back on his chair, thinking on shit. He eyed the cracks in the ceiling, the patches in the corner where a leak had been repaired. He couldn't wait to get back to Chicago and proper digs. Yeah, yeah, Todd was fun and games but most likely the run would be short. His drug use was gonna end him soon enough.
The pursuit of Jedediah Chant, the Bishop, wasn't for fun. No game here.
See, Jedediah was the product of theft, grand larceny, a goddamn coup: Todd stole Michelle from Phillip and had the actual guts to impregnate her. Jedediah was a walking, living, breathing reminder of it. His beloved Uncle had said few words about the discovery of Michelle and Todd, except, "What does that slug have that you don't? You better shape up." It hadn't been so much the specific sentiment, but the look on Peter's face, in his eyes – true disappointment that Michelle had chosen Todd over Phillip, a disappointment that seemed to always hover over the relationship of Phillip and Peter until the very end.
So Phillip convinced one of the 16 year-old boys he was playing with to get into juvie for a whole lot of money. The kid managed to get these two gang-member-type kids to start in on Jedediah. The King and the Knight. And ... as promised on the e-mail ... they would take care of business. When it was done, they would have a whole lot of money waiting for them, too.
It wouldn't take long at all.
Jedediah looked across the table of the visitor's room at Kevin who was still fuming over the bruise on Jedediah's chin, a remnant of the run-in Jed had had with those inmates. The large room was plain, tables and chairs only, no decorations, no artwork, just a guard to make sure nothing untoward occurred between visitors and inmates. No doubt about it, juvie was a prison.
"It isn't that bad," Jedediah assured him. "I take care of myself in here jus' fine."
Kevin shook his head, "Please, for the love of all that's holy, DO NOT do anything that'll get you killed."
"I have a right to defend myself!"
"Of course, but for some reason your defenses… get you in real deep shit, kid."
Like the kid he was, Jed crossed his arms and snorted impatiently, hunching into his seat.
"Look, just keep your head down until I can get you outta here. Promise me?"
"Whatever." He sighed heavily, eyes on Kevin. "How's the hunt for Phillip Manning going?"
"Got news he skedaddled out of town, but I don't know about that. No one's even willing to give an accurate description of him. My grandfather spilled his guts on all the stuff Phillip was pulling, but it isn't enough. No one working for Phillip is ready to come forward yet to really firm up the case. It's tough ... but not hopeless. This guy isn't God for Christ's sake."
"Any news on my mom?"
Kevin paused a moment, taking in the hopeful look on the kid's face. "A little. Hannah gave a formal statement and even recognized early photos of Phillip. It's pretty clean ... but ... you know, we have to catch him." Kevin looked beyond Jedediah, reflective, wistful maybe. Added, "She's not scared anymore. Went back to West Virginia, refusing protection."
A swell of sadness bloomed inside of Jedediah. Hearing that Hannah confirmed the incident of Michelle being pushed off the cliff almost dashed his dreams she was still alive, that ... somehow ... she'd survived, almost dashed hope that the guy who'd come up to Jed telling him about his mother living was real.
"She'll come back once he's caught?" He paused. "For the murder trial."
"Oh yeah," Kevin said, seeing the change come over Jed. His hair was getting a bit long and every day he looked more like Todd when he was back in college. Sometimes, it gave Kevin chills. "Chin up?"
Jed shrugged. He didn't tell Kevin he did research on the computer on local myths – especially in the Appalachia, in West Virginia. Didn't tell him the story of a woman who roams the hills, called "Miracle" because she's so helpful, stopping babies from crying, curing illnesses, helping lost people in the mountains, helping old people die. Freaky stuff ... but it matched what that old dude said. The one who walked up to them when they were checking out Mimi's jumping point. Who knows? Maybe it was all true. He sniffed and glanced away… maybe it was all bullshit.
Kevin's heart broke seeing the sadness on Jed's face. Kid was still so innocent, yeah? He wanted to give him something so he said, "You know, your dad survived a dip into a raging river himself."
Jed crinkled his eyebrows in curiosity, "What do you mean?"
"When Todd escaped prison, he took his girlfriend Rebecca-"
"Like a… kidnapping?"
"Well, yeah, but… anyway, the cops got to him ... and shot him. He fell into the river and everyone thought he died. Made his way back to Llanview and eventually back to prison."
Jedediah surprisingly laughed. "Every time I turn around, my dad did something horrible."
"That's my point! Jed… all I'm saying is you might be right because it's happened before."
"Okay. So you don't think I'm crazy."
"No. So if you keep up the good work, when you get out you and I'll go back to West Virginia and start really nosing around."
Jedediah glanced away, doubting Kevin, "Sure we will."
"I promise. First thing though is to get you out of here – get through the system." Kevin turned around looking at the door, then back to Jed. "I have a surprise for you, by the way."
"A file in a cake?"
"NO," Kevin snapped, then softened. "I brought someone. Kinda special ... kinda dying to see you."
Jed tilted his head, skeptically, "Who? I don't have a lot of friends exactly."
"I know… like father, like son."
Kevin got up and walked to the guard, talking in a low voice, something quick. The guard nodded and then buzzed the door to the visiting room and in moments, Jedediah was looking at Jessica's friend, Summer, breezing her way into the room wearing her most mischievous smile, looking as cute as ever with her short flaming red hair, that fuck-you ring in her nose and tight jeans with boots and... and a sweater that showed off...her… uh… and ... and ... God ... raging youthful hormones are a hell unto themselves.
Kevin ducked out leaving them alone, feeling a bit irresponsible. Viki had objected but Kevin insisted. The girl would be fine.
Summer sat down and looked at Jedediah, still smiling at him, grabbing his warm hand into hers. "Well, cowboy," she said smartly, "I guess that smack got you in a wee bit of trouble, huh?"
Jed smiled back shyly, "Yeah." His eyes were only looking at her hand holding his. He couldn't stop the grin that he had. All he could say was a loaded, "Damn, Summer..."
