On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 2
Chapter 21
The tiny checks on my sister-whore's floor look like art, you know, modern art: rhythmic, plain, repetitive, moving. On, off, on, off, on, off. Hundreds of blacks and whites arranged in this perfect flow. Looks chemical. Looks like life itself. The world is perfect this way, on and off, on and off. Consistent chaos. Reliable insanity. Individual boxes singing the songs of idealistic simplicity in their blackness and whiteness. No greys ... no confusion ... no fucking question. I like it like this. I need it like this. I feel good. I feel fine ... I feel pretty ... fa la la la la ... Turn her off with her guilt and complicity in my crimes of escapism, of salvation. Turn her on equally as well with that same guilt, with that love, with that perverted fuck. Hmm ... simplicity, clarity, in the messiness. Perfection within imperfection. Silence ... amidst the screams.
Let me turn it all off, will ya'? Real peace, real simplicity, real silence.
Téa worked to keep calm as she watched Todd kill himself. She saw the drug shoot into him, saw the orgasm-like stiffening of his body followed by a slow melting into a stupor. Then, like a sea slug, slow as molasses, he moved from the chair to the floor of the kitchen. Watched him lie down on his belly to stare at the linoleum beneath him, muttering something about simplicity and blocks and artwork. He would touch the tiny squares and barely blink. He sighed sometimes, smiled dreamily sometimes, and rub his hair. Téa wanted to run, leave him to his Brandy-girl, leave him to this life. Leave him to his death.
But she didn't. Couldn't.
Instead, she lay in the messed sheets of the bed, dead as he was. She could smell his scent on her hands, her clothes ... she could still feel him pull her hair as he climaxed. She could still hear his breathing and feel his heaviness and ... she could still see the look of his cock and the creamy semen on her hand. Her eyes stung from unshed tears, anger, frustration, so much whipping through her. The mix paralyzed her.
From the bed, she watched Brandy obsessively clean the bathroom using Comet, mildew remover, bleach ... you name it, she was using it. The products' smells quickly filled the apartment, obliterating the heavy vanilla that occupied the nooks and crannies of her home. Scrubbing, rinsing, re-scrubbing, re-rinsing ... repeat ... repeat. Brandy did this on her knees like she was repenting, praying, trying to answer for her dirty life, her sins, pleading with the Lord for forgiveness, to save her. Scrub ... rinse ... scrub, healing her soul with the sponges, healing her torn-up existence with the chemicals.
Salvation through bleach, blood, and chlorine.
"God," Téa groaned, pulling herself off the bed at last. She ambled to the counter where the telephone was. She saw a bill, an actual telephone bill with the address of the apartment. Brandy Night. Couldn't be a real dialed Tim's number, hitting the keys slowly, listlessly. He answered like he promised and Téa could tell he was in transit. She heard his breath as he walked.
"You want to come over, Tim? You still willing to do that?"
"Absolutely. Just give me the address and I'll be right there. Faster than light."
Salvation through devotion? That's not possible, Téa! Didn't your mother tell you that? Walk all you want on those bent knees of yours, pray all you want, cry all you want, you will never be saved that way. You got to DIE, Téa, you got to bleed OUT, Téa. Come on, come over here, let me love you, let me rape you, let me suck the life outta you.
Let me kiss your bloody knees ... let me kiss your bloody mouth.
Let me kill you, Téa.
Salvation, bloody soulless salvation.
The sight of Tim standing over Todd was like milk and honey, cotton candy and lemonade. He was the red balloon your mama bought you on the way out of the carnival, that last trinket that would float in your room for days to remind you of the wonderful time you had, the thrills, the laughs, the sweets, her… devotion. His Doctor Graham, blessed Doctor Graham, the kindest man he knew, he with the curly hair and the thick chest and strong arms that could carry a grown man like a child.
Todd managed to move a little and threw his arms around Tim's legs, mumbling grateful words, loving sentiments, slurred, hazy love. He kissed the pant legs, pushing his face against hard shins. Wanted to crawl up and get to his face, his mouth, because that's where all the healing came from.
Remember, Doctor Graham, remember the good times we had at the Llanview Psych Carnival? You, me. Both of us in restraints ... both of us drugged to the hilt with that worthless medication ... me tied to you, you tied to me. I needed you to tell me I was human, that I was real, that I counted. And you tried so hard, GOD, you tried, but it's tough to get your message across when you're strapped to the wall. I don't need to feel real anymore, kiddo. Nope, I got the shit now. I got the answer now.
You...are...free.
"Dr. Graham," Todd said softly as he held on tightly to thickly muscled legs, "Whatcha doin' in hell? Whatcha doin' here? Ha ... kiddo ... kiddo ..."
Tim swallowed hard, squatting down. Todd immediately grabbed him around the neck, hanging on as if his life depended on it. Jesus CHRIST. As Tim wrapped his arms around Todd, his wide hands on the clammy skin of Todd's back, he had to remind himself to be professional because he was having a fucking hell of a time not bursting into tears.
"Hey, kiddo," he said, "Don't you know I'd go anywhere to help you?" He breathed to maintain as he felt Todd's heartbreaking drugged affection because the truth was he was in absolute shock at seeing his patient like this. Shock ... that had taken him by surprise.
Todd touched Tim's head, hard touches, and he smiled sleepily, his hold then tightening as he whispered hotly in the doctor's ear, raw sexuality peeking through the high, "Tha's right ... tha's right ... welcome to hell, then."
Tim's face crumpled with sorrow and fear as his patient pressed his mouth and nose tight against his neck like he was breathing in the doctor's essence. He cringed when he heard Todd whisper again in his ear, "Come lie with me…in hell, yeah? Come lie with me..." Todd kissed at Tim's neck at that, and then, a shock of a hard smack on his lips, knocking the doctor's head back. Tim held him, an effort to stop the madness, turned slightly, feeling only his patient's lips on his cheek, neck again, desperate grasps at him. My god, he thought, anything could happen to him on the streets in this state of mind. He couldn't help but wonder what he did wrong.
