"Man, so, this is it?" Molly murmured as she stared up at the house.
"This is it," Trent replied, killing the engine. "Home sweet home."
"Sucks that someone had die for you to get it, but hey, it's a house at twenty two. That's, like, crazy impressive. Plus a car. And a fucking four-book publishing deal? Fucking shit man, you've really got it together," she said.
"It's taped together with duct tape and luck, and my three amazing girlfriends are also keeping it from falling apart," he replied as they got out and headed for the trunk to get their things.
"Oh whatever. You've done more than enough to keep me from falling apart," Mae said.
"Still, it's really impressive."
"Honestly it's just luck. And the guy who owned it before me was an asshole, so I'm not sorry he's dead."
"Oh. Wow."
"Yeah, I know I'm not supposed to talk ill of the dead, or family, or whatever, but fuck it. He was a piece of shit who died in an accident and deserved worse. I'm really glad I got this house, though, because besides making my life way better, I've been able to use it to help other people and bring them happiness and security."
"That's pretty sweet," Molly said. "And hey, the legacy continues. I'm happy to be here. And apparently I feel really secure because I just got in a car with you all and let you drive me three hours away."
"That is pretty secure," Bea said as they finished getting their things and walked inside.
As he unlocked the door and they came in, he found Ann sitting on the couch with her laptop, wrapped up in a blanket. Immediately, he felt something a little jarring. Any other time he'd seen her like this, she'd been as relaxed as she could be. And he could even smell some recently smoked weed.
But she wasn't relaxed. She looked strained and tense.
"Hey everyone," she said, putting on a smile that was almost convincing.
"Hey...is everything okay?" Trent asked.
She looked at him a little blankly. "Holy crap, I can't hide anything from you, huh? I figured Mae would ask that."
"So something is wrong?" Mae asked.
"I'm just grumpy, don't mind me," Ann replied firmly. She set aside her laptop and got up. "Molly, welcome to our home."
"Thanks...I really appreciate you letting me stay here. And you guys have, like, a really nice home. I gotta admit, I kinda expected something a lot more...messy," she said.
"Trent and Bea are kind of neat freaks," Ann replied. "And I lean that way myself."
"Yeah, I'm the trash mammal," Mae said. "Why are you grumpy?"
"It just happens sometimes," Ann replied. Her phone buzzed and a flash of real anger came across her face. Something that gave Trent serious pause.
He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Ann genuinely angry since they'd met. Her phone buzzed again and she let out a growl, picking it up.
"Okay, something's going on," Bea said.
"I can, like, go to another room or something if you need some privacy…" Molly murmured awkwardly.
"No, it's-don't worry about it. You guys literally just got back and this is more or less a non-issue," she replied.
"We can let it go if you truly want to, but this is making you upset, and I don't think I've ever seen you seriously upset before, babe," Trent said.
She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed heavily. "I guess I am just stalling for time...it's Dennis. He started texting me, like, all of a sudden."
"Ex?" Molly asked.
"Yeah. Husband. Way ex."
"Ew, I'm sorry. That's definitely no fun," she said.
"Yep," Ann agreed.
"Lemme guess, is he all: 'oh take me back! I'm different now!'?" Molly asked.
"Actually yeah. But that's never happening. Ever. I wouldn't go back to him even if I didn't have this relationship...even if he hadn't cheated on me. I wouldn't go back."
"Ooh, shit. I'm sorry, girl," Molly said. "That's so fucking hard to deal with. I've been there."
"Yep. Sucks," Ann murmured. "I'm sorry for anyone who has to deal with it." She let out another growl of frustration and picked up her phone as another text came in.
"You could block the fuckface," Mae said.
"You really should," Bea murmured.
"I should," Ann agreed, reading through the texts. "There's just this part of me that...I don't know. It was my first instinct, but something stopped me...ugh, he wants to meet somewhere. Just to talk. God...this is stupid." She began typing rapidly, then fired off the text and then punched something on her screen. "Okay, I told him I have no interest in seeing him and then blocked him. Done." But she still looked worried.