She laughed loudly, knocking her head back, "Boy, you are something else." They looked at each other happily for some moments, neither one having expected to quite feel the way they were feeling at the moment. It sort of knocked them for a loop. She then bent close to him and whispered, "Wanna get outta here?"
Escape.
"Hell, yeah," Jedediah said before popping across the table and planting a sudden, wet kiss on her beautiful mouth, evoking the guard to snip at the two kids who erupted immediately into knowing laughter.
Sometimes, one just has to believe in the impossible.
In bed, Todd inched as close as he could to Téa without touching her, wishing she would stay with him, wishing she would stay hidden in Hell with him. He knew the truth of why she was here and it wasn't to love him, or to comfort him, or to do anything other than bring him back home to a whole other kind of hell. He tried to look at it from her perspective, tried to step in her shoes, but he couldn't. All he got was sick. Sick at the thought of being in that hospital, sick of having to go over and over his fucking history, sick of the crappy medication that didn't do anything for him, sick of the nightmares. Sick, sick, sick of all of it.
Téa looked tired even though she was sleeping, a crease between her eyebrows telling him she was either in pain or worried. He lay on his side, as was she, the two facing each other. He touched the tip of his nose to hers and she sniffled in response, making him smile.
The apartment was lit up by a late morning sun and he figured it had to be near ten. Oh hell, truth was he didn't know and he was too warm, too lazy, to lift his head to check the clock. He knew Brandy was still sleeping – he'd heard her crying in her sleep. Always around the same time, always as he was coming off his three-in-the-morning hit. He never asked what she saw behind those closed eyelids and she never offered. But he knew the sound, the sadness and fear in her tears, the resignation. There really wasn't any need to ask. No matter, pudding pie.
Today was doomsday. Téa wanted him to leave with her.
What are you going to do, Angel?
"I don't know," Todd mumbled.
Go with her, let her show you she loves you by allowing her to help you get out of Hell. Remember that little boy in the darkness? Remember his cries? You can save him.
He felt the spirit drift over him, felt her honey-like being caress him. He smelled her greenness, her woodsy scent. He wished he could hold on to her. He thought she'd forgotten him. He touched the air for a moment then pulled his hand tight into himself. Stared at Téa some more.
I'm always with you. Don't be afraid.
"I belong to him now – he fucking owns me. You let me go."
You have never been let go. To feel me, see me, you only have to listen. Open your eyes. You are so very wanted, so very loved. You are perfect like a winter storm, like a rain-filled cloud, like lightning.
"Lightning can kill a person."
The only one you're killing is yourself. Go with her. Take that little boy into your arms and go with her.
Todd rolled over onto his back, kicking the covers off of him. The spirit vanished. He knew he was pure plum crazy to be hearing voices like that. Sickness roiled through him. He needed a hit is what he needed. He got up and paced some, eyeing the canvas bag on the floor. He heard clicking, a clicking of a black crow's beak, the tapping of its claws. He felt it on his skin, the scratching. He hoped there was dope in that bag.
Come on, Princess, come on and fuck me the way you do. Hurt me until I feel good, hurt me until I bleed with joy and happiness. Give me the giddy happiness of a boy running barefoot on prickly green grass and building sand castles on a beach and licking ice cream off his fingers on a sun-beaten day.
Except ... except ... he was now digging in his bag and there wasn't any shit there. Paulie's pouch was empty, Brandy's stash was gone, and there wasn't anything in the little package from the night before. Damn it to fucking hell. He emptied his bag of the clothes and papers and a toy from Starr he must have taken from the Penthouse. His entire life lay in a tiny pathetic pile on the floor. Nothing. He then hit the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets and the cookie jar. Nothing. He hit Brandy's dresser, tossing clothes out, her work clothes, her real clothes, satin purses and polished rocks dropping onto the floor. Her things, her precious things that meant nothing.
Sweat drenched him and a deep inside pain ran down his legs, starting in his thighs, shooting through to his feet. He rubbed uselessly at his legs, lightly grunting at the hurt as he continued his search through Brandy's things ... but there wasn't anything there. No junk, no pills, not even a joint. Couldn't believe how goddamn clean Brandy was.
What to do, what to do ... maybe he ought to call Paulie. Got cash ... got the money! He patted down his sweats, mistakenly thinking he had pockets, but of course there wasn't anything there because he didn't have any pockets. He rubbed his lips with his hand, nausea circling. Need cigarettes, need food, need a fucking hit ... I gotta go, gotta get outta here. Oh god ... oh god... this had come on hard like a steam engine, like a fuckin' steam engine, heading into the pudding...
Just give me that pudding!
"Baby?"
Brandy's hand simply touched him wrong at the wrong moment in the wrong space of time. Can't stop a steam engine, can't derail that roaring train. When he felt her hand on his bare shoulder, it was as if the devil himself had popped in to say, "Hiya! Having a bad fuckin' DAY?!" Todd swung around toward the hand which had landed on him and swiped hard as hell at the devil there. Struck her right across her fragile mouth. He heard Téa scream, heard Brandy whimper. Heard himself bark ...
"Stupid bitch!"
They all deserve it.
Téa flew to Brandy as Todd stood there at the emptied dresser, as Brandy shakily dabbed her bleeding mouth. Téa held onto her protectively and looked at Todd with fear that quickly transformed into anger, then sheer hatred. "What's the matter with you?!" Her voice was empty, horrified.
From far away, Todd watched the chaos. He wanted to puke and breathed through his mouth to quell the rising bile. Brandy was in shock, he could see. She hadn't expected him to hit her. He almost laughed. She believed in him. In her value. Even after all he'd done to her. Her dropped caution had been a mistake. He stared at the blood on her mouth.
Téa looked closely at Todd and he seemed to have slipped away, seemed to have numbed himself to the whole thing. He wasn't focusing, eyes glassy, expression blank. Turning back to Brandy, who was equally dazed, Téa asked, "Are you okay? Maybe we should get some ice..." She couldn't take her eyes off the bloody lip, her headache suddenly intensifying. She remembered too much about Todd's violence. How stupid. He was and would always be dangerous.
