On the Edge of Wakefulness
Chapter 20
Jedediah wasted no time in leaving the penthouse with Kevin. An internist made a housecall and confirmed Todd was suffering from exhaustion and stress, that he needed rest and lots of fluids. Tim agreed to let him rest at the Penthouse then left, needing to deal with patients, leaving with serious concerns, leaving with a heavy heart.
Throughout the remainder of the day, Todd had been in and out of sleep, in and out of a willing consciousness. When he slept, he mumbled, whimpered, tossed and turned. When he was awake, he kept a mute vigil over Viki, his gaze sometimes rife with hidden accusation. She didn't know what he was thinking, the wrongs she apparently had done. He drank water, soda, or homemade chicken broth courtesy of Carlotta Vega. When he wasn't eating or drinking, he focused on the windows, the sunlight coming in. He'd touch the rays lighting the bed sheets then slide back down into the covers and resume his fitful rest.
"Don't leave...don't..."
For the umpteenth time, she heard Todd begging tearfully in his sleep, his hands pulling at nothing, reaching for someone who wasn't there. She shushed him, cooling his face and neck with a damp cloth. He tossed a bit in response, but fell once more into a deeper sleep.
Viki went back to reading a book she found in one of the other rooms. It looked like it may have been Téa's – a love story, Like Water for Chocolate, about fiery love conquering all. While reading it, she couldn't help but think of Todd and Téa and their constant battle for love. She wished they could find their way back to one another, a ridiculous idea she knew…
Love can't fix everything.
Watching her ill brother had thrust her into a near depression, reminding her too much of her own difficult period in Switzerland. Her children had suffered, her husband, even her fairly-well-run newspaper took a hit. Mental illness was a tornado, sucking in the patient and everything around. Love had helped her, certainly, but really, the hard work of therapy and internal determination was what pulled her out of the abyss.
She worried Todd didn't have the internal drive to healthfulness – there was a sense that he'd grabbed onto a thread of sickness and bound himself up in it, voluntarily, determined in the reverse.
While sleeping, he heard himself as a child beg from for his mother not to leave him. He called from his bed that horrible night, "Don't leave me, please don't leave me." Over and over again he cried out as the grim memory played out in a yellow-tinged black and white loop of a dream. He remembered lying in his bed, sheets and a blanket pulled up to his neck like a burial shroud. His head hurt.
"I have no choice, darling one," his mother wept. "I have to leave."
"Take me with you, Mama!"
"God forgive me, but I can't." His mother's tears had rolled off her face. He had watched one tear linger at the end of her nose. "You have no idea what this is doing to me. I'm sorry…so sorry." Whispered, lying words of apology. The fat tear had finally fallen off her nose and hit him on his mouth.
Mama's salty tear or mine?
"You left…me," Todd groaned from the bed. Viki stopped reading the book in her lap and looked up at him. Talking in his sleep again. He grasped the blanket in tight fists. "How could you do that," he repeated. She got up, took the wet cloth and squeezed the excess water out, then sat on the bed. She wiped off his forehead and neck, again. Soothing him, perhaps uselessly, shushing him, "You're just dreaming. It isn't real."
His mind then drifted from his mother's abandonment of her maternal vows to the broken marriage vows of Blair. For better or worse, in sickness and in health. Till death do us part. "I never stopped loving you...I thought you were dead!" she had told him. But why should that make a difference, he argued? Why does betrayal stop being a betrayal when you're dead?
Thing is, I've always been dead. She swore loyalty to a dead man. So for her to be with Peter, uh, Phillip...the fuck was his name? Patrick. It was still a betrayal because I was already dead – after Ireland, I was just a missing body. No change. Dead is dead is dead.
Viki looked at him pulling at the blanket again, at his feet pushing down against the sheets. She caressed his leg by his knee, trying to get him to relax his muscles. She wished there was more she could do, but she knew better.
Betrayal. Maybe that's why Mom never came back. She considered me dead. Just kept writing those stupid letters. The ones Peter hid. Appeasing her guilt. They all leave, they all betray. Women.
"Don't leave," he murmured.
"Who's leaving, sweetheart?" she asked.
"Mama …she's leaving … 'cause I'm dead ... 'cause I'm nothing," he said quite clearly. Viki looked at him carefully. He quieted again. When he first came back from Ireland, he referred to himself as the "walking dead". She had gotten firm with him, chastising him. Little had she known how deeply he believed in the sentiment.
