On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 2
Chapter 23
Todd had never run so hard, so fast in his life. He could feel Peter's breath on him as he ran into the city, across the city, far, far away from the colorless hell of the hospital. Sure, he recalled escaping from prison, escaping people… and trying so hard to get away. But that was different, he was different. He'd had an idea of safety back then, a goal in mind. Today, he had nowhere to go, didn't know where to run. The one place he'd had, well ... he couldn't go there anymore. She had turned on him.
Once he reached the county park, once he reached the edges of the forest, he finally slowed down. He walked straight into the wood, right into the snow, and when he thought he was far enough inside the greenish brown darkness, he sat beneath a snow-ringed tree ... and looked up at the snow-dropping branches and at the winter's light shining through them. And he cried ... he didn't know why. Forever it seemed he cried, howling like a run-over dog ...
His knuckles were bleeding and he grinded the bloody part against his mouth to stop the blood, to stop his pathetic sniveling. He rocked himself because he was cold and kind of hungry and kind of thirsty and kind of ... kind of ...
His head hurt and his chest hurt and he'd hit his beloved doctor, his Superman, the one who'd tried so hard and he had heard Téa's tormented screams and her fear and God he loved her so much and he didn't mean to scare her. But she didn't understand him, nobody did, not even his sister-whore, his Johnny-jumping-up-and-tasting-the-hell sister, his twin.
Todd curled up on the ground, using some fallen branches as a pillow, smelling the pine even in the dead of winter. It was nice, this smell. It was the spirit ... and he sort of smiled as he thought of her, her glassy sound, her flowery essence, her beauty. He could kind of sense her ... he could kind of hear her.
Kind of.
He closed his eyes ... and after some time was soon asleep there in the forest, hidden away like a stray dog, buried among the trees like exactly what he was: a savage, consumed, non-human that society wished it could forget about.
"Hey ... Mr. Eldridge," Jedediah asked humbly as they headed back to the regular housing pod. "Can I sit outside a while? I know it's against the rules and all that ... but ... I gotta get some air."
Charles Eldridge squinted at Jed, considering the request. Their walk continued in contemplative silence. The poor kid had missed classes due to being in isolation, his dinner spent alone in that same unit, and really it was all due to that miscreant, BB. And truth was, away from laws, away from rules, Eldridge felt the incarceration of Chant had been miscalculated. Yes, possession is possession, but Chant had been on a mission, one that was unique for a kid his age: to help his seriously troubled father, a father he barely knew. And time spent ... here ... would only deepen his resentments, his anger. Time here could conceivably turn Chant into someone like BB.
And that was a damn shame.
"Alright, I'll sit with you," the counselor capitulated, chuckling at Jed's uncharacteristically happy expression. "You smoke?"
"Nahhh ... least not tobacco," Jedediah quipped, grinning, following Eldridge along another path which was taking them to the open yard beyond the building.
"What's wrong with today's youth? That other stuff makes folks stupid. Stay away from it."
"And tobacco gives you cancer."
Eldridge pushed open the doors after being buzzed out and both he and Jedediah shivered at the evening rush of cold air. "Cold enough, Chant? Enough air?"
"Yeah ... holy ... mother of God ..." Jed rubbed his arms and made a show of his being beyond cold. All he had on was his regulation issue sweats with some long underwear beneath them, a long-sleeved tee-shirt and a regulation issue sweatshirt – nothing that would carry him very long in this weather. His athletic shoes weren't made for snow either, on purpose. Very few kids escaped the Center during the winter.
Eldridge laughed as he made himself comfortable on a bench on the concrete expanse that headed the usually grassy area. It had been snowing and it looked like it was getting ready to snow again. "How was today for you?" he asked, his voice sounding genuinely concerned, his heavy southern twang warming his words. "You feel any better?"
"What do you think?"
"The isolation unit's rough, I know. That cut on your neck alright? The doctor treated you sufficiently?"
"S'alright. Did your boys take away BB's blade?" Jedediah shuffled over and sat at a bench across from the counselor.
"Sho' did ... doesn't mean he won't get another. You gonna have to stop antagonizing him, pure and simple."
"I didn't do shit! He came up to ME!"
