On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 2
Chapter 28
Parked cozily on one of the alleyways in downtown, Llanview, the needle exchange mobile unit exuded hopefulness with brightly decorated, positive-image posters and artwork from the local youth centers. Desks were piled with forms and brochures, and yellow plastic help-packages filled with promises of a better life, a better way to survive the ravages of addiction.
Worn wooden chairs nestled beside each desk, the backs stamped in black with LC (for Llantano County), a reminder that the program was at least partially government funded.
The heart of the mobile unit lay in the tens of boxes of sterile syringes locked in the back while red containers full of discarded dirty ones remained visible beside the desks. And ... if the needles were the heart of the program, the blood was in Sister Rachel, Brother Kyle, and all the community volunteers, including Téa Delgado.
Téa had spent the past week learning the ropes and truly enjoying her new bosses. For having been so deeply cut by what was happening to Todd, she was surprised she'd been able to hold onto moments of peacefulness and acceptance through the work here.
Helping Jedediah eased her wounds as even though he was feeling a little cooped up, Téa believed he was secure in his stay at the Penthouse. Summer visited at night and kept him company, being "good." Téa had to laugh at their painful restraint, but she wasn't naive. Where there's a will there's a way, especially with teens as determined as Jedediah and Summer.
She only hoped Jed's heart wouldn't end up broken. Nor Summer's for that matter. Sex has a way of bringing two individuals closer together than they realize and when they try to separate or change the connection, that's when its power comes into full force. And teenagers just don't think about that.
Talking about it with Jedediah was surprisingly difficult. She couldn't explain it well enough, clear enough. She felt as if she sounded like a 1950's doctor. His eyes would glaze over and he'd nod as if he knew it all. So, she left books lying around. Books about love, about sex, about being a modern teenager in a complex world. Answers can always be found in books. Right?
Téa sniffled in reflection as she sat at one of several workstations. The patron was a young Hispanic mother of a six-month old son and had dropped off ten badly worn needles for ten new ones. The interview was fairly routine until the young lady revealed that putting a dab of heroin on the baby's lips helped the baby's tendency to cry.
Téa tried to control the judgment that bubbled. The baby was probably an addict as well. Téa calmly told the woman there were lots of ways to settle a baby's cries and that she should not resort to heroin because he needed to learn self-comfort and above that, his other needs might not be met.
Moreover, it was goddamn dangerous!
Dios mío, Dios mío ... Dios ... mío.
As required, Téa handed a help-package geared towards addicted parents. Marked the file, too, intending to see about what could be done to take away the baby from its mother. As the woman walked away, Téa couldn't help but think about Todd and Brandy, imagining if Brandy got pregnant. Would she do what the woman was doing? Take a little of Todd's heroin to calm the baby? Oh God ... but then she brought herself back to another dark reality.
Those two would never procreate.
For one thing, she suspected Brandy couldn't have children. She didn't know why she thought this. It was just a weird… instinct. Secondly, she doubted they were going to survive the winter. She sighed and sat back and stared at the paperwork she'd already completed. It made her feel only slightly better.
Twenty people came in today and each one left with clean needles, with information. They were trying to survive, trying to not die from their addiction. About a third showed some evidence of being mentally ill, a quarter looked to be parents, the others were hard to figure out. A good number shook Téa's hands, held them and smiled. Téa had made them feel more hopeful, had cheered them. She had affected their lives today. It was good, very good.
But of course, it would never be enough.
Kyle plopped down in the chair next to Téa and grinned tiredly. "You off, now?"
"Yeah ... I think I need a hot bath and some tea and bed." She paused and then said, "The woman who just left ... uses 'just a little smack' to calm her baby. What happens to people? Why do ... why do parents hurt their children? What happens to that connection between a mother and child? Or a father and child?"
Nodding thoughtfully, shrugging, he looked at Téa and said gently, "I wish I had an answer. But ... really ... does this surprise you? Is child abuse really so foreign to you?"
Téa shook her head, "No, 'course not. But maybe it makes me feel better to think it's foreign."
"Maybe so."