Placing her hand on his cheek, her thumb stroking his chin, she said, "You aren't dead. You are very much alive, and loved." Viki's heart ached, hearing him talk this way, getting a peek into his mind. No consciousness to stop the disclosure. She placed the towel back into the bowl on the nightstand.
A chime accompanied the movie playing inside of his head. Jangling bracelets. They played along with the memory he kept seeing, the one set in the late 1970's in the already-dated Chicago home of the Manning Family. In his bedroom, surrounded by dormant toy planes, he remembered watching his mother get up off his bed and stand in the doorway, looking back at him.
"I'll come back for you," she lied. "Don't forget that. I promise." Liar, liar, pants on fire. She walked away. Never to be seen again. Funny, the image that always stuck with him was her lifting heel. A final step out of his life. The sound of flapping slippers down the hall. He always hated that sound. Flip-flop. Flip-flop. Since then, in his worst nightmares, he would always hear that flip-flopping noise. The sound of abandonment.
Todd ran his hands across his chest, trying to soothe the pain that thumped there, thumped inside of him. Just keeps on tickin', he thought. No relief. No forgiveness. Not for anyone. Opening his eyes, he looked around. Penthouse. Who's here? Blair? Is that you? He heard what he thought was his own voice and saw someone come near him. He swiped his hand at the figure, growling, go away. Go on. Get out.
"Todd, it's me, Viki. It's all right...I'm not going to hurt you." She had to get off the bed as he was trying to hit her and would have had she not backed off. He settled and then stared blankly.
"Do you want something to drink? To eat?" she offered.
Todd watched this person talk to him but couldn't make out her features exactly, confused by his dreams. Maybe it is my birth mother? The one who didn't want to leave me. The one who was forced to give me up. Maybe not. Where am I? Penthouse. Oh yeah. He tried to sit up and fell back. He took in a deep breath and forced himself up again, pushing himself to the side of the bed. Swung his feet to the floor. Real. It feels real.
"You need to get up? Let me help you." She reached out to him.
He jerked away from Viki, looking through her, fury on his face. Broken promises. Mothers aren't supposed to leave. Get the fuck off the floor. He tried to stand but fell back. "Promises...all promises...nothing but lies," he mumbled. He tried again, got to his feet and shuffled to the bathroom where he slammed the door shut.
Viki let out a sigh and then heard the door downstairs click open and a shout, "Mom?" She walked out the bedroom door and said, "Yeah, honey, I'm upstairs."
"All right. Coming up," he answered.
The moment Kevin had stepped into the penthouse, a wave of mild nausea hit him. Blood. Lots of it. Todd's life flowing out of him, daring Kevin to help save the life of the person he thought he hated most in this world. He'd been spared seeing the place earlier as Jedediah had decided to wait by the elevator. Too tired to ride home, he told Kevin. Sure enough, the moment Jed had slid into the front seat of the BMW, he'd shut his eyes and was out. It was quite the battle once they got home. He refused to rouse and no way was Kevin going to carry the kid into the house. Finally, after a little more cajoling, Jed made his way to his appointed bedroom and crashed, boots still on and everything. Kevin had watched him sleep a while, seeing the boy in him. Absolute trust.
Come and get me.
So different than the way Todd slept.
Back at the fraternity house during their frat days, Todd slept on the defensive – lightly, lying on his side with his back against the wall. If you got within three feet of him, light eyes would flip open and he would growl, "The fuck are you doing, asshole?"
"Just looking for my watch, dude. Man, are you touchy." And that was the guy who didn't actually invade his personal space. Irritated the hell out of Kevin. One time he actually had to wrestle a struggling, drunken frat brother who thought he was falling into his own bed. Jesus. You'd have thought the poor guy tried to kill Todd or something with the way he'd grabbed the brother around his throat, whipped the guy over and smashed a knee into his chest – fluid incapacitation. The thing that most pissed Kevin off was the total lack of remorse of Todd's part.
Kevin had yelled when the mistaken guy had been rescued, "What the hell is wrong with you, Manning?!"
"He asked for it, stupid bastard," Todd had said. Then he had made himself comfortable again and went back to sleep, ever watching through shut eyelids.
Beyond Kevin, simply beyond him. And yet there he'd been, holding Manning's bloody body, praying he wouldn't die. That too many people loved him. That he had to stay here. But for what? So he could go through Hell? Kevin tried to forget the scene of Todd crawling away from him, on his knees, at the intervention. Maybe he should have died. Maybe I interfered with a divine plan, he thought.