Eldridge shot a harsh look at Jedediah, "Put a sock in it, Chant. I ain't here to argue with ya'. You don't cool off, we go back inside."
"Alright ... whatever." Then he mumbled, "I didn't DO anything."
"You are a piece of work, boy. Don't know when to shut up."
"Whatever."
Eldridge laughed aloud, "You have a disease ... last-word-itis."
"No, I don't."
After a look at Jed, Eldridge shook his head. "How's your homework coming? Your instructor told me that you're helping some other students in the class. Was glad to hear it."
"The kid's an idiot. Doesn't take much to help him - not that helping's gonna do any good."
The two were quiet a while and Jedediah soon got up ostensibly to move around a bit, to warm up. He sort of hopped on his feet, letting out some hot breaths; his eyes followed along the path of the back fence, glancing across the snow. His heart skipped a beat because even from here he could see where it was, the opening in the fence ... freedom.
Freedom ... to go looking again, to be in control again, to be with ... her.
This had to be it, Jed decided, taking in a deep breath of chilled air, his lungs tightening at the iciness. No way was BB going to let him survive a joint escape and no way was he actually going to let BB know where the escape route was. No fuckin' way, that son of a bitch was going to go to Statesville and he was going to go there broke.
So here he was, at night ... alone ... all the rest of the boys getting ready for lights out. This ... was definitely it. Jedediah watched Eldridge out of the corner of his eye, watched him stretch out his neck muscles and close his eyes tiredly. Just a few more minutes ... let the counselor get just a little more comfortable ... or uncomfortable. Jedediah could feel the adrenaline building up ... he was going to run like hell ... when ... when ...
"I talked to your father's doctor today ... Dr. Graham," Eldridge said, sniffling.
Jedediah turned around at that and he felt himself being drawn in. Mr. Eldridge was going to say something about Todd. Jedediah didn't respond; he just stood still.
"Your daddy's suspected of assaulting an escaped con the other night and the police are coming pretty hot after him now."
Jedediah swallowed hard and looked at the ground. Assaulted. He shuddered, thinking that the sweatshirt wasn't enough to keep him warm, to keep the cold out. Damn it, what the hell did Todd do? He didn't want to think about, didn't want to show how upsetting it was to hear about it, so he commented in a glib tone, "Nothin' I can do. I tried to help. He doesn't want it. Let him fuckin' rot."
Eldridge saw through Jed's comments, however, saying soothingly, "You're a good kid, Chant. I'm sorry that your daddy is ill. I'm sorry he's ... chosen to come down even further on the wrong side of the law. I don't know him but ... Dr. Graham who I have known for some time, well, he speaks highly of Mr. Manning. He ain't all bad, he says. Good thing for you."
"Mr. Eldridge ..." Jedediah's voice was further away than Eldridge had expected and he had to turn his body all the way around to look at the young man, saddened then at seeing an expression on Jed's face full of heartache. The boy was standing at the very edge of the concrete platform, concentrating on the vast expanse of shadowy darkness to his side, looking like ... just a boy.
"I'm listening, Chant ... go on ..."
But before Jedediah could ask his question, before he could share what he wanted, the door to the patio popped open and a female guard called out, "Charles, you got a phone call from—" She was interrupted however and she quickly turned her head back toward the inside, like someone was asking HER something. Eldridge sighed and put his hands to his face ... massaging ... it had been a long day.
And just at that moment, when distraction was at its highest, when the guard was listening to someone inside and Mr. Eldridge was lost in his own thoughts, Jedediah bolted off the platform. Ran like a jackrabbit, hearing nothing behind him or to his side or in front of him except for his heartbeat, his hard breaths, the rush of his blood in his ears ... and the crushing of snow beneath his feet. Straight through the blackness he ran, straight toward the back fence lit by a string of bright lights.
Right there, he screamed inside of his head ... almost there ... run ... run ... for freedom, Chant ... right there ... RUN!
With a blast of excitement, he spotted the break in the fence, and he kept the breach in his view like a sailor would a blazing star against a night sky or a pilot might spot a fire nestled at the bottom of a blackened valley. The adrenalin kept him going and he felt nothing, not the cold, not the sweat, not fear, nothing but determination.
