#me and sauce will start the abstinence club | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lonestarbabe · 3 years

Text

Saving The Child Inside

Chapter 1: Unsettled New Normal

[AO3]

Growing up as Sam Avery's son wasn't easy for TK. His abusive upbringing left him with a wealth of trauma that he couldn't bring himself to face, even as an adult, but for all the bad, TK's life in Austin brought him a lot of good. He married his high school sweetheart, Carlos, and he became a firefighter like he had always dreamt he would be. But for all he had managed to make something of his life, there's still a hurt, lost child inside TK, a child who wants to found, and mostly, that child wants to be loved.

(I have rewritten the first several chapters, which have been condensed into one chapter, and then, I will be adding new content starting in chapter 2).

Chapter 1: Unsettled New Normal

It had been three months since T.K. had any drugs or alcohol, and he was long past the withdrawal phase of getting better, but it still made him sick to think that he could never touch a drug again. It’s going to stick this time, he promised himself. It never sticks, the critical voice in his head added. You always mess up, so you might as well just give up now. Despite the nagging thought that he was doomed for failure, T.K. didn’t have plans to go back to his old ways, and in that moment, he didn’t want to do drugs ever again. But the thought that he could never have substances again without the risk of a complete spiral made T.K.’s hands shake with apprehension. He thought of all the wedding toasts he’d have to miss, all the nights getting wasted in clubs in a way that was called fun instead of abuse, and all late nights with a date and a bottle of wine. Oxy was easier to escape in normal social functions, but he’d always be a little too fond at the mere thought of it.

There was an itchiness that prickled his core, pulling at his middle with a sloppy mix of feelings he couldn’t distinguish beyond being uncomfortable. The itch made him restless, and without the time-warp of being high, T.K. didn’t know how to keep himself busy. But he still stayed away from substances. All of them. He hadn’t even had coffee; though, he knew his resolve wouldn’t last on that front because there was only so much abstinence that he could he handle and only so much hollowness that he could take. He would need something eventually, even if that thing was a weak, watery stand-in for what he wanted. He’d knew that he’d always be an addict.

He didn’t mind being clean—sober, he reminded himself because the substances had never been what made his skin feel grimy and his insides feel like dust was perpetually compacted in all the hollow spaces—but sobriety would always bore him, like driving through a flat stretch of middle-America in a silent car on an overcast day, but it was better than the alternative. T.K. couldn’t put Carlos through more than he already had, so he suffered through the restlessness and tried to remind himself why he didn’t want to die.

The boredom had worsened since T.K. wasn’t working. T.K. yearned to return to the 126, even though he knew it was going to bring up thoughts that he’d tried to chase away with substances and an ill-fated overdose/suicide attempt. Working would give him something to do. His mind still whirled with the memory of that day, but sitting at home made him feel useless. Guilt ate at him as he thought about Carlos at work while T.K. sat on his ass. He wasn’t fulfilling his role in their household. I’m going to change that. I’ll go back to work, and some of the colors will come back into my life. It won’t always be this gray.

Bouncing his leg up and down to rid his body of some its excess energy, T.K. was not-so-patiently waiting for his husband to come home. He hated how trapped in his thoughts he became when no one else was around to keep his head away from everything else. He could have called Carlos’ mother. She’d decided to work less when she turned fifty-five, but it drove her crazy to have nothing to do, so Andrea Reyes would have gladly come over to keep T.K. company if he had asked. She’d been doing that a lot lately, probably at Carlos’ behest, but T.K. didn’t want to burden anyone with his issues more than he had to. I’ve been doing that enough lately.

T.K. couldn’t stop checking his phone. Carlos was late, and T.K. couldn’t stop himself from thinking the worst. He imagined Carlos blown up or shot down, and he couldn’t get the idea out of his head that something bad had happened. Carlos was the kind of guy to be on time, and while being a social worker meant that Carlos had some late nights, he usually told T.K. if he got caught up in something at work, and ever since the explosion, Carlos had been cutting those late nights short. T.K. knew it was because Carlos worried what would happen if T.K. was alone too long. Selfishly, T.K. was relieved when Carlos came home early, even if he insisted it wasn’t necessary.

He thought it would be good to get dinner started, but T.K. knew his limits, and he knew he wasn’t the best cook. He could throw together a meal if things had returned to normal, but he still had trouble motivating his body to do the things that he asked of it, so he sat with his worry. Every separation sends a fresh surge of anxiety through each of them, but they were trying to be better.

Still, there was only so much that T.K. could take, so he exhaled when Carlos came through the door, carrying a couple bags of groceries on the floor when T.K. got up and threw his arms around Carlos in record time. T.K. smiled. “Babe, hi.”

Carlos returned the smile and kissed T.K. on the forehead. “Sorry, I’m late. I had to stop at the store and get some stuff for dinner.”

“I wasn’t worried,” T.K. said too quickly.

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Just fidgety,” T.K. said, hoping there was no waver in his voice.

“You can’t lie to your husband.”

“You weren’t home, and I just thought—” T.K. shook his head. “It’s been hard.”

“I’m okay. You’re okay. Right?”

T.K. rubbed Carlos’ shoulders, trying to ease the knots. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m glad you’re home. I’m bored here all alone.” After giving T.K. another kiss, Carlos moved to the kitchen to put away the groceries and start dinner. He pulled out a pot, filling it with water and putting it on the burner.

T.K. followed Carlos to the kitchen. “What are you making?”

“Macaroni and cheese.”

T.K. felt warmth radiate in his chest, and he wanted to pull his husband to bed and never leave. “That’s the second time this week.”

“Are you getting sick of it?” Carlos said and then yawned.

“You know it’s my favorite.” One of T.K.’s earliest memories was being around three years old, and his mom made him macaroni and cheese. He remembered little about his mother. She was gone shortly after that memory, but macaroni and cheese always made him think of her. He remembered her smiling at him as she put the food in the bowl in front of him. “I ate it every day for two months after I left home. I didn’t get sick of it then, and I won’t get sick of it now either.”

Carlos ignited the burner, and as the fire fanned out before settling to its normal intensity, T.K. felt his heartbeat trot, and he couldn’t take his eyes from the flame.

“About leaving home. There’s something you should know.” Carlos’ tone was dark in a way that it hadn’t been since T.K.’s dad had turned up to their wedding uninvited two years prior. A shiver ran through his spine. “I saw your dad today. He’s back in town.” T.K.’s eyes snapped up.

T.K. fell back onto a stool next to the counter. “Oh?” he said, voice pulled like a rubber band just before it snapped. “I haven’t seen him since the wedding.”

“I heard he went to Florida.”

“He’s here now,” Carlos replied somberly. “I don’t know for how long or why, but he’s here.”

“Did you talk to him?” T.K. prayed the answer was no. He didn’t want Carlos to get too close. T.K. didn’t think Carlos was in danger, but Sam Avery was toxic.

Carlos shook his head. “I wouldn’t have been able to say anything good, so it’s probably best that I didn’t, but no, I just saw him at the market. He didn’t even acknowledge me.”

“I’m not even sure he knows your name. He only acknowledges me when he wants to make my life hell.” T.K. wasn’t bitter. He really wasn’t. He was tired of the bullshit that his dad brought into his life. “I wish that bastard would get out of Austin.”

“He should be in jail.” Carlos set a second pot for the cheese sauce down on the stovetop with a thud. T.K. startled. “Sorry,” Carlos said, looking guilty. The water on the stove was boiling, bubbles becoming more aggressive.

“I don’t want him in jail, but I want him away from me,” T.K. replied. “I can’t let him back into my life.” I can’t deal with him and staying sober. I’ll lose my mind if he tries to pry his way back into my life.