Kevin hit the top of the stairs and looked into the bathroom where Todd had decided to kill himself. He stepped inside, studying the glass doors wiped clean. He flipped on the light and looked at the tile floor. What was he expecting? Visible blood stains? The truth was, it was the stains you couldn't see that were the hardest to get rid of. Those were still there.
Viki placed her hand on his shoulder, and he jumped.
"You all right?"
"Yeah, sorry. Just reliving old times."
She smiled at him, offering her usual empathy.
"Kind of strange being here," he grumbled. "How is he?"
"Well, he just got up, seems a bit disoriented. He's not saying much – I'm not sure he knows who I am. He seemed a bit angry – I think he's angry at me."
Kevin closed his eyes a moment, sighing like an old lady. "Sounds pretty oriented to me. Isn't he always angry? Listen, I'll sit with him a while. Give you a break. I don't want him to hurt you, Mom."
"No, it's nothing like that. Let's see how he handles seeing you before I leave you with him. If he's comfortable, then fine." Kevin turned off the bathroom light and walked with Viki down the hall, to Todd's bedroom.
Looking down at his socks, Todd squinted, wondering what was wrong with the picture. Green and black. The hell? He opened a drawer and pulled out some matching ones. Blue. No. Black. Yeah. Black. Mourning color. Just lay me out in a coffin already 'cause that's what I am, a corpse. He fingered the socks, the wool threads...kind of rough. Warm. Real. Dropping the socks to the floor, he moved his hands to his chest and touched himself. Real? I don't feel anything. With one hand, he touched his other arm, then his face, his hair. Nothing. I am nothing. I feel nothing. Turning, he crawled back into his bed and stared at the ceiling.
Viki walked into the room, "Todd? Kevin's here. He thought he'd stay with you a while. I need to take care of something at the office, but I'll be back. Ok?"
He thought he heard something, someone talking to him and turned to the sound. Blond again. He stared at her and it struck him. Viki. She's leaving. Leaving me. Then he saw the other one. Dark haired. Too short. Not him. It's all right. Shhh. Don't cry. Not him. Get the fuck off the floor.
Viki decided she wasn't going anywhere. His eyes wouldn't leave her – he just stared emptily.
"What's the matter, sweetheart?"
After a moment, he muttered, "Blank space..."
"I don't understand...what do you mean?"
"Not a thing," he said as he touched the bed, his legs, and then looked at his hands. "I don't feel…a thing." He turned to his sister again. "My mother...left me, murdered me. She took a knife and cut out my heart and fucking ate it. Made me dead." He nodded his head. "Yeah...ate my heart and put lead in my chest instead. Direct line to Satan ... black as hell." He sighed, licked his lips and went back to staring at the ceiling. He stretched and lifted his arms above his head, laying back on the pillow. Arms up and out. Resigned to sacrifice.
"Maggots are running amok up there. Do you see them? Crawling all over. Means Peter's nearby. Yeah… yeah… I can hear him. Knock, knock, knock… he's at the door. Swinging that blade... whoosh..." He chuckled a little…then didn't. His eyes zipped back and forth across the white above. "I'm ready this time. I'll let him do what he wanted from the get-go. Kill me for real. Come get me, Peter! I'm right here, dear old dad… I'm right fuckin' here..."
Kevin swallowed hard, hating every moment now. Todd's gruesome, exposed cuts only added to the picture of insanity. A surge of sickness rushed forward and he had to take a deep breath to stop the feeling that he was about to retch. The sheer violence of the cuts and mental disruption overwhelmed him. The sudden, pained expression on his mother's face got him to put his emotions where they needed to be.
"What's happening?" he asked.
She turned to him, "Call Tim. Tell him…we need attention."
"Yeah, you're not kidding." With a quick step, he disappeared out the door.
Afternoon light poured through the massive leaded glass windows in the main reading hall of the Llanview Public Library. Cassie sat at one of the long, oak tables typing away on her laptop, a traditional, green-shaded, reading lamp lighting her work. She always loved working there, surrounded by books, the smell of paper, ink, dust. She was a regular and often would sit for hours with her notes, research, creating what would always be a top-notch story for the Banner Newspaper. Her long black hair tended to fall into her face and with a delicate motion of her fingers, she would brush it away. Minutes later, the strands would return. Stubbornly.