All at once, the lockdown buzzers went off like mad and searchlights flipped on and guards shouted his name ... but he kept running ... running toward the fence and running like hell.
And in ten steps he was there. Hell's bells ... he was there!
He dove into the spiky bushes but the fencing's hole wasn't quite big enough for him so he flipped over onto his butt and with his worthless shoes kicked the shit out the fence, punching at it repeatedly ... pushing ... pushing at it to make the tear in the chain-linked fencing bigger. The sounds of the guards were getting louder. He could tell they were catching up to him. The lights were so fucking bright they made him feel like he was under a microscope, but he didn't give up. Furiously, he turned back around and crawled right through the widened hole, feeling the metal rip his sweatshirt and his skin but he didn't care.
The number ... what was her number ...
Jed hurried to his feet, instinctively ducking because he thought he heard the shots of those rubber bullets he'd been thinking about ... he thought that's what he heard along with his name, along with orders and commands. Running ... running ... he was on the outside now ... the OUTSIDE! And in two minutes he was running alongside a road edged by the forest, side-stepping into the darkness as each car passed and then he was hitting a series of homes in the woods ... but he didn't stop because certainly those homes would be the first place they checked. Out of breath, he didn't slow ... took a quick left down another road ... knowing it went into the city. Then it hit him, no ... no ... they won't look here ... no.
He had to get to a phone, he had to call Summer. He would get caught too easily if he tried hoofing it into Llanview.
Jedediah then ran up to the first deserted or quiet-looking home. The sounds of sirens were beginning and he looked back towards the road searching for the cop-units. Seeing no cars and panting heavily, he glanced inside the house. Only a few lights were on and two people were sitting in the living room watching television, the blue bouncing about the room.
He walked around the outside of the house, trying not to make any noise and looking in through each of the windows, hoping to find access to a phone, needing to find a way in ... and finally seeing what appeared to be a home office. What was nice was that the office was far away from the living room.
Maybe this would work.
The room was dark other than the light from the monitor and he saw a telephone. There was a back porch with a door that seemed to open into this office. It wouldn't take much ... just two minutes. Break a window quickly and quietly ... that would do it. Jed stepped carefully onto the porch. Leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Couldn't be breathing like he'd just run a marathon, someone might hear that.
There was the door ... and he tried it. And ... glory be ... it opened. The people ... God ... he hoped they wouldn't hear him.
Leaving the door ajar to allow a quick return outside, he walked into the office. The phone was next to the computer and he could hear the television, canned laughter. The people laughed, too. Sweating, hot and tired, Jedediah picked up the telephone and carefully dialed Summer's number, his eyes glued to the hallway.
A spunky voice answered, "Hello?" Jedediah smiled and let out a hard breath of relief, whispering thickly, "Summer ... it's Jed ... come get me. Highway 8 ...come towards the Center." He heard her gasp. "I'll look for you," he concluded.
"I'll be in a blue VW Bug ... an old one. License plate 8YTH492. REMEMBER the 8YTH! I'm blue! I'm BLUE!"
She hung up in a flash and Jedediah set down the phone quietly. Paused a few seconds to calm his stomach. God, he thought, almost free ... almost. Turned around and found himself facing steely eyes of an older woman.
"Who are you?" she asked.
Jedediah barely breathed, stunned.
"You're from the Detention Center, aren't you?"
Jedediah looked down at his sweats with the name emblazoned down his pant leg, at the sweatshirt with the same bold lettering, then looked up and smiled sheepishly, "Would you buy that I'm a poor street kid and ... and ... I took these from some OTHER escaped ... uh ... inmate?"
The woman stared icily a moment and then closed her eyes, shaking her head. She then opened her eyes again and said softly, "What's your name?"
"Um ... Mick."
"Mick, you have no chance at escaping in that get up."
Her voice was soothing, almost a whisper, and Jedediah began to realize that she didn't want to alert her husband that there was an intruder. She looked kind, in truth, her graying hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her face ... well ... she looked like a concerned mother, Jed thought.
"Look," he said, "I just wanted to make a phone call, nothing else ... I swear. I was on my way back out the door."
She sniffled and studied his clothes, his shoes. "You're not dressed for this kind of weather."