“I won’t let him get near you,” Carlos promised, and T.K. knew that for all Carlos meant his words that his dad wasn’t the type of guy who respected boundaries. If his dad wanted to get to T.K., he probably would. T.K. didn’t think the old drunkard cared enough to go out of his way, though. He was hoping desperately that that’s the case. Sam had told T.K. that he wasn’t worth the time hundreds of times, and T.K. didn’t want to be worth the time.

Carlos poured the macaroni into the pot, and the water foamed before settling.

“I’m not a helpless little kid anymore,” T.K.’s voice trembled. He was not one, but the helpless little kid lived inside him, scared and hoping that someone would care enough to let him out of the dark room he’d been shoved into. “I don’t know why he still gets to me.”

“It’s normal to hold onto things. I’m still mad at Willie Johnson for throwing a rock at my head in first grade.”

“Willie Johnson is has always been a jerk. I’d be mad too.”

“Yeah, but if I can hold on to that memory, it’s normal that you’d still feel hurt over the things your dad did, which were a hell of a lot worse than a rock to the head in first grade.”

“Dad wasn’t that bad.” You’ve always been sensitive. He only hurt you because you were too sensitive.

“I won’t spare any kind words for that man.”

“He’s still my dad.”

Carlos bit his lip as he put the milk, salt, pepper, cornstarch, and ground mustard into the roux pot and brought that mix to a boil. He got out the block of sharp white cheddar and shred it, taking his frustrations out on the cheese.

“What are you not telling me?”

Carlos put the cheese down. “I think you should get a restraining order.”

“That’s a little much, don’t you think?”

“What if he finds us here?” Carlos asked. “I don’t trust that he won’t track us down.”

“What’s he going to do? He’s got a lot of bark but not a lot of bite.” T.K. shook his head. “A restraining order won’t keep him away. If he wants to find us, he will, regardless of what the law says. He might break the order just to spite the law.”

“He’s dangerous,” Carlos said, voice going shrill. “We nearly had to cancel our wedding because you were so terrified to see him when he showed up unannounced.”

“He doesn’t scare me,” T.K. insisted. “He’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle him, and I don’t want to handle him if I don’t have to.”

“He wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I’m not worried about me.”

“You don’t have to worry.”

“It’s my thing to worry. You know that.”

“Let’s talk about how you are,” T.K. diverted the conversation. “How was work? I hope it wasn’t too bad.” Carlos had had a hard week the week before. A child in one family he worked with had died tragically, and it had been no one’s fault, but it had left Carlos feeling guilty that he hadn’t done more.

“It was okay,” Carlos replied with a sigh. “Better than last week.”

“That’s good.” T.K. pressed his lips against Carlos’ neck. He caught a whiff of Carlos’ cologne, and it reminded him of a smell he used to know, but he hadn’t been able to figure out what it was. He just knew it made him feel calm.

“As much as I love having you kiss me. I’m trying to make dinner,” Carlos said with a laugh, swatting T.K. away with a dish towel.

“Fine. Have it your way,” T.K. pulled away slowly, already missing the closeness. “That’s the last time I try to make you feel better after a hard day.”

“Being with you always makes me feel better,” Carlos replied in a tone that was so earnest that T.K. could hardly believe that Carlos was his husband. “I’m feeling less stressed already.”

“You should have asked me to go to the store. It’s not like I had anything to do.”

Carlos shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, but you’re so busy, and I’m just sitting around being useless.”

“You’re not useless.” They’d had a fight about this several times since the explosion. You do nothing to help this household. It makes no sense that Carlos has been so patient and sticks around.

“You have to say that. You married me, but what do I do? I’m not making any money. I can’t cook. I can barely even leave the house. The only thing I do is my job.”

“That’s a bunch of bullshit, T.K. You’ll be back in action soon. You’re recovering. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Work will probably be bad too. Did you hear that they’re bringing in some guy from New York to run the new 126? That’s what Judd told me.”

“Oh? How’s Judd doing.”

“Pissed that they’re bringing some stranger in to be our captain.”

“Are you pissed?”

“Obviously. It’s a slap in the face. That’s what it is. That man is going to ruin everything. He doesn’t get how it is here in Texas. Austin is progressive, but we’re still in Texas. I give it three weeks before he realizes that he’s not cut out to work here.” T.K. hadn’t been born in Texas, but it is the only home he could remember, and he didn’t like the idea of an outsider coming in and flipping everything on its head. They’d had enough changes.

Carlos shrugged. “Maybe he’ll be nice.”

T.K. shot him an “Are you serious?” look. “He’s probably going to think he’s the best thing since sliced bread, and I don’t want to work for a guy who has attitude.”

“You have attitude,” Carlos replied with a laugh, bumping T.K. playfully with his hip. He poured the macaroni and cheese mix into a casserole dish before adding bread crumbs and putting it all in the oven.

T.K. crossed his arms, looking petulant. “Well, I’m not in charge, am I? My attitude won’t get anyone killed. That job should go to Judd. He’s an actual leader. Not some city guy who got his position by charming the pants off his superiors. Like, come on, New York? Why would a New Yorker want to come here? Judd knows what it’s like here.” T.K. didn’t see any reasons why Judd shouldn’t get the promotion that he was next in line for.

“Do you think Judd would even want it? Grace tells me he’s been having a tough time with everything. Being captain is a lot of pressure.”

“Our team died. Of course, he’s having a hard time, but he’s fine now. He told me so. He’s ready to get back to work, and I’m going to be right beside him. I’m just glad we’ll have each other.”

“He’s struggling more than he lets on. Grace doesn’t think he’s ready to go back”

T.K. raised his eyebrows. “Grace said that?”

“He won’t do his required therapy.”

“They won’t let him back until he does. It sucks, but all you have to do is tell ‘em what they want to hear and then you’re done.”

“That better not be the attitude you use when you go to therapy.”

Carlos was careful with what he said next. “Do you think you’re ready to go back?”

T.K. felt a sudden rush of guilt. “Babe, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” Carlos looked nervous.

“I’m going back tomorrow,” T.K. confessed.

“What the hell, T.K.?” Carlos asked. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” T.K. had been trying to tell Carlos for a week, but he knew Carlos would think that it was too soon, so he’d delayed it until he could delay it no more. He’d never meant for it to become such a big secret, but like any secret, it had a life of its own.

“It was short notice, but I’ve been doing my therapy, so the captain agreed we could try to see what happens.”

“You nearly died twice.”

“The overdose was a lapse in judgement and the explosion was a freak accident. Neither will happen again.” You know it’s only a matter of time before you fall off the wagon. I wouldn’t do that to Carlos. You can’t help yourself.

“Judd won’t be your boss. The new guy is, so you’ll have to listen to him. Are you ready for that?”

“He saved my life, so I’m going to be loyal to him above all others, and the new captain better learn to deal with that.” Judd had shielded T.K. with his own body, protecting him from the worst of the explosion. T.K. owed Judd his life, and he was going to be bitter on his friend’s behalf about this new guy rolling in and stealing what was rightfully Judd’s.

“If you need more time off, we can make it work. You don’t have to go back right now.”

“We can’t make it work. You don’t exactly get paid a lot, and I can’t just sit at home all day.”

“Whatever you need, we can make it work.”

“I need to get back to work, Carlos.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to go back before you’re ready.” T.K. could hear the anxiety in Carlos’ voice, and he knew that Carlos had nightmares about T.K. dying in the explosion.

“I need to get back to living a real life, not just my sad, pathetic existence.”

“If you say you’re ready, I’ll support you.” Carlos swallowed. “But I won’t deny that I’m nervous about you going back.”

T.K. took Carlos’ hand, pulling Carlos closer. “I’m ready. I promise. I was born to do this, and I won’t let shit that’s happened in the past stand in my way. I feel purposeless, and I need to get that purpose back.”

