A/N: **TRIGGER WARNINGS** Implied domestic abuse. And NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE
2016, continuous with previous 2016 chapters.
"Freddy, I'm uncomfortable," Abigail said. The words were both whiny and pointed.
Freddy used to think that making the people around him comfortable was, without exception, the decent thing to do. No one deserved to be uncomfortable. Especially his girl. Freddy practically lived by it as a creed. He justified his employment situation by saying that it was literally his job to "make people happy."
But at this very moment, he thought he might have found the floor. It seemed like Abigail was trying to manipulate him, to press on his guilt—citing her discomfort…to get him to do what she wanted.
And in this case, what she wanted was to go to her parents' house instead of helping the woman walking by the side of the road, who was obviously in distress.
Freddy pulled over next to her initially to ask if she was all right, if she was having car trouble or something.
"No car," she'd said, sniffing gusty lungfuls of air through her nose. She laughed, seemingly at nothing, eyes watery. "No phone either. Nothing."
Freddy frowned. "What happened to your phone?"
"Boyfriend took them—all my stuff—and threw me out of the car." She stared out across the parkway, gaze disconnected and watery.
At that point, Freddy pulled the car over to the shoulder and got out. "Ma'am, are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance or the police?"
"No police," she snapped. "I'm fine. You got 20 bucks?"
That was the moment Abigail started to make urgent eyes at Freddy. She hadn't wanted to pull over in the first place. But Freddy hadn't been able to fathom just leaving someone there to wander by the cars.
"I need 20 bucks," the woman continued, "for a hotel room."
"I don't think you can get one for 20 bucks," Freddy informed her, scratching his arm as he thought his options through. "Do you have someone I could call for you? To come get you?"
"Just the boyfriend," she said. "Doubt he'd come."
"The guy who LEFT you here?" Freddy shook his head. "There's no one else."
"My sister and I haven't spoken in gosh. What's it been?" she was lost in thought for a few moments. "Anyway, everyone else is in Florida. Just me. And that asshole."
"I'll see if there's a nearby women's shelter." Abigail thinned her lips, phone already poised for research.
But 25 minutes later and 18 calls to various women's shelters around the area revealed: "No, sir, we don't arrange for pick ups, no not even in an emergency." "No beds available, sorry, sir." And, "no, sir, we don't do that here, just counseling and legal services."
"Freddy, my parents," Abigail whispered to him as he dialed yet another women's shelter hotline. "They're waiting for us. This is rude!"
"Abs. This lady is fucked up," Freddy indicated to her. She paced around, muttering. Her jeans were like a little girl's pants, spangled with rhinestones, though she had to be over 40 years old. "We can't just leave her."
"Just give her the money." Abigail grit her teeth. "Give her whatever you got, and then let's go."
"What's that gonna achieve?" Freddy asked, frowning. "She's walking by the side of the road! A few dollars can't fix that. She needs somewhere safe to go. Maybe we can find an Uber that will take her to a homeless shelter."
"If you put her in an Uber, she can tell the driver to go wherever! Who knows how big the bill could be! You'd basically be giving her free access to your credit card to drive wherever the hell she wants!"
"...It's really screwed up the women's shelters won't take her," Freddy said, shaking his head. "What are women's shelters for if not that? She is CLEARLY being abused, man."
"Yeah but what if she's dangerous? She could hurt US. Freddy, let's just go. Let's—"
"—We could drive her to a homeless shelter," Freddy said. "Or a community center. Something."
"We are NOT letting her get in the car with us. Are you crazy? We don't KNOW HER! She could attack us in the vehicle, and we'd be sitting ducks!"
"It's winter, Abby. We can't just leave her outside..." Freddy looked at Abby, pleading with his eyes that see understand the urgency of the situation.
"Let's call the police then," Abby said. "We're not responsible."
"I don't think that's fair. She's afraid of the police. She said so." Freddy understood Abby was just trying to keep them safe, and that she was simply doing the best she could with a situation far, far outside her comfort zone.
...He just kind of wish her best was a little more empathetic.
Freddy found he couldn't look at her. He was struggling not to judge her. The beautiful face suddenly seemed…mean. Kind of petty. Selfish. He didn't like to think of Abigail as mean. But this was a life or death scenario. Freddy would want a kind stranger to help HIM in this lady's shoes.
"Okay. How about this. You go to your parents'," Freddy said. He made his voice as gentle and non-judgmental as he could. He didn't want to fight. He wanted to focus on solving the actual problem. "I'm gonna get an Uber for her, and for me, to a homeless shelter. I'll make sure she gets there, explain the situation, and then I'll hook up with you later."
Then he got out of the car.
"You're actually going to ditch me to go to my parents' alone?" She rolled down the window, and she sounded so angry.
Freddy felt sad, forlorn—if this did not inspire compassion in Abigail…what would?
"I'll come after," he promised. "And I'll text you, to let you know I'm safe."
Abigail said something very angry (maybe: "Enough of this!" but it was fast, and she was already driving away, so Freddy could not be sure). Anyway, it got cut off and he got the gist.
He felt bad for ditching her. But it turned out to be harder than he thought to convince the woman to go, to explain his plan to her.
Abigail didn't answer any of the texts he sent, indicating his safety.
And by the time Freddy found a place for the woman to stay the night, a place that promised to get her in touch with domestic violence shelter people who would help her with a long term plan…it was 10:30PM. He doubted Abigail was still having mimosas with her parents.
He did wonder, however, if she'd pretend this didn't happen either.
The next day, while he was waiting for Abigail to call him back, Freddy took an amazing nap.
Truly, it had started off as maybe the best nap of Freddy's life. The early cold of winter set in over Illinois. When Freddy lived in California, winter poked in with irritating, sticky fingers—wet, chilly, but not really enough of a shift in pace to feel like a season change. Car pile-ups-on-the-freeway-season, maybe. But not a real winter.
In Evanston, winter brought along a fresh, delicious chill in the air. Freddy breathed it in first thing in the morning, and he could feel it wake him up like a splash of cool mint to the lungs and brain. And when he went to bed, cuddled up in the hand-knit comforter his grandmother made for him as a baby, he felt like a bear nestling into a cozy den for hibernation. The cold reminded him of his childhood in Staten Island. Horace Green Middle School, kids shucking off their coats and heaping them in a pile near the classroom door. Hot chocolate for breakfast. Snowball fights with Tristan and Melanie. Wet cuffs of his jeans from improperly tucked-in snow pants after a day of sledding. Zack's nose, red and sniffling, his usually soft freckles bright and vibrant, poking out from the top of his scarf.