She looked at Trent.
"What?" he asked.
"Trent...I know you've started getting into the habit of stepping to guys who are messing with us, but, like, if it somehow comes down to it, please don't step to him. Like if somehow you two ever meet, don't do anything stupid. This isn't like with Chris. He's a prison guard and they're all tight with the cops up in Briddle, and we have stuff we need in Briddle," she said.
Trent began to respond, then hesitated, then growled in frustration. "This is bullshit," he said finally.
"I know. And maybe it'll be nothing. I doubt I'll run into him, but...I also doubted he'd ever reach out to me again. Just...promise me, okay?"
"I promise I won't do anything stupid," he replied.
"You hesitated there."
"This is the best I could do."
She sighed softly. "I guess that's all we can expect...I'm sorry. I shouldn't even have bothered saying anything. Should've just blocked him and said nothing. I didn't mean to toss this bucket of drama over everything literally the second you walked in the door."
"It's fine, I'm just happy to be here, to be honest," Molly said.
"And if you're having a problem, Ann, I'd like to know about it. I want to help, and I know that even just telling me about a problem is helping," Trent said. He set his stuff down and walked over to her, then hugged her. "Your problems matter to me. To all of us."
"Goddamn motherfucking right," Mae said, walking over and hugging her as well. "I'll punch his stupid face in if I have to. Maybe shank him a little."
"Man, you are tough," Molly murmured.
"You've got no idea, I saw her use brass knuckles on a guy," Bea said. "And I'm not exaggerating. She literally pulled on brass knuckles and slugged a dude in the gut after he swung on her when she wouldn't have sex with him."
"He was a fucking loser!" Mae snapped. "But...I kinda overreacted."
"I dunno, sounds like a douchebag to me...does it make me a shitty person if I think that's hot, that you hit him?" Molly asked.
"I don't think so," Ann said, "but I also probably am not the best person to ask."
Mae gasped suddenly. "Ann! I know what we can do to take your mind off all this bullshit!"
"What's that?" she replied as Mae shrugged out of her backpack and began pulling something out. Her hand came out with the strap-on. "This! Also, threesome with Molly! We talked about it on the ride down and Molly's very into the idea."
"Oh. Well sweet then. We're all...cool with that?" Ann asked, looking around.
"Very cool," Trent replied.
"Yeah, we've gotten very comfortable around each other. We each fucked right next to each other the second night and had a ton of conversations on that long-ass trip back here," Bea said.
"Let's go!" Mae declared, taking Ann's hand and leading her upstairs.
"Uh. Okay. Good to see you babe, Bea!"
Trent laughed. "Have fun."
"She definitely will," Molly murmured as she followed the two women upstairs.
"Okay, now what?" Bea asked. "You wanna perv on them or do something else?"
"I'm not sure…" He pulled out his phone as he'd gotten a text near the end of the drive back here and hadn't wanted to check it while driving. As he pulled it out, something occurred to him. He began to act on it, then hesitated. Then sighed.
"What?" Bea asked.
"Would you do me a favor and, like, check up on Jen? See how she's doing? I feel weird about it. Like, I want to see how she's doing, but that might irritate her problem with me? But I also don't want to just ignore her, for obvious reasons of her being my friend that I give a shit about, but also I don't want it to seem like I just discarded her the second she stopped being a viable sexual option," he replied.
"I'll check up on her," Bea said, pulling out her own phone.
"Thanks." He saw he had a single text message and it was from Gregg. Curious about what it might be (by now he and Gregg texted sporadically and randomly, and usually it was Gregg telling him funny stories about Mae or Bea), he opened it up. Then his eyes widened. "Oh my God."
"What? What's wrong?" Bea asked.
"I know what I want to do. We have to go to the Snalcon."