"But it must still shock you at times, yes?"
Sister Rachel laughed aloud, "Holy Mother of God! Our Brother Kyle was raised in enough foster homes to write a book. He's seen it all."
"Awwww ... Sister, you're ruining my reputation. Téa thought I was one of the privileged." The Sister laughed and continued to organize some files quietly. Kyle leaned over and said to Téa, "It's HER that's been protected. Grew up with this perfect family. Really. Lots of siblings, parents in love. Like out of a movie."
His eyes danced and he smiled before telling her a little of all he'd seen. And as they talked, Téa recognized some imperfections in Kyle's handsome face, evidence of damage. He had a crooked nose as if it had been broken once ... or twice; a couple of capped teeth. And ... in his eyes ... there was knowledge. What was so special about him was that Kyle had more than survived.
Her cell phone rang, putting an end to Kyle's storytelling and Téa picked up, flashing a warm smile at her new friend. She answered her professional best, resulting in Jedediah's good natured chuckle and his sarcastic inquiry, "It's late, 'mom' ... when are you coming home?" Kyle then got up, patting Téa on the shoulder and began to help Sister Rachel do the closing up routine of the unit.
"Why do you want to know? Hiding something from me?"
"Oh ... no ... not me. Never ... me."
Téa muttered some playful curses in Spanish, Jedediah laughing again. But then he quieted and she knew there really was something on his mind.
"What is it, are you okay?"
He then said, "Yeah but Viki called you and she sounded sort of worried. I heard it on the answering machine. Also, Hank Gannon called, you think it was about me?"
Téa nodded, contemplating how much to tell him, then said, "Yes ... I think it was about you. Listen, this can wait until I get home - I'm on my way out."
"No, I want to know what he's saying."
With a heavy sigh, Téa said, "I told Mr. Gannon that I fully expected to run into you out here on the streets. I told him I was concerned about the ability of the Center to protect you and suggested an alternative... when I DO find you, that is."
Jedediah was quiet.
"Jed, I suggested that instead of the Center, you be held at the lock-down facility at Llanview Psyche."
"Oh SOME alternative THAT is! Are you out of your mind?!"
"Hear me out. I know it's a scary place ..."
"Awww... come on ... there are CRAZY people in there! I'm not crazy!"
"I know that. This is not about you being ill but about you being in danger. As long as Phillip Manning is not in custody, you're at risk. I don't care how immortal YOU think you are, you AREN'T. And I know how much being on your own means to you ... but the reality is we still have to deal with the possession charge AND your truancy AND your escape from custody. The lock-down ward at the hospital is comfortable and SAFE. You will have a lot more freedom there, believe it or not. And ... there might be something ... that you might actually like or ... something that could prove important."
"What could possibly make THIS better?"
"If we find Todd, he'll be there, too."
Jedediah breathed into phone, "Right ... whatever. I'm not happy. I don't care about Todd."
"Look, I'm not doing anything unless you approve so don't get any idea about leaving the Penthouse. I will not do one single thing without your full consent or knowledge. BUT ... I really want you healthy and safe and working on your future. Hiding out in the Penthouse ... is not going to help."
"How long will I have to stay?"
"Not that long, a month maybe? I just know you'll get released to me or Viki or even Kevin. And hopefully by that time, Phillip Manning will be in custody. Plus ... maybe ... hopefully, you'll get some time with Todd. Maybe."
He was quiet a moment, then quietly said, "You and I both know he's gone… as in bye-bye ... as in lying in some cold storage ...".
Téa squeezed her eyes shut at the intense pain in Jedediah's voice, but the cruelty, too. Typical teenager, forgetting who he was talking to. "Please don't say that," she said. "We just go day by day, ok?"
He choked out an apology, "Téa, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to upset you but I really think he's dead."
"I just… can't. You be strong for him. For yourself. I'll be home soon."