Brandy nodded and smiled shyly, on the verge of tears.
"You sure?"
"It was an accident. I sure surprised him. He must be outta his stuff ..." Brandy turned to him, "That right, baby, you lookin' for more? You gettin' sick?"
Téa stood back, stunned at Brandy's apologetic tone, at her desperate effort to appease Todd. The more Brandy talked, the more nervous Téa got, especially as he wasn't really responding to her.
"Baby?" Brandy insisted, not daring to touch him, and then she started to cry, "I'm sorry...did I scare you? Huh? Is that what happened?"
Téa couldn't take it because he would explode again, go from deadness to a violent madman. Téa moved to Brandy, gently prying the woman away, saying, "Brandy, you go clean up, let me deal with him. Go, honey, go."
"I ain't leavin' him!" Brandy jerked away from Téa, her face streaked with tears, inching closer to Todd, beginning to reach for him, trying to get him to do something, "Baby? I'm sorry for scarin' you. Can you talk to me?"
He finally did react, looking to the side, putting his hands up except the movement was fast and jerky and made Téa think he was about to strike Brandy again. She shouted, "Brandy!" and reached for the girl who'd shut her mouth tightly and stepped back. Todd didn't do anything other than cringe at Brandy getting near him.
Téa breathed a sigh of relief and put a hand gently on Brandy's shoulder, feeling her flinch at the touch. This was a nightmare. She had two children on her hands at the moment, two ravaged, shell-shocked children of war, prisoners of their experiences.
Todd finally seemed to come around, touching his mouth with his fingertips. Touching where he had hurt Brandy, that is, the mirror image of it.
"Sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
Brandy smiled at him sweetly, "S'okay, baby. I surprised you is all. It ain't your fault ... it ain't nothin'. I told you nothin' can hurt me."
Todd slowly dragged his gaze over Brandy to Téa, each thinking the same thing, remembering how he had punched her. How he had made a fist and no-holds barred knocked her to the ground out cold. He was lightning in the middle of a winter storm.
Lightning kills, you know.
Todd moved away from the dresser and grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the dining table. He pulled his jacket on and climbed out onto the fire escape, shutting the window mostly. From inside, Téa looked over at Brandy who was licking the blood off her already-swollen lip. Téa apologized, "I'm sorry for shouting at you. I have this headache from hell and ... I'm very frustrated with and worried about Todd. And ... well I'm as shocked as you that he hit you. He really… uh... scared me."
Brandy smiled at her, a sweet, innocent smile, "It really ain't nothin'. I sure's gotten worse, you know. I surprised him – he was rippin' apart my things an' I touched him and I really should a' known not to do that. I likes about always do the wrong thing." She wiped the tears from her face roughly.
"Why do you say that?"
Looking down at her wringing hands, "I jus' do. I touch him too much. He gets … real upset sometimes. I just have some awful habits."
Téa wanted to know how "upset" Todd would get, but she also wanted to comfort this poor girl. She chose the comfort path. "You're affectionate ... that's not bad. Todd shouldn't have hit you, surprise or not." She paused. "You don't need to say sorry to him for being affectionate."
Too many similarities screamed at Téa – a reaching out, a smack in response. She asked what she wanted to know. "Is this the first time he's hit you?"
"Oh yeah, it ain't him to do that."
"He's done other things though … to show he's upset with you …"
She smiled, shrugged, sort of chuckled, "He don't know nothin'… don't you worry about nothin' – he got a touchy spot is all."
"Touchy?"
"You know, we all have our spots … getting' upset at things. Don't you worry about nothin'."
"Does he hurt you, Brandy?"
She looked at Téa a moment, squinting, licking her wound. "Nothin' hurts me."
Téa was really worried now. No, worse, she was sick. If Todd had no sense of a person's limit for pain … how far would he go? What was happening here?
What am I really seeing?
Brandy shrugged and the two looked out onto the fire escape at Todd. He had his head in his hands, a cigarette peeking out from in between the fingers of one hand. Crashing. Téa had to physically stop Brandy from going to him, holding her arm and saying gently, "Let's get some breakfast together ... give him some space. Today isn't going to be easy…"
"What you talkin' about?"
"He needs to come home with me today."
"He don't wanna go," Brandy said, her voice firm and solemn.
"I know."
Brandy took a breath, not wanting to deal with losing Todd, and said, "I'ma get dressed and … I'll go get some coffee and muffins or somethin' from the shop. You want somethin' special? You don't gotta come with me."
Téa smiled, "You sure?"
"Yeah... you … um ... stay with him." Brandy rubbed her mouth and Téa looked away. Viki's words resonated now, that Todd was low priority unless he started turning his energy outwards. Wasn't this proof positive of that? What about the mugger? What did Todd do to him to make sure he wasn't going to ever hurt Téa again? What about his hurting of Brandy … how many ways was he hurting her?
"Let me give you money, please."
Brandy shrugged, embarrassed, "It's alright, you don't gotta do that."
"No ... don't say that ... no." Téa opened her purse which had been on the night table and pulled out some bills, quickly handing them to Brandy, swallowing hard and looking the girl straight in the eyes. "Brandy, you need to protect yourself ... from him."
"Don't worry 'bout me. He ain't done nothin' new to me, nothing' I can't handle. Don't you bother with that."
Tea's worries were confirmed. She just didn't know the details – what was he doing to her? Screaming at her? Torturing her the way he tortured Téa? Swinging from love to hate in seconds flat … what … what? Jesus, her imagination was beginning to blow up. Pictures of everything he'd ever done to Téa, and more. Only this girl had no limits, nothing hurt her. Nothing he did was something she couldn't handle. Dark pictures flowed through Téa. She thought maybe she should just call the police. She wondered about her ethical obligations.
Shhhh… I don't love you. I am no longer devoted to you.