"Uh, okay. Why?"
"Something's there that I've been wanting for, like, a decade."
"You've been wanting something for ten years, and haven't been able to get it in all that time, and for some reason it's now at the Snack Falcon?"
"Yes!"
Bea sighed softly and finished texting, then put her phone away. "Okay, let's go."
"All right, so, what's the big thing we're after?" Bea asked. "Also, who you texting?"
"Mae's mom," he replied. "Letting her know Mae got home safe because obviously Mae won't remember to."
"You are ridiculously responsible sometimes," Bea muttered as she pulled her phone out again.
"Forgot to tell your dad?" he asked.
She sighed. "Yes. I shouldn't have to but...I guess I don't have to, it'd just be nice. I have to admit, it's weird, this sort of transitory period, where I'm not a kid, but I'm also not quite an adult either. Like, I sure felt like I grew up really fast when all the shit happened and I graduated and got thrown right into work. Then I was sorta just stuck. An adult, but also not quite? I kept expecting to feel different. And now I've snapped back to being sixteen again during summer vacation. No job, no real responsibilities, but I have cash to burn, a car, and live with my fucking awesome boyfriend who I fuck all the time and never have to worry about getting caught, and also we have two awesome roommates, and there's hardly any drama."
"No drama?" he asked.
"You know what I mean. Like, no bullshit drama. We never really fight, and even when we do we resolve it pretty fast...just feels weird. Also you didn't answer my question."
"Taco Lunchables," he replied.
"...okay, what is it really?"
"I'm serious."
"You aren't fucking with me? Lunchables?"
"Taco Lunchables, Bea! I fucking want Taco Lunchables so fucking bad, and they got rid of them like forever ago! And apparently now they're back! They're finally back!"
"Holy shit, you aren't, like, joking. You actually are this excited about...Lunchables."
"Yeah! Got something to say about it?" he replied.
She laughed. "No, not really. I mean, if anything, I like it. You don't give a shit that it's weird that you're super into Lunchables."
"I'm super into Taco Lunchables, and only because they're gone. Also, it isn't weird."
"It's kinda weird."
"Uh-huh."
She laughed again, then perked up a little as she saw something up ahead. "Hey...after you get your fucking Taco Lunchables fix, can we swing back by the Pickaxe? I wanna go in for a bit."
"Might as well do it now. I can wait," Trent replied. "And it's, like, right there."
"You sure? What if they're all sold out by the time you get there?" Bea replied.
"Gregg knows to hold some for me."
"Wow, for real?"
"For real. Are you for real gonna give me shit about this?"
"A little," she replied, grinning. "But not, like, actual shit. I just think it's funny."
"Uh-huh."
"Well...if I give you too much shit I guess you'll just have to do something about it," Bea murmured.
"Do something about it, huh?"
"Yeah. You know. At home."
"Maybe I could do something about it out here."
"Don't you dare!" she whispered, coming to a halt a few feet shy of the Pickaxe.
"You started it," he replied with a sly smirk.
"Trent Sinclair," she growled, "I forbid it. My father is in there."
"Then why'd you start it here? Now?"
"I was just teasing!"
"Uh-huh." He reached out and brushed her tail. She gasped and her own hand shot out and grasped his wrist.
"I'm serious," she growled. "Dead fucking serious."
"All right," he replied with an easy shrug.
She frowned at him, glared at him really, for a moment longer, then sighed and released his hand. "You…" she growled.
"Yeah?"
"I love you," she growled.
"Love you too, beautiful."
She let out a huff of irritation. "Let's go."
He laughed softly. "Annoying when the tables turn on you, huh?"
"Shut it."
They walked inside the Pickaxe and took a moment to just sort of look around.
The place actually did feel different, Trent realized. It was no longer the place where his girlfriend worked, where he knew she was basically locked up and suffering. She was free. And, more than that, the place really was different. Bea's dad had made some more changes to it beyond the vending machines. He'd rearranged the whole interior at some point, and it seemed more efficient, and offered more things.