How the fuck did this happen?
"Awww kiddo, aww shit," Tim huffed, holding Todd hard to him, to just keep him still.
When Téa had called earlier to say "come on down," he flew like a bat outta hell, not thinking that he'd be flying right into it instead. He shot off instructions to the head nurse and disappeared out the front doors of Llanview Psych. He left without a plan on how to approach Todd, didn't think much at all other than reminding himself of the address Téa had given him. Kept repeating the street and the apartment number, kept praying that Todd wouldn't bolt. He was flying by instinct, taking this meeting one moment at a time. No hopes, no plans ... just get there.
And he did. Fifteen minutes flat. Professional ... dedicated ... faster than light.
Seeing the deteriorated apartment building off Sixteenth Street did not surprise Tim. He knew the run-down tenements via his many getting-to-know-the-city walking tours when he first arrived from California; he had expected the prostitute to live near where she worked, expected poverty, expected ... trash. He was unfazed by the caliber of people who loitered near the entrance of the building and along the street. He hadn't been affected by the dingy halls of the complex, by the garbage-lined stairwell which boasted one person sleeping on the second floor landing. Tim was cool, in control. He was DOCTOR Graham: experienced, prepared like a goddamn boy scout.
Until Brandy opened the door to the apartment, the smell of heavy cleanser pouring out.
What shocked him was seeing the woman in person with her swollen lip, the round dark eyes and hollowed cheeks, the thinness of her body, the terrible fragility. In some ways, it was like looking at the abused child in Todd, the personification of his experiences at the hands of a monster. Tim was shocked, too, at the look of devastation on Téa's face behind Brandy, at her emptiness. Worse than at the motel.
But what got to Tim the most, what tore him to bits, was seeing Todd curled up on the kitchen floor in ratty sweatpants only, semi-conscious, completely engulfed in his own world. Though he seemed to have showered recently, hair braided neatly, face shaven neatly, his back and sides had red marks all over, scratches. Bruises lined his arms and ankles. The sight blew the doctor away, like he was some fresh-out-of-medical-school intern, like he was the new kid on the block. And it wasn't that he had suddenly become naive or forgot his years of experience within the frightening business of treating mental illness. No ... he was shocked because his heart, which had gotten too close to a situation, had closed his professional mind's eye.
All throughout Todd's absence from the hospital, despite all Tim had been hearing about Todd's condition, all his advice to the family, all of his ... wise ... learned ... teaching, he had not actually allowed himself to "see" Todd, to picture him. He had thought only of scenarios from a scientific perspective, from a professor's viewpoint. He had kept his emotions in check by keeping Todd a statistic, a hypothetical. A study in atypical drug addiction in combination with various possible mental disorders.
Tim stayed with Todd a while, letting him have the physical contact he seemed to need. But the doctor finally eased him away so he could get a better look at his patient. Tim smiled, resting a hand on Todd's shoulder. He could tell Todd was trying to focus on Tim's face but couldn't thanks to the heroin.
"You feeling alright?" the doctor asked, knowing what the obvious answer would be.
"Yeah ... sure I am," Todd answered in a voice barely above a whisper. He scooted away from Tim slowly and sat back against the kitchen wall, his eyes closing. "Whatcha doin' here ... huh?" He repeated. "Whatcha doin' here?" He seemed to curl into himself, knees folding, arms folding, everything tucking in like a pill bug.
Tim glanced over at Téa. The two just eyed each other knowingly, heavy expressions on their faces, no words able to be spoken quite yet. Tim watched Todd drift in his high, backed up against the wall. The doctor rubbed his neck thoughtfully, feeling wet desperate kisses still, then asked Téa, "You okay?"
She shook her head. "This is a nightmare," she said quietly.
"Yeah. How often does he use? Do you know?"
Téa shrugged, "I have no idea what his pattern is. He used last night and just now." She turned to Brandy. "Can you tell the doctor his… schedule?"
Brandy had been sitting quietly on the couch. She shrugged. Shy-seeming. Then, sensing some importance to the situation, she offered, "He up and down, sometimes more, sometimes less. Jus' depends."
"Ballpark - once or twice a day?"
She shrugged, again. "Somethin' like that." Added after a second in an even softer voice, almost secret-like, "Maybe more."
"Does he use needles? All the time?"
She nodded.
"Whole bags? Half?"
"Depends on who we pick up from."
Tim smiled at Brandy, saying, "Thank you." Up and down usage… probably based on his emotions, moods, but also availability. He would wait for questions about technicalities, and he had a lot of them. Todd wasn't using for recreational purposes nor experimenting or seeking to expand his mind. He was using to escape debilitating, paralyzing pain, and as such, he was probably shooting up without regard to safety. That much was plain. Tim didn't want to think about the inevitable overdose that was coming his way. Or disease. Jesus… CHRIST.
He then turned back to Todd, moving close to him. He sat next to him. "Hey… you awake?"
Todd roused after a moment, smiled a little, rubbed his face a little. "Mmm… yeah..."
"I'd like to take you with me to the hospital. Téa needs to see a doctor and you need time in a safe place ... will you come?"
"Safe... I'm safe ... I'm so fucking safe ..." He chuckled under his breath. "You know ... I'm invincible ... hmm ... didja know that?"
"No, I didn't and I don't think you are."
He closed his eyes and drifted. But then he said, "But I am, Doc. I don't hurt anymore, no matter what happens ... ha ... everything is wonderful... like pudding ... sweet ...smooth ... smells wonderful ... mmmm..." He opened his eyes after a few seconds, tilted his head intimately towards Tim, and whispered, "Nothing can happen to me. I'm protected by Peter, Satan ... their Princess. You jus' run on home, now ... you who are uninitiated in the ways of the devil."
Todd stumbled to his feet at that, wandered past Téa, and headed right for Brandy. Tim noticed the roomy sweatpants, evidence of the weight he'd lost.