Brandy took the money and headed to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Téa turned her attention to Todd. The dark images faded some because he looked more like himself again there on the fire escape. Wounded, damaged, a victim of himself. Téa picked up the telephone in the kitchen and dialed Tim's number, her hands shaking, she realized.
Thankfully, Tim answered straight away and Téa had to shut her eyes tightly to stop tears from coming at the soothing sound of his voice. "I have Todd with me," she said in a hushed voice.
"Oh wow," he said, letting out a sharp breath. "What's going on? Where are you-"
"We ... um ... ran into each other in a dark alley," she said, chuckling sadly. "I'm with him and Brandy and ... and ... uh..."
"You okay?"
"No ... definitely not okay ..."
"You want me to come?"
"Well, I'm not sure. He won't go with me … and… I'm afraid to call the cops." She laughed sadly. "Isn't that a joke? I set the whole arrest-thing up and believe me, he deserves to be arrested, but I'm afraid of the police. He's very unpredictable. I don't know what he'll do if he sees them."
"They won't hurt him, Téa. He's unarmed – it's a psychological evaluation warrant on non-violent grounds. They'll do their best to bring him in but they won't use excessive force to do it… " He stopped, not wanting to be naive. "Unless he's violent. Then all bets are off."
"Exactly my point!"
A sigh conceded her concern. "How is he?"
"A real goddamn mess. Just like Dorian said. He looks homeless. Neglected, pale, thin, his eyes – they're ... they're sick looking. He's ... literally sick. Brandy says he can't keep a lot of food down because ..." Téa started to cry, "... because he's on so much heroin that it messes with his stomach. Oh Tim, it's so much worse than before ... the more time goes by, the deeper in this hole he goes ... and with this girl ... she's just a little girl in this woman's body! This girl ... she's part of the problem ... she's as sick as he is. She supports his drug use, encourages it, she excuses his horrible treatment of her ... I don't even know how bad it really is … she's way more damaged than I'd been imagining ..."
"Not a surprise, Téa. None of it."
Téa sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, "He hit her – minutes ago. Smacked the poor thing and she was apologizing for it."
"What? Say that again ..."
"He hit her. He was tearing the place apart, looking for drugs and Brandy interrupted him and he swung at her. Gave her a bloody lip and... and I'm in the middle of this ... mess!"
"Where is he now?"
"He's on the fire escape, just sitting ... I'm stuck, Tim. I don't know what to do."
"Is Brandy alright?"
"Oh yeah, nothing hurts her, she says. She's getting cleaned up so she can go get breakfast. I mean, Jesus, what the hell is a bloody lip in comparison to having bones broken or getting raped or ..." She hesitated.
He ain't done nothin' new to me, nothin' I can't handle.
"So he's cooling off…"
"Yes," Téa said as a sense of calm came over her, a kind of resignation. She did not love this man.
"Let's avoid the police for the time being. I'm gonna come over–"
"Ok. Give me an hour or so. He's had a lot of surprises in the past couple of days."
"Listen, you call the police if he begins to act out in a violent manner, or puts himself or you guys in any more danger. Your safety comes first. Got me?"
"Yes ... yes."
"And ... Téa ... it's okay to negotiate with him. Anything to get him to the hospital. And hang in there. He's let you into his secret world. That's a huge first step."
"I suppose. I'll call you in a bit with the address."
A step to where, Téa wondered, as she hung up the phone and walked to the window. She gazed at Todd smoking his cigarette as he stared absently across the alley at the various apartment windows. He looked young with his raised knees and curled toes, curled because the metal of the fire escape was cold beneath his bare feet. He hunched over a tad, looking too wiry in the army-type jacket. Above all, Téa saw a depth of sadness so bottomless she wished time could stop for him in order that he would never have to deal with Téa's decision of whether to call the police or not, nor her Herculean task of convincing him to come to the hospital voluntarily. He just didn't seem to need any more grief, just needed a little peace.
I don't love you.
Taking a deep breath as if the air itself could fortify her, she opened the window and stepped onto the fire escape, sitting next to Todd. He said nothing, ignoring her. Didn't even flinch, choosing only to repeatedly lift a shaking hand to smoke that cigarette of his. After several silent minutes, she took a cigarette from the pack which lay in between them. Lit it up. Puffed.
Todd at last turned to her, looking serious, "You're not smoking. You're doing a Bill Clinton."
"Am not. I was once a pack-a-day smoker. Back ... um ... in law school."
"You're such a liar, Delgado." She smiled slightly at his calling her Delgado. She looked at him and he focused back on the windows across the alley. Rubbed his head, a gentle touch, as if mimicking real affection. "I'm a real asshole," he whispered. "I didn't mean to hit her. Is she okay?" He moved a little, looking at Téa as he waited for her answer.
"She's fine. Like this happens all the time." Creasing her brows, she recalled how he constantly searched for redemption for his bad acts, how on some level, heroin was a way to soothe his belief that he could not be redeemed. "So does it, happen all the time?"
He said nothing. And it sounded loud.
She straightened. "You told me you didn't hurt her."
"Things have changed. I hurt a lot of people these days, including Brandy, especially Brandy."
"You're telling me she isn't safe here, with you."
Todd could see the pain in Téa's eyes, but he didn't want to acknowledge it, so instead he looked at the smoke snaking away from her lit cigarette. "Nobody's safe with me ... ever."
"How bad does it get, Todd?"
He glanced at her before flicking the cigarette away from him. He watched the thing fall through the air, whispering, "kapow," when it landed. He took another cigarette and lit up, going back to rubbing his head, the stick in between his fingers.
They stayed quiet, Téa's question going unanswered, floating about them like the smoke, both puffing on their cigarettes. Téa inhaled like she was "supposed to" and began coughing like a teenager. Todd rolled his eyes at that and took it away from her. "If you can't take the heat," he said, "stay out the—"
"Give that back to me, Manning."
"Hell, no. You'll damage those beautiful lungs of yours."