“Will you keep going to therapy?”

“If that makes you feel better.”

“I want it to make you feel better.”

T.K. leaned up to kiss Carlos. “That’s why I married you. You always want me to be better. You make me better”

“I thought it was because I could cook?”

T.K. kissed him again. “That was just a perk.”

“Are you nervous?” Carlos asked.

“You know me. I jump into things and don’t look back.” T.K. shook his head. “No, I’m not nervous.”

Walking into the firehouse the next morning felt strange after months away. T.K. hadn’t been there since the memorial service for the lost members. T.K. felt like Dorothy walking into Oz as he stared at the firehouse’s facelift, but instead of awe, dread was the only emotion that T.K. could make out.

The fire station felt like a hotel that he was passing through more than a second home where he’d be spending huge chunks of his time. He couldn’t deny that the arrangement was impressive, but the transformation only made him bitter. Lives couldn’t be covered up with a fresh coat of paint.

Before he could even get his bearings, the Owen Strand pulled him into his office, offering a hand and a too chipper grin. Reluctantly, T.K. shook his new captain’s hand. He hadn’t been raised with many manners, but he wasn’t an idiot either. He knew to play nice with his boss. “Owen Strand,” Owen introduced himself. “Please, have a seat.”

T.K. sat in a chair that looked too nice to be comfortable. He didn’t want to have whatever conversation Owen wanted to have. It wasn’t like T.K. has done anything yet. He hadn’t had the chance to let his impulses get him in trouble with this stupid New Yorker who was probably going to be the downfall of the entire station. Because based on the aesthetic of the firehouse, T.K. had to wonder if Owen was a leader who probably cared more about appearances and firehouse statistics more than he cared about the work itself.

They wouldn’t even start taking calls for another week because Owen thought it was important that they had team bonding and the kind of crap that T.K. thought was a waste of energy. They’d be doing training sessions, which were better than the getting to know each other games that were also on the agenda. Endurance exercises would keep his mind off everything else, but the trust exercises made him want to scream.

The captain was looking at him with an unreadable expression, and it was too early for a stare-off, so the way the captain was looking at him only made T.K. angrier because he’s too tired for games. T.K. hated men like that who looked at you like they could break you down by looking at you long enough. “Good morning, T.K.” Owen’s voice was bubbly, as if the firehouse wasn’t still haunted by all the people it has lost. T.K.’s was not sure that he’d ever be able to smile like that without guilt. It’s not like his life gave him a lot to smile about, anyway.

T.K. crossed his arms and uncrossed them because he didn’t want to look like a petulant kid. “What am I here for?” T.K. asked, not wanting to extend any pleasantries. He wasn’t there to make nice. He was there to do his job, and that’s exactly what he was going to do. I’ll show him I’m okay, but I don’t have to pretend I like him. He didn’t want to make friends or talk to his boss about things that didn’t matter. Owen Strand wanted to be Mr. Popular, and T.K. would not let him have that title easily. T.K. couldn’t be bribed with gourmet coffee makers and a variety of milks.

Owen has the gall to crack another smile. T.K. doesn’t return one. He can’t. He won’t. “I thought I should inform you that Judd won’t be coming back yet.” He hadn’t talked to Judd, but he’d figured that part out based on the conversation he’d had with Carlos the night before.

“Yeah, I know.” T.K. kept his voice stoic. “And I probably would’ve noticed that when I didn’t see him here.”

“I thought you should know that my decision not to bring Judd back right now doesn’t mean he’ll never be back.”

“Great, thanks for letting me know. Can I go now?”

“But that’s not why I called you in here. It’s not the only reason, at least.”

“Then what is? I’m not in the mood for small talk.”

“I want Judd to take care of his mental health. That was the major reason I would not let him back. He wasn’t taking his trauma seriously.” T.K. wanted to tell Owen off.

“It’s hard not to take trauma seriously. It’s always serious. That’s what makes it trauma.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. All I mean is that he needs more time to get his head back to where it needs to be.”

“You think I’m better than he is?” T.K. wasn’t sure he was much better than Judd. Maybe he was better at hiding the haunted look in his eyes. He’d been doing it his whole life. I know how to seem okay. It’s one of my greatest talents.

“You’ve been doing what the department requires, and that’s why I let you come back.” Owen kept his tone cool. “I’m not trying to be the bad guy here, T.K.”

“Yeah? And?” He still doesn’t know why Owen is wasting his time with this. “I still don’t get why you called me in here.”

“Being here doesn’t mean that I’m going to ignore well-being. I need you to take your mental health seriously too. You’ve done your required therapy, but I need you to keep taking care of that. If you have issues, you need to be upfront about them or else this won’t work. I need to know that I can trust you.” What about me trusting you? How am I supposed to do that?

T.K. rolled his eyes. “What my personal life is like isn’t your business. Everyone’s got baggage, and it’s not your business how I deal with it.”

“It is if it impedes what we’re doing here. I believe we all need to be on the same page. Are you willing to be a team player?”

“I would never let my issues get in the way with my job.”

“I know you wouldn’t intentionally, but—"

“But nothing. I’m fine, and this isn’t something I want to talk about with someone I’ve just met. What happened was awful, but I’m ready to move on because it doesn’t help anyone to live in the past.”

“T.K., you’re young and you’re resilient, but trauma is still trauma. I’ve been through it myself. I know what it’s like to lose your whole crew.” He pauses, looking choked up. “I know what it’s like to lose everything important to you.”

“Then, you know that sometimes you don’t want to be coddled. You just want to move on.”

“I also know that sometimes no matter how hard you try, you can’t move. I don’t want you to be stuck.”

“I’m nothing like you,” T.K. spat. “And the problems that you think I have are just you problems.”

Owen didn’t let T.K.’s comment rile him up. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m here if you need to talk. I’m here for anyone on my team.”

“I won’t, and if I do, it won’t be to you because I don’t trust you. You just rolled into Austin like you owned the place. It doesn’t make sense that you’d want to come to Austin, of all places. This would be a downgrade to a New Yorker, so unless you were on the verge of being fired, I can’t see why you’d take this job other than having a hero complex.” T.K. absolutely shouldn’t talk to his new boss that way, but he’d never been good at keeping his mouth shut.

“I appreciate your honesty, so I’m going to be honest with you. I’m not here because I want to be a hero. I’m here because I needed a fresh start. New York has a lot of hard memories for me. I was holding onto a lot of things that I needed to let go of, so when the opportunity arose, I made the most drastic change that I’ve ever faced. This new station can be a fresh start for you too. And Judd.”

T.K. remained testy. “I didn’t ask for your sob story.” He was being an asshole because that how he gets whenever he has any negative feelings. Like father like son, I guess.

Owen gave T.K. a sympathetic smile. “Trust me. I didn’t give it,” and T.K. knew that there was something to unpack there, but someone else’s trauma wasn’t something he has any business digging into. Besides, he really didn’t care to know anything more about Owen Strand than he already did.

By the end of the shift, all T.K. could think about was how big of an asshole Owen Strand was. Owen was the type of guy who everyone thought was so amazing. He grinned, and he cracked jokes with the crew. He wasn’t afraid to dive into a dangerous situation, and he had all the makings of a ruggedly handsome fifty-something hero. For all the things that outwardly seemed cool about Owen Strand, he was grandiose, and T.K. recognized the carefully practiced smile of someone who had a dark history that hadn’t yet found its way to a light present.

Trying not to think of his captain, T.K. got in his car, and he could hardly believe how much he wanted to go home after being so insistent about needing to get out of the house. He went ten miles per hour over the speed limit and rushed in through the door with fresh rage he could never seem to shake. Carlos looked up as he threw his keys onto their hook and missed the hook, letting the keys hit the floor. He groaned and didn’t pick them up.