"Hey baby, hey baby," Todd purred to Brandy, sitting himself next to her, pulling her close to him, pulling her into him. "I'm sorry ... I'm sorry for cutting you ... but that isn't necessary is it? 'Cause nothin' hurts us, huh? We're beyond pain, huh?"
"Tha's right," she cooed, letting herself be wrapped up by him, letting herself slide along with him in his thoughts, in his perception of reality. She curled up her legs, allowing him to grasp onto her more, to get a better grip. Tim got up, giving Téa's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he passed by her on the bed, fully aware of how awful this was for her. She just held her head in her hands, like she didn't want to see anything anymore. He didn't blame her.
He sat down at the other end of the couch and, again, gave Brandy a comforting smile, "How old are you, Brandy?" Todd was resting his head against her, so that Tim couldn't see his face.
"Twenty-four," Brandy answered after some seconds of trepidation.
"You have a nice name – one of my favorite teachers in the whole world had the same name as you."
Brandy shrugged and seemed to sink into Todd. She looked to him, for approval or something. Todd murmured, "He's fine, he's my friend." She returned her gaze to the doctor, Todd tilting his head back onto the couch, seeming to sleep.
"You have a nice place here. Clean and homey." Tim turned around, perusing the small room, complimenting her, "I like your decorations ... the flowers, the curtains. The angel on your night table. You've created a very special place. Todd's lucky to have found someone like you ... to be with him."
Brandy looked at Todd a moment or two, reaching for him and caressing his cheek as he dozed, then she turned back and eyed Tim suspiciously.
"What you want from me? Ain't you here for him?"
Tim frowned, nodded, "Yes, I am. I'm here to help him. And I'd like you to help me do that. You're a very caring person—"
"Leave her alone, Doctor Graham," Todd said, awake again, peering over Brandy at Tim. His lazy diction showed his high along with the slight rasp in his voice, yet another effect of the drug. "I don't know why everyone is so fuckin' interested in helping me. I'm fine ... I'm happy. What's so terrible 'bout that?"
Todd's words cut across the dead space and hit Téa almost as hard as Brandy had been hit. And it infuriated her. Made her seethe ... fume ... shook her from head to toe. Like a sudden summer storm, she got up from her post and ripped right into Todd, her voice firing across the room, "What's so terrible?!"
Over Tim's objections, Téa marched right up to the near-cowering pair of ruined alley-cats on the worn sofa, "Take a look at her mouth, Todd! Take a look at what you did to her! Take a look at your own body! Look at yourself! And what about what we can't see?! Huh? What diseases have you exposed yourself to?! AIDS?! Hepatitis?! That's what's so terrible, Todd! THAT'S WHAT'S SO TERRIBLE!" With each condemnation, Todd seemed to hold on tighter to Brandy and she, in turn, seemed to sink into him deeper, both of them hiding from Téa's anger, from her hurt.
Despite the intense reaction by Todd and Brandy, despite Tim gently grabbing hold of Téa from behind her and saying, "Alright, hon, … you gotta cool it," she couldn't stop lashing out at them because she was beyond herself, beyond the pain ... it was too much to bear.
"YOU'RE SICK, TODD!" She screamed, her fists knotted tightly, her face full of that fury, "YOUR WHORE IS SICK! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?! SICK!"
"Téa, Téa…" Tim urged.
"He stops breathing Tim, did you know that?! He shoots up until he can't BREATHE!" Téa suddenly started to cry, to sob, and covered her face with her hands. "DO SOMETHING! DO SOMETHING BEFORE I DO!" Still in Todd's arms, she swung around to Todd, "I'm going to call the POLICE, do you get that?! They're going to LOCK YOU UP! Or would you rather your children see you in a fucking coffin?!"
Tim held her tightly because she was going to throw herself at Todd, he could tell, and she could do some real damage, but she'd end up the broken one because one punch to Todd would waken the devil. THIS Tim knew. THIS Jedediah knew.
"It's okay, it's okay…," he gentled, as she flailed in his arms. After another moment or two, she finally settled.
"God!" she barked, before throwing off Tim. "I'm fine!"
She stormed to the kitchen table, plopping down, breathing to stop the anger, to regain control of the pain. "God damn it!" she cursed before slamming her head down into her folded arms, once again, hiding from the scene.
Todd and Brandy seemed to have become one person, so close to each other on the couch, and Tim rubbed his face, chewing on his lip, judging his next move. He walked a tightrope ... "Téa wants to call the cops, Todd," Tim then said, "and you know she has not only the right to do it, but an obligation."
With afflicted eyes, pushed into a more-wake state by Téa, Todd watched Tim as he stood nearby, close enough to touch. The doctor had an authoritative stance, arms folded across his broad chest, face in a hard frown. He could tell how worried Tim was, but the drug prevented him from explaining that he understood. He got Téa, too. Her anger was justified. And he loved her all the more for it. He loved her for her fury, for the effort to save him. It wasn't her fault she couldn't understand, it was a blessing she couldn't. He wished he could take back what happened earlier. He hated what he'd done to her ... when all she wanted was to save him.
Silence, chemically-induced silence, was all Tim got in response, Todd having nodded off. He got close to Todd once again and shook him awake, looking into his hazel, dazed eyes.
"Todd, Viki will go to the hospital as soon as you get there. Jedediah, you know, is in a substance abuse program at the detention center and because of that, he'll be able to have visits with you. He's very confused right now ... he needs you."
Todd listened, the words floating about him. He knew where they all went ... the pleas about family went into the "guilt" box which was black. The words about the nice hospital went into the "assurance" box, white. The words about being "needed" went into the "hope" box and that was white, too. On, off, on, off. Black and white simplicity, each box filled with complex emotion and sickening bits of truth and indefinable pain.
He put his lips to Brandy's black hair and, as Tim spoke in pacifying tones like he always did, he let himself drift with thoughts of Téa, drifted in his boundless love for her, love he didn't deny. He looked across the room at her, watched her wipe her cheeks hard, rub her nose, and slam back down on her arms. He remembered playing seven-up when he was in second grade, head down on the desk just like she was doing. He waited for her thumb to pop up. She was tapping her foot nervously, folding and unfolding her fingers repeatedly.