Todd crushed the offending weapon against the metal of the fire escape, a strange act of protection considering his proclamation of being a dangerous person. Téa leaned her head on his shoulder, a strange act of affection considering she knew how dangerous he'd become. Closing her eyes, she pretended they were somewhere else, that he was healthy, and that he was her husband again. She could feel his eyes on her. Safety, she thought. He needed to get out of here.
The moment didn't last. He put out his own cigarette, shrank away from Téa, and rubbed his thighs. The physical pain he felt was obvious. Unbeknownst to her, beyond her practical understanding, every minute that went by was making his cravings worse. "I hurt," he said softly, closing his eyes for a minute. Sweat broke out on his forehead despite the cold air, a new wave of nausea coming on.
"I know you do."
He took a deep breath and turned to her, "Are you gonna call the cops? I heard ... there's a warrant out for me."
"There is a warrant, but I need you to tell me what to do. I think I should call the police if you don't want to turn yourself in. Brandy isn't safe – you're admitting that and I've seen it for myself. I know you're not safe. So yeah, I should call the cops … but Tim thinks he should talk to you before I do anything. He'll come right over."
He reacted at the mention of his Doctor Graham, eyes widening a moment, the slightest gasp. A terrible childlike want bubbled up inside of him. He bit his lip and looked at the boulevard. Kiddo. Then he shook it all away, pressing his lips together. He rubbed his face with both hands, pulling back his hair. Grumbled about the braids, "I'm gonna look like R.J. Gannon if you give me any more of these things."
"It keeps your hair from getting tangled, and ... you seem to have a problem keeping your hair brushed … keeping clean and eating …" After a moment, Téa looked at him, "What should I do?"
"You want me to say, yes, that ... Tim can come."
"Yes. I don't want to call the police. But I will."
"You have to see a doctor, Téa. That's more important than me, doncha think? Can't we just deal with that?"
"How about if you come with me? Let's both go to the hospital. You're sick, I can see it."
He rolled his eyes and groaned, "Yeah ... I am, but the hospital can't help me."
"How do you know?"
"Can't give me dope. And if I don't get it, I'm gonna fuckin' die."
Téa sat up a bit straighter, holding onto his arm, and he looked at her hold of him before raising his eyes to hers. "Todd, this is why you have to come with me. Hit or no hit, you're still going to die."
"Still thinking that's the worst thing, huh?"
He took out another cigarette and stood, grunting quietly at the pain in his legs and belly. He ran his hands hard down his thighs and watched the traffic on the boulevard. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, finally turning to go inside. Maybe the cold made the cramping worse, he thought. "I gotta get outta here," he said, less to Téa and more to himself.
Téa got up to follow him. He stuck the unlit cigarette into his mouth but then, once inside, took it out and tossed it onto the bed. Téa was in the middle of rethinking her words, trying to come up with a different tack when she saw him brighten at the sight of Brandy out of the shower. Her heart sank.
An amazing need for dope shot right through him at seeing his Johnny-girl and he swallowed back a sweet taste in his mouth, a remembrance of that precious feeling. Brandy smiled at him and he walked up to her quickly, whispering to her, "Get some shit from Paulie, yeah? Plenty of money in my bag. Bring stuff back, yeah?" She nodded and he looked sadly at her mouth. He reached out to get, rubbing the cut with his thumb.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Brandy smiled at him and said, "Ain't no thing. And ... I'll get those muffins you like. The chocolate ones, the kind that taste like pudding."
He smiled back at her, "Yeah, yeah ... like pudding." His eyes watered as he bent a little at the cramping and after a second or two, with some hesitation, Brandy hugged him to her. "You got a right," she whispered to him.
Téa had since come up to them, afraid of their conspiracy, their strange closeness. She saw the hug and it kind of gutted her, just like at the China Moon motel. Their connection hurt like a bitch. But no more than his plea for muffins. All she could think was cops. She should call them. To prevent a suicide... hers ... his. Todd turned back to her and his face was all hate and he shook his head, "Don't you call 'em, Delgado. I know what you're thinking."
As soon as Brandy shut the door, leaving to get the breakfast, the muffins, she spoke up, "You're giving me no choice. I'm so scared for you. I don't want you to die, do you understand that?!"
All at once, Todd was on her, grabbing her around her waist and dragging her to the bed, shocking her. She sort of barked his name, but he didn't let her talk. When she hit the mattress, he climbed right on top of her, kissing her lips, moving to her neck, touching her body, and she just knew, KNEW she was being manipulated.
"Damn it, Todd," she pleaded as she tried to turn away from him, holding him by his shoulders, pushing at him, fighting him. Despite his thinness, weakness, sickness, he was strong as hell and it hurt.
"Come on," he urged, "You wanna know ... I know you ... I know what you're thinking when you look at her ... I'll show you."
"No ... not this way ... not now..."
"Yes ... now ... especially now."
Manipulated, Téa thought, by a whore. One of the wise ones that Téa had seen on Sixteenth Street ... the arrogant ones who walked the street and teased the potential clients and who didn't give a damn about emotions or feelings or warm-hearted tenderness. Todd was a hard-core junkie who wanted his way above everything. It broke her heart.
"Come on," he said breathlessly, as he pushed his hips into her and squeezed her breast. She started to say no, to put a stop to this like the night before, but then she thought differently. She'd call his bluff.
You wanna play? Fine. Let's play.
"Alright," she said, panting now with exertion, "Alright, amor. You want to do this ...you want to show me all you can do now, that you couldn't do before? Well then… do it." She touched his face and began to kiss him, rubbing her body against his, sticking her tongue deep into his mouth, wrapping her leg around him. She pulled off his jacket and moaned encouraging words back to him.
"Make love to me, come on, show me."
She manipulated him.
She felt his trembling, heard his breathing change, and closed her eyes. She felt his breathtaking fear. And her own. And yet, he was erect and she was wet. Jesus. For both, beneath the fear, there was ... confused ... undeniable want. Sad fact was he had her dead to rights – she wanted to know what Brandy knew. And in that jumbled sexual motion, she knew she was as sick as he was. She was a junkie, not for heroin, but for his suffering, for him.