Of course, spending so much time on the west coast made Freddy susceptible to cold. His body could not seem to get the memo that below 60 degrees was no cause for alarm. So he left the heater on low constantly, kept his place pretty warm. For two days, he left it going. His monthly gas bills for his apartment were pretty reasonable, lower than electric definitely, so he didn't figure it was a big deal.
Freddy wasn't an afternoon napper. When he was a young teenager, he often called Zack in the middle of the night just to complain about the fact that he had to sleep at all. It was so boring to just lie there, doing nothing. Zack was a good sleeper. His secret talent was that he could sleep standing up, at his desk, on a bus. Past midnight, and he was no good to the world. But Freddy liked it when Zack picked up his phone when Freddy called at 4AM, and Zack was still half-asleep, drifting in and out as Freddy babbled on about…whatever he wanted. Zack's responses were often nonsensical. Once when they were 15, Freddy asked where Zack saw them in fifty years.
Zack had mumbled, "...For me, you know. It's not ice cream. Or else decapitation."
Something about the onset of winter made Freddy miss those calls, and the same kind of talks they had in-person later, when Zack would sneak in through his window at night, and they'd huddle together in just their boxers, under Freddy's same old comforter to keep warm. There was something quietly magical about the conversations they had when everyone else was asleep. He always felt like, in the middle of the night, in the interstitial space they shared between waking and dreaming, they'd come to the place where the Wild Things were, to find it peaceful. Not scary at all, but filled with mystery and freedom and magic. Anything could happen, but bad things wouldn't.
It became the only reason Freddy didn't dread bedtime as a child. But even as an adult, Freddy slept only because he had to to get through the next day. Naps were not his thing. The world was too big and wide and full of wonders to sleep through.
Zack, on the other hand, loved naps. Freddy remembered this fondly. Oftentimes, especially when Zack went through his growth spurt, he would come to Freddy's home after school and just fall asleep, curled up on Freddy's bed or on the beanbags in the garage like a big, sleepy cat. Freddy had too much energy to join him, but he liked that Zack felt safe enough to do that, liked that Zack came to his house to sleep, kind of like it was Zack's home, too. While Zack napped, Freddy'd wait: quietly tapping stuff out on his electric drum kit, or using his pocket lighter to melt metal cans, or playing Zero Wing on his computer, or reading comic books until Zack woke up.
Sometimes, he'd even do homework—especially in the days where they were having sex. After sex, Zack pretty much ALWAYS wanted to sleep. But Freddy never wanted to sleep LESS. After an orgasm, Freddy felt like he could fly to the moon. But he didn't want to leave Zack alone, didn't want him to wake up with nobody there, so sometimes, usually still half naked, Freddy would get out his textbooks and bang out the work Zack had doubtlessly already completed—because Zack usually worked ahead of schedule, while Freddy was always working 'til the last minute. Those were the best days. If Freddy finished his homework while Zack napped, they would have the whole afternoon and evening after to do anything they wanted. Rock music, video games, and more sex, usually. Or once, they made a little fire in the pit in Freddy's backyard, roasted hot dogs over it, and talked until Freddy's mom made them come inside again. Tristan and Melanie joined them. Freddy loved that his siblings got along so well with Zack. They seemed to accept him as one of them immediately. Zack taught Melanie to play ukulele one summer, and went as her date once to a school dance when no one else asked her. Even Tristan liked him, teased him and pushed him around like another little brother. If he hadn't liked him, Freddy knew, he would have ignored him entirely.
So, when at 4PM on a Saturday, as Freddy was lounging on his comfy leather couch, watching Adult Swim, smoking a bowl, eating Hot Cheetos, just killing time before a night time gig that wasn't for a couple hours…he got too sleepy to even make it upstairs…maybe he should have been alarmed.
But he couldn't be. It felt like a random, meaningless decision—to stretch out, in the safety of his own apartment and nap on the couch. He fell into a sweet, dreamless sleep, so immediate and intense that it seemed to transport him back in time.
…He was fifteen again. No pain in his lower back from sitting up at his computer, or in his wrist from holding drum sticks and smashing them down again and again. No, instead…he was painless, crashing out with Zack still on the other line, mumbling about ice cream and decapitation. It was cold outside, and soon it'd be Christmas. He'd wake up, go to school the next day, and maybe kiss Zack behind the bleachers, or hold hands while they walked to biology class. He'd steal Zack's scarf so he could smell him all through the day, breathing in his favorite scent all day, whenever he wanted, and no one would know. He was going back to where the Wild Things were, sailing in and out of weeks, for almost a year…
He'd woken up very confused. Heart RACING like it was trying to bang its way through his chest, an insistent, pounding hammer to his ribs. The light was awful—red flashing, fluorescent, white. Someone with a mask leaned over him. Scary. Like Bioshock Infinite. A blooping sound—like a radio. A walkie talkie. Someone spoke over it, saying "code…" something or other.
"Sir. Can you hear me, sir?" the mask asked.
Freddy just blinked up, blearily, with unfocused eyes. He tried to nod, but his head was too heavy. His chest hurt. Like someone had punched him, tried to break his ribs.
"Where's Zack?" he managed to ask.
Had someone tried to punch Zack in the ribs too? He'd kill them. Kill them right in the face.
"Can you tell me your name?" the mask took off its face. There was a firefighter underneath. Huh.
"Freddy Jones," he said. "...Don't tell me to shut up."
He looked around, eyes rolling around—outside his apartment, he registered. Firefighters running, yelling…something about opening the windows. More radio voice, over the walkie talkie. Something about…1,000ppm…whatever that meant…
Suddenly, a stab of alarm caused panic to course through him in a sharp, vicious wave. What was happening? Something was wrong. He tried to sit up. Whatever he was sitting on rattled and clicked a little bit. …Like it was on wheels. Why…why was he on wheels?!
"Sir, don't—"
A dizzy blackness pressed the insides of his eyelids. A sick wave of nausea. Then he crashed backwards, and his last thought was that it was really cold, really cold, and it didn't seem so fun anymore…
Freddy woke up with Abigail's face hovering over him. Eyes red. She'd been crying. He wanted to reach up and touch her cheek, tell her it was okay.
But he felt like he'd puke if he tried to talk.
"Oh my god. He's opening his eyes!" she yelled. Footsteps shuffled. Voices—was that his mom?