“Hey,” Carlos said, voice cautious. “How was today?” T.K. didn’t want to talk about it, but he also had no ability to keep his mouth shut.

T.K. throws his hands up, gesticulating wildly. “He wants to change the entire station with his espresso machine and new age crap like that would make things any better. He thinks Judd isn’t ready to come back. How crazy is that? Judd lives to be a firefighter.”

“What about you?” Carlos asked.

“What about me?” T.K. blared. He clenched his fists, already losing it when the conversation has barely started.

“Does he think you’re ready to come back?”

“He looked skeptical, but he didn’t say I wasn’t. He let me stay for the shift, but all we did was fucking bonding exercises. But it helped that I’d actually gone to my therapy. I didn’t tell him that my social worker boyfriend pushed me into it.” T.K. crossed his arms. “What does he know anyway? This guy thinks that he’s an expert on mental health. Like, you can’t tell just by looking at a person how well they are is doing. He told me that he still had concerns about me, but with Judd, he just flat out said that he wasn’t ready. How unfair is that? Judd’s been there since he got out of high school. It’s not like he’s forgotten how to fight fires. Most of the time we’re just doing medical calls and crowd control.”

“Maybe he’s right.” T.K. looked at Carlos like he was a traitor.

“Whose side are you on?” T.K. felt like a raw nerve. He’d felt like one since he was a child, and now, he kept blowing up at the people he loved the most, and ever since the explosion, he’d been worse. He dreaded opening his mouth because he didn’t know when something red hot would spew out before he could stop it.

“Yours. I’m always on yours, but what you went through was traumatic, and—”

“And nothing! You don’t get to define my trauma by telling me how I should feel or that I’m not ready to go back to work. I’m ready! I’m tired of sitting at home like an invalid. You don’t get how crazy I’ve been going here.” The comfort of being home was short-lived, apparently.

“I know that it’s been hard.”

“It’s been the worst time of my life, and you know what my childhood was like.”

“Maybe the captain won’t be as bad as you think.”

“Maybe he’ll be worse. What does a city slicker know about running a fire department in Texas? He’s going to ruin everything we built. The station looks like it’s from an architecture catalog, but that won’t do much when he lets the station go to hell with poor management.”

“One man can’t destroy the whole firehouse all on his own.”

“He’s hired outsiders. He searched across the country. What’s the matter with people we have here?”

“You don’t like your coworkers.”

“They’re fine, but that’s not the point. They don’t get what it’s like here either. These people don’t feel like family.”

“It takes time to get to know people. Isn’t it better that he’s looking for completely fresh faces instead of trying to replace the old ones?”

“No. Owen Strand has only just started, and he’s already making a mess of things.”

“He’ll adapt, and he’ll have you to help him.” At least T.K. still had a job to show up to. Judd’s prospects were a lot less settled. Owen Strand didn’t seem to change his mind easily.

“I have a policy about not doing favors for bastards.” T.K. said, plopping his body on the couch next to Carlos.

“You wouldn’t be doing a favor for a bastard. You’d be doing a favor for the people of this city. Even if this new guy doesn’t need it, they need your help.” T.K. wasn’t going to let people down no matter how awful he felt about the whole situation. He was the best person for the job, which was why he was going to have to play nice and vent his frustrations when he came home from work at night.

“I know, but it’s still going to suck. I’m too hot-blooded for this. God, I’m just like my dad.” Carlos pulls T.K.’s body away from his so that they can look at each other eye to eye.

“You’re nothing like him. You can get passionate, but you don’t hurt innocent people when you get mad, and you care about people other than yourself. I wouldn’t have married you if you were like him.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure my mom didn’t intend on getting stuck with an abusive deadbeat either. It’s no wonder she... left me.” T.K. wondered how much he was like his mother. If he married to a man like Sam Avery, he figured he would have given up on life as well.

Carlos kissed T.K.’s temple. “You’re the best husband. I’m lucky to have you.”

T.K. leaned his head against Carlos’ chest. “I’m even luckier to have you. You put up with my craziness.”

Carlos smiled. “For now, and forever.”

“Life’s never going to be the same, is it?” T.K. couldn’t help but ask.

Carlos holds T.K. closer. “No, I don’t think that it is, but it could be good in its own way.”

“We’ll see about that, but I can’t shake the feeling that everything’s going to go up in flame.” In T.K.’s experience, never good lasted when the bad was so insistent on taking the joy.

One Monday later, Judd was finally allowed back after Grace had convinced the captain to let Judd came back, meaning that T.K. would have at least one ally at work. That knowledge did little to sweeten T.K.’s sour mood. T.K. had just had the weekend off, so going back to work for another week with Captain Thinks He’s Cool But Is Actually an Asshole was not T.K.’s idea of a good time.

Usually, he liked his job. He enjoyed helping people, and every time he saved someone else, T.K. felt like he was rescuing himself from parts of himself that he didn’t like to consider—his impulsiveness, his addictiveness, his restlessness. But with all the changes, T.K. felt little when he worked. There was a hollowness in his core that T.K. couldn’t fill as effortlessly as he once could. Work didn’t make him feel in control anymore. It made him worry that he was seconds away from a spiral because firefighting was once solid ground, but it had become a collapsed building, full of accidents waiting to happen.

The day was off to a bad start. A house fire left T.K. in a bad mood, but he didn’t think about that. Reminding himself of the details would only cause his brain to spiral, and he had a shift to finish. You need to stop being so crazy and get your act together. If you don’t get it together, you’re going to make a fatal mistake. T.K. wasn’t sure his job would ever be the same. What if I can never do my job normally again. What if I’m broken?

I should be dead, was the mantra repeating in his mind. It had been there for longer than he would have admitted. There was no reason why he had lived while his family had died in that catastrophic explosion. Every single person in that crew had been better than T.K. a million times over. T.K. was lucky to have known them all, and their acceptance of him had proven that life is happier when the best part of it was the people who surround you. They brought out the best in him, and then, they were gone. Now, T.K. was left with Carlos, Judd, and a mountain of issues that he had to battle. He couldn’t talk about those issues, though. Not if he wanted to keep himself marginally levelheaded.

“You’re spacey today,” T.K. heard, and he felt himself jolt at the interruption. Paul was right next to him with that look on his face. The one that T.K. was being analyzed in ways that made him want to dig a hole and hide for a few months until things had steadied and he didn’t feel dizzy all the time. T.K. tried to keep his distance from Paul because it was hard to hide from someone who was hyper-observant. T.K. knew a thing or two about hiding. He’d hidden his sexuality, he’d hidden all the shit that happened with his father, and he’d hidden how untethered he always was, even before the accident. He took comfort in all the things he never showed anyone. Even Carlos only knew a sanitized version of what went on in T.K.’s head, and life was less chaotic that way. It kept things compartmentalized.

“I’m just here to do my job.” But he wasn’t even good at that anymore. All the calls that could have gone wrong did, but blocked those thoughts from his mind. He’d been on the verge of a mental breakdown for a while, and he tiptoed the edge between being okay and not being okay carefully. As long as he could act okay externally, he could deal with the messy internal thoughts. No one could know that he was struggling. If they did, they’d think it was too early for him to be back at work, and that wasn’t the case at all. Work wasn’t the problem. It was everything else in his life that was falling apart. Work was the glue that was keeping him together. But it’s getting harder to pretend I’m okay. I’m tired, too tired for the façade.

T.K. wasn’t sure why Paul had come to bother him at all. Maybe he’d drawn the short straw. The new team should’ve known better than to approach T.K. when he was in a mood. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t going to be social with anyone at the 126 other than Judd. T.K. wasn’t planning on making friends, and he certainly didn’t want any concern from people he saw as nothing more than interlopers.