Is this painful enough, Dios mio? Am I bleeding enough as I make my way to You? Am I reddening the concrete path enough? Will this save him?
Todd hesitated, but Téa wouldn't let him, wouldn't let him back out of his game. "What's the matter, Todd? Can't do it?"
"You know fucking well I can."
"Then why are you stopping? Huh? You wanted to show me so... show me. Because you're right, I need to know what she knows ... about you..." She continued to kiss him, and he kissed back once or twice, but then he pulled away, preferring to bury his face into her neck and hair.
He touched her breasts on top of the borrowed tee-shirt, but she moved his hands underneath and he held his breath at that, frozen a moment. But then he took advantage, massaging her breasts, his breath catching as he touched her hard nipples. They caught each other's eyes but then avoided it. He moved his hips against her some more, his breath hastening with his touches of her, hers getting fast too. She spread her legs and he dug into her, grunting at their plain grinding. He grabbed her ass, and she moaned and he humped her like a fucking dog…
… and it was too much. He was losing at this. He felt himself slipping away, everything inside of him shutting down. Everything except his body. He could feel the intense arousal, but it was distant ... it was ... only his body ... just body parts… where was his heart? What had happened to it? How ... how could he do this to her?
Then Téa – his devoted, perfect, devilish angel – reached into his sweat pants and grasped his cock just tightly enough. He flinched, grunted even, but did not want to give up, couldn't give up, because to forfeit would mean to free her to call the cops or Tim or Viki ... and he didn't want to free her. He moaned at the feel of her touching him, a moment he dreaded and dreamed about just the same since the moment he laid eyes on her, his own hand reaching in between her legs, trying to distract her more. Trying ... to show her ... something.
And it was killing him.
Beneath all the garbage, he loved Téa and didn't want it this way, didn't want to ruin her, to dirty her, with his filth, but his soul was gone, owned ... he was a slave to the Princess and her King, King Peter, Satan. He had no choice – no cops, no doctors ... he only wanted one thing and he wanted to shut Téa up for it.
"Téa…" he huffed.
She had never touched him before, had never known what he felt like and she ached at it. Breathed to stop tears from tearing through her. He was large and silky and she knew he would be beautiful. She moaned and felt him touch her and wanted to push him away because she was afraid for him, afraid that she was going to hurt him by sparring this way. But she didn't stop. She touched him purposefully, stroking him, trying not to think that it was wrong, that these were misplaced actions, trying not to think she was touching a part of his body that he'd guarded with all he had.
How easy he gave himself up to her for heroin.
His breaths came fast and he was wet, my God, such a private thing, and he mumbling something incoherently. And she took what he was doing to her, moving her hips against his hand. Because, again, somewhere inside of her ... she wanted to be close to him, even if it was them manipulating each other. Even if he thought he was so damn tough – so above dying ...
"Show me what you wanted to show me," Téa said in breathy whispers, "I'm not going to hurt you. You're not going to hurt me ..." She upped the game and unzipped her pants, pulling them down along with her panties so he could touch her more directly. "Oh god, touch me now," she said. She lifted her hips to help him and moaned as he placed his fingers on her sex. Barely audibly, he gasped as he did it, another moment he froze then didn't. He didn't look in her eyes as he slipped fingers inside her.
Her own breathing picked up the pace as they challenged each other, as they played dangerously. She soon felt a guilty, powerful orgasm and groaned unconsciously at it, hating it because it was unfair. It was unfair to give in to his lousy, rotten, sick play for time, for heroin. His play to get her to shut the fuck up.
Todd lifted his head a little, completely lost in her touching, continuing to take her caresses of him. He pushed her hand away and started to get on top of her again. He was upping the game once more.
And Téa panicked, her own bluff being called.
"Wait, wait…" she panted.
"I don't think so," he huffed.
Yeah, there wasn't a condom in sight and damn if she was going to put herself at risk for something. She had no idea, no idea at all, what he'd been exposed to.
"No," she grunted, feeling his strength as he jerked his sweats down, fully exposing a very angry-looking, massive erection, Téa not able to ignore it. He was beautiful, his cock the color of the rest of him with a touch of reddish coffee, his hair the fine brown that covered the rest of him, absent of gold. His size was unquestionable and screamed of power and… no doubt… my GOD… danger. This, THIS was his absolute weapon of choice against a woman. She knew if he wanted to, if he meant to, she would NOT be able to stop him.
But the sad fact was, rape wasn't really her worry.
"No," she huffed, "…please, not without protection … Todd … please, no…" She was scared, she realized, really scared, not that he would rape her, but that she'd give herself to him because she wanted nothing more than to make love with him. To feel him inside of her, risk of all consequences be damned.
He stopped a moment, breath hard and sour with sickness and fear… "The fuck you say?"
"A condom, Todd…"
He glanced away, then didn't. She would have laughed if it wasn't so obvious she'd given him a perfect escape. And he took it like a starving man takes food.
"Fine," he growled. But he wasn't going to totally lose the game. He grabbed her hand to him again, the pull so hard that she gasped. He increased the pressure by roughly pressing his hand around hers, directing her hold, directing her movements.
"Come on," he groaned, as if he wasn't getting to where he wanted to be fast enough. They were both sweating with effort, his muscles tight, the lines hard and defined. Such a difference from her soft creamy skin, her muscles delicate and easily ripped apart. She finally looked him in the face and to her devastation, she saw tears running down his cheeks.
The game had gone too far. For all his strength, he was fragile as glass.
"Oh no, no, no," she whispered painfully. "You don't have to prove anything to me, oh my god ... oh my god ..."
She tried to pull away but he wouldn't let her, growling, "Just fucking finish me off." He breathed out heavily, not letting her stop, not letting her hand go, making her do the all the showing. "You wanted to do this ... you got me going ... don't you fucking stop now..."