And there were more people coming in. There were a good dozen people wandering around or in line at the counter. Bea's dad was behind it, and he was surprised to see Danny back to work there, and he also saw Germ briefly in the back room.
He tried not to think about how he'd fucked the shit out of Bea in that same back room.
Looking back on it, he kind of couldn't believe that they'd actually done it. It seemed stupid dangerous, if they got caught. But, well, they hadn't.
And it had been awesome.
"What are you thinking about?" Trent asked, seeing that Bea looked a little out of it.
"Just what I normally think when I come in here. Both that I can't believe I spent two entire fucking years in this place, and also that it was only two years. It felt like eight. Looking back on it just seems surreal now. Like, how did I tolerate this?"
"You're tougher than nails," Trent replied.
"Yeah, but...I don't know. I think I'd collapse like wet tissue paper if you told me I had to go back. Like I legitimately don't know if I could do it."
"You could, but you'd really be suffering," Trent said.
"Maybe. I mean, yes to the suffering, but I just don't know. Oh, dad noticed me. Looks like he wants to talk. You want to hang back or…?"
"I'll join you," Trent replied.
"Oh. Hardass, huh?" she asked with a little smirk.
"Apparently," Trent replied.
They walked over to the far end of the counter where Bea's dad now stood at.
"Hey, how's everything going...also thanks for letting me know you're back home," he said.
"You can thank Trent, actually, he's the one who reminded me. Everything's going good. We're just wandering around town. Things seems to be going well here," she replied, looking around.
"Yeah, business has been picking up a lot the past few weeks. It's been great." He looked around, then sighed softly and rubbed at his eyes. "God, it's been a long day. Danny! I'm going on a smoke break, lemme know if you need any help."
"Yes sir, Mister Santello," Danny replied.
"Bea, can I borrow your, uh...boyfriend, for a moment?" he asked.
"Mmm…" Bea crossed her arms, frowning.
"Don't worry, we already had the 'I'll kill you' talk, it's just business," he said.
"I'm still mad about that, actually, dad," Bea replied. "But Trent's a big boy and can go with you if he likes."
"Yeah, I'm free to talk," Trent said.
"Ah...thanks. Come on."
He seemed like he was caught between wanting to address Bea's frustration, but not really knowing how, and also probably feeling something to the effect of 'I'm not going to apologize for protecting my daughter', but also wanting things to go more smoothly with her now. In the end, Trent just followed him out the back door.
He pulled out a Zippo lighter and a cigarette pack and lit up. "You want one? You smoke?" he asked, offering the pack to Trent.
"I don't. Thank you, though," Trent replied.
"Good move. These things are death but...ah man," he groaned after inhaling deeply and then blowing out a puff of smoke. "Damn if that isn't better. Working on a fuckin' headache all morning and lower back is acting up...don't get old, kid."
"I've been told it beats the alternative," Trent replied.
He laughed. "Shit, I guess so." He puffed on his cigarette a few more times. "Is Bea still smoking?" he asked suddenly. Trent hesitated, as he wanted to say 'not cigarettes', which would just invite the obvious questions, and Allen suddenly relented. "Shit, no, I'm not-I promised myself I'm not gonna do that. Not gonna be snooping about her life. She's...I trust her to be doing what's best for her. I just...want her to be okay."
"She's okay," Trent said. "She's happy."
"She seems happy...but that's not why I pulled you out here. Uh...so damn much has been going on recently that I can't actually remember if we ever discussed it, but you got a big book release going on soon, right?"
"Yeah. First of May."
"Shit. That is close. Well, uh...I realize this is kinda weird, given we didn't quite get off on the right foot, and that's really my fault, but basically...I'd be interested in selling your books through my store."
"You want to sell books out of a hardware store?" Trent asked.