"Hi," Freddy managed, finally, coughing it out. Vomit crawled up his throat but he stubbornly swallowed it back down. Starbursts of pain made him regret everything. No more talking, he guessed. "Hi" was all he had in him, apparently.
Didn't help anyway. For some reason, he seemed to have made her cry again. The tears came out and traced down damp, well-worn paths on her face. Definitely been crying for a while. Freddy frowned. He hated making his girl cry.
He reached for her hand. She took it, squeezed so hard it kind of hurt. Everything hurt. Great.
His mom's face appeared next to Abigail's. And...Alex's too! Next to his mom! Not fighting each other for once! Weird! And…David too.
Freddy smiled. David was nice to Alex, always. Alex, less. Hated David. But they seemed to be getting along for now.
They all looked very concerned. Freddy had a lot of questions, but didn't dare try to voice them. He thought he might throw up or pass out again, so he just stared at them all, one by one, willing someone to tell him what exactly was happening.
Tristan and Melanie materialized too, at the end of his bed. It was a very white room. Hospital, he registered. Uh oh. Not good.
He looked down at his arm. Something—a tube? A needle?—attached to the vein inside his elbow. Beeping. His heart thumped. He wasn't a fan of needles. He stared at his family and Abigail harder.
He felt like he had a flu—the worst flu ever. His head was KILLING him, his limbs felt stupid and heavy, stomach rollicking like a ship tossed around on stormy seas—and he was feverish, hot, heart absolutely RACING like he'd just been dropped off a cliff—
—Please someone tell me what is happening, please—
A guy in a white coat and a mask jostled everyone else aside.
"You're a lucky man, Freddy Jones," he said. His voice sounded far away, like God's voice, rolling across a wide open meadow to speak Truth to the world.
"Welcome back. Are you with us for good this time? You've been in and out for…it's been like two days..." Tristan sounded weird. Young. Had Tristan ever been young? Freddy couldn't remember a time…
The doctor's voice again. Freddy was starting to not like him, just based on his tone. Know it all. Not the hot kind.
He was having trouble focusing on the doctor's words. Like the signal going in and out on a phone call.
"...Very lucky to be alive, young man…out for almost 9 minutes...some of the highest Co2 levels we've ever seen in a residential space. Over 1,000ppm. Did you take the batteries out of your Co2 detector? You shouldn't have done that. Carbon monoxide binds 240 times more strongly to red blood cells than oxygen. Once carbon monoxide takes a seat on a bus, it stays in its seat longer, so there is one less seat for oxygen, so to speak," he said. "Basically, once those seats fill up with carbon monoxide, there will be no transport of oxygen to the tissues, particularly the brain and heart. This is why your heart's speeding up. That's your body's last ditch effort to get whatever oxygen was left to blood to your tissues. Especially your brain."
Freddy HAD taken the batteries out of the detector. It had been beeping, keeping him awake at night, bothering his neighbors. Oops.
"Is his brain damaged?" Freddy's mom fretted. He'd never seen her so serious. His mom was always joking around. She didn't seem to be now. It filled him with terror.
"We won't know 'til later. Some confusion and disorientation may persist. But he's young. Strong. He has a good chance of full recovery. We'll keep doing rounds in the oxygen chamber until his levels are normal again…have to attend to other matters now, but you can have a nurse page me if you need…"
Footsteps. A door hinge creaking. His family stared down at him, mumbling amongst themselves. Too many voices to pick out just one and understand what anyone was saying.
He just got the distinct impression, based on vibe, that they were talking about him.
Freddy didn't like people talking about him like he wasn't there. And now he was worried about his brain. Brain damage sounded bad. Abigail's hand in his felt so cold. Whether that was because of her or him, he couldn't tell.
"...Should we tell him?" his mom said, talking over the rest at last. She was talking to Abigail.
For some reason, Freddy got the sense his mom was…hesitating. They got along, his mom and Abigail. So he wasn't sure why they seemed tense now. Had they fought while he was out?
"He's gonna know eventually," Tristan said darkly, sounding like his old self again. Freddy was relieved, even though he was still confused. It wasn't fun not being able to track the conversation.
"He doesn't need that right now. Needs to rest," Abigail snapped. Why was she so mad?
"Maybe we should ask him?" Melanie piped in. She finally looked at Freddy. Melanie looked so much older in the terrible hospital light. No makeup. Wrinkles around her eyes. Face pale and strained. Freddy hated that he'd done this to her, was sure it was his fault she looked so tired and old. She was his bouncy baby sister. Now she looked like his mom.
"Freddy, blink once for yes, and twice for no, okay?" Melanie instructed.
Freddy blinked twice.
"Let him nap," Abigail said.
"Now, now, he just woke up." David's voice. Calm. Reasonable. Freddy wanted to cry. It'd been a long time since he heard David. He was terrible about calling home. So guilty.
"And that young man has been waiting a long time," David was saying, "If Freddy wants to see him, we should respect that. I think we should at least let him know that Freddy's awake, no?"
"He shouldn't even be here!" Abigail burst out. "It's entirely inappropriate. Why is he HERE? Why did you even call him?"
Melanie now. "I thought he'd want to know!"
"Who?" Freddy burst out, unable to take it any longer.
His family all looked at each other, uncertainly. Abigail crossed her arms, angry.
His mother reached out and touched his head. Freddy closed his eyes against her touch. Nothing was as comforting as mom. Nothing. Except maybe one person.
"...Your friend," she said quietly. "Melanie called your friend Zack. And he flew out here…from New Orleans I think. He's been in the waiting room all day. We weren't sure if you wanted to see him. But he won't leave. Abigail tried to tell him this was a family matter, but I says to her. I says, that boy has been Freddy's friend since they were tots. So young. So if Freddy wants to see him, we should let him. But that's just my opinion."
"They weren't friends," Melanie said. "They were together, Mom."
"Oh I knew that," Freddy's mom said pleasantly. "Of course! I love Zack! So polite. So talented. But out of respect for Abigail, I thought it'd be better not to talk about that. Guess that's out the window now."
She smiled, wry, slinging an arm around Melanie playfully. Melanie buried her face in their mother's shoulder, still overwrought.
Freddy was having trouble tracking the conversation still. But he'd heard the name. Maybe he'd imagined it though. He had to know for sure.
"...Zack's here?" he rasped.
Freddy couldn't believe it. Maybe he'd died after all, or all of this was a very weird dream.