"It's alright, I'll manage." Jedediah then thought that maybe she was stalling him ... just long enough to call the cops and he started to make his way towards the door. The woman grabbed his arm. She took a huge risk and actually stopped him from leaving.
"I have some snow boots, some clothes. Take them."
Jedediah crinkled his face in confusion, "What? Why ..."
"You remind me of someone. Stay here ... and stay quiet and don't ... DON'T take anything."
"I won't," he said obligingly, not wanting to look at her. Why he stayed there, he'd never know. Something told him to trust her.
She turned and stepped out of the room, minutes later saying aloud to her husband as she came back into the office, "Be right there, Jake ..." In her arms lay a stack of clothes: jeans, a thick sweater, a turtleneck shirt, a jacket ... socks and snow boots.
"Hurry," she whispered, "... go onto the porch and put them on. Leave the clothes you're wearing. I'll take care of them."
Jedediah didn't know what to say. He simply did as he was told, taking the clothing and walking onto the porch. When he was finally dressed, the woman poked her head outside and said, "Good luck. Stay clean ... don't ... don't do what my son did." Jed flashed a questioning look. The woman then explained, "He died of a drug overdose over ten years ago ... alone, on the run from things. We never did understand. He was 17. Please ... please take care of yourself. And ... if you ever need anything, if things ever look hopeless, my door will always be open."
The night had been too tense and Jedediah suddenly felt emotional; truth was he was amazed at the goodness of people, of complete strangers. He put his head down and only nodded; sniffed and looked away. Finally he mumbled, thank you, and stepped off the porch. When he looked back, as the porch was about to disappear from his view, he saw she was still there, watching him.
He took off on a quick sprint, heading for the road. His back was stinging him. Although the cuts from the fence weren't deep, they were enough to make him uncomfortable. Moreover, the adrenalin had dropped off during his tête-à-tête with the nice lady, making him feel more, but he knew as soon as he was in more visible territory, it would pick up again and the pain would fade.
Once at the main highway, he slowed his pace and walked guardedly, ducking away when cars approached. The jacket the woman gave him was wonderfully warm and he said silent prayers of thanks that the woman had been ... well ... that she'd been awfully nice and had had no reason to be that way.
Suddenly, he heard a familiar sound coming down the highway and immediately he grinned. He knew the distinctive noise made by should-have-been-dumped-long-ago VW Bugs, the pitter-patter of the cylinders, the toy-quality sound they had. He moved into the shadows and waited, straining his eyes to see the car ... and then ... sure enough... it was blue ... and there an "8" ... and a "Y" ... and he raced out of that darkness, seeing Summer in the window, her fiery red hair, her mouth in a halted yell, her eyes ... he could barely breathe.
He could barely breathe.
Running across the empty highway, thanks to the relatively late hour, he heard Summer exclaim, "Oh my God ... oh my God ... I can't believe you got out! AAAHHHH!" Jedediah burst out laughing at that and pulled open the passenger side door. As soon as he got in, Summer wrapped her arms around him tightly. He kept chuckling because her whole body was literally ... jumping ... and he nuzzled her ... and she then gave him the deepest kiss ... the wettest one ... and he was just ... so ... goddamned happy to see her.
"Damn, Summer," he said, gently retreating.
"Shut up! OH MY GOD!" She then released the emergency brake, stamped down on the clutch and threw the car into first, the car instantly chugging along the road as she shouted out the window, "OH MY FREAKING GOD!"
Jedediah crouched down, gazing over at Summer, and all he could do was laugh.
Summers are known for their mosquitoes, sunburns, overheated rooms and cars, rancid garbage, rotting fruit. Not my Summer ... she's known for her starlit grin, cool moist lips, a succulent flow of biting affection. She is a blustery, piercing splash of life.
Summer ... you are beautiful. You are freedom.
The snow came down thickly as Téa stood in the window of the Penthouse, watching, wondering, surrounded by hopelessness. The low feeling had been hanging on to her ever since she saw Todd fight so desperately Tim's hold on him and heard his animalistic, disconnected screams. The memory of it tore through her. And the ugly was followed up by the pounding of his heavy leather boots against that sterile linoleum as he made his way back into the drug-riddled hell he thought was his paradise.
Hopelessness.