“I’m here to talk if you need it, man.” The consideration almost made T.K. soften. Because I’m weak. Damn Paul for being a good guy. T.K. had to remind himself not to let his guard down just because someone was nice to him. Maybe several years ago, he would have been pathetic enough to try to be friends with anyone who paid attention to him, but he was past being desperate for love. Love always seemed to turn up tragic, anyway, so he’d clutch onto the love he already had without making any more. Whoever said the more, the merrier didn’t know the joy of being alone.

“I have a husband for talking to,” And I haven’t felt like talking to him either. Or my therapist.

Paul’s face remained neutral. “A husband, huh? I think that’s the first personal thing you’ve said. What’s his name?”

T.K. resisted rolling his eyes. He couldn’t help the clipped tone that came out, “Don’t get used to information. His name is Carlos. That’s all you’re going to get.” I’m such an asshole. He hated how he couldn’t seem to stop himself from being a jerk. He’d been an asshole to Carlos when they first met as well. He’d said, “Go look somewhere else if you’re looking to use your hero complex,” when Carlos had bandaged T.K. after T.K. fought with his dad. T.K. still wasn’t sure how Carlos had gotten past that moment, that broken and pathetic moment.

Paul shrugged, saying, “Okay. That’s fine. I’m not trying to push anything,” and the response made T.K.’s blood boil with something he couldn’t identify—anger, anxiety, maybe fear. He expected more of a reaction when he was an asshole, and it made butterflies flutter in his stomach when people’s reactions were different than he anticipated. No, it was more like bulls stampeding in his stomach, running with heaviness and power. “But that was a bad call with the little girl, so if you need to talk to someone who gets it, any of us are willing. It doesn’t have to be me.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to tell me off for being an asshole.” Childish defiance was brewing in T.K., and the more he wanted to make Paul’s expression change. “You obviously aren’t as observant as you claim to be because you haven’t noticed that I don’t plan to play nice with any of you. You’re only here because good men died. You’ve got awfully big shoes to fill, and you’re never going to fill them.”

Paul’s voice still didn’t raise. He pointed to his boots, “Luckily, I came with my own shoes, and I’ve filled them for a long time.” He stood from the bench and gave T.K. a pitiful look. “I get that you lost a lot, and no one is going to replace your old crew, but like it or not, you’ve gained a motley crew of people who don’t want the world to hurt other people like it hurt us. You don’t have to talk to us. You don’t even have to like us, but we’re here, so you might as well make the best of us.”

The anger dissipated from T.K.’s body. “I think I just need a few moments alone.”

Paul gave a small smile, “Take as many or as few as you need,” and with a nod, he was gone.

For all he wanted it to, the day didn’t end there. T.K. just wanted to go home, bury himself under his covers, and sleep, but he had thirteen hours left on his shift, and he’d have to suck up his bad feelings and try to get through.

Just two hours later, Marjan was the second member of the crew to corner T.K. When he saw her come up to him with an expression that screamed, “We’re having a serious talk,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and suppressed a groan. He liked Marjan. She was a badass with a quick wit and a heart of gold. What wasn’t to like? But while she didn’t have Paul’s extreme observational skills, she had a way of cajoling information out of people that almost made talking to her more dangerous.

“We’re going out to a honkytonk tomorrow night. You should come.”

T.K. brushed her off, “I’m kind of busy.”

“You’re busy a lot.”

T.K. tried to make a joke, “I get booked up months in advance.”

“Well, maybe you could squeeze us in some time.”

“Yeah, maybe so,” T.K. said, but he wasn’t going to make any promises. The exchange was short, and for the most part painless.”

It wasn’t even one hour later when T.K. was bombarded yet again. He looked at Mateo with an exasperated expression, “What is this? A let’s talk to T.K. revolving door?”

Mateo looked confused, “What?”

“Never mind,” T.K. shook his head.

Mateo was the member of the 126 who people too often underestimated. They looked at him and assumed that he was stupid or naïve and wouldn’t know anything. He was quiet, and there was a lot that he didn’t understand, but his ignorance had nothing to do with his intelligence or will. He just didn’t have the experience level that the rest of the crew had, but he was good with the details. He left nothing to chance, and he was the least likely of all them to cut corners. He was thorough with his relationships too, and he was so naturally caring that it was hard to turn him away and not give him something. His trustworthiness and his genuine concern made it hard for T.K.’s barriers not to melt just a little bit, but I have to be strong.

Mateo was brief with his speech, “We’re all just here to help each other out, and we need each other now more than ever.”

“I need my old crew more than ever,” T.K. said, meaning to sound stubborn, but it came off as desperate and too honest.

“We’re more than replacements. We can be friends.”

“You’ll be waiting a while if you want friendship.”

Mateo shrugged. “I’m good at waiting. Do you know how long it took me just to be a probie?” T.K. hadn’t paid attention enough to know the answer, but he did remember a lot of fretting about Mateo’s firefighter’s test a while back. “I don’t care about having to do so much grunt work, either. I’m just glad to be here.” The question is, Am I glad to be here too?

T.K. felt a rush of relief fill him when Mateo didn’t make him say anything more, but T.K.’s mind wouldn’t leave him alone.

The final few hours of his shift dragged. They ate dinner together, but T.K. wasn’t hungry. He pushed his food around as he thought of the little girl, and couldn’t shake the sickness in his stomach. He wanted to escape. He wanted a drug. He wanted a hug from Carlos. He couldn’t take it anymore. His mind was reeling with the defeat of the day. Excusing himself, he snuck to the bathroom just to escape being near other people.

He splashed water on his face, trying to wash the bad of the day from his face, but it didn’t budge. He heard a voice and spun around, feeling his heart beat faster. It was just Owen. T.K. felt the fear diminish but the residual panic was still in his body.

“Sorry about that,” Owen said. Turning the tap on and waving his toothbrush. “I need a quick refresh.”

“It’s fine,” T.K. replied half-heartedly, not wanting to look as distraught as he felt while also not wanting to invite a conversation. T.K. dried his face off and tried to make himself presentable before he’d have to go back and face the rest of his shift.

Before he could slip away, Owen stopped him. “T.K., hold on,” Owen said as he spat the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed his mouth.

Owen Strand was the member of the 126 that T.K. knew better than he wanted to know him. He talked a lot, and he pretty quickly revealed heaps of information, but T.K. knew that for as open as he appeared to be, he had secrets that he was guarding. He was choosy about what he revealed, but because he revealed a significant amount of stuff that didn’t really matter, he seemed open. T.K. recognized that in him because T.K. was exactly the same way. He made people feel like he was giving information away to distract from the secrets he kept. Though, he hadn’t even been doing that lately. He didn’t have the energy to spin a narrative just to keep people off his trail. There was so much else he had to handle, and the new 126 didn’t seem worth the effort of either divulging information or actively hiding information.

Owen picked up a comb and started fixing his hair. Of course, Owen of all people would have a post-meal beauty routine. “It’s been a hard day. Self-care is most important on hard days.” He handed T.K. some lotion. “Try this. It has chamomile. It’s supposed to be soothing.”

“No thanks,” T.K. said.

“Suit yourself,” Owen said, putting the comb down and using the lotion for himself. “Our job certainly doesn’t promote good skincare.”

T.K. didn’t even know what to say to that. “I guess not. Can I go or did you want to say something?” “I wanted to check-in.”

For all he tried to be civil, T.K. couldn’t stifle his groan. “You don’t have to keep asking me how I am.”

“It’s not just you that I worry about. I check in with the others too. You’re just more elusive than them.”

“You can’t tell me I’m more elusive than Judd.”