I love you this way, Delgado. I love your anger. I loved what we did. I loved that sweet, pure sound you made, I loved your hands on me, I loved being inside of your hot wet self. I love you. But I belong to someone else ... I belong to Satan… and there isn't anything you can do.
Todd said something quietly to Brandy and she nodded, looking back at him momentarily with those wounded eyes. Eyeing Tim, Todd then said in a low voice, his words slightly slurred, "It's easy for you to come here ... this way. To ask me to go with you. Téa asked the same thing and I rewarded her by ... fucking with her mind ... her heart ... her body. My angel ... mine… I ruined her. You want me to ruin you, too? You want me to fuck with you? You must want it to keep asking me to get to the hospital. Over and over."
"I will never give up on you. Come back with me and you'll get better ... I promise." Tim looked hard at Todd, "This isn't the way, you know. You were so close ... you were almost there. Almost free."
Todd heard the insistence and love in Tim's words. He knew Tim wasn't just a doctor anymore. He suddenly thought of Viki. Thought of all her strength, strength he didn't have. Thought of Starr and Jedediah ... and it was so hard. As good as Tim made it all sound, he just couldn't do it.
"Please," he said, "please leave me ... leave me here ... leave me alone. I don't want your world, Tim ... I don't want it." And he grabbed Brandy tightly, again. "Don't move ..." he whispered, "Don't go anywhere." She sighed in agreement.
"We can't leave you here – I can't. What you're doing is not only dangerous ... it's illegal. You're putting yourself at risk for jail time, disease, death." Tim paused, "You're putting Brandy at risk for those things, too."
"Am not ..."
"He ain't doin' nothin' like that," Brandy argued.
Tim looked seriously at Brandy, "Really? Why don't you tell me how he gets the heroin. It is heroin, right? Which happens to be a Schedule 1 controlled substance, which will get you 15 years in state prison if you're caught selling it. "
Brandy shrugged shyly.
"Do you pick up the heroin for him? Do you sell to him?"
She shrugged again, looking down at Todd's hands on her, at his fingers digging into her.
"If you get caught," Tim said firmly, "you WILL go to jail. Doesn't matter if he's the only one you sell to or hold for." He then directed his gaze to Todd. "What about needles – you using clean ones? Fresh ones? Have you been sharing with anyone? Yet?"
Todd looked away – he never thought about the syringes much ... he just always had one ... sometimes it was new ... other times ... he just had one. He shrugged – he didn't know. Just never occurred to him.
Tim continued, "So you don't know what kind of needles you're using. Are you sexually active with Brandy?"
Todd bit down on his lip, hiding his face again in Brandy's hair. Téa was here ... she was listening to everything. Her head was down, but certainly she was listening. Not that it mattered. What did it matter? He already told her he'd gotten over things, that he could… fuck… now. He breathed in his high. He was still feeling good, despite the interrogation. He tried to enjoy the warmth still running through him, the dreaminess in his head. Noticed that if he closed his eyes, he could slip away ... it was all still there.
"Answer me."
"What you wanna know?" Todd asked, confused, his high definitely being messed with at this point, being disrupted brutally. He rubbed his face against Brandy's hair. These questions were really fucking bothersome.
"Are you sexually active with Brandy?"
"Yeah," Todd said.
Tim saw Todd glance at Téa, as if he was checking to see if she heard him. He chewed on his lip and then rubbed his mouth against Brandy's hair. Eyes still on Téa.
"Have you been sexually active with anyone other than Brandy?" The question should have been a quick yes or no. Todd's silence upped the doctor's worry. Todd just looked at him while Brandy quirked at the idea, like no chance but then a kind of realization came over her and she dipped her head.
"Kiddo? Are there others besides Brandy?"
Todd finally shrugged, not sure if what he did with Téa really counted. Not sure if that thing outside the park bathroom counted … but that was Brandy that night, wasn't it?
You know fucking well it wasn't.
Tim took a breath, "You use a condom?"
'Fuck you," Todd said softly.
"I didn't think so. Let's recount then: Brandy gets your drugs for you, taking all the risk as she goes from the pick-up on the streets to YOU. Because you might be using dirty needles, you may have been exposed to AIDS, HEP-C, and a number of other diseases. You are also having, maybe, unprotected sex with people OTHER than Brandy. So, despite the exposure through the needles and, maybe, other people, you have unprotected sex with Brandy. Yet you still maintain you're not putting her at risk."
Todd didn't answer, choosing again to clutch his sister-whore to him.
Tim looked at Brandy, "What about you? You're aware of the rules out there on the streets. You're not a naive little flower – you protecting yourself? To protect him?"
"Yeah, I do!" she said defensively.
"You never have unprotected sex, anally, vaginally, with ANYONE other than Todd? Never engage in oral sex with anyone without a dental dam or with someone who isn't wearing a condom? Never do a hand-job when you have a blister ... or a cut? Never HAVE done any of those things over the past ten years?"
She looked about to cry, for sure because Tim had caught her. She couldn't say any of what the doctor listed. She bit her lip and focused on Todd, rubbing his face.
"When was the last time you were tested for AIDS or Hep-C or anything else?"
"Leave her alone, Doc... please ... this isn't about her," Todd pleaded.
Shut-up, shut-up, shut-up.
"Kiddo, I'm not trying to hurt you or Brandy – I'm trying to make you see that what you're doing isn't just self-destructive. You're hurting someone else ... directly. Someone who's innocent to your past ... someone who played no role in what happened to you. If you still don't think you're putting her at risk, why don't you tell me about the injury to her lip? You did that to her, didn't you?"
"I apologized ... it was ..."
"An accident?"
"It was!" Brandy piped up. "I scared him!"