Sam Rappaport was supposed to have met her hours before so they could talk about the latest evidence against the Buchanans, but he never showed up. She worried that he had had another bad night, drunk. Wondered whether he even knew about Todd having left the hospital. Kevin had tried to call him with no luck.
She was a bit anxious for Jedediah, knowing about the supposed hit out on him by Phillip Manning. He was at home, Dorian staying there, just for safety. Just in case. The Mole had assured her once again that he would keep an eye out for the boy and on Phillip. He had called her and let her know that he got Phillip Manning on tape asking for him to kill Jedediah. Fantastic evidence. Now, she could start really hammering on the bribery scam. Especially knowing he would be in jail for the solicitation crime. She hoped the Mole had already turned it in. He said he was going to. They could only trust that he did that.
Her phone jingled and she grabbed it out of her bag, answering softly, "Cassie here."
As she began to talk to one of her assistants, she did not see the dark-haired man walking into the library's main hall. The librarian barely noticed him. He silently glided past the shelves which stood against the walls, surrounding the reading tables. He glanced from side to side, watching. Slithering toward her, his hand reached out and caressed the matching, hardwood chairs along his way. When he reached the chattering reporter, he looked down at her, at the woman responsible for fucking up his life, his plan. His empire. Gritting his teeth, he walked past her, around to the other side of the table, and sat a few chairs down from her. He opened a book that happened to be lying there.
He overheard Cassie's one-way conversation, "So they went to his offices already? And he wasn't there? Nothing, huh? No. I have no idea. Mmm, all I can say is that it's been pretty tense. Sure, he's upset. It's his family. She's actually handling it very well. But that's Viki. All right. Keep it up. Thanks." Ended the call, tucking her cell away into her purse.
Phillip cleared his throat and Cassie looked up at him and smiled politely. He smiled back. She suppressed a shudder. Something about him was frightening. She didn't know what it was and chose to ignore it. His voice cut through the dead air, "You a reporter, ain't ya? Cassie Buchanan?"
She looked around, kind of looking for Sam, for anyone, then asked, "Who wants to know?"
"Name's Lawford, Harry Lawford. Read the Banner all the time. Great paper. But, you, you write the best articles. Excellently researched. How you get that information anyway?"
"You know that old line, a reporter protects her sources."
He laughed, one tinged with a knowingness that gave Cassie chills. "Yeah...I heard that one before. How long you been writing for the Banner?"
"Not long really. Started over at another newspaper. Why all the questions?"
"Just consider me a fan. Think I could have your autograph?"
"No...I don't think so, but nice of you to ask." She looked back at her work. Saving it. Exiting. She flipped through the various windows open on her laptop.
"Well, I just wanted to meet you. Been a pleasure." He stood up, looking down at her, smiling that slick smile. Teeth showing. Handsome in a devilish way; eyes that seemed to look into you. Violated you.
"I'm sure," Cassie answered, sort of covering her notes with her hand. He nodded at her and sauntered off. Cassie let out a heavy breath. Shaking the creepy feeling off, she called her assistant back.
"Yeah, it's me. Hey, what agency went through Manning's office again? FBI? Good. Who's the contact there? Ok...wait...Jack Neederman. Great. Yeah, I have something new. A tape. Yeah, it's pretty damning. Same guy. All right, later."
She put the phone away, looked around and left, having hastily packed her things.
When Kevin came back up the stairs, Téa was with him. She got details on what happened, learning how out of it Todd was, that the doctor was deeply concerned about the renewed delusions about Peter Manning being alive, so much so he was rethinking his original diagnosis of PTSD. Téa asked, "And what would be the alternative? What are you saying?"
"The doc said he's exhibiting symptoms maybe of schizophrenia."
"Oh no, Kevin...no…"
"Except he's sounding an awful lot like when he first woke up, Téa, after he cut himself! Talking maggots on the ceiling and Peter Manning…"
"No," she said. "He does not have schizophrenia. Trust me. I'd know if he was that ill. He would have shown symptoms much earlier than this." Her eyes had wandered to the large window overlooking Llanview. Their view. Their life. She sighed and glanced at her watch, 4:30 p.m.
P.M. like Peter Manning. Nighttime was always Hell for you, amor, wasn't it?
Viki looked at Téa when they walked into Todd's room and smiled, "Nice to see you, Téa. Truly." She then looked at Kevin, "Let's go into the hallway so our talking doesn't bother him."