She looked blankly at the black tea leaves at the bottom of her cup, wishing she could read them, wishing she could see into the future. Glancing back out the window, she thought it was so dark out there, so cold.
"I hope you're safe, I hope you're warm," she said.
According to Tim, the aftermath at the hospital had been chaotic, with fuming doctors, shocked staff, and jumpy patients. There had also been an excessive number of police officers swarming the place because Bo got a positive photo-identification from Gunther, the re-captured convict, of Todd as his attacker.
Once that had been made clear, the police felt compelled to interview everyone, to get complete and current descriptions of the now highly-desired suspect. Tim had been sickened by the attitudes of the cops, how they had moved from Todd being a worthless, addicted, mental case which was someone else's problem, to being a notorious rapist and violent criminal. Old wounds broke out on some of the long-time cops – he saw blood in their eyes, a certain wolfish eagerness. They were feasting on Todd's fall, on his re-entry into a world they thought he'd long abandoned.
Tim had recounted for Téa what had happened while she recovered from having to be sedated. He'd been bruised by Todd's crippling hit and not just physically either – he was soulfully bruised. As he spoke, Téa could see the worry in his eyes, could see him playing at being the positive doctor with her and playing the role confidently. He wanted her to know exactly what was going on and said they shouldn't give up on Todd. He had panicked, had been under the influence of the "out of the blue" flashback, that he had been close to staying, actually. And to Tim, the professional, all of this meant there was still ... hope.
Téa listened passively, hearing Todd's voice in her head, hearing what he probably would say in response: "It's hopeless, Angel. I belong to someone else. I am not salvageable. Fly away, fly to be safe, fly to get away from me."
Tim then went on to describe the fight he'd had with the head administrator, the one which had started while Shane Lansing had checked out Tim's physical injury. Chuckling gratefully, he explained that three other doctors, including Lansing, had sided with Tim when the administrator threatened to convene the board of directors ... committees ... more committees... because of the violation of hospital admittance protocol. In the end, Tim felt the doctors had won, that medical decision-making had won out and that had to be respected against worries of insurance, of protocol.
"So I won," Tim had said heavily, "but Todd ... he lost. He lost big-time." It was then that Téa could see the real impact of the afternoon, that Tim stopped being a doctor and became just another caring human being who was swimming upstream against an unyielding tide of someone's need for self-destruction. He had turned away and bit down hard on his teeth, saying, "Todd fucking lost."
Téa had shut her eyes at that revelation, opening them to a saddened Viki who had come right away, having narrowly missed Todd. Viki made a thin attempt at optimism, but only managed to further reveal her own hopelessness. Tim had then walked out of the hospital room with his head down, mentioning that he was headed over to Sixteenth Street to search for Brandy, headache or no.
Sighing worriedly, Téa thought about Brandy, too, because only minutes before, Tim had called to tell her that the girl wasn't anywhere; not at her place, not on the streets, nowhere. She'd vanished right along with Todd. What was worse, he said, was that he managed to climb up onto the fire escape to peek inside her apartment – concerned he'd find her dying or hanging or dead from some other kind of self-inflicted wound – and found an open window leading into a frozen-out room, one decidedly devoid of Brandy.
When he had glanced around her raided place, he realized that she'd trashed all her beautiful things, and that he'd stepped over those things in the alley. She'd dumped all the things that had made her home special,a home that was now as destitute as its main occupants and, of course, he knew she had done it herself.
"I'm really worried about her, Téa," he had said.
"I know," Téa had answered, her tone bitter. "But are you surprised? After all, she's his sister ... his twin. Of course she's going to disappear. She may have denied him a hideout but she's never going to leave him. Never."
"Téa —"
"Tim, I've accepted this and it's not jealousy I feel or personal anger; I don't feel a cuckolded wife. What I do feel is ... outrage ... horror at what people do to their children. At how parents can tear out their babies' hearts and leave them for dead, to live lives as empty, rotted-out hulls. Brandy's just another casualty. I saw it for myself, I saw it."
The doorbell rang, pulling Téa away from her reflections and she knew it was Viki. She placed her teacup on the coffee table and headed for the door. Viki had called earlier, admitting that she really needed company even though it was terribly late; she really needed to talk about Todd as she and Téa hadn't been able to back at the hospital ... because Téa had been too shocked to talk about anything. When Téa opened the door, even though they'd only seen each other hours before back in the hospital, they both began to cry, halfway laughing at their uncontrollable emotions.