Owen grinned. “Hard to believe, I know.”

T.K. eyed Owen as he picked up cologne and dabbed it on his wrists and onto his neck. “It’s the little things that get you through the day. I know it seems silly, but I like smelling like myself,” Owen explained. He was one of those people who liked to hear his own voice. “A good scent can remind you that there’s something beyond the smoke.”

T.K. knew the smell right away. “That’s Black Valley by Oscar Simmons, isn’t it?” Even assholes can have good taste in cologne.

Owen raised his eyebrows. “You know it?”

“My husband wears it.”

“He must be a dapper man.” Owen looked impressed. “It’s an old scent for someone so young to wear.”

“Carlos says it’s a classic. I think he likes it because his dad passed it down to him. He’s always thought his dad was super cool.”

A flash of something dark flickered through Owen’s eyes. “That’s nice. Tradition is important. I’ve been wearing this scent for nearly thirty years. It’s been through a lot with me.”

“It’s been around that long?”

“I still have trouble believing that I’ve been around that long,” Owen said with a chuckle.

“I’m getting pretty close to thirty-years myself.” He still had four years before then, but he was closer to thirty than twenty. He felt ancient. The past few months had felt like years.

“Enjoy the time before your body starts getting creaky.”

T.K. cracked his knuckles. “It’s already there.” He sighed. “But at least I get to grow older. That little girl—” he caught himself before he said more.

“It’s hard to see kids die,” Owen commented somberly. “How are you doing with that?”

T.K. forced a smile, the normal almost friendly moment dissipating as tenseness settled between them. “I’m doing okay.” Owen was the captain, so if there was anyone that T.K. had to fool, it was him.

“It’s been a long shift. A child died, and that’s always hard. No amount of experience makes that easier.”

“No, but I’m not cracking up over it.” He sighed. “It’s just hard.”

“I know, but you don’t have to shut down your emotions. I don’t want robots as employees, so I won’t penalize you for having them. It’s good to process those things.”

“We still have time on the clock, so I’ve got to keep my focus.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Owen insisted.

“I didn’t say it was,” T.K. bit out. But it is, isn’t it?

“There was nothing you could have done.”

“Yeah, I know that,” T.K.’s voice was firmer now, but he couldn’t help the way it wavered at the end. “But I saved the villain.”

“You did your job.” Owen opened his mouth to say something else, but the alarm lit up, and a siren wailed through the firehouse.

“We’ll have to talk later,” T.K. told the captain, hurrying out of the captain’s office to get ready. He had no intention of talking. It’s best that way. Talking never leads to anything good coming out of my mouth.

It was nearly time to go home, and there was only one person who hadn’t yet had a heart to heart with T.K. As the only member of the crew to have a genuine relationship with T.K., Judd’s concern meant the most, but they’d never been the type of friends to have emotional conversations. They were brothers and would do anything for one another—Judd’s family often hosted T.K. for holidays, which they’d split with Carlos’ family—but they didn’t need heart to hearts to be close.

T.K. thought he was going to escape without a conversation with Judd until he saw Judd waiting by T.K.’s car.

“You have to let them in eventually,” Judd told him. T.K. had to admit that Judd was a changed person since he had started to go to therapy. Maybe that’s why he seemed so into having real conversations now instead of just talking about sports and married life.

“I don’t have to do anything,” T.K. insisted, and he sounded so much like a little brother.

“Kid,” Judd always called him kid when he was going into big brother mode, “They want to know you, and crews always work better when they trust one another.”

“I’ve given them no reason not to trust me. Just because I don’t share—”

“T.K., you’re not trusting them.”

“I trust them to do the job.”

“You won’t even tell them your favorite color.”

“I don’t have a favorite color.”

Judd sighed. “I’m not asking you to tell them every little detail about yourself, but if you want this to work, you have to give ‘em something.”

“Judd, I have to go.” T.K. looked at his watch, “Carlos is waiting for me, and I don’t want to be here longer than I have to.”

“Talk to him about what happened today. With everything with your dad—”

“He’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Are you sure about that? Carlos told me he was back in town.” Judd shook his head. “Which you should have told me.”

“I should have known Carlos wouldn’t keep that a secret.”

“He’s worried. I am too.”

“Please, Judd. I want to go home.”

“Fine.” Judd sighed. “Just don’t be a stranger. Dad misses you at family dinners.”

“I’m doing my best, Judd. You of all people know it’s a lot to deal with it all.”

“I know. I’m still strugglin’. trust me the nightmares keep on coming, but I’m taking little steps forward, and I’m learning not to let bad days get me down so much. Our new crew is a good bunch of people, so I don’t want your fears to get in the way of you adding some new people to your life.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Judd patted him on the shoulder, “Well, whatever you are ain’t making you happy,” and wasn’t that the truth. I’m not sure happiness is in the cards for me.

When T.K. finally got home, the last thing he wanted to do was talk more, so he slid into his house and went directly to bed without saying more than a few words to Carlos. He tried not to let thoughts about the dead little girl infiltrate his mind, but he had nightmares of her burning in the fire. When T.K. woke up, Carlos was already at work, and T.K. knew he’d have to endure the day alone. He didn’t mind moping on his own, but he knew it was a bad day to have excess time. If things were normal, he would have bothered one of the crew to hang out with him, but his crew was dead, and it wasn’t a good time to burden Judd. Grace would understand, but like Judd, she already had enough to deal with.

He could have always called Carlos, who would’ve dropped everything to talk to T.K., but Carlos had already missed enough work, and he deserved some time away from the chaos that T.K. had dragged him into.

With Carlos gone for most of the day, T.K. tried and let himself recover, by the third hour of watching a soap opera that he didn’t understand, T.K. was at the end of his rope.

When Carlos did come home, T.K. wasn’t in a talking mood, but silence didn’t pair well with dinner. He knew it would help, but he didn’t want another night of trauma talk. For once, he just wanted to pretend that they were a normal couple who worried about normal things like what they were having for dinner or whether to paint the living room tea leaf or sea glass. T.K. tried to find something to say, but he couldn’t think of anything normal, so he just stayed quiet and asked Carlos what he had done at work.

Carlos talked about his day, but after T.K. asked him about what he did during his day for the fourth time, Carlos had enough. “You have to talk about it eventually.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Something’s bothering you.”

“I’m just tired.”

“Conversations are always pulling teeth with you.”

“Could you stop? I’ve had a long day.” He wanted to eat their meal without the rattling in his brain. For a while, he wanted to ignore all that was wrong with his life.

“You were off today.” And agonized by all my free time.

“The days blur together, I guess,” which was true. With odd shift schedules, T.K. sometimes lost track of what day it was or when the old day had turned over to a new one.

“You haven’t been talking to me since you got back to work.”

“I talk to you every day, Carlos.” T.K. wouldn’t be able to stop talking to Carlos, even if he tried. He’d lose his mind after the third day of silence. For as closed off as he was, T.K. couldn’t stand silence with anyone for long, and he’d lose his head when he thought people were giving him the silent treatment. If no one was talking, T.K. usually babbled just to fill the space. He didn’t have to do that as much with Carlos, though, or anyone he trusted. T.K. knew that Carlos would never use the silence as a weapon.

“Not about how you’re doing.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine. I’m back at work and feeling better than ever.”

“You don’t just go from wanting to kill yourself to being fine.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself. It was just a normal ‘I’m a fuck up who accidentally overdosed on a shit ton of oxy that didn’t even make me feel better.’” You’re a liar.

Carlos didn’t look convinced. “It doesn’t really matter what exactly happened that night. Whatever happened, you weren’t okay, and all that matters now is that it happened, and you need to address it. I want to know that you’ve been dealing with whatever you’re feeling in the right ways because going backward isn’t a choice.”