Téa started to cry, the heat of his body overwhelming her, his incredible strength, the awareness of the leaps and bounds in intimacy, as well as the horrible remoteness. She dared look at his face once more as he thrust his hips against her hold of him, daring to see the hurt. She couldn't stay on it, watching their hands instead. She finally felt him convulse as he ejaculated. He didn't make a sound and pulled unconsciously on her hair. She tensed at the pain of it. He collapsed heavily onto her as he pushed her hand away from him desperately, but then immediately rolled onto his side, pulling his sweats back up and facing away from her. Téa's wide-eyed stare flew to his tattoo, flew to the cloak of the Grim Reaper, to the angry black lines of it, to its hopelessness, its inevitability.
She let out a hard breath, "Oh my god… oh god … why did I do that? Why … why …"
After some moments, her hand enclosing still-hot semen, she got up shakily and went to the bathroom, washing her hands in shock, cleaning herself because she wasn't sure who had forced this on whom. Who was the victim this time around? Who lost, who won, damn it? And as she watched the remnants of their mutually sick manipulation disappear, she realized they had both lost. They were each other's victim, each other's abuser, each other's savior and rescuer and that they had always been those things to the other.
Téa went to him, kneeling on the floor to get to his eye level. He lay on his side, fetal-like in how he raised his knees. He wouldn't look at her, choosing to focus past her.
"Todd, talk to me," she asked, pushing the hair out of his face. "Come on ... say something."
He murmured, "Angels are alone you know. They think they know everything, b-b-but they ... they don't, and, and, and they ... and they can't ... th-they can't help you. And ... and they let you go just like everyone else. Keep me here, Téa ... don't let me go back there ... please ... please ... he's there and he scares me and he talks to me ... and I don't want to hear him ..."
Todd cried at the pain in his body and in his heart and at his stupid, stupid failed game with the one person who ever made him feel human, who had tried so hard so KEEP him human. She told him the truth of who he was by playing along with him and letting him manipulate her and cheat her and fuck with her mind. The one person, the one perfect, beautiful person who wasn't damaged in the same way he was, who saw through his ugliness and in the end, tried to love him no matter what. He had ruined her. He had done something so disgusting and sick and angry and hateful. He used her, he used himself. He groaned as he remembered the feel of Peter breathing on his neck, ruining him, and the sound of the screams of all the people that he ruined in turn, the people that he hurt, and he imagined the taste of their blood in his mouth.
He knew Téa held a hand to him because he was shaking and couldn't stop and because he truly wanted that peace but wasn't sure how it really ever was going to come to him.
"I'm sorry," she said tearfully, "I'm so sorry ... I shouldn't have continued ... I'm sorry ..." She kept stroking his face and hair, "Let me get Tim, okay? Okay? Please, amor, you're breaking my heart."
"No no no sorry ... no sorry ... because ... because ... it's all lies ... it's words painted onto you ... they're whispering to you, they're controlling you ... and they lie and it happens all the time ... and they hurt you but they say they don't and ... it's salvation ... it's pudding ... it's like chocolate pudding and you can taste it and breathe it .. and ... it sticks in your throat and chokes you ... and ... and it rips you to shreds ... shhhh ... no one tells when they hurt you because it's only you and you're a nothing and you're a whore ... and what's a whore to a monster ... huh… what is that .."
"Oh god," Téa whispered, silenced by his crazy chattering. She held onto him tighter, wrapping her arms around him, and when she did, his jumbled confused words ended. After a while of that tight grip, she felt his body relax at last. When she pulled back to see him, she found he was looking directly at her. He wiped her tears away and put his fingertips against his lips, against the tip of his tongue, tasting her salt.
"I'm the one who's sorry," he said. "I knew what you would do. It isn't your fault, Téa. I'm sorry. See what skipping a hit does? I'm really much nicer when I'm stoned. I wouldn't have ... done you like that. It's not your fault."
Téa shook her head and argued, "You shut up. I pushed you. I ... knew what you were doing and I let you. I forgot how delicate you really are." She wiped the sweat off his neck, and smoothed his dampened hair back. "Please come with me," she pleaded.
"I already did ... and so did you."
Téa gave him a disapproving look, surprised at the joke, "You know what I mean."
The edge of a tired smile disappeared and then he said softly, "I can't go back to the hospital."
"I'll be with you every step – I won't leave you until they throw me out. I will come back at every opportunity ... I will NOT abandon you."
"Téa, the thing is ... I don't want to stop using. I don't want to stop feeling that love. It's too good. And ... I want it."
"I know that ... and you'll feel love eventually, from us ... from me if you'll let me, and ... and didn't you say the memory of being high would be enough for you in Hell? Well, why can't the memory of it be enough NOW?"
"Because it's here... and ... I can't walk away from it ... because the other way ... the way you want ... " He paused and looked at her with that terrible, endless sadness that he wore like a second skin, sadness that ripped into her. "It's so hard, your way. It's so much work to… feel love, and I ... I don't have it in me anymore to struggle for it. I hear the lies in it, I hear the hurt, I know it'll fall apart. I hear what I've done to people, I know what I can do to them ... what people have done to me. It's too hard."
"I understand. But you can't continue like this. You can't. Look, I need to see a doctor just like you said. So we'll go together. Tim'll meet us there. Brandy can come, too. Please? I know it's hard ... but peace will come to you, this other way."
He held her hand against the side of his head, rubbing her skin, caressing it. Watching her suffer, watching her struggle. He said gently, "You made a nice sound ...when you ... you know. When I touched you."
"Don't change the subject ...Todd ..."
"But you did," he said. "It was this soft ... beautiful ... sound. I don't even think you did it on purpose – it just happened and ... and it was the nicest thing I've ever heard." Téa found herself crying at his words and she wiped them away harshly. They were quiet a while, only looking at each other, wondering how the nightmare was going to end.
"I'm broken, Delgado, and there isn't any fixing of me. I steal what I can ... from people ... and ... fuck with their minds and ... recently ... I've taken up a literal translation of ... fucking with people ... and I don't understand anything anymore. All I want is to not feel any pain. I spent my whole life in pain and I will tell you until doomsday ... that to not feel it ... is the best thing. I can't explain it to you because you're not in that kind of pain. You ... thank god ... will never get it. You are so far away ... from ever getting it."