Once they were out of hearing range, Viki asked with a desperate tone, "What did Tim say?"
"He's on his way – we need to get Todd back to the hospital to get him stabilized. Either by ambulance or he goes with one of us." Kevin chose not to talk about what Tim said for now. Let him get back to the hospital, he thought. Let him get better.
"He was objecting to that idea very intensely this morning," Viki said.
"About the hospital?" Téa asked.
"Exactly. He's afraid to go back… worried about Peter Manning. I'm sure it has to do with...just his memories." She sighed and looked at the floor, remembering how real memories could be, how tangible.
Kevin looked uncomfortable, "Yeah, Mom, I'm sure that's what it is."
Téa walked to the doorway of the room, lingering on her husband lying there with his arms above his head, resting on the pillow. Long slender body stretched out, in jeans and a t-shirt. He wasn't sleeping, but he wasn't acting as if anyone was around him either. He looked so vulnerable, eyes distant, studying the ceiling. Full lips parted. She realized how rarely she'd seen him in bed. They never slept together, never slept in the same room… and the few times he'd fallen asleep next to her had been places other than this bed. This bed that had been closed off to her.
She turned to Viki and said, "I'm going to sit with him, just until Tim gets here. Maybe I can talk him into going to the hospital. Maybe. I don't know."
After a moment, Viki responded with an air of great concern, "I'm not sure about that – he's quiet now, but he can turn in an instant – he's touchy … nervous. I tried to help him and he nearly hit me."
"Mom! Then no way is she staying with him! And neither should you for that matter! Hell, no!"
"Kevin, stop. He's very confused, disoriented."
"I can handle him," Téa said softly. "Besides, it's not like he's never hit me before – I know when to duck."
"Wow…that's some qualification," Kevin cursed, biting down, an old spurt of hatred coming up. That's the Todd I know, he thought to himself. Battering your women as always, eh buddy?
Viki put her arms around Téa, hugging her. Then she leaned back, looking at Téa. "You're a very special person," she said. "But you don't have to stay with him. It's not your obligation – he put you through a lot."
"Absolutely true, I have no obligation – but I need him to know that I'm here. I abandoned him when this all started and I just… can't do it again."
Looking sad, Viki nodded, capitulating to Téa's wishes. "We'll be downstairs if you need us," she said as she began to head downstairs. Kevin held back, but Téa urged him on. Reluctantly he joined his mother, the two immediately getting into a whispered, tense conversation. A mother and her son. Téa's heart always tugged when she saw them together. Made her miss her own mother. Made her wonder whether she'd have her own son one day. At that thought, she glanced into the bedroom and was surprised to see Todd gazing in her direction.
"Hi," she said, hesitantly. He didn't say anything, still looking at her with that same emptiness she'd been noticing only minutes before.
"You probably heard all that conversation," she said, "all of us talking as if you're not here. Sorry for that." She walked a bit closer, his focus never shifting away from her. "What are you thinking?" she asked him, her voice gentle. "Are you scared? Viki's right downstairs."
Téa walked over to the night table, on the right side of the bed, the opposite side of the door to the hall. She wasn't sure if she' ever been to this side of the room "You want something to drink?" She offered him the glass of water, feeling ever so slightly a mouse to the lion…with the thorn in his paw.
After some moments, the glass being held out to him, he raised himself up. Took the offering. He gulped the water down, his eyes never leaving hers, his expression not changing. He handed the glass back to her.
"You want more – I can get some more, get some colder water for you?"
Hardly hearing her, he moved himself back so he could lean against the headboard. Thoughts raced in his head – he wondered why she was here, wondered why Viki left, wondered…why, why, why. Why bother with a corpse? Oh that's it. You're embalming me. Running that rubber blood through my veins. He gazed upwards, his eyes moving back and forth. I see you, maggots, dragging yourself from Peter to me, to fall on me and start eating me alive. Tomb to tomb – body to body.
"This is hard...on all of us. I've never seen Viki so...worried." Téa said, but caught herself. "Mostly hard on you though." She paused, sighing. Admitted, like a confession. "I do miss you. Miss your sense of humor, your voice on the cell phone. Remember those calls you would make to me? Just to check up on me? You couldn't hide how you...felt. That you cared. We pretended you could hide it, though. But I knew." She chuckled, looking out the window at the night vista of Llanview.