"Your books. Like, local celebrity thing...it's admittedly kind of a gimmick. Uh. Not that I'm saying your books are shit or anything, but-if you aren't interested, that's fine. I just thought I'd cash in some nepotism with this recent run of good luck, see if I can keep it going."
Trent thought about it.
Well, why not?
"I'm gonna have to run it by the other person involved in this, but yeah, I think it'd be cool. Shit, maybe I could do, like, a book-signing here."
"Would you? That would be pretty interesting and definitely get a lot of people in the store."
"Wait, for real? I was joking."
"Seriously. A lot of people are talking about Demontower."
Trent felt his eyes widen and he looked over at Allen, who took another puff on his cigarette. "What?" he asked.
Trent shook his head. "Just...apparently I was, up until this moment, unaware of how many people actually know about my book. The fact that you actually know the name is...crazy. Or have you been talking with Bea about it?"
"Some," he admitted, "but not a lot. She's more into this Cyber thing you're writing for her. I remember those books. That's...something special. That's about the best gift I think you could give her. She tries to act like she's too old for them, or at least she tried to a few years ago, but she loved those Cyber Wars books and she and her mother liked them a lot. You writin' some kinda story about it...it's gotta be making her real happy. And that's what counts...aw shit, I'm really turning into a goddamned old man who bullshits about the good old days and 'love it while you got it'. Don't mind me. Just feeling my years recently."
"You're not even that old, though. You're, what, forty five?"
He let out a short little laugh. "Forty seven. And well...lemme tell you, Trent, hows about we revisit this conversation in twenty years? Tell me how old you feel at forty two."
"Fair point. But, yeah, I'll look into it, and I think I should be able to get at-cost versions of the paperbacks. I guess we'd order a bulk load of them, nothing crazy, maybe like fifty, and then see how that goes. We'd figure out some kinda deal I guess. You'd be selling them, and I'd be supplying them…"
"I'll see what I can come up with but Bea was always better with numbers, so she should probably have a look at it," Allen said.
"All right. Uh...thanks. For the opportunity."
"You're welcome, but I think you'd probably be doing me a favor, and honestly, I should be thanking you. For this, but also for, uh, taking care of Bea." He sighed and took another few puffs on his cigarette. "Shit, I'm bad with this shit," he muttered. "Talking about my fucking feelings...but I care about my daughter. More than anyone else in the whole world. And it's just become more obvious that you and her are pretty good together. She's obviously happy. She seems healthy. I gotta admit, I'm not completely comfortable with the fact that she's got no job and doesn't intend to get one for awhile, but I guess this book deal of yours and the fact that you own your own house must help with that. I won't have her living in squalor."
"Don't worry, I won't either. And, I mean, she has a plan. She's gonna go to college at some point. And if you're ever seriously concerned about how she's living, I mean, it wouldn't be that strange to drop by every once in awhile," Trent replied.
Allen sighed. "I promised myself I wasn't going to be overbearing and controlling anymore. She's an adult, she deserves her space."
"I get that, but she's also your daughter and the closest family you have. It isn't crazy to pay her a visit every now and then."
Allen looked at him for a moment, then laughed. "Bea was right about you. You're so weird."
"What?"
He laughed again and shook his head. "Bea has been reluctant to talk about you and your relationship, but she does say some things. Mostly that you kind of make her feel weird sometimes, because you're so reasonable. That was the word she used: reasonable. I had my fair share of fights with Bea's mom's dad. Her parents were strict. I was always sort of dreading Bea's first boyfriend. Thought he was gonna be a punk like me. And, well, I guess the fact that you're also dating two other women is...more weird than bad. Honestly, I don't know how the hell you keep up."
"I wouldn't call it easy," Trent replied.
"Shit, I could barely handle just the one."
"It helps that two of them are reasonable. And Mae is...mostly reasonable. Although goddamn, Bea has a vicious streak in her. She can be a real hardass when she wants to be."