Téa then clicked off her phone and put it away. When she looked over at Sister Rachel and Brother Kyle, they both wore expressions of deep concern. They didn't know much about Téa's life, other than she had once been looking for someone on those streets, and Téa suddenly felt overwhelmed. She took a deep breath and with the barest of tears in her eyes, she began what she knew would be a long story: "I have a husband ... who's a heroin addict and so very ... very lost. I'm taking care of his only son…"
Night had fallen on Llanview and with the darkness, came evil. It crawled out of its hole in the ground and slithered toward its unaware victims in the form of a man. He grinned as he stalked towards the grimiest and scummiest of society, rubbing his bleached hair and caressing his bleached goatee. He passed the needle exchange unit, not caring about the people inside, nor giving a fuck about social programs nor saving lost souls. Phillip Manning didn't give a fuck about anything except his goals, his desires, and his singular battle with Todd Manning.
He hummed as he trudged through the snow and then crooned in a scratchy voice, "Stay put, baby, stay still ... baby ... 'cause you are mi-ine!"
Whatcha laughing at, little one? What's so funny to you? I want that light you have ... I want that. Can I touch his voice, mama? Can I catch his laughter in my hands like a butterfly? I want to feel the wings on my cheek, I want to feel the butterfly's dusty strokes on my skin. Mama, let me catch it ... or maybe ... you can catch it for me. Can you do that? Can you bring me light, laughter ... butterfly kisses? Huh, mama? Can you do that for me?
Cocooned within his heroin-mother's arms, feeling warm, safe, and protected, Todd heard a child laughing. It was breathtaking the way the laughter bounced all over, boomeranging from side to side, popping ... popping. The giggles were the color of love, and it was perfect.
Todd tried to open his eyes because he wanted to see the child for himself, wanted to see the crinkling eyes and tiny teeth, wanted to see the boy's chin lift as he looked up at whoever was with him, if there was someone at all.
Something about the boy struck Todd as familiar, like a memory. Maybe the kid belongs to one of the other junkies, he thought, except he didn't think an addict's child sitting in a shooting gallery would put out this much joy. Or would he?
Giggle ... giggle ... pop, pop. Butterfly wings of love, butterfly kisses. Butter ... fly ... butter ... creme ... buttery pudding ... butter ... butter ... fly. Fly away ... so high above this Hell.
Can I fly with you, butterfly?
Todd sunk further and further into the bliss, blanketed by pure peace, so untroubled, so tranquil. Laughing and giggling, the peacefulness filled his lungs, his mouth, his airways, and it was blue. The meadow was blue, too, with a mass of the bluest butterflies above him, fluttering ... flying ... kissing blue kisses, in the arms of pure love.
But then, another voice darkened the skies above the blue butterflied field. It was harsh the way the voice called out to him, called not his name but ... other names ... crude names. And the same disturbance was hitting him on the chest.
Damn ... it hurt.
Todd tried to hang onto the dream, tried to wave away the tempest, tried to dig himself deeper into his mother's embrace, deeper into the grass ... but ... but …
Following a reluctant gasp, he finally blurted, "Ok ... ok ... OW! Stop ... stop ..."
A male voice growled, "You do that again, I don't wake yo' ass, motherfucka'. You end up on the fuckin' street, dead. Las' time, got me?"
"Yeah ... yeah ... okay... you chased them away ... why you do that..."
"Las' time ... las' time you pull this shit here."
Through slitted eyes, Todd could see L'il Toby looking down at him. The guy then turned and walked into the dark. Hunkering up against the wall of his second home, licking his lips, he didn't understand why people bothered to rouse him from his breathless existence.
Don't want a dead body inside the apartment is what it is. Taking another breath, Todd tried to go back to that place of blueness, but he couldn't. Couldn't recreate the field ... or the butterflies' kisses or his mother's voice or her embrace.
He could still feel the peacefulness, though. So he slept, and didn't sleep. He imagined his mother's voice, purring to him, caressing his empty, beatless heart, but it wasn't the same.
"It's okay, Mama. I'm okay," he murmured. "You're okay ... we're all ... okay... butterfly ... butterfly ... blue butterflies."