He watched her, remembering how sad she sounded sometimes, when laughing. How funny that her laugh moved him more than her crying. I have nothing to give to you, he thought.
Doesn't matter, though. She lies. They all lie to me.
"I even miss the occasional fly-by of something you've thrown across the room. And then your look of guilt – and don't tell me you didn't feel guilty about getting so angry."
She laughed quietly and touched her fingernails, remembering.
Throwing things, he thought, comprehending more of what of she was saying now. Yeah, he threw things. Picture frames with the pictures in them, vases, plates, books, telephones, glasses, bottles, anything. A way to explain the unexplainable, Ms. Delgado. He made fists with his hands, nails digging into his palms but feeling nothing. He watched her mouth as she talked. Her tongue as it touched her teeth. Her lips as she wetted them with her tongue.
"I saw Starr," she continued. "Blair wasn't too thrilled, of course. I was at the diner for some comfort food from Carlotta, and wouldn't you know it, there was Blair and your baby girl, sharing a shake. Starr hugged me – I didn't even know how much I had missed her until I felt her arms around me. But the most special thing was that I saw you in her, in her smile, in her upset when Blair said they had to go. I hugged her goodbye so tightly, for you. Knowing how much you miss her."
So far away from me, Starr. Safer that way though.
He gazed at the ceiling, at the light in the center of the room shining down. Light he wasn't a part of.
Téa's voice softened, speaking more to herself than her husband. "We were so close, weren't we? That night you proposed to me – remember – the ring Viki let you use? You were so ready. What happened, huh? Did I get too close? Did we both get too close?"
Close. Nobody gets close to me. Not unless I control it. Try now. Get close to me now. Tell me I am something. Tell me I matter. Show me I am alive.
She moved nearer to him, first putting one knee on the bed, then sitting on the bed with one foot on the floor. He wasn't reacting, just watching her. "You know what I remember most about the wedding proposal? The way you looked just before you asked me to marry you. There was the smallest bit of hesitation. Like someone…mmm…about to push off in a glider. Know what I mean? I saw you consciously choose to jump. I saw how hard it was to make the decision, I saw the temptation to turn around and get back on safe ground, but you didn't." She smiled. "You decided to come to me. It meant everything. That you ... jumped."
No. NO. I don't feel anything. I don't… don't… I don't feel...
"For a few minutes – for a few hours – I had the one thing in the world that I wanted most. You right next to me. No…, no, you were closer than that – I had you inside of my heart, a precious jewel in a box."
A box like a coffin? Is that it? Téa, beautiful woman, you have no idea.
"Then...then I lost you. I missed your hand when you jumped. I couldn't hold you, amor. I tried ... I reached for you, I felt you slipping." Téa started to cry softly, the tears wetting her cheeks. Sniffled. Shook her head, trying to shake away the emotion. "And then I watched you fall. I had to leave – I couldn't see you hit the ground. I couldn't watch anymore."
She raised shining eyes to Todd. He had been sitting back, listening to her from far away, watching her every move. The two held each other that way for long seconds… she couldn't look away from his light eyes, and he didn't move from hers.
"Todd?"
Suddenly, with a quickness she couldn't have anticipated, with strength she'd forgotten, Todd grabbed her by the hair, holding it tightly in his hand, and pulled her close to him. Téa didn't have time to scream. She gasped and held her breath for a few seconds instead. He looked into her eyes and then at her mouth, her chin, her throat. She was speechless, abrupt fear silencing her, as he slowly pressed his face into her neck, breathing her in, feeling her.
"I did hit the ground," he whispered raggedly into her ear, "And I broke ... into a million pieces ... but guess what? It didn't hurt. I don't hurt." He moved so he was staring hard at her. "So don't fucking cry for me."
Téa didn't move, watching the lion with the thorn in his paw pace around her with intense eyes, breathing her in once more. He pulled away to look at her, as if to figure her out. His focus moved from her eyes to her mouth, and then to her chest. She whimpered as he jerked her close to him again, this time adjusting himself lower on the bed so he could feel her breasts against his face. She touched him to gain a sense of control, one hand on his arm, the other on his head.
A woman, a mother – they always leave.
Téa dropped her head back, his grip loosening a bit. She was so afraid, afraid of his violence, afraid to make him think she didn't want him, that she did want him… afraid of watching him lose his mind. She froze with indecision. She could hear him sigh. She stiffened when he slid up again and turned her so he was holding her in his arms, her back against his chest. It wasn't a loose hold though, he was restraining her.