Allen laughed. "Yep. Her mother was the exact same damned way." He sighed suddenly, took another puff on his cigarette, then dropped and crushed it underfoot. "So, you'll check about the books?"
"I will. I'll get my hands on them and see if I can't get them in maybe next week or the week after. I'm not totally sure."
"Great. I'll talk with Bea about the money. And it'll give me an excuse to get back into woodworking like I've been meaning to. Used to use the shop here to make stuff, I can buy some lumber, put together a shelf."
"Sounds cool. Also, I do have two other books out. They aren't as popular or as pretty as Demontower, but I did write them and I can get them. You want those too?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Okay, cool."
Allen sighed. "Well, back to the grind."
They walked back inside and Bea's dad headed for the counter. He stopped and talked with her briefly, but it was obvious that there was a lot to do, as more customers had shown up, so they said goodbye and he and Bea walked out.
"What was that all about?" Bea asked.
"He wants to sell my books here, at the Pickaxe. And he wants me to do a book signing."
"Holy shit, seriously?"
"Yeah."
"What'd you say? Did you agree?"
"I did, though I said I'd have to double-check with Tabby in case there's something I'm missing about selling the books through a store or something I need to do for the book signing besides 'get books, show up, sign them', given she's the one technically in control...what?"
"It's just...I don't know. I got the impression you and my dad just didn't get along. I mean, if you told me you didn't really like him and you're just being polite, I'd honestly get that. But this is actually really nice. I've been meaning to bring up asking you if you should sell your books physically somewhere in town because, like, people want to read them. Or at least own them. And wherever you chose was gonna be a big boost...and you chose my dad and the Pickaxe?"
"He's my girlfriend's dad. He's not an asshole...not completely. He's actually pretty reasonable, considering the nature of our relationship. He really does just want you to be safe and happy. And you care about him. Why not support him?"
Bea looked at him for a long moment, her expression one of difficulty. "Goddamnit I love you," she muttered finally. "Way too nice to me. Let's go get those fucking Lunchables."
He laughed and took her hand and they started walking. "Too nice, huh?"
"Yes! You prick. Too nice." She laughed suddenly. "God, I can't believe I'm dating a guy who is going to do a book-signing at the Pickaxe. And people will actually show up. I have no idea how your work got so popular in Possum Springs, given how people normally seem to feel about books."
"I'm right there with you," he replied. "But it's cool. The fact that your dad actually knew the title of my book, just...wild."
"I am impressed," Bea agreed.
They arrived at the Snack Falcon a few moments later and found Gregg for once dealing with a customer. He grinned and waved as they walked in.
"I got it!" he declared.
"Thank you, Gregg," Trent replied.
While Gregg finished checking out the customer, he and Bea wandered around the store. He moved over to the cooler and grabbed a Lime Fiasco. As the customer finished buying their stuff and left, he moved over to the counter and set down his drink.
"Okay, let's see it," he said.
Gregg reached under the counter and pulled out the Taco Lunchable.
"Holy crap," Trent whispered, looking at the box. "It even looks the same. Like the exact same design and everything. They're sure cashing in on that nostalgia. Not that I'm complaining."
"Here, get this for me," Bea said, setting down a twenty ounce of Mister Mule Blue and a bag of hot fries.
"Yes ma'am," he replied.
Gregg laughed. "Man you really got him under your thumb, huh?"
"I do, indeed," Bea replied with a smirk.
"Oh whatever," Trent said, pulling out his card and paying for it all. "You'd do whatever I told you to do."
"Oh really?" she asked.
"Yes, really," Trent replied, turning on her suddenly and slipping a finger through the ring hanging off her choker collar. He tugged on it, pulling her closer, staring into her eyes. "I say jump, you'd say 'how high'. Isn't that right, Little Miss Beatrice?" he asked, his voice dropping.