It had been days here once again, bingeing at L'il Toby's, consistently, heavily. Getting close to that edge, that precipice to darkness. There hadn't been much negotiating this time around. The door had opened, Todd paid cash that Brandy gave him that he tried to resist but couldn't, and then he walked in. He remembered nameless faces from his last foray into Toby's world. All the same, all identically ravaged, yet different, too.
Once inside, he shot up with other junkies and then hid out in his favorite spot, HIS spot against the back wall. He felt the hands on him again, the breathless grabs, the quiet, anonymous touches. But the heroin let them come and go without much impact.
He tried to stay with his Johnny-girl, with his twin at her new place... but the sight of her injuries hurt too much, the strength of his sickening desires to "save" her ... was too frightening.
So he left ... ran away. He had a feeling she knew where he was, that she'd show up soon enough. Reality was, they were Siamese in their twin-ness, connected by their ruined souls.
"My sister ... you comin' to get me?" he mumbled to himself before letting himself nod off again. "Yeah ... yeah."
As time slipped by, even in his drugged sleep, he kept wondering where the boy was, where that laughter had been coming from. It had been so real ... so tangible. So when he woke up he searched the room for the kid. He saw nothing at first other than the usual using crew, but then in a far corner of the room, he spied a light-haired child sitting on the floor beneath one of the few single hanging bulbs in the room. The boy looked up and smiled at Todd, smiled big showing he was missing teeth. Todd smiled back, laughed almost, and said softly, "There you are." The boy looked around and, with a toy truck in his hand, promptly came over and sat next to Todd, leaning against him.
"Hi," the child beamed.
Todd said nothing, only sensing warmth and familiarity.
"I'm sure glad I found you. Wanna see my truck?"
"Where's your mom?"
"Don't know... wanna see my truck?"
"You alone? Here? You ought to go home." Todd then noticed the boy's hazel eyes were like his own, long eyelashes like his own. The mouth, the nose ... looked like Todd. It was so weird ... so strange …
"It's okay. I'm brave and I know how to take care of myself. Nothing hurts me."
"But how do you eat ... or ... sleep here? There's no place for you ... go home." Todd was scared for the boy, feeling protective. Nothing hurts him, he said again.
"Something must hurt you. No kid really can't feel anything. You can tell me ... I'll protect you."
The boy smiled hugely and giggled, looking up at Todd. "You're funny! You can't protect me 'cause you're just another little kid ... and you're too afraid of the people who are after me!"
He laughed again, wiped his nose with his sleeve, and started driving the truck back and forth in front of him, making little engine sounds. He then said in a matter of fact tone, "It's okay, I'm strong. I'll protect the both of us. I can fly. I fly ... real good. I'm a great pilot."
Todd was confused and rubbed his eyes, thinking he was seeing a hallucination. The boy didn't disappear, though. "What's your name?" Todd asked, the boy stopping his truck game and looking up excitedly.
"My name? Call me the Red Baron! Call me RED!"
"Red Baron? Did you say ... Red Baron?"
The boy's smile faded and he looked into Todd's eyes, touched his cheek. "It's okay. It's not my fault he hurt me. He was bigger than me, he was scary. I took it though to protect us. I bit down on my teeth and dug in my heels ... and ... held on tight 'til it was all over. Whatever he wanted to do ... I took it. 'Cause if I didn't, you wouldn't be here, we wouldn't have had any future. I took a lot so you wouldn't remember and could grow."
"But I'm remembering now."
"I held the remembering for as long as you needed."
The boy hugged Todd around his stomach, Todd wanting to hug back ... but he couldn't. He was frozen, because he really could have used a little more forgetting.
"I also held your true self. He can bruise me, burn me, leave marks on me, but he can never change who you are."
Todd turned away from the boy and leaned back against the wall. "God," he groaned, "How can you say that? I did horrible things. I'm still doing them. It's sick, it's so sick what I dream of now. It's so sick what I want to do ..."
The boy laughed. "Those horribles aren't who we are. I love you. I will always love you. You're just the same as me."
The boy hugged Todd again and Todd started to cry, shaking his head and not wanting to see the boy anymore or hear his happiness or his hope. All he wanted to remember of the boy was the crying, the pain, the fear ... not this ... not this sound. It was light, it was a butterfly kiss of hope. Todd couldn't hug him back.