"Todd ... look me in the face and tell me it was an accident, that you didn't WANT to hit her. Look at me... tell me that."
Todd swallowed and looked across the room at Téa rather than at Tim ... remembering his punching her. Thought of when he saw Brandy's face as he rifled through her things, as he tossed out her fragile possessions ... how he hated her. How he hated that what he saw in her face ... was himself. But that wasn't anything, was it, in comparison to his raping her. He wasn't even going to deny that's what it was. Because he hated her … loved her. Hated. Loved. He shrugged. Trying to turn off the noise in his head.
Tim then asked in a soft killing voice, "You hit her intentionally, didn't you? It wasn't an accident."
He said nothing, denied nothing.
Brandy stiffened in his hold. She was angry, at Tim, for misunderstanding. Todd could feel it and said, "Don't go..."
"I gotta get some air. You let go o' me."
He loosened his grip on her ... fast. Brandy got up and moved away, stepping out onto the fire escape. Shutting the window ... as much as she could. Todd followed her with his eyes. It was true though. He intentionally on accident hit her ... the same way he raped her. Same way he'd bit her hand in the middle of it. Did her hit her then, too? He couldn't fuckin' remember. Puke gathered at the back of his throat. Breathed and sweated. Yeah, he did all that, and he did it because he couldn't take that she was his twin ... his sister-whore ... his Johnny-girl. Intentionally on accident he would say horrible things to her. That he would send her off for heroin, that he let her whore herself to get him more dope.
Tim moved closer to Todd, saying gently, "There's nothing to be afraid of, Todd. The hospital ... it's just a place. There are people there who'll protect you ... who'll understand you. I'll be there always. You'll be safe."
"You shut up. Why are you doing this to me? Why are you ... in my face ... doing this to me?"
"Doing what? What am I doing?"
"You're raping me! You're coming in here and forcing your ideas on me and humiliating me ... and ... god ... " He started to laugh ... "Ha... ohhhh ... you're no different ... no different from all the rest. I LIKE MY LIFE! Ohhhh ... but my life isn't like yours so it must be wrong, that it?"
"It's not wrong to hit Brandy?"
"Fuck you."
"You've admitted that you did it on purpose. You like doing that? Is that 'good' for you? For her?" Todd fumed… "What else do you do to her, Todd? Is hitting… the only thing?"
"Shut the fuck up."
"Still going to say this isn't about her?"
Todd watched Brandy a little bit, then Téa, then the doctor. "I watched it happen – I coulda stopped myself but I wasn't able to and, yeah ... maybe a part of me wanted to do it ... it was intentionally on accident." He had seen her face and he'd seen himself there ... and ... and ... he was sorry for it ... so sorry... soooo sorry.
"Not an accident," Tim said softly.
"What do you want from me? What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?" Long seconds ticked by as a dark look rolled across his face, breaking through his high.
Tim wasn't quite sure where he was going now. Tilted his head, curious.
"Wait a minute," Todd said, "I think I know what you want, Timothy." He leaned in, an arm stretched along the couch's back, inching closer to the doctor. His lip ticked up like a bulldog's mouth in a growl. He dropped his voice to a bare whisper, "I see the way you look at me, the way you touch me. You wanna suck my dick? You wanna play with my balls?" He parted his lips, licked them. "Or maybe you want me to suck you off? Maybe you wanna come in my mouth while I finger your asshole. That's it, isn't it? Your deep dark secret, those feelings… Doc… for all the boys you take care of. I promise, daddy, I'll keep real fuckin' STILL for ya'." He opened his mouth, his tongue flat and suggestive, but his eyes were cold and dead and accusing.
Tim moved way, way back, knowing his patient was acting out his desperation. Only this was vicious. Using Tim's own orientation against him, his very real affection for Todd and other patients. This was no delicate offering to someone he trusted. No tearful revelation that he'd whore'd himself to his own father to stay alive, to have the smallest bit of control over horrific sexual abuse.
God, it hurt.
How easy, how quickly, he used his sexuality to manipulate, to cut people. He did not reserve it just for women. Tim pressed his lips tight together and shook his head, trying not to feel the knife in his back. Smiled sadly.
"What I really want… is an answer. Tell me why you're so afraid of leaving this place? What's outside that's so frightening to you? What's at the hospital that's got you shitting yourself?" Tim wasn't perfect. He wanted to throw a whole lot of insult right back at Todd. But he was… a professional.
A second or two of quiet. "Nice left turn there, Doc."
"Well? Tell me what's scaring you. Or would you rather talk about our dicks?"
Todd chuckled breathily, taken a bit off guard. He still held Tim's cool gaze but the aggression was fading.
"Be honest, Todd. Stop hiding like a child… tell me."
Todd bent down onto the couch, reaching for Tim dramatically, his arms stretched, fingers closing onto the edges of Tim's pants, "Doctor Graham... save me, save me from the monsters there, the hell… there."
"Who's there, Todd?" Tim asked again, firmly.
Todd laughed again, dryly. Then didn't. "Him! Me! I'm in that hospital ... the little boy who cries at night ... who I'm supposed to take care of ... who's waiting for me in the dark. I see him, I see his face ... I see his naked body in front of me ... burned, bruised ... hurt." Todd chuckled again drunkenly, leaning back on the couch, "My 'inner child' is waiting for me..." The laugh was gone, undeniable terror breaking out on his face. "That kid with all his fucking stories is screaming his guts out. There in the hospital. Every...fucking...second. Loud, deafening, making my brain bleed out my eyes."
With a sigh, Tim nodded, his hand falling near Todd's on the couch. "Okay," he said quietly. He glanced out the fire escape at Brandy, thinking ironically that, in all reality, Todd's ghostly, nighttime child was out there in the flesh, sitting on the cold metal slats, rocking herself in the winter sunlight. The woman out there ... the one whom Todd had held onto like she was a part of him ... THAT was the child he needed to care for. She was HIM ... not the adult him ... but the child within him. And ... like the child he described, like the little boy he once was ... there she was ... standing in the dark before him, naked, burned, beaten. It wasn't only the heroin keeping him here, she was.