She began breathing more heavily and swallowed. "Y-yes," she whispered.
"I thought so." He let go of her.
"God, your guys' relationship is so weird…" Gregg groaned. "I don't get the sub/dom thing, like, at all."
"I think it's just a thing that either you get or you don't," Trent replied as he started peeling open the Lunchable.
"How the fuck do you just switch right back to normal after hitting that dom line so perfectly?" Bea whispered.
"Raw talent," he replied.
"Ugh, you cocky bastard," she groaned.
"You know you love it," he said, preparing the taco.
"Oh...my lord. That looks disgusting," she muttered. "It's like...paste!"
"I know," Trent said as he squeezed the beef paste out onto the small tortilla, then added the shredded cheese and opened up the sauce packet. "It looks awful, but it tastes amazing. Or I think it does. I guess we'll find out."
Trent finished up and took a bite. He groaned. "Oh my God yes. It tastes just like-"
Something snapped inside his head and suddenly a memory flipped into existence.
Him. In his room. Eating one of these.
His dad's heavy footsteps, getting closer.
Trent waiting, freezing up, praying that his dad will just pass by. Why hadn't he shut the door all the way?! Because that would just make him mad, too, and then he'd throw the door open. But if it was mostly closed, maybe he wouldn't realize-
The door banged open and Trent jumped, looking up from his desk.
"Trent, what are you-Jesus fucking Christ with this shit again!?" His father storming across the room, swaying slightly, drunk again.
"Dad-"
"You're going to be fucking thirteen years old in a month for Christ's fucking sake, Trent! Enough with this fucking baby shit!" he yelled, throwing his arm across the desk, scattering the Lunchables across his floor. "You need to grow the fuck up and stop with this-"
"What the hell is going on in here!?" His mother marching in, looking around. "What-"
"Why did you buy him that fucking bullshit!?"
Trent fighting back tears, struggling in absolute desperation not to start crying as he got silently down onto the floor and started cleaning up the mess, listening to his parents start screaming at each other and-
"Trent! What's wrong?" Bea asked.
"Whoa dude, did it go bad? Aw man, I knew I should've kept it in the cooler, but it was only like ten minutes-whoa!"
Trent turned and sprinted to the bathroom. He threw the door open and just barely made it to the toilet before vomiting.
"Holy shit, I'm sorry dude!" Gregg cried.
"Trent, oh God, what's-" Bea asked.
"Wait!" he managed, panting, then vomited again in one hard contraction.
He groaned, hunched over to the toilet, breathing heavily, the awful, acidic taste in his mouth, his throat, even his fucking nostrils. He could feel tears in his eyes, feel emotions running roughshod through him, completely unchecked. He spit several times, trying to get hold of himself, and flushed the toilet.
"Oh God…" he moaned, staggering slowly to his feet. He moved over to the sink and washed up, spitting several times. "Bea...drink…" he groaned.
"Yeah, okay babe, here," she replied, grabbing it from the counter and handing it to him. He took it and drank some, then swished another mouthful around and spit it out, then drank some more. He passed it back to her and washed his face again.
His hands were shaking.
"Oh God, it's happening again," he moaned.
"Oh fuck. Shit. Okay. It's okay," Bea said. "What do you want to do?"
"I...don't know," he groaned, staring at himself in the mirror. His vision was off, trembling, and felt shaky all over.
"Okay. Here. Come here. Gregg, we're going out back for a few minutes," Bea said.
"Uh...okay. Lemme know if you need anything?" he replied, sounding confused.
"We will. Come on, Trent. Come on, honey. It'll be fine."
He had a dazed feeling as he struggled for control and let Bea walk him out of the bathroom and through the Snalcon to the back door. Suddenly he found himself sitting with his back to the wall, Bea hugging him.
"It's okay," she whispered.
"I-I remembered," Trent began, "my father-"
He started crying.