“I’m dealing as well as I can be.” He wasn’t telling the truth. He could have committed to his therapeutic process. He could have admitted that he had wanted to die when he took those pills. He could have told Carlos that despite all his bravado that he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be back at work and that he wasn’t even sure that firefighting was what he wanted anymore. He could have admitted that more than just work was getting to him. But he wasn’t going to do any of that because it was easier for everyone if he dealt with his shit alone.

“Keeping to yourself isn’t dealing. It’s ignoring the problem.”

“I’m trying to spare you the angst.”

“No, you’re trying to spare yourself from dealing with your problems.”

“Why does everyone want to talk? Why can’t any of you let things go back to normal? We pretended I was fine before. Can’t we do that again?”

“That’s kind of the problem. The normal you want to go back to doesn’t exist, and the sooner you realize that the more stable your life will become.”

“I’m not going to do anything crazy.”

“Maybe not, but you’ve been more on edge lately, and I’m not sure if it’s because you’re back at work or because I told you that your dad was back.”

“I don’t care about my dad,” T.K. refuted too quickly.

“Fine, then this is about something else.”

Carlos wasn’t going to drop this, and T.K. couldn’t help the anxiety that blossomed in his chest or the rage that it turned into. “Why are you always such a busy body? You can’t leave me to have peace for five goddamn seconds?” He regretted yelling immediately, but with all the shame he felt for yelling, he became angrier, and he needed to be louder, or else he’d be consumed by whatever happened next. He needed to keep fighting or he’d go down. “You’re supposed to support me, not try to leech information from me just to be entertained by the fucking drama in my life.” He sounded paranoid and insecure, but when he was in a mood, he always spoke to keep control of the situation and make sure his voice didn’t fade.

“I know what you’re doing.”

The anxiety was bubbling more, and he wasn’t sure what to do to stop it. He didn’t even know why it was there but yelling temporarily dulled it. “I’m yelling at you like an asshole, that’s what I’m doing, but you can’t drop your sincere, loving husband act for two seconds.”

“You want me to lash out, but I’m not going to take the bait.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I’m just a fucking asshole, Carlos. It’s not that deep. You’re so naïve that you think there’s something redeemable in every person. How crazy is that? Grow up and see that some people are just wasted. They’re going to break your heart, and they’re not going to care that they’re doing it.”

“You always do this when you’re upset.”

“I’m not doing anything. It’s not a master plan or a scheme! I’m just an asshole. That’s all. You should know by now that that’s all I am. You married me, and if you don’t know what I am by now, that’s pretty pathetic. You must’ve been desperate if you married me. Aaron must have really broken you. He—”

T.K. could see the heat burning in Carlos’ eyes, and he got a guilty surge of satisfaction of finally getting a hint of the response he wanted. “Shut up, T.K, and don’t give me that crap. Aaron devastated me, but I was fifteen and in the closet. He’s in the past, but you’re not. You know what you do? You try to control people’s reactions. You provoke them so they’ll get angry with you because you’ve learned that a predictable bad response is more secure than gambling on what you might get.”

T.K. rolled his eyes, “Keep your social worker talk out of this.” He wasn’t looking to be psychoanalyzed.

Carlos swallowed a lump in his throat. “No, you’re all about bringing up hard truths tonight, so I’m not holding back either. You’ve learned that being hit hurts a lot less when you’ve convinced yourself that you had it coming, so when you feel vulnerable, you try to make people mad so that they get angry when you see it coming.”

“Stop it,” T.K. warned.

Carlos didn’t stop, “If you make people angry, you don’t have to risk them feeling something you don’t know how to handle. You don’t have to worry that they’ll hurt you for no reason because when you get too close to someone, you always give them a reason to be angry.”

T.K. felt his eyes get glossy, but he’d learned long ago that crying made things worse, so he closed his eyes and willed the drops to retreat into his eyes. He felt Carlos’ weight settle beside him and felt a warm hand slip into his. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, but you don’t get to dictate when I feel what. I want you to feel safe, but you’re never going to feel safe if you don’t learn to accept that you aren’t responsible for how other people feel, and you can’t control their emotions.”

“I can’t even control my own emotions. I feel like they’re always going crazy.” He couldn’t get a grip on what he was feeling. It had always been hard for him to process his emotions or even identify which one he was feeling at any given moment.

“That would be hard.”

“It was just an awful day.”

“I don’t know what happened, but you’re trying to punish yourself. There’s a part of you that thinks it’s what you deserve.” Because punishment stops the spinning in my head.

“Yeah, well, I really fucked up, Carlos.” Maybe he did deserve bad things. All of the bad things. I messed things up so badly, and I don’t there’s a way to make it okay.

“What happened?” Carlos’ voice was gentle but prodding.

“There was a little girl who died in a fire we were called to.”

“Did something happen to her?”

T.K. nodded. “Someone happened to her.”

“Arson?”

“No. Her dad had beat her and her mom up, and then, he set the house on fire to cover it up.” The amount of senseless violence T.K. saw never ceased to make him sick.

“Fuck, that’s bad.”

“Yeah, and it was all my fault what happened to her.”

“No, T.K. her death wasn’t your fault. I’m sure you did everything you could to save her. I know you.”

“She was dead when we got there.”

“What do you feel guilty over, then? You couldn’t have stopped it.”

“I know that there was nothing I could have done. I didn’t even know what had happened at the time, but I saved the wrong person.”

“What do you mean?” Carlos’ brows were furrowed as he struggled to understand what was bothering T.K. so much. Carlos’ face became animated with grim understanding. “You saved her dad.”

T.K. swallowed a lump in his throat. “I had to leave her body there while I carried her abuser out.” Logically, T.K. knew that he was doing his job, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he left a living person behind out of spite, but he hated how unfair it was when the scum of the Earth could continue living while people who did nothing wrong didn’t get that same chance. He hated that he had no control over it. He was powerless to the whims of the universe. He was powerless to his future. He was powerless to old scars that still sometimes ached as if they’d just happened. I’ve always been so powerless. “The thing I really hate,” he confessed, “is that I would have saved my dad even if he had tried to do the same to me.”

“That shows that you’re the better man.”

T.K. wanted to sob, but he let out a choked, “I’m sorry, Carlos,” instead.

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t. T.K. had been an awful husband, and he couldn’t stand himself for it.

“It’s not. I’m an asshole.”

“No, he’s the asshole..”

“It’s an inherited trait,” T.K. concluded, feeling like the worst person alive. Carlos is too nice to see the truth. He doesn’t realize that he can do so much better. “And I don’t think I’ll ever escape it.”

#text #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #My writing #Elise Writes #My Fics #wip #7500 - 12500 words #saving the child inside

4 notes · View notes

aboysbestfriendishismum · 4 years

Text

Chapter 55 - Wine, puzzles and spoonmen (Part One)

In the previous chapter: Eddie and Angie woke up at her apartment. It's the third time in a row they sleep together but, although Eddie is constantly teasing her, they haven't had sex yet. Angie starts to get worried about this too and believes something's wrong. Eddie, Stone and Mike go to Roxy's on that same morning, right during Angie's shift at the diner. Eddie cheekily jokes, teases her, sends her subliminal love messages through juke box songs, then follows her in the back and kisses her; she thinks he's doing it on purpose so that their friends will find out about their relationship. The two of them have a brief argument but they soon make it up. Meg tells Angie about her new project: becoming a tattoo artist. She also understands Angie's worried about something and has her friend spill the beans. Angie confesses she has doubts about Eddie's physical attraction towards her. Meg tries to talk some sense into her and suggests her to set up a romantic night for Eddie and her at their apartment.