"Todd, focus on me... look at me."
He opened his eyes, having reached for Tim, holding his hand in a death grip.
Tim repeated, "The hospital is just a place. The child will be there but ... I bet you a million bucks you hear him no matter where you are. Here ... on the streets ... in the penthouse. Being here doesn't chase away that child. He'll be wherever you are. Come with me, and together we'll help that kid ... we'll comfort him at night ... we'll take care of him."
Todd's eyes softened and he smiled gently at Tim, "My hero, Doctor Graham, the real life Superman ... who can stop the earth from spinning ... who can leap a building in a single bound... who can stop evil-doers in their tracks ... but can you stop fate? Destiny?"
"I'm just a person ... someone who cares for you ... for that child you hear. I know certain things ... I have a special kind of knowledge that can make you better. I'm not perfect ... but I'm a lot better than that crap you're putting into yourself."
Lightly, Todd laughed. "I doubt that." He lifted Tim's hand to his mouth and kissed it, over and over. Then let go and turned to look at Brandy. "What about her?"
"She can come with you. There's a great program for women there ... women trying to clean up their lives. It's directed to welfare mothers, substance abusers, abused women who've been homeless. She'd get re-trained ... educated ..."
"Superman, you can't save the world."
"Come on, kiddo. Come with me."
Todd shivered, his emotions blissfully numbed. All he could think was what he'd be like in four or six hours, when he'd need another hit. He licked his lips at the thought, took a breath. Téa was resting her head on the table, her head turned away from him so he couldn't see her face. She looked young ... like a schoolgirl, Todd thought, sitting that way. For some reason, he thought of Michelle ... thought of the times they'd be in class together, flirting ... he with his head on the desk, looking at her and she trying not to smile. She'd loved him and Téa did, too.
Téa, my angel, my imperfect ... perfect ... impure ... pure angel. Let's go back to bed. Let's hide away together ... let's shoot up together ... let's be alone ... let's live in Hell together ... you're ruined, now, anyway. You're part of me, now. Come here – come with me. Come be angry at me ... come hit me .. come hurt me. Let us bleed together.
It was all so confusing ... the smack made the world wonderful, it even made the hospital not appear as ominous, as threatening. BUT ... logic crawled in, reality ... reminding him of the kid he'd hear without the dope, of the dull, throbbing pain through his bones that would come, the sweating, the nausea, the cramps, the blinding, mania-producing cravings for it. It was as if he was hooked. But that was impossible ... humans became addicts ... and he wasn't human. So no, not hooked. That was bullshit.
Todd shook his head, closing his eyes, mumbling, "You're fucking with my high ... get the fuck outta here..." He waved Tim off and scooted further down the couch, curling up against the armrest, his legs on the floor, his back to Tim. "Just fuck off ..." he grumbled.
"No ... I'm not going to."
"I jus' wanna be like this, wanna sleep ... fuck off." Todd rubbed his head, wishing he could have hit a little more because this wasn't enough to hear his mother's voice, that sweet ... love-filled ... perfect voice. The one that wrapped him up tightly in warmth and acceptance and love. He tried to remember the sound, the pitch, the tone, the inflection ... but he couldn't – it was too hard to recreate. "Damn it ... damn," he said softly. He sniffled and sat up, considering his options. He looked past the doctor, past Téa, thinking on what he could do. He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, studied some bruises on his left arm. Considering ...
"Todd?" Tim asked.
Todd moved his eyes back to Tim's and then smiled as if Tim had suddenly popped into a picture where he'd not been before. "Hey ... Superman."
"Tell me something ... how many times a day are you shooting up? Looking at those marks on you – I'm guessing three times a day ... four?" He looked at Todd's bare feet and could see bruising on the thick veins running up both ankles. Tim's chest tightened. He probably dosed up between his toes, too. Tim imagined that hurt like hell once the drug wore off.
Shrugging, Todd looked away. "Don't know ... what do you care?"
"Just trying to get a read on what you're dealing with."
"I don't know ... I just do it ... as often as I can." He grinned, "It's so damn good." He did not want to get serious with Tim – he did not want to talk about this.
"How many times a day?"
Todd let out some aggravated sounds, huffs, hmm'd ... "I don't know ... three, four ... I don't know... depends on how much cash we got, depends ... on ... I don't know. Sometimes more ... sometimes less ..." He looked uncomfortable and he rubbed his face roughly. Shook his head, keeping his eyes on the floor in front of him.
Tim was struggling to keep himself distant, but it was hard to see Todd like this. He'd changed since the hospital – tremendously. He was a full-blown addict. "How high do you like to get at each of those times? Those ... let's say, four times a day? Does it vary ... or is it always the same every time?"
Todd was rocking himself, anxious to get up. To get out ... he needed to be a little more stoned than this ... he hated Tim at the moment. He shrugged, "I don't know ... it depends ..."
"How high, kiddo? Tell me ..."
Smiling at Tim, Todd said softly, "Superman ... Superman ..."
"Tell me."
Then he answered, "Gone. I like to be ... gone. Fuckin' out there." He closed his eyes again and thought of those moments when he didn't have to take another breath ... when his body just quieted; when it just stopped existing. "I like when I'm not really here – when I'm like in a dream or something ... it's so nice to be there. The world is perfect ... I have what I want ... it's not hard to live ... it's not hard to die."
Tim swallowed hard at that, needing to push along the questioning, but again, fighting the attachment to his patient; the desire at this moment was to throw a blanket around Todd's exposed body and drag him away from here. Tim sighed and scratched his head, thinking of how to continue. "Todd ... when's the next time you're going to do your next shot?"
Without hesitation, Todd spat out, "As soon as I stop feeling like this!" He laughed and leaned forward on his knees then leaned back, looking at Tim. "Awww come on, Doc! Why are you so ... what's the word ... concerned?"
"What if you don't hit in the next few hours ... and some hours after that – what if ... you run out?"