His mom smiled, and used the sweet, cajoling tone she always used when he was sick as a kid.
"Zack has his guitar. Shall I ask him to come play something for you, my little music loving boy? Would that make you feel better?"
Besides taking place in a hospital, it all kind of reminded Freddy of a camping trip his family took once.
He and Zack had just come out to the whole school, thanks to Zack's little Taylor Swift performance. It caused a big stir, almost impossible to calm the student body down after that. The assembly took 45 minutes longer than it was supposed to. The kids kept screaming for an encore. More dancing. More music. More love. MORE MORE MORE!
So obviously, both families had been informed. No one in Freddy's camp was surprised, really. Zack was over all the time. They'd SEEN him with Freddy. Tristan, Melanie, Elaine, and David were well aware SOMETHING was going on. They'd just never pressed Freddy about what, exactly. It seemed sensitive. He'd tell them when he was ready. Plus, they didn't want to make Zack uncomfortable.
Zack's family was a different story. Zack seemed kind of shut down about it. Not talking, no matter how much Freddy pressed. Very worrisome.
But now that the truth was out, everyone was adjusting. Zack had suddenly become so shy, unsure if he was welcome anymore. So, Freddy's mom thought the best way for everyone to get on the same page was for them all to spend a bunch of time together. That'd get them all through the awkwardness, force them all to get comfy fast. That was Elaine's way: brute force pleasantness onto awkward situations 'til they weren't awkward anymore.
Tristan and Melanie protested there was nothing to get used to. They'd known for AGES, but Elaine wouldn't hear any of that. She'd gotten it into her head that they needed to show Zack he was still accepted in the Jones' household, and a camping trip was the best way. So that was that.
Zack hated camping, but agreed to go anyway, because Elaine said so. She assured his parents that she'd be supervising, so the boys wouldn't get up to "any funny business" ( yeah, right, like that had ever stopped them before). She was a very insistent and persistent woman, so even Zack's asshole dad agreed in the end.
What Freddy remembered best was sitting around the campfire at night. Everyone wearing plaid blankets around their shoulders. Zack playing acoustic guitar, while his family listened and drank hot soup out of old mugs.
…Like now. Freddy had to stay in the hospital for observation until his oxygen levels returned to normal. So his family waited with him. And Abigail. And Zack. His family took shifts, even Abigail was in and out, but Zack never left except for more than five minutes to pee. Freddy was secretly relieved. Hospitals were scary. He thought he'd crack up if Zack left him alone too long.
While he waited, Zack talked to Freddy softly, and he played. Freddy's almost forgotten how much he loved listening to Zack play. The sound of home. Of being a teenager in love. The sound of TRUE greatness, the only true greatness Freddy had ever known…
Zack was a world class guitarist now. So when he played, it wasn't just Freddy who listened anymore. Everyone did. Nurses paused in the room to just listen to Zack for a moment or two; Freddy worried for their other patients. Kids lurked outside the door. Other families even gathered round now and then.
Zack did not seem to notice or care. It was very obvious he was playing only for Freddy. Like he was trying to gently lead Freddy back to consciousness with the gentle tugging of a long musical rescue line.
It was a weird scenario, honestly. When he was aware and lucid enough to think about it, Freddy was amazed. He never imagined a world in which his ex boyfriend hung out for a whole day with his current girlfriend in the room, Zack just quietly picking away at a Taylor Builder's Edition K24ce V-Class Grand Auditorium Acoustic-Electric Guitar Kona Burst that had to have cost like $7000.
But here they were.
Like some kind of heartbreakingly beautiful, soft-singing mirage, Zack sat at Freddy's shoulder, perched on a stiff, low hospital chair. Freddy could smell him—the spearmint gum. The cologne—Billy's, it smelled like, same stuff he'd smelled on Billy—his super strength Mitchum deodorant vainly trying to keep Zack smelling halfway human, and the unmistakable, familiar smell of Zack himself, pushing through anyway because he probably had jumped on a plane over a day ago and hadn't showered since.
He played, quietly, and Freddy watched him, took him in like he hadn't allowed himself to in years.
Up close—there were new lines on Zack's thin face, deeper crows feet around his eyes, deep ridges around the outside of his mouth, visible even though his facial hair. It made Freddy a little shy, actually, as he took in Zack's entirely grown up, adult man face—the thick, long, snarled hair on his chin he hadn't cut in days probably. The super white, straight teeth, bright against the dark beard. Freddy was glad he didn't have to talk. Wouldn't know what to say. Zack's super-familiar face haunted pretty much all his happy memories from childhood and his adolescence. The last time he'd seen it, up close, during that goodbye fuck in the bathroom stall…Zack had seemed handsome in an almost larger than life way. Perfectly groomed. Youth still hanging around his twinkly eyes. Lips playing at a half-smirk, and Freddy unable to look away from them because of the stupid gum Zack always chewed.
But now, Zack just looked skinny, tired, and older. Freddy stared at his hands, the expert movements, the intense vascularity of them. Those hands, those long, steady fingers, had been around his dick, up his ass, under his chin, in his mouth—everywhere. Freddy was struggling to reconcile it, actually. Zack was half familiar and half stranger. Freddy's poor oxygen deprived brain bounced between past and present, vacillating between comfort and shyness.
And his family just sat around, listening to Zack play. No one knew what to say. But it was nice, that the air was filled with perfectly-played acoustic guitar instead of awkward silence at least.
On the camping trip, all those years ago, Zack played anything his family requested. Kenny G for his mom. ACDC for David. Carly Rae Jepson for Melanie. Metallica for Tristan.
And for Freddy…the same song he was playing now, chosen by Zack—a song he'd played many, many times to help Freddy get to sleep when Freddy was sick and couldn't breathe. Freddy hated being sick more than anything. Hated it when he couldn't get air through his nose, so he was too distracted and frustrated to shut down his mind, irritation and physical discomfort not letting him give his body what it needed to heal…
It was a lullaby, a sad one, because it was also a break-up song. "No Other Way" by Jack Johnson, that crooning surfer who was most famous for writing the song for the Curious George movie. Freddy's favorite lullaby was an uncharacteristically melancholy tune from Mr. Johnson. About a couple, falling asleep angry, knowing they were drifting apart, towards the end of their relationship, nothing they could do about it. But Freddy liked it because the chords were so soothing. Sleepy. Repetitive. It was his favorite, the way Zack played it, always had been, always got him to sleep when nothing else would.