As she held his arm, his hand moved. He began to touch her breast through her silky blouse. She was statue-still, shocked. He rested fingers on the fullness beneath her nipple. He squeezed her then, and she gasped, "Todd.. wh—".
Thin lace didn't prevent her body from reacting to his efforts. His breath was hot on her neck. His fingers moved roughly across the stiffness and she gasped again, softly, barely making sound. She had never felt his hands this way and for the first time, she realized how hard they were, how unforgiving.
Tears started to fall because he was just at the edge of physically hurting her, because she once had offered herself to him and he had chosen to humiliate her instead of accepting her. That memory was so close, still. She could remember the smack of her own clothes when he threw them at her. And now here he was, touching her, taking from her and she didn't want it like this. The crush of old wants with this, right now, was agonizing.
"Are you real?" he breathed out.
When she tried to answer, he slammed his hand against her mouth. "Shut up..." he grumbled. She doesn't understand, he thought. What he wanted to know was what was real in his life, now? Tim spent months telling him most of his perceptions were askew, misguided, misdirected, because of his traumas. Now, from this place called "grief," he could no longer distinguish what was real. At least before, through the lens of his trauma, things made sense. Now, everything jumbled together, memories, feelings, people, scents, words, sounds, imagination. A nightmarish mess. His scanned everything around him, fighting off a barrage of sensory input, the only clear thing being Téa's form in his arms. He tightened his hold on her.
Dropping his hand away from her mouth, he started to unbutton her blouse. "No," she grunted, pushing his hand away but he jerked her in his arms. She held the front of her blouse, holding it closed. She turned her head so she could look him directly.
"I said, no," she repeated. He backed off, slightly, keeping her in his gaze for a moment before once again glancing all around the room as if he were looking at ghosts, monsters, at bay. Téa ventured to talk, wanting to understand him, wanting to distract him. She felt his humming body, watching his hand.
"You need to touch me, you need to know if I'm real?" she said. "I promise you that am real. And… that I still love you." Her eyes moved back to his and her heart ached at seeing them again. The emptiness was gone. They were now full of sorrow, endless sorrow.
Looking down, she unbuttoned her blouse for him. The bra beneath hooked in front and she unsnapped it. It fell open. He sighed. Put his hand into her blouse, under the lace. He touched her, gently, gently, fingertips grazing her nipple. His hand then moved to the center of her chest as if to feel her heartbeat. The spread, the hardness, once again surprised her. How little she knew him. How she wished the first time he'd touched her was anything but THIS.
"Nobody loves me," he growled, "... you can't love something that's dead." He moved her, pushing her down onto her back, adjusting himself so that he was half on top of her, lying heavily on her side. He rubbed her arm and stomach, touched her hair and face.
"No," he said, "it's not possible to love me. Blair didn't, neither of my mothers did, Viki pities me. Starr…she doesn't know any better. She'll learn. Tell me, how can you…love me?"
"Because you're beautiful, because you're powerful, frightening, loving, tender, funny, smart as hell. Because you are a hurricane, Todd, awesome in your strength and destruction…and amazing to see. God ... I love you because I believe in you." She cupped his cheeks in her warm hands. "Can't you see that?"
"No, no, I don't see it. Show me… because I don't feel anything ..." He grabbed her hand she still rested on his cheek and he pressed into it, closing his eyes. "Nothing..." he said. "I am nothing..."
"No," she said through tears that finally broke through. "You aren't 'nothing', not at all. Please believe me."
Téa heard something at the door and lifted her head, seeing Tim about to come storming in. She shook her head at him, her eyes wide, pleading with him silently to leave them. Stay away, she said with those eyes, asking him to allow her to give something to Todd, to make up for having left him before, for missing the fall.
Tim looked down, torn, wildly worried for both of them. He ran a hand through his hair and his face said it all. This was completely off the rails. Todd was in no position to be engaging physically with anyone, much less a wife he never had touched. The sexual confusion and trauma… oh no… They could both get grievously hurt.
With one last glance at Tea's pleading eyes, he flashed her five fingers, saying five minutes. He stepped back and leaned against wall. To wait. To watch. He'd cut it off if things turned dangerous.
"I don't believe you," Todd murmured, still holding her hand against his face. "Because you all lie. You said you forgave me and nothing's changed. I'm still in Hell...still condemned...still dead. You're a lying bitch." With his hand, he moved hers against his chest, his stomach. He rubbed her hand against his thigh, moving it closer to the front of his pants.