Because to do so would mean forgiveness.
"I'm sorry I was bad ... I was just so mad ... but I'm still the Red Baron above everything! I am still here ... and the bad guy's not. I shot him down. I ... blew him to pieces ... BAM BAM BAM!"
Todd kept his eyes closed and the kid hugged him tighter ... tighter … with all the strength of the Red Baron ... flying so high ... with those butterflies ... those blue butterflies …
"You alright, baby," he heard. "Don't be sad. Come with me, okay? I been so worried 'bout you. Even Paulie's been worried. I knew you'd be here ... I jus' knew it. Oh, baby ..."
It was Brandy's voice and along with it came a splash of reality. Todd slowly opened his eyes to her and shook his head pitifully as she wiped his face of the tears that had been there.
"No ... leave me here," he pleaded, realizing the boy was gone; a dream ... just a dream. "I don't want to go ..."
What he wanted was to stay high, stay away, but he had no more money. The cash he had essentially stolen from Brandy was gone and he was already feeling the declining level of heroin in his system. Yet he couldn't go home, couldn't go to the bank, didn't want Brandy to whore herself anymore for him and was terrified to be alone with her. Which left him the streets.
No matter. the streets would probably be a blessing. After all, one dead body out in the snow was better than two at her place. He was so tired ... so very tired. It would be nice to lie back in that blue field ... with the flapping of velvety wings above him, and the boy's hopeful, joyous laugh ... so free ... so ... very free.
"Baby, I can't leave you here ..."
Todd shook his head again, "I'll hurt you, Brand'. I will hurt you."
"I don't care," she whispered. "I'm yours to do what you want with, but ... you ain't these people's to do nothin' to. So you can't stay here ... you ain't got nothin' to pay with, baby, I know that for sure. And I gotta work a bit ... so you come on. You sit by me ... remember? You just sit by me. No big jobs ... just the small ones. Then we go home. You be alright."
She kissed his lips and caressed his face. She understood him, this he knew, and she was unafraid of dying at his hands. Protecting her abuser, the way the boy protected his.
Shhhh ... don't tell. Don't fight ... don't breathe ... just let it happen and let him walk away un-captured, un-caught, unstopped.
There in her dark eyes, on a childlike face framed by long black hair, he saw her resignation about her own death with him. It was she who said, let me not breathe with you. God ... god ... she was him and he was her and he hated that. He loved her and hated her and it was such a maggoty, un-blue, un-fluttering, non-dreamy mess.
"Tired, too tired," he mumbled, wanting to say more, to object, but not being able to. The two looked at each other a while, neither knowing where to go next.
Then over Brandy, Todd saw a man. Not too tall, not too heavy, he was wearing a thick black wool coat and had distinctive curly blackish hair. He might have been African-American with something else mixed in. He was looking at Todd without any kind of facial expression.
Something ... was wrong. Todd shook away the discomfort, choosing to concentrate on his own misery. It felt good. He liked rolling around in his own muck.
"Yo," the man said.
Brandy looked up and broke into one of her coquettish smiles, her voice instantly seductive, making Todd's stomach turn.
"Hey, baby, just another minute, ok?" She turned to Todd, "This here is Chad Grayson ... he's a regular o' mine. I jus' call him Grayson. He and I have a date. Jus' ran into him."
The guy shrugged, offering a slight smile. Glanced at Todd. "She wants you to come along, to my place. Wait for her."
Brandy glanced back at Todd, an unsure quality to her expression. She was biting her lip, wordlessly asking him if it was ok, if he'd go with her. Chad was pretty decent to her as a customer, he didn't hurt her and always paid a good amount of money. It would be easy, real easy. She'd be able to turn him and not have to do the street work. Still ... she didn't know if Todd would come along to someone else's place. Watching over her on the streets, maybe ... but …
Chad interrupted Todd and Brandy's silent discourse, acting sort of pushy. "I'll make it worth your while," he said. "I'll kick in some shit for ya'."