But the way Zack played it…singing in his weak, raspy voice (though, Freddy noticed, he'd improved, vocally. Deepened up, steadied some)...it was tender. Hopeful. Like he was confessing to Freddy that it didn't matter if they drifted apart. They'd drift back together, like trash floating in the sea that always came together to form islands. No effort necessary. It was just inevitable, over time. And while he slept, Zack would watch over him, make sure everything was all right.
Everyone, even Abigail, seemed transfixed as Zack sang. Over the hours, he played tons of different songs, quiet ballads mostly. Though Freddy heard Zack take requests, "Freebird" even, once.
But Freddy especially heard, like an echo from the tenderest moments of his life, their old standby…
"...When your mind is a mess, so is mine, I can't sleep 'cause it hurts when I think…my thoughts aren't at peace with the plans that we make, chances we take, they're not yours, they're not mine, there's waves that can break…"
Sometimes, even when he was an adult and didn't let himself think about Zack anymore, if he struggled to sleep, he'd put on the song. The official recorded version wasn't as good when it wasn't being performed live by the most familiar hands in the world. But it still did the trick, after all this time…
" All the words that we said, and the words that we mean, words can fall short, can't see the unseen…"
Freddy loved when Zack sang about "yours" and "mine." Something about the sweetness and longing in his voice, like he always wanted to put those two words together.
"...Cause the world is awake, for somebody's sake now. Please close your eyes, woman, please get some sleep…"
It would have been simple as falling backwards to let his eyes shutter themselves, to let Zack's voice carry him away. But Freddy fought it. He was afraid if he went to sleep, he'd wake up and Zack would be gone.
So he wrenched his eyes open, and forced himself to say: "Zack."
Zack stopped playing immediately, a relieved, secretive smile creeping across his face. "Hi."
"Can you…" Freddy tried, though his throat felt raw and words were a struggle. "Play something else?"
Zack nodded. "Whatever you want. I thought you liked that one."
"Something happier," Freddy insisted, quietly. "No break up songs."
Zack's little smile widened. Freddy wondered if anyone else was in the room with them but felt too weak to lift his aching head and check.
He strummed a few fast chords, and Freddy frowned.
"No, no, no. Not 'Highway To Hell,' you sick fucker," Freddy said, laughing in spite of himself. Ow. Laughing. Bad.
Zack's shoulders trembled with amusement. He tried again, plucking out the notes, an impudent twinkle in his eyes.
"...Zack. Come closer…" Freddy demanded, and Zack got up to lean in, so Freddy could whisper to him: "...I will get out of this bed right now and kill you if you don't stop playing The White Stripes."
"Then I should keep playing, help you heal faster." Zack stayed close. He played louder to accentuate the point.
Freddy didn't want him to back off, but reluctantly settled into his pillows, knowing Zack couldn't stay this near forever.
"Something nice," Freddy pleaded. "...Something that you've never played for me before."
Zack thought about it. It made Freddy so sad for a moment that wistful tears actually gathered in his eyes. How many songs had Zack learned by now—WRITTEN by now—that he'd never gotten the chance to play for him?
God, it had been so long.
Freddy hoped this wasn't a dream. It had the distinct qualities of one. For years, the only time Freddy got to feel like this again was in his sleep, and then he'd wake up, full of the forlorn, unsatisfiable need to crawl backwards through time and go back to an irretrievable feeling.
"Okay," Zack said. His voice was so low now. Rumbling, scratchy. Like the sound could settle in your chest and make a home there.
Freddy betted hundreds of women all over the country heard that voice and wanted to suck him dry. He was mad at them. Hated them. How dare they? Zack's voice was not for them.
"I learned this one when I was thinking of you," Zack said. "Last year. In Tokyo. I thought you'd like Tokyo. Crazy snack vending machines."
"Always wanted to go," Freddy confirmed. "Love crazy Japanese snacks. Did you bring me any?"
God, he was sad. Zack went to Tokyo without him?
"Sorry," Zack said. "Next time."
Freddy tried to hear if Zack was sad too, talking about the time they spent apart, but Zack was so good at being neutral when he wanted to be. Probably protecting Freddy's feelings, trying not to let him feel guilty. Zack would do something like that: go to great lengths, and small ones too, to keep Freddy happy while he was sick. How Freddy was still so sure of it years later, he couldn't say. But he was.
"So. When I was there, thinking of you, knowing I couldn't bring you any snacks or weird plastic toys back…I learned this song instead. Because I heard it in a hotel lobby, and I thought you'd like it. It just sort of sounded like you. …Sounded…like us, back in the day." Zack played the opening chords, head bowed over his guitar. "Let's see if I was right."
" Christopher Robin and I walked along, under branches lit up by the moon... " Zack sang.
He closed his eyes for a moment as he did, and then opened them, smiling right at Freddy—kind of shy, but also kind of cheeky like, "oh yeah, this song. THIS song. I stand by it. Deal with it"
…There was something precious and soft about the way he overly enunciated the word "moon. "
He wasn't a crooner. It was a stupid song about a stupid cartoon bear. A song for babies. It sounded so ridiculous, Zack the rock star crooning fucking KENNY LOGGINS to him…voice a little shaky, straining against the slight falsetto…
But for some reason, Freddy's face heated up. His eyes filled. And yeah, he was crying. Immediately.
"...Posing our questions to Owl and Eeyore, as our days disappeared, all too soon… " Zack smiled at him, and now he DID look sad.
Their days really had disappeared too soon. Freddy wanted to live 10 lifetimes of childhoods with Zack.
"...But I've wandered much further today than I should, and I can't seem to find my way back to the wood… "
A small battalion of people had gathered to listen to Zack play now. Freddy could hear them shuffle in, hear the pleased murmuring. Something about the way Zack performed this one seemed to draw people in from all corners. The room felt very full, all of the sudden.
Abigail entered, carrying two giant cups of coffee. She paused at the door, staring at Zack with this sad, lost little girl expression, and for some reason, for an instant, Freddy felt so bad for her. She looked like she'd been left out in the rain, face pressed against a wet pane of glass. Something resigned, empty about her face as she watched Zack.
Zack handled the complexities of the melody like they were nothing. All his teenaged try-hardness was gone. He played the guitar like it was an easy extension of his hands. Freddy felt ridiculously, unfairly homesick for his old stiffness. Back in the days when his reach was just a little short. He still had a few short hops to go before greatness. He'd gotten there now, gotten there without Freddy by his side.