"Oh honey it's okay," Bea said, hugging him more tightly. He hugged her back, squeezing her, crying against her. "It's going to be okay, Trent. You're safe," she whispered, putting a hand over the back of his head and holding him to her. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
He wasn't sure how long it went on, it didn't seem to last very long, maybe a minute, maybe two, but control finally returned to him. He broke away from her suddenly, turning away and hugging himself. "Oh fucking God," he moaned.
"What's wrong? Let me help," Bea said.
"No, I-I'm...this is pathetic. I'm fucking pathetic for Christ's sake," he muttered.
"Trent!" Bea snapped, startling him. He turned to look at her. "Don't you fucking say that, do you understand me!?"
"I'm sorry," he groaned.
Her expression immediately softened and she hugged him again. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled. I just-I don't want to hear that. This isn't your fault. Okay? I just-I want to take care of you. Let me. Please."
He thought of Mae. Ann. Claire. Molly. Even Bea. Every woman who'd ever broken down or been vulnerable to him. Never in a million years would he call them pathetic or blame them for what was happening. He knew exactly what Bea was feeling just then and felt a measure of sympathy for her. It helped him regain control of himself.
Trent cleared his throat, then sighed softly. "I need to wash my face again," he muttered. "There's fucking snot and tears…"
"Okay," Bea said. "Come on."
"I can manage it. I'll be right back," he replied.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I'm sure." He stood up. "I'm...it's passed."
She stared up at him uncertainly, then slowly nodded. He walked back inside, where he saw Gregg behind the counter, looking back his way anxiously.
"Dude...was it really that bad?" he asked.
Trent burst out laughing as he walked for the bathroom.
"Wait one," he said, and slipped inside. He washed and dried his face, then stepped back out. "It actually tasted fantastic," he replied. "It's just that it triggered a repressed memory, which in turn triggered a panic attack. I'm okay now...mostly."
"Aw dude...shit...that sucks so hard."
"It does."
"You need anything?"
"I'm good, but thanks. I'll be okay. I need to talk with Bea for a bit."
"Yeah sure, man. You need anything at all, just tell me."
"I will. Thanks, Gregg."
He headed back outside and sat down with Bea.
"I heard some of that," Bea murmured. "You want to talk about it?"
"I guess so," he replied. "But...are you sure you want to hear about it?"
"Yes," she said firmly.
"It's...unhappy."
"I know. Just tell me. If you want to."
Trent sighed, then nodded. He told her.
When he was finished, she was gritting her teeth. "God...fucking...dammit," she whispered. "Your fucking father, I want to fucking punch his goddamned fucking face in."
"It's...in the past," Trent muttered. "Although I'm pissed. I actually really liked that Lunchable. Ten fucking years and I throw it up. I hope this doesn't happen every time I try to eat a Lunchable."
"Dammit, honey, I just…" She stared at him, looking uncertain and upset, and hugged him again suddenly. "I just want to hold you and protect you and love you and make you feel better. Goddammit. You don't deserve this shit! You're so fucking nice and considerate and-I hate your family!"
"I know," he said, hugging her back. "Me too."
"Shit, now I'm gonna cry...fuck, I can't. I'm going to help you," she growled.
"I'm okay, Bea."
"Don't say that just for my benefit," she said.
"I'm not. I'm really okay. It wasn't as bad this time. I mean, I feel like crap, but not nearly as bad. I can walk, I can make it home. I'm okay."
She pulled back and looked at him, tears in her eyes. She sighed and wiped at them angrily. "Fuck, okay. Fine. Ugh! I'm so fucking pissed!"
"I feel you," he said. "I'd be super fucking pissed too if you told me something like this." He fell silent, just sitting there for a moment. He was exhausted. He felt adrift, emotionally and mentally, even physically.
Those panic attacks took a toll.
"What do you want to do, Trent?" Bea asked after taking a steadying breath.
"I want to go home," he replied after a bit.
"Okay. Let's go home."