Todd raised one shoulder, muttering, "Nothing ... nothing..."
Up until now, Téa had been recovering from her outburst, barely listening to the examination, absolutely not listening to Todd dealing with Tim. And it was really hitting her that this wasn't her husband ... that he was so lost in this world he'd set up ... that she wasn't sure whether he was ever going to come back.
She was listening now, though.
She sat up and asked Todd, loudly and firmly, "Why did you keep rubbing your legs this morning, before Brandy got you more heroin? And last night in bed, you were in real pain until you used. Did your muscles hurt you? Did you ache? Why were you sweating? It's not that warm in here ... Brandy can't afford to blast the furnace."
"Huh? I don't know ...I don't ... I ... nothing ... nothing ... just go away ..."
"Why, Todd? Why did you tell me that you were sick... that you would 'fucking die' if you didn't get another hit?"
"Nothing ... I just ... need it ... is all ... I just ... you know, fuck you. Fuck you for asking these things!" Todd got agitated ... as much as he possibly could. She had no right to question him ... she'd done all the questioning she was allowed ... she'd reached her quota.
The doctor and Téa glanced at each other and then he added, "Todd ... bone pain... sweating ... cramps ... nausea ... do you feel those things when you don't use?"
"No ... no ... I just been using a lot ... I'm crashing ... that's all ... it's nothing ... it's ... awwww just FUCK OFF!" He got up off the couch and paced ... feeling cornered, scared. Caught for being human. Oh who the fuck was he kidding? They all knew the truth. They just wanted to torture him. "Just go ... please get outta here ... please ..."
Tim knew the situation. Todd didn't have to admit to anything. He was definitely hooked and that was going to make his getting off the drug that much more difficult. Damn it, he thought. "You have options, kiddo... there's kicking it 'cold turkey' – I can prescribe some meds to help you with the pain ... there's also methadone ..."
"SHUT UP! I am not addicted! GOD, just ... leave me alone!" His eyes bounced back and forth between Téa and the doctor and he felt so hopeless ... so trapped ... and ... then the negotiations started: "Téa look, I just need some more time ... ok? You said you wouldn't force anything on me ... don't do this ... just give me some more time ... Tim? HUH? Just some ... space ... to get kind of better at managing this ... let me get off slowly... you know ... drop down ... huh? I won't dose up as much ... just halves ... quarters ... just don't make me go to the hospital ... not yet ... ok? HUH? I'll learn to do this better ... so I won't hurt myself as much ... but let me do this on my own... ok? Please?"
Tim shook his head, "It's not that easy. We just..."
"Téa," Todd said, ignoring the doctor and walking to her, taking her hands into his and tilting his head at her, smiling slightly, "You don't want to see me hurt, do you? It'll be bad ... I would ... you know ... be kind of ... ok ... ok ... I'll be REAL sick. If I get locked up ... I'll be sick ... and I don't want to be sick ... I don't want to feel that pain ... I mean, I have enough of the soul-kind of sickness and ... and ... why add the physical? You don't want to do that to me? Do you? Huh?"
"Todd ... please ..." It killed Téa to see him this way ... to see him desperate... cornered...
"You're just mad about what happened earlier ... but it wasn't so bad was it? We were kinda close? We hadn't done anything like that before. It was kinda nice, yeah? In a way? Right? It'll get better ... it will... but not if I'm so sick ... you know? Huh?" He leaned in and was nuzzling her, trying to kiss her but she was turning her head away.
"Jesus ... Todd," Téa squeaked out.
And he saw her weaken ... and he knew he had an 'in' ...
"I mean ... it's bad enough ... you know ... reliving all the things Peter did to me ... the abuse ... the ... things ... the rape ... you know ... the sexual abuse ... and it ...it hurts to think of those things... and ...and you don't want me to think of them, do you? Huh?" He held her hands tightly, half-way smiling ... half not. He nuzzled her hands. Kissing them.
Doing it again, Téa thought, manipulating her. All for his drugs ... all for his freedom.
Tim interrupted, "Téa ... don't—"
"You shut up, Doctor Graham, Timothy-with-a-dirty-secret! I'm talking to my wife and she knows what I need! She cares for me a whole hell of a lot more than you do so mind your own fucking business!" Todd looked back at Téa, trying to pick up where he left off ... trying to get back into his begging groove. "Téa? I love you ... you know I love you ..."
Outside the small apartment, Brandy had been sitting and listening, watching Todd struggle with Tim. Watched Téa struggle with the conversation that was happening right now ... and just now, Brandy saw the look on Téa's face ... her so wanting to give in to him. Tim's face gave him away, too. She could see how much these people cared for Todd – and Brandy ... well ... she looked over the edge of the fire escape and thought of climbing down. Thought of how nobody really cared to argue with her to get out of prostitution, to get out of the filth. Paulie ... he liked what she did ... he used her enough and paid her enough. Téa... well she was really here for Todd. Todd ... well ... he wished she didn't do what she did ... she knew that. They kinda understood each other ... where they came from. But ... he'd hit her. He said so ... and didn't deny that it was on purpose. And that other thing he did. Like so many others had done to her. She rubbed the place he'd bitten. Her fingers. He'd bitten her so hard, her mind had shut off. Even though she knew that had been her fault. But maybe he didn't love her. Not really. He loved his wife that was for sure.
And the sex ... well ... there were the few times when he seemed like he really knew what he was doing, and despite the weird stuff, he seemed like he wanted to be with her ... but then there were these other in-between times... when he was very stoned and she was playing around with him how he liked and all he could say was Téa's name ... and when he was coming or getting close ... he'd say her name. Then he'd just slip back into that stoned state of mind of his ... and it was all forgotten.
She offered comfort ... but who was comforting her?
She needed to be back on the heap with Paulie, her Mo'. Maybe he'd still marry her – maybe he'd still take her away to California or wherever it was he wanted to go. He'd stopped coming around so much 'cause of Todd and all. But maybe with Todd gone ... maybe her life would get back to the way it was. At least it was predictable ... at least she knew her place there. At least there wasn't any ... pretendin' o' love ...