"... So I tucked him, I kissed him, and I was going, I swear that old bear whispered 'Boy…welcome home…' "
When Zack sang those words, an old woman in the doorway sighed, moved. Freddy heard it because it echoed his own reaction. Welcome home, indeed. Home, to Freddy, he realized…was just Zack singing him to sleep. He'd been away so long.
" Believe me if you can, I've finally come back to the house at the corner, by one… "
Freddy's mom walked up behind Zack, put her hands on his shoulders for a moment and squeezed. Zack looked up at her briefly, smiled, and Freddy…wondered why he'd done this.
Why had he kept Zack away from his MOM for all these years? How could he have been so selfish? Zack, since they were 15, had been basically part of his family. Freddy had exiled him. And for what?
Worse, even though Freddy had done it, Zack was still HERE. Playing him lullabies. Taking requests. Not showering. Eating shitty yogurt from the hospital cafeteria and drinking cold coffee between songs. All so he could do a private concert by Freddy's hospital bedside instead of sold-out stadiums with a mega pop star.
He really didn't deserve Zack. But he was too weak, too dizzy, too sad and nostalgic and homesick to do anything but pray pray pray to a God he wasn't even sure existed, that Zack wouldn't notice that Freddy was maybe the worst thing to ever happen to him. While Zack was the best thing that ever happened to Freddy, an undeserved miracle that just kept landing in his lap no matter how much he screwed things up.
Eventually, Freddy did fall asleep. He didn't know how long, or at exactly what point he'd drifted off, but when he woke up, Zack was curled up on the end of the bed like a dog. Asleep.
Freddy kicked at him, gently.
"Aren't visiting hours over?" Freddy whispered.
Zack groaned. "Your mom told them I was your brother."
"...Kinky." Freddy chuckled.
Zack sat up then. Freddy knew it must have been an effort. It was always hard for Zack to fully shake off sleep's grasp.
"What time is it?" Zack yawned.
"I don't know."
"Then why'd you wake me up?" Zack whined, rubbing his face. "Ugh, my back." He stretched up.
"Come up here." Freddy commanded it without thinking, just said the first thing that came to mind.
"I can't." Zack said, sounding very awake all the sudden.
"Why not?" Freddy's heart sank a little.
Zack nodded to the corner, where Abigail was asleep in a chair. Which. Yeah, probably fair.
"Zack…" Freddy felt like his insides were all twisted up. In the shadows, Zack was young again, the pale light smoothing out his features. "I know. You and I. We didn't…it was my—"
"—I need to ask you for a favor." Zack climbed down off the bed and walked over to Freddy's bedside. His socks padded silently across the linoleum floors. Then he knelt, so they were eye-to-eye.
Freddy saw the dark circles, the exhaustion up close. Plus, Zack's voice was slow and urgent, the way it only got when he was about to say something crazy. Like the time he told Freddy he was ready to have sex. They were only 15, but he'd said it so serious, out of nowhere, just sitting there doing homework in Zack's room together. Then Zack got this same tone to his voice, turned to Freddy and said, "Whenever you want to, I want to."
Freddy just nodded, unable to deny him anything now, after everything.
"You almost died." The way Zack said it, it was like a meteor from space hurtled through the atmosphere to smash him to smithereens. He was wrecked. "You almost died, and I didn't even have a number to call. Thank god your sister knew how to reach me. …Sorry about that by the way. She wanted Silli tickets. Years ago."
"You got them for her," Freddy said. What else COULD he say?
Zack nodded. Tears fell fast now, down his face, catching light that glinted in the dark as he whispered: "You almost died, and I wasn't there. I would have had to find out…God, if she hadn't called, I don't know. From your FACEBOOK maybe? Can you fucking imagine? If I'd had to find out from Facebook. Your memorial announcement. I—I wasn't there. I didn't know you anymore. I wouldn't have known."
Zack broke down. It wasn't a pretty sight. His arms curled around his chest like he was trying to physically hold it together, and he rocked slightly.
"...That-that's not your fault," Freddy said.
Zack shook his head fast, like that was just besides the point.
"I need…you to do something for me." Zack choked like something was sitting on his windpipe. "Just one thing. And in return, I'll do whatever you want. Be the best friend you ever had. Totally platonic. Never talk about us again, the way we were. Like it never happened."
This notion clearly hit him, square in the diaphragm. He was airless for a beat, but then pressed on bravely.
"I'll be your…whatever. Uncle and babysitter to your kids. Guy who…cleans your pool. Whatever. I'll be your girl's gay best friend. I will give up my whole career—fucking touring. Fuck ALL of it—to just camp out in the Evanston fucking suburbs. If you just do me one favor."
Freddy didn't know why Zack was promising all this stuff, why he was begging, but he reached out to touch Zack's rough, shaggy cheek to comfort him, because he was really crying now.
"You almost died." Zack sobbed again. "There was almost no more you. Doctor said it's a miracle you're breathing now. People die in their sleep due to carbon monoxide poisoning all the time. Just drift off and never wake up. Whole families. No shit! This is serious, dude."
He was shaking, whole body vibrating violently as he wrapped his arms around his doubtlessly empty stomach; Freddy wondered dully if he'd eaten a full meal in the past couple days. Zack had never looked so small and helpless.
"Freddy. I can't live in a world where you aren't." Zack whispered.
He stared at the wall ahead blankly for a moment, and Freddy had no idea what to say. No idea Zack still cared this much. He felt like he was back in their interstitial space between day and night. Where the Wild Things were. And Zack, well. He'd become king of the monsters, the Wildest one of all, apparently.
"Freddy. Would you do this one thing for me? Please?...Please, let me be in your life again?" Zack said, like he was praying. "Anyway you want it is fine. I don't need to be your boyfriend. Fuck romance. Romance is nothing. Losing that is nothing. Compared-compared to losing you. We never have to talk about the past. It's done. Water under the bridge. I just want to be in your life. You don't have to explain anything to me, or apologize. We will never talk about it again if you don't want to. I just want to be THERE. However you'll have me. I can find a way. Whatever it takes, I can do it. I will. Happily. Just tell me."
He nodded, eyes practically spinning with desperation.