"A couple of weeping willows, we two are," Viki joked as she gave Téa a warm hug.
"And it would bug the living crap out of Todd, you know," Téa answered crudely.
"I know."
They both stepped inside and once they had hot tea in their mugs, once they were seated on the couch, Viki said softly, "I really believed there was a chance he'd stay at the hospital. I left myself open to be hurt by his running. I'm devastated all over again."
"I knew he wouldn't stay," Téa responded matter-of-factly. "I feel like I spent days with him in that apartment. I witnessed his life, Viki. I saw what he's been doing to himself, up close. I saw his entrenchment in a solution that ... I don't know, it's ... desperate, sick. I don't have any words for it. I can't come up with ones that are ugly enough or gut-wrenching enough ..."
"Tell me about Brandy."
Téa chuckled sardonically, "His 'whore'?"
Viki said nothing, only looking at Téa with her brows furrowed in anguish.
"Brandy," Téa said wistfully, her fingertips running around the edge of the cup in her hand. "She is the female version of Todd with some differences. Although she was abused ... horrifically, she has managed to survive without any - from what I can tell - any serious form of mental illness."
"You can't be sure of that."
"Let's put it this way, despite everything she's been through, she's managed to gain a sense of warped self-worth."
Viki didn't quite understand.
"She abuses herself, sexually. She prostitutes her body. She's been doing that since she was eleven. Eleven. But ... yet ... there is this personal pride. See, her value lies in her ability to rise above what she does, through vanilla baths, through cleaning ..."
Téa held her emotions in painful check, her chin quivering, her eyes moistening. She swallowed hard. "And there is this value in letting Todd do God-knows-what to her and 'helping' him with his drug and ... so she's brutally loyal to him and he's loyal right back to her ... like ... they're like an incestuous brother and sister in the wild, like two children who have grown up in a war: alone and unprotected."
"My God."
"Don't ... no ... it's even more complicated than that," Téa said, surprised at a sudden dropping of tears on her cheeks. "If Todd survives ... I ... we … are going to have to deal with her. The two of them are going to be forever tied, in some way or another. She means something to him... Tim tried to explain it, but it's hard to understand." Téa twisted her mouth, working to try to recreate Tim's view. She looked away briefly.
Viki sighed heavily, "So what you're saying is that we have two people who need help."
Téa bristled abruptly, "That's an understatement, a gross understatement. Together, Viki, they are lethal. They are each other's deaths waiting to happen. Brandy will kill him administering her form of love, proving her value."
"The heroin..."
"Yes ... and Todd wants her to do it. And if he dies ... she will, too. I don't doubt that for a second. And Viki, let me tell you, if Brandy dies on the streets at the hands of some john or ... God forbid at Todd's hands – and trust me that's possible – Todd wouldn't survive losing her. I know that to be true, too."
"Todd wouldn't kill her."
Téa's face reflected the seriousness of her statement and she explained, "Todd is not the Todd we know. He does things that are beyond his control right now. He both hates Brandy and loves her. While I was there, he hit her. With Tim, he admitted it. 'Intentionally on accident.' His words. He meant to hurt her. How much farther is a blow that counts?"
Viki sat quiet for a few moments, sipping her tea. She then said, "But Téa, even so ... Todd wouldn't survive losing anyone at his hands, not a death he caused."
"No ... no ... this is far different. He sees her as himself, as the broken child. So, if she dies, then it will be like Todd as a child dying and there will be no chance EVER of forgiving that. The boy he hears crying at night will be gone forever. If Brandy dies, it will be the death of the child. And then where will Todd be? Dust. He will be dust and he will die. Forget the heroin ... forget everything ... there will be no chance for him to ever recover. Do you see? NO CHANCE! He's found his match and together, they're doomed. If he was somewhat entertaining of suicidal thoughts when he was alone, with Brandy at his side, it's a done deal."
"But Téa, if he sees Brandy as the 'child,' why would he kill her? Todd would never hurt any child."