Sniffling, Brandy got to her feet ... and before stepping in ... she saw Todd continuing to beg Téa to not let him suffer "Peter" anymore ... to just give him "time". Tim was about to intervene; he had that look of authority and was about to get tough because ... well ... Brandy's "baby" was out of control.
She took a deep breath and climbed back inside the apartment. She stood there at the window a moment and Todd looked over at her. But before he could start in on her, Brandy cleared her throat and on the verge of tears, bucked up and said, "You can't stay here no more, baby. It ain't right. These people ... they love you ..." She smiled at him, a bare, broken smile, and her eyes glistened. "You go on with them. You don't got a place here no more. It ain't right."
Todd's mouth opened slightly to answer, but nothing came out. He let go of Téa. He turned around ... stood there ... not knowing what to do ... where to go. Brandy ... she was his sister-whore ... she understood. He thought ... she understood! She was HIM ... she was HIM ... she knew ... they both were two peas in a pod, they both were raised by Satan ... she doesn't judge ... she doesn't ...
"You're a liar, too," he croaked, "You're just like the rest of them."
Brandy started to contradict him, but then changed her mind. Nodded her head, "You go on. Just get your things ... and you go on. I ain't gonna be staying with a man who hits me." She held onto the big word. Waited for Todd to start to open his mouth.
"I ain't gonna be with a man who rapes me. And bites me 'til I bleed."
It worked. Her words cut into him deep. He stood in complete silence, utterly knocked on his ass.
Tim got up because he was concerned about Brandy, a little shocked at her claim that Todd didn't object to, wondering how true it was. But in the next instance, he conceded that he wouldn't be surprised if it was true ... meaning she might get in Todd's way, might be on the receiving end of his fury, heroin-dipped, muted, but still fury.
Tim got real close to Todd, putting a hard hand on his shoulder. The poor guy was so stunned he didn't even flinch.
Téa didn't believe Brandy, figuring she was using an incident and calling it something other than what it was. Knowing Todd, he took it at face value. His definition of rape was broad.
Todd looked at Brandy and smiled sadly, nodded. "Ok," he said. "I'll ... ok, ok ... you're right ... I don't belong here ... you don't need me."
He turned around and Téa started to move toward him, but Tim grabbed her lightly and shook his head at her.
Brandy stood strong ... and tried to keep calm. She shut her eyes ... tightly. And felt so alone in that room. So small ... so ... useless ... but then maybe ... maybe she really was helping someone survive? She didn't know. It just hurt like hell ... that was for damn sure. She was breaking apart inside.
Baby ... baby ...
Todd left them and went into the kitchen ... remaining quiet, stunned. He scratched his chest lightly, and thought of all the times he'd scratched himself until he bled ... thought of the times he'd burned himself to stop himself from re-living events with Peter. Thought of all the places he'd been ... and thought of how that damn heroin was his saving grace ... how nobody seemed to get that. But it was pointless now. He needed to suffer. It was obvious. This was Satan's way of dominating him. Let him find some peace and then snatch it away with the white walls of a hospital, with the sometimes-leather straps of restraints, with needles full of other kinds of shit, with the sympathetic smiles and expressions of "loved ones" as they watched from behind glass while you shit and puke and shake and kick and suffer.
While that kid screamed his head off.
He deserved it. It was his destiny. When he turned back around, Téa was standing in front of him. She came close and he let her. She offered her hands to him and he stared at them; stared at her skin, at her unscarred arms. He stepped nearer to her and wrapped his arms around her ... and she did, too. She could feel that cold sweat on his bare skin ...
"Are you coming with us?" Téa whispered.
"Yeah," he whispered back, "I don't have any place else to go." He'd been trapped. Cornered. He had no choice ... it was this ... or cops. He knew that. Black and white. Simple complexities stuffed into tiny boxes. He'd see how it went, how the hospital went. They did have a deal ... any kind of whiff of a cop and he would run. Yeah, ok, he saw something, a light here. Yeah. Ok. Ok. He had a few hours to go before he'd need another hit ... ok ... yeah. He had some time. Some time to get there ... and ...
But where would he go? Where could he hide out ... now? He avoided Brandy's eyes, avoided looking at her.
Johnny-girl ... my sister ... my self, why you doing this to me?
Todd let go of Téa, and moved over to the counter in the kitchen where all his drug belongings were lying about. He played with a bloody syringe ... pricked himself with it on his forearm and watched a droplet of blood on his skin bubble up. It was this deep red and he wanted to taste it ... wanted to rub it on himself like war-paint. He needed more blood for that, though. There was a knife on the counter. Not a big one but good enough. He reached for it. Then tightened his hand into a fist. It took all he had to not stab himself in the throat, to not scream until everyone was brain-bleeding out their eyes.
He huffed and gripped the counter's edge to hold himself up.
Look at me, Brandy … watch me die, Brandy. You are… killing me.
Téa stepped over to him and gently unfurled his fingers to get the needle still in his hand that held the counter's edge. She lay it down and put her arm around his shoulders. He was tight and cold as a pillar of stone. Hardly breathing. Téa was terrified for him. Brandy had rejected him, for him, to save him, but it was tantamount to him being drawn and quartered. She could only imagine what he was thinking ...
"It's okay, Todd," she said softly. "It's okay. You'll be alright."
She said the words ... but didn't believe it because Todd was an addict. He had sold his soul for a drug. Whatever parts of him had been vulnerable, open to love, whatever part of him had once been willing to risk his heart for love, whatever part of him had fought to exist above and beyond the things Peter had done, all of those parts were now buried deep within an opiate cave. And the only person who was going to be able to pull him out ... was himself.
But Téa wasn't an idiot. He hadn't even stood up in that cave. He was lying on the ground, barely breathing.
This was going to blow up in their faces.
What you want, baby?
To be continued…