"As long as I can call you. As long as I can KNOW you again. Please, Freddy. Don't make me go back to a world where you aren't. Please. Don't do it. I can't. I can live with whatever else. I'll watch you marry someone else. I don't give a shit about that anymore. I won't ask you for anything else, not even an apology. My lips are fucking SEALED. Just. Please…can we be friends again? I miss you so fucking much, Freddy. You have no idea. I don't want to go another day where I don't know you, man. I am so tired of not knowing you. And ANY DAY could be the last day it's even POSSIBLE to know you, you know? ANY DAY, and I…I loved knowing you. I don't need a relationship with you, I realize that now. I don't need anything but to have you in my life. For as long as possible. For as long as I have left. That's enough. More than enough. The details don't matter. They're nothing. Nothing is anything, except you. "
Zack seemed aware he wasn't making sense. And it was so unlike Zack to talk so much, especially about feelings.
It took a lot of effort, a lot of shifting around, and it kind of hurt too—Freddy's body was NOT wanting to be jostled, every muscle felt stiff and sore but…he had to do it. He had to take Zack's hand. Kiss the knuckles, and say softly:
"Of course."
Zack had given him the path to everything. He could stay with Abigail, change nothing about his life, and still have Zack. Apparently, Zack was willing to give up being a touring musician to do nothing in the suburbs just to be with Freddy. For Freddy, there would be no conflict, no sacrifice. Zack wasn't really asking him to change a damn thing, but was willing to give it all up, happily, just for the chance to know him, apparently.
Freddy didn't think that was fair. He didn't want to take everything and leave Zack with nothing. But he was tired. And he wanted Zack to stop crying.
"We'll figure it all out later," he promised, soothingly. "But don't worry. Okay? I want you in my life too. I miss my best friend."
Zack put his face on the bed and cried like a child, all his pain, and fear, and exhaustion and relief leaking out of him now like he'd been holding it back all this time to comfort Freddy. And Freddy stroked his hair, just wondering how…how in the world he'd gone so long believing his life was better off without Zack in it.
Freddy woke up, morning light streaming in, and his first question was, "Where's Zack?"
His mom smiled down at him instead. "Oh sweetie. I sent that boy to our hotel room. He needs to shower, eat a meal, and take a nap in a proper bed. Did you see him curled up at your feet like a sad puppy dog?" She shook her head. "Such a nice young man. But that's no way for a grown man to sleep. I told him to go take care of himself. He was running himself ragged here. And you're doing so much better. The doctor said. No harm in resting now. You're gonna be fine. It took some doing, but he's gone to the hotel now. I hope he eats. I should make sure to send up some room service. What do you think he'd like? …Never mind, I'll just send pot roast. He liked pot roast. I remember. And a sundae. He deserves an ice cream after all the trouble."
"Oh." Freddy sat up, and it finally did not hurt his head to do so. He guessed all the fluids they were pumping him with, and all the sessions in the oxygen chamber, were really helping. His heartbeat felt normal, limbs light and easy to lift.
"He was starting to really stink," Elaine said lightly. "But before the doctor said you were fine, ready to go home today, he just would not move." She put her hands on her hips. "Have you ever heard of something so ridiculous? That Zack is just as stubborn as they come, isn't he?"
Freddy sagged a little. It was ridiculous, but he was disappointed his mom sent Zack home. A little petulant. He was sick! He'd almost died! He knew it was childish, but he felt entitled to cling to whatever comforts he desired. And Zack was very comforting.
"...Can I ask you something, sweet, wonderful little boy of mine?" Elaine sat on the end of Freddy's bed and patted his foot. An old gesture. Since he was a boy, she'd do this when they needed to have a Talk. Sit on his bed, just this way, pat his foot.
Freddy nodded. It'd been a long time since they really talked.
"I had a boyfriend in high school…" Elaine said.
Freddy rolled his eyes lovingly. She never got straight to the point, his mother.
"We had a very passionate relationship." She looked off to the side reminiscing. "He would buy my favorite chocolates and feed them to me in bed. Just ridiculous. That's the kind of thing I remember about Jerry. When I think of him."
Freddy nodded. He related to that.
"Oh, but honey, Jerry and I were nothing like you and Zack." Elaine laughed. "When you were grumpy as a teenager, we could just tell—David and I—that all you needed was some time with your best buddy. And then you'd be your lovely, happy self again. You'd come down the stairs, mad at Tristan or squabbling with Melanie, and David and I would look at each other and say, 'uh oh, how long 'til Zack gets here?' Because as soon as he did, you'd just go back to being an angel. Smiling at everything. Like you were since the day you were born."
She squeezed the tops of his toes, briefly, lovingly.
"I'm glad you're alright," she said, sighing. "I love you, my Freddy. You have such a good heart. I always says, I says—my Freddy has a good heart. Heart of gold. He just shines."
She smiled at him, so proudly that Freddy hardly knew what to say.
"And I have to admit, I was surprised when your school called to say you were kissing that boy in front of everyone at a school assembly. I was surprised! That's all I can say. But I don't judge. You know that. I don't judge anyone for anything. I wouldn't have cared if you were gay, straight, anything. I'm your mother. Mothers don't care about that kind of thing. All we care about is if our kids are happy, healthy. And that's that. …But it took me for a spin. Because I thought, wait a minute. That's our Zack. He's at our dinner table almost every night. Why didn't I see it?"
They'd never talked about this before. Freddy didn't know why they were now, but he was quiet, letting her finish. If he got her off track, they'd be here all night.
"I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. You know, Zack. I could tell he loved you. Very strange kid. Sweet but strange. Always helped in the kitchen. Never had to ask, I'd start cooking, and there'd he'd just…appear! Just chopping and stirring. I think he was worried about being a burden, eating the food, but I never saw it that way. An extra place at the table is no skin off my nose, especially because the kid always did dishes. Small price to pay to make sure my Freddy has a friend who really loves him. And I could tell he did. Could tell he just adored you. It was so obvious. He was always watching you with that expression. You know the one. Like everything you did was just amazing to him, and I says to David—wow. That's just great, you know. No matter what happens to Freddy at school, whatever he gets up to, he'll have one person there to look out for him. No matter what. I could just tell he was that type. So when one day, he just said, while we were cooking—he said—'Mrs. Jones, you raised my favorite person, and I wanted to say thank you,' I guess I should have figured he was a little fruitcake. But at the time, all I thought was, he was a little strange. And he always seemed strange to me! So it didn't seem PARTICULARLY strange, after I got used to him. You know what I mean?"
Freddy laughed. Oh Zack. That dude sure loved his heartfelt declarations. When Zack felt something—anything, so long as he felt it strongly enough—Freddy could always count on him to plant the flag.