Téa took a breath because beneath her palm was the beginning of an erection. Pain rushed through her… not this way, not this way…
Tears blurred her vision. How much she had wanted to make love to him, to know him, to learn about his body. About how they fit together. But not like this, not when he was so broken. So tied up with hurt.
She squeezed shut her eyes and tears slipped out. She could feel him swelling as he pressed her hand on him. As he made her slide along his clothed flesh. She could feel the thickness… the length… and she found herself trembling.
"Baby…" she cried softly. He had such a tight hold on her hand that it was beginning to hurt and she realized when she looked into his eyes, when she stepped out of herself, how scared he must be. Terrified even. He hadn't wanted them to make love for a reason… so for him to do this now...
Agony tinted his whispers as he said, "Liar, liar…"
"Why don't you believe me?" she asked, trying to pull her hand away, trying not to cry, his grip only tightening. "I don't lie to you," she said, "...I would never lie to you. I have never lied. Oh God..." Téa knew that Tim probably couldn't quite see what was happening because he'd be slamming into the room and he wasn't.
Todd dipped his head and moved his hips against her hand roughly, his hardness certainly at full mast and there was almost a rhythm to it, and his breathing had most definitely changed, but then he stopped abruptly, shaking his head, releasing her hand. He inched away from her in a kind of backwards crawl, moving until he pressed back against the headboard. He was breathing hard, looked away from Téa. He cupped himself a moment and made a face then grabbed the sheets into his tightened fists.
He eyed the ceiling, a low simmering groan coming from him. Saw the maggots and bugs. Followed them as they crawled in the cracks and lines above him, crawled outwards to the walls, crawling down into the carpet. He disconnected hard as his breathing regulated. Turned inward. He tried to listen for the sweet spirit that would talk to him, comfort him, but heard nothing. He listened for Satan, but heard nothing. Nothingness. Grief. This is where he was. He lay back and just stared emptily again.
Téa swallowed and sighed, relieved he had stopped the touching yet aching deeply because she knew he had stopped reaching out to her. He had seriously withdrawn again. Dead, like he said.
"Todd?"
He stayed quiet, eyes on the ceiling.
"You will get better," she said. "I – I promise you will."
After some minutes of that deadly silence, he dragged his gaze to her. "Am I going back to the hospital?" he asked flatly.
"Yes. You're safer there. You'll be all right there."
"You don't know anything. You have no idea."
"I think I know, I think this is hard on you, I think… you're scared, this is-– Tim's here, you know. Viki says you trust him. You want to see him?" She was shaking badly, she realized, as she sat up somewhat, trying to button her blouse, fixing herself. His hand on her still reverberated on her skin.
"He can't help me. I just want all this to end. Tell Peter to come and get it over with. Let him just fucking kill me."
He started to breathe a little heavier again, closing his eyes. Téa let out a breath when she saw Tim in the doorway. He knocked on the open door, letting Todd know he was coming into the room. He slowly approached the bed. She was relieved to see him, almost laughing like a crazy woman. And almost bursting in tears.
"Hey kiddo. How are you doing?"
Todd looked up at him, "I can't do this anymore. Let's just get this over with. Go find him, you tell him I'm here. I'm ready for him."
"Who?"
"PETER! GET HIM OVER HERE!" He sat up quickly, his hair falling into his face, his body shaking with fury. Téa tried to get off the bed but Todd grabbed her, turning to her. "No, no, no, you don't get to leave. You don't leave me."
"Todd, you need to let her go. Let go of her wrist. She's not here to hurt you. She's not 'leaving' you, she's only stepping away. You need to understand that."
With Téa still in his grip, Todd turned his head sharply to Tim, "She says she loves me, but it's a lie, a fucking lie!" After a moment he did let go, his eyes staying on her, though, on her hand that had fallen to her side as she stood next to the bed. He groaned and fell to his side, staring in front of him, his back to Tea.
"Get out. Just get the fuck out, Delgado."
Push and pull. Push and pull.
"Okay," she said. "I'll go. But I still love you. When you want to see me, when you want to know that you are more alive than dead, I will be here. All you have to do is ask. I'll show you, amor. I will show you."
He said nothing. Followed Tea with his eyes when she crossed into his view. Followed her as she disappeared out the door.
"No," he whispered. "No."
Show me.
To be continued…...