"But Todd ..."
He shook his head, putting his fingertips to her mouth. "Shut up," he said, glancing at the door and then back at Téa. "Listen to me. When Brandy comes back, she's bringing me something and I'm gonna use it. I promise I won't use as much as last night." He swallowed hard and squeezed her hand. "Then we'll go to the hospital for you to get checked out. Tim can meet us there, but no cops. If I see a cop, I will fucking run. Do you understand?"
She had to breathe, needed to be clear on what he was saying. She nodded, "No cops. Ok. But ... are you going to check yourself in?"
"I'll talk to Tim. I'll see how I feel."
"Todd, that arrest warrant-"
"You call the cops ... I run. I see even the hint of a badge or a uniform ... I run."
She got up from him and paced, glancing at Todd whose color wasn't looking so good, who was rubbing his thigh again. Who was sweating. He was sick alright, he was dope-sick. It was clear he got himself hooked ... and hooked badly. She kept pacing and didn't know what to do. Tim said it was alright to negotiate with him ... he was holding himself hostage. And just getting him to the door of the hospital would be an amazing step to take, miraculous even. Tim could handle him, she hoped. But he's skittish. If anything goes wrong, if he sees the police ... guards... god ... what about security guards? He might think they're cops... what about people in suits who look at him wrong ...
Just as she was about to get more details on their deal, the Angel of Death walked through the front door. Brandy was wearing a small grin on her face and in this almost musical voice, she said, "I got the chocolate muffins, baby! And some coffee and some other stuff ..."
Her words trailed into silence. She put everything on the breakfast table and stood a second before saying, "Do you want me to leave?"
Téa shouted not with anger, but with fear, "Yes!" Todd, with equal desperation, not only shouted but hopped up off the bed, saying, "No!"
Téa tried to stop him, but he stormed right past her, pulling his arm violently out of her grip, and without hesitation demanded of Brandy, "Tell me you have it."
Brandy said nothing, looking at the frightened Téa before eying Todd, like she was trying to be subtle, like she had a secret and didn't want to spill it. Shamelessly, Téa begged, "Don't give it to him! Please don't!"
Todd swung around, animated now, threatened now, beside himself with fury at Téa's nerve to interrupt his plan, "You and I had a deal, Delgado! I told you the terms! I get my hit, THEN I go with you. You wanna fight me, go right ahead you will FUCKING lose!"
"We didn't have a deal yet! I-I-I didn't agree to the heroin part! I just said no cops!"
"Well then let's make a deal, baby! I get my hit, I go with you. And NO COPS! You try to stop me, I still get my hit but I don't go fuckin' anywhere. And you ... you'll leave. Got it?!"
"I don't know!" Téa yelled, shaking her fists with her indecision. Seeing him this angry, this agitated at the prospect of not getting what he wanted propelled her into sheer terror at what he would do if he were faced with policemen at the door ... or anywhere even near him. He was desperate for that peace at any cost.
Then, whoosh, a complete change came over Todd. He chuckled, grinned, "Silence ... is acceptance, Téa. No counter-offer ... it's a done deal."
Brandy looked guilty, jumpy, and startled when Todd turned back to her, saying, "Where the fuck is it?!"
Téa shook her head and sat on the bed, a zombie, rolled over by a Mack truck. Seeing an addiction in all its brilliant color, seeing it splattered on a human body, and seeing its annihilation of a soul was an awful thing to witness. Todd hadn't cared in the least that Brandy could have gotten arrested for purchasing the illegal drug or could have been stopped for carrying it. He didn't even care if it was safe to use, if it was cut with something bad ... or anything. Brandy pulled out what she had and Todd grabbed the crisp tiny bag out of her hesitant hand.
He stood in the kitchen – doing this was taking too long – he leaned on his hands against the counter, breathing like a racehorse ause he was afraid to drop any of the dope, because he couldn't figure out how much to use, because he was doing all of this in front of Téa and didn't really give a shit. Because ... above all ... once he did himself up ... he'd be obligated to talk to Tim, to go with Téa, and the thought of it filled him with the kind of dread he only associated with his childhood, the kind of dread that would take over as he lay awake in his bed at night, staring at that plane hanging from the ceiling fan ... waiting ... waiting ...
Téa didn't move from the bed to help him, more incapacitated than he was at the sight before her. She could only hug herself like a lost child, watching helplessly, powerlessly, reminded herself of being a little girl watching her father drink himself into oblivion over the loss of his wife, of Téa's mother. Brandy went to Todd, though, shushing him while she fixed up a dose. When she was done, when everything looked right, she sat him down at the table and, like the administering Angel of Death she was, tied his arm off, searched for that perfect vein as he shook with frustrated need and finally, gloriously, shot him up the way he wanted, lovingly holding him to her as he experienced the rush of his beloved salvation.
A minuscule stream of blood dripped onto the floor, pooling between Todd and Brandy. She didn't stop it right away because Todd's peacefulness was more important than his body, because ... well ... who the hell was Brandy to say this was wrong? That his way ... was wrong? It's only body parts ... blood's only the red liquid that runs through your system, keepin' you alive long enough to be abused and crushed, keepin' you alive long enough to learn that you aren't worth shit. What matters is the heart. You know, that thing in the middle of your chest, that promises something better for you, that pumps hope and dreams and prettiness and cleanliness ... and ... the dope ... well ... it helps that heart, that broken heart. Gets it pumping again. It's his way.
Todd leaned back on the chair, his head rocking back in utter relief, in chemical bliss and love, and it was only then that Brandy pressed on the bloody vein, cooing to him and kissing him and saying that he had every right to feel this way.
"I surely won't stop you ... I won't fight you. You so happy ... you so peaceful ... you so beautiful."
It was ... an awful thing ... to witness.
To be continued….