"When I found out you two were together, I just thought, good. Freddy has someone who appreciates him. And I could tell, you know. Listening to you boys playing music all the time, doing homework…that he was a good influence too. What more could I have asked for? His dad's a piece of work, but you don't choose your parents. Not the kid's fault he's descended from a giant dick on ice."
She shrugged. Then looked shrewdly into her son's eyes.
"Freddy. Jerry never would have come down here to sleep curled up on my bed like a dog, even if I was on death's door. He might send flowers, I don't know. After all these years. I really don't know WHAT he'd do, but definitely not that." She crossed her arms. "I talked a little to Zack while he was here. He said he was a musician. And I said 'that's great,' because you know, he was always very talented. Going places. I could tell. He said he was touring with some hotshot. And I said that was great too, but then he said he quit the tour—on the spot—to be here! Can you imagine? I tell you, I was surprised again. Just like I was that day the school called me. I thought you boys hadn't spoken in quite some time. I thought you weren't gay anymore. I've met your girlfriend. Abigail. Nice girl. Very pretty. Sensible too, good head on her shoulders. You always pick the sensible ones. I wish your brother was so smart. He's hooking up with another loser, some bad news girl, but you know him. Can't talk him out of anything. Gotta learn the hard way. Not like you. You and your sister, such good kids. Such good heads on your shoulders."
"...Ma, what's your question?" Freddy redirected her, trying not to laugh. Her tangents could go on for quite some time.
"Right. …So. What's going on, that's what I'm asking? I thought you were done with that boy, so why did he just drop his whole life to come here to a hospital full of people wondering 'who heck is the hot stud, playing sad songs all day and all night?'" She paused. "Sorry, but he really did grow up handsome, didn't he? Wasn't expecting that. He was an awkward-looking kid. Cute, not the stud type. But I see it now."
Freddy shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his hands. "He was worried about me."
"Yes. But most people would have just sent one of those edible fruit bouquets if they were so worried." She clucked her tongue against her teeth. "I had to basically push him out of here. He was so worried about you. A wreck, I tell you. He was a wreck!"
She shook her head again, hair going slightly white at the roots—she needed a dye touch up but apparently hadn't recently bothered. But it was still perfectly done in loose, soft curls close to her head, the exact same way she wore it through his entire life.
"Freddy," she said, serious now. "I didn't raise a two-timer for a son."
"I'm not cheating on Abigail," Freddy said. He would never.
But he did feel a little guilty. She'd been around most of the time he was in the hospital, grading papers by his bedside when she didn't have to go teach her classes. But he'd hardly paid her any mind, because mostly, he'd been focused on Zack.
"Oh I know that," Elaine stroked his arm reassuringly. "But honey, if you want to be gay again, don't you think you'd better tell her?"
"I'm bisexual, mom." Freddy felt his voice grow petulant, childish, the way it really only could with his own mother.
She waved her hand. "Whatever the term is. I support your decision. But I think you better tell her. She's a nice girl."
"Who says I'm going to leave her at all?" Freddy said, feeling kind of nauseated at the idea of hurting her. Losing her. Their life together. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't nothing. She was lovely. He was lucky. He knew that. They could be happy. Girl like that, every guy wanted to be him. Wife material.
"No one said it, but I assumed," Elaine said, like it was all very obvious.
"Well you shouldn't assume!" Freddy was getting upset now. "Abigail is great!"
"I know she is," Elaine reassured him. "But you should have seen Zack when he busted into the hospital. He wasn't crying or yelling, but you could just tell. Something was the matter. Like a thundercloud. So serious. Like a hard wind blowing, I tell you. And when they finally let him back here, and he finally saw you, I thought I was going to cry! And I'm your mother! But I don't know. I thought he was going to pass out, he was so relieved. And then he just sat there with his guitar, keeping us all entertained. I was very impressed, let me tell you. Such dedication. I never saw such a ridiculous, sensitive man in all my life."
"Zack's great too," Freddy said. "But he said he just came down because he wanted to be in my life again. Not because he wanted to date me or anything."
She crossed her arms and got a look on her face, halfway between wise and extremely sarcastic. "Frederick Thomas Jones, if you don't know that dropping everything and flying across the country is something that only someone desperately in love with you would do, I just don't know what to tell you."
Freddy snorted a laugh and nodded, conceding. Fair enough.
Elaine nodded back, satisfied. "Face facts, I think that's the first thing. Regardless of how you feel, that boy loves you and always has." She frowned. "And if you don't love him…I don't know."
She hesitated, then said: "I think…if you get one of those AT ALL, a guy who loves you, big and loud and unconditional like that…you just get the one. For what it's worth."
"...You're saying you'd rather I be with Zack than Abigail?" Freddy said it pitchy, incredulous. "You do realize which one of those people would be more likely to give you grandkids, right?"
"Why do you think I love my theoretical grandchildren more than my flesh and blood actual children?" Elaine laughed. "I want you to have the best possible person. And to me, that's the person who loves you the most. Or the one you love the most! Whoever makes you happier. The rest?"
She made a poo-poo gesture, raising her hands then letting them flop down on her wrists.
"The rest, eh. Will work itself out." She smiled at Freddy then, warmly.
Freddy considered her for a long moment, peering into her familiar face, trying to find answers there as to what he should do.
"...Sometimes I feel like Zack ruined me," he confessed, "for anyone else. Like, I'd have a normal life if it weren't for him. He makes me feel like nothing else ever measures up. You know? Like everything's just second best. …Do you think first love is just always like that?"
She ruffled his hair. "Not really, Freddy."
"What, really?" Freddy asked.
She laughed. "Honey. Most people fall in love at least a few times. First time is usually memorable. But not always the best." Then she leaned over to kiss his head. "I'm glad you didn't die."
He smelled her dusty, old lady perfume and smiled, closing his eyes.
"And try not to be too mad at Zack. It sounds like he ruined you in a good way. Not all of us are so lucky." She shrugged wistfully. "Jerry slept with my cousin."
"Ma! You never told me that."
"Well, fuck Jerry. And fuck your first cousin once removed Deborah. Didn't you ever wonder why she's not invited to family reunions?" She made a face. "Oh well. That's over now. I try not to dwell on negativity. The past is the past." She got up to shuffle to the door. "Or is it?"
She winked, and though nothing was really resolved, somehow, Freddy felt better, and not just because of his fully restored O2 levels.