Todd stared back coldly, remaining quiet.
Giggling, Brandy then said, "You want me so bad, you're offering to give my baby here some 'd'?! You so silly! I ain't nothin' that special!"
Chad didn't smile all that much, glanced briefly in another direction and then disagreed with Brandy. "No, you wrong, you the best, Brand' and I want you bad ... tonight ... now. Bring your friend. Let's get outta here."
She looked at Todd again and finally asked aloud, "Can ya' come with me? This one thing and then we go home? We won't have to be out in the cold. What you say, baby? You'll even get somethin' out of it." She lowered her voice, "If he says he has somethin' good ... he means it. He ain't never let me down before. I know he's hooked up."
Todd wasn't able to shoo away that sense of danger still bothering him so he rationalized his feelings, figuring he was just paranoid, just feeling the aftermath of seeing the boy up close and personal. Most certainly this was the beginning of his coming off of far too many days of using. He sniffled and coughed, feeling pain in his chest when he did that. He was too tired to fight anything ... it was only a delay to the cold anyway, to the snow.
Whoooooo. Just follow me ... here I am.
"All right," he told Brandy, at last, "I guess ... I guess." The boy was gone, long gone and Todd sort of missed him. The Red Baron must be flying now, he thought, as he got to his feet.
Flying so high ... above the ground ... flying with the bluest of butterflies ...blue ... blue …
Chad Grayson lived in a brownstone, not too far off Sixteenth street. Nothing fancy, but nothing trashy either. Todd followed Brandy up the inside staircase. When they had left Toby's place earlier, Grayson had driven on ahead of them, saying he needed to make a stop. Brandy and Todd had walked, she chattering on, he drifting beside her, thinking of forgiveness, of the little boy, of the fucking cold ... and truth was, he was giving up. He was tired. Tired of being sick, tired of being alive.
He had watched Brandy next to him and wanted to shake her, wanted to scream at her, for continuing to suffer with her own addiction. But what was the point? They were both addicts, whores. They were both used, abused, and beaten down to nothing. It was their destiny, their purpose in life - it was their chosen means of SALVATION!
The boy was right. The bad guy was too big, too scary, to fight off. So the boy just had to take it. Todd had to take it; Brandy had to take it. He was a good pilot anyway ... so was she. She was better than him. She took it all, took it all and flew the entire time.
Todd wanted to go home ... but where was it?
He reached out and held her hand and she had smiled at him as she walked backwards up the stairs, "Thanks for comin' with me, baby. I kinda feel like I'm bringing along my own child to work or somethin'! You all right? You hangin' in there ... this won't take long ... then we go home. I'll take care of you ... just like before. You're MY baby!"
Todd sort of grinned back, contemplating Brandy's skewed view of the world. He was her child, her dopey child. How many prostitutes bring their stoned kid to work with them? How many mothers know that at any moment their kid might kill them? No matter. She was tired, too, he figured. She wasn't going to fight him because she was his to hurt.
Let's take a bath, let us not breathe… together.
He wanted to dose up again but knew he had to take a break thanks to his money problem. He hated that part. He didn't trust any kind of heroin THIS guy would give him. Only from Paulie or Toby. That was it. That shit was safe - not that it was mattering much. He needed money, he needed some goddamn money. He thought of just staying outside in the hallway to stare mindlessly at the green "exit" sign. It hummed and seemed peaceful in its greenness; it hummed and made him think of simplicity, of the chemical silence he craved, of the chemical warmth.
But ... Brandy wanted him inside ... and there was this strange worry eating at him. She was his to hurt - nobody else's.
Brandy knocked on the door and after a couple of minutes, the door pulled open and she announced herself,
"Hey, Grayson, baby ..."
He nodded at her and smiled, "Brandy… " He eyed her up and down and then glanced over at Todd. "Glad to see you brought your friend." He smirked, an expression like something was pulling at the corners of his mouth.
Brandy beamed obliviously, squeezing Todd's hand in hers, "I sure did!"
Todd followed her in, and the door shutting behind him… felt oh so permanent.
To be continued…..