"He blames that child for what happened! Do you understand? He blames himself! He can't forgive himself, the child, and this lack of forgiveness keeps him trapped in this HELL! And this is why he could really hurt Brandy and why he won't survive losing her. Do you see? Do you see how complicated they are?"
Viki got up from the couch and wandered to the window, looking out at the snow, speechless. Sure. Todd had been inching along on a doomed path for a long time. But he had his own internal voices to hear, his own natural survival skills to push him along. He had his rage. In fact, it was probably that rage that saved his life countless times. Now, however, he suddenly was face to face with the victim, with himself as a victim. Withered, passive, accepting of abuse, wanting it because it was the closest thing to love that he knew.
But, Viki thought, the rage is still there. He assaulted the ex-con, he hit Brandy. And rage means survival. Téa was wrong, she was sure of it. She refused to believe that Todd was doomed to die.
From the window, Viki then said dreamily, "It took a long time for me to forgive my abused 'child.' I remembered my own passivity, my own silence to my so-called father, and I hated it, I hated that mannequin of a girl. I hated her lying there and letting the rapes occur. And that anger ... that fire in me made me act out towards others. I uh… killed my father eventually. I burned down part of Llanfair."
Téa listened quietly.
"The anger saved my life, though. I emerged from all that hate, better, cleansed, healthy, after getting help. The anger lifted the core 'me', forced it out into the light." She turned around, "I think Todd is doing the same thing."
"You didn't see him. I watched him shoot himself up, I saw Brandy do it. Neither care about technicalities, about safety. It's reckless, a purposeful challenging of themselves and the drug. They're playing with fire, as they say."
"So we're back to having 'two little Indians,'" Viki chanted, un-swayed by Tea's negativity.
Téa agreed, "Yes, we have two. I don't know if we can really help anymore."
"The police will bring him in. Bo got positive identification from that man they arrested. The police are going to hunt Todd down, like an animal."
"I know. Which means I'm going to get on my knees and pray that they find him quickly and that they won't hurt him when they bring him in."
"Téa ... are you finished with him? You say he's doomed with Brandy at his side. Are you burying him already?"
Téa studied the tea leaves again ... tilting her head, swishing the water around to move the leaves, maybe change the future. She looked up and shrugged. "I don't know... maybe I am. I told you, I can't come up with uglier words to describe what I saw with my own eyes, to describe what I felt."
Viki sat back down on the couch and took the teacup from Téa, placed it on the table. She then took Téa's hands in hers, noticing that they were now shaking. "With my own eyes," she said, using Téa's words, "I can see you're not burying him. You did everything you could to get him to help himself. We're not fighting a lethal partnership. We're fighting a man who is hurt but who down deep is a survivor. As much as his running hurts me, I don't feel it's over."
"How can you say that? He shoots up so much drugs that it shuts his system down, that ... this woman literally has to remind him to breathe! Todd is desperate to die, and he now has someone who's finally willing to help him do it."
"No ... he's not desperate to die, he's desperate to live without feeling pain! He is still angry! And as long as Todd is angry, he will fight to stay on this earth no matter what he says. No matter how he behaves. Do you see that?"
Téa turned away, tearfully saying, "God, Viki, you don't know ... you just don't know ..."
"Yes I do because I have been there!"
"No, he's already dead. My husband, my Todd, my angry, passionate, broken, vulnerable, loving Todd ... is already dead. So to answer your question ... yes ... I guess I am burying him."
Squeezing Tea's hands tightly in her, Viki said firmly, "You ... are wrong. Do NOT give up ... don't ..."
Pulling away from Viki, Téa stood up and walked to that window again. Looked out and thought about the day, the night ... thought about the feel of Todd's mouth on hers ... about his heated body ... and about his murmuring of words that made no sense. She thought about how he had said she had made the most beautiful sound when she was reacting to him, to his movements on her.
She thought of their insanity on the bed, their playing that led to his… bit of a breakdown. She could still hear him say, "It was kinda nice, wasn't it?"
You aren't a 'nothing,' Todd, you are beautiful and human.
When she turned around, she was grateful to have Viki there to promise that she wasn't giving up even if Téa couldn't take another step. Viki said she'd take those steps for her.
"I do love him, Viki," Téa said softly. "I will always love him, buried or not."
To be continued...