***

“Ian, can you come here a sec?” I call my coworker as I look through the sketchbook my roommate has just slipped on the counter top together with her purchases.

“What's up?” I hear him answer from afar.

“I need your help”

“Can't you do it by yourself? That guy who dropped the jarred Bolognese sauce made a mess!”

“Umph if that's Bolognese sauce, then I'm Julia Roberts!” I comment right when Hannigan comes back from the storage room, probably because of the commotion he heard.

“ANGIE?” he gives me a nasty look and I'd want to sink into the ground.

“Err I meant that it's a sauce produced in our beloved America! Healthy American food, tasty and nutritious... which gets inspiration from an Italian recipe to... to...” I try and make up for that as I address my audience, that is basically Meg, looking at me as if she could burst into laughing any minute, my boss and two perplexed customers, a young man and a fifty-something woman.

“To give a new interpretation of it?” the guy suggests from the snacks department.

“EXACTLY! A new interpretation. Different from the original”

“But as valid as the original” the boss adds.

“Very valid!” I say through my teeth.

“She's half Italian.” Meg explains to the customers “She'll be fucking fussing about everything but the sauce is good” the guy snickers and the lady shakes her head and walks towards the frozen foods.

“I'd have liked for you not to use the F word but you perfectly summed up my thinking” Hannigan's face relaxes and maybe I still have a job.

“Anyway it's all Ian's fault” I point out as soon as I see my colleague show up behind the back of the boss.

“What did I do?”

“I called you and you didn't came”

“Well, now I'm here, what's wrong?”

“Now Hannigan's here, I don't need you anymore”

“Can you please explain what the fuck's happening? I didn't understand a fucking thing!” the boss blurts out in the middle of our quarrel.

“I thought you couldn't say the F word here” Meg chimes in raising her hand as if she was at school.

“Not to custumers, but to employees... yes”

“Meg needs to buy some wine” I point at my roommate and the bottle she's placed on the counter.

“So what? Your shift ends at 13:00, you still have 10 minutes” Ian gives me a glazed look and right now I'd stick my thumbs into his eyes.

“It's not for the timing, it's that I can't sell alcohol...”

“Oh right! Well, you'll take care of that, right?” he asks to our boss.

“Yeah, sure Ian! I'll take care of that, I'm already here! By the way why should I have my paid personnel work when I can do everything by myself, right?”

“Uhm... ok, I'll go and put some more sawdust on that stain” Ian walks away and Meg can't resist this time and explodes laughing.

“Haha he's so dumb! Anyway isn't it funny that you cannot sell me wine, considering you're the one who'll drink it?” my friend remarks while Hannigan's ringing her items: red wine bottle, sliced bread, salmon, cheese, butter, various snacks.

“You're kind of dumb too, you know” I hide my face behind my palms.

“You could avoid telling me, at least...” mutters the boss and shakes his head.

“Who? Telling you what? I didn't say a word! Oops, I forgot the dessert, wait a minute!” Meg realizes the shit she just did and plays dumb, walking away towards the sweets section.

“She was just kidding anyway hehe” I say and I hope he doesn't notice I'm sweating.

“Of course”

“They're great!”

“Thank you Meg for grocery shopping for me and bringing all the bags up for four floors for me... that's what you just said, right?” my friend is putting everything into the fridge as I keep looking through her sketchbook.

“Exactly”

“Anyway you don't have to tell me you like them only to make me happy, I want a honest opinion”

“I am honest! I must say I like the ones in black and white better”

“Right? I'm not confident with colors yet. I mean, it's not like I can't draw stuff in colors. It's just, whenever I draw something and color it and I think it'd be supposed to end on someone's skin, everything seems shit to me. I did very few drawings in color”

“The flowers series is perfect, also the one with the animals” she's really good at drawing, I've always known that.

“They're just doodles to get started, to try some themes and styles”

“They're not doodles... what about this?” I focus on something drawn on a separated sheet of paper, folded and stuck in the middle of the book, which falls down to the floor as I turn the pages.

“Which one?” Meg distractedly turns around then closes the fridge door shut and runs up to me, snatching the paper from my hand as soon as she sees what it is “Oh this? This is nothing, this... I did it last night at the salon, during downtime, it sucks”

It's a page made entirely of pieces of a puzzle, they're all different in shape and shade but don't create any image. They're all blank and fill the whole sheet of paper except for a small space, a missing piece. Instead of the missing piece, in the layer underneath, you can see something that looks like live flesh and muscle tissue, and it's the only colored part of the drawing.

“It's simple but of immediate effect. This could really become a tattoo”

“Do you think so?”

“Yeah, it also seems very realistic. It's disturbing but in a positive sense, I like it!”

“Oh, well, thank you”

“What does it mean?”

“That I thank you for your compliment?”

“Haha no, what does the tattoo mean?”

“Ah”

“There's always a meaning behind, right? What would such a tattoo mean?”

“Well but... but this is not a tattoo is just an excercise, there's no reason behind”

“No?”

“No! Ok, now that you make me think about it, it could represent, I don't know, a missing piece in someone's life? I mean, everybody has their own void inside, right? Nobody feels 100% complete, there's always a piece of the puzzle we can't find or that we lost in the way. And it can be very different things: a person, a passion, a goal in life. What do you think?”

“I think it'd be the perfect matching tattoo for a couple”

“A couple? Hahaha I didn't know you were so romantic!”

“Not necessarily a romantic couple. Also between two big friends. Or brothers. Think about it, one person can have the incomplete puzzle tattoed and the other one can have the missing piece, which fits in it perfectly”

“That's an idea. It should represent a strong bond. Between brothers... or a parent and a child”

“Sure, also” the latter not necessarily being a strong bond...

“A mother... a mother could get this one, with one or more missing pieces depending on how many children she's got.And the children will be the missing pieces” and what if the missing parts are the parents instead?

“And they you'll inject ink in those chubby baby arms of theirs!”

“Hahahah shut up! They can have it done when they're grown up. OR... you can draw the missing pieces in the same tattoo, a little further” Meg takes the sketchbook from my hands and starts drawing as she speaks, taken from sudden inspiration.

“You can also put the name in it. Or initials”

“Which name?”

“Of the child. Inside the puzzle piece”

“Sure, if I knew the name”

“What do you mean? Haha how can a mother not know the name?”

Meg gives me a weird look, then smiles: “I meant, if only you could give me a name to have a try”

“Try with Angie” I smirk.

“A random one”

“Totally random”

“Don't even try, I'm not gonna get matching tattoos with you, forget it” she shakes her head as she starts sketching a cursive A inside the drawing.

“SHUT UP! I'm scared of getting my earlobes pierced, do you think I'd get a tattoo?! You're crazy”

“Oh, I see, you wanna get one with Eddie?”

“Come on, hurry up, we need to go shopping”

“Hahaha this enthusiasm from you surprises me, abstinence can be powerful”

“MEG!”

“Do you really think we can find a slutty nightgown in a thrift shop?” Meg doesn't watch her tone as we stop in front of Rummage Hall.

“Shhhhhh! I don't wanna buy a slutty nightgown, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You don't want to? We went out exactly for that”

“You said I should wear something nice but not too much. I don't wanna go too far or Eddie will understand...”

“Excuse me, isn't that the purpose of the whole thing? Make him understand?”

“Yes but...”

“Well, slutty it is, then!” Meg enters the shop and I tag along.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh”

“Anyway we're not gonna find shit in here” my friend takes long strides towards the clothing section.

“Where did you want to go? Nancy Meyer? I've got no money for that stuff”

“No, but Fantasy Unlimited is a short walk away”

“BUT THAT- ehm... that is an adult shop” I raise my voice too without noticing, then shush myself up.

“And you're an adult, aren't you? Anyway they've got very cute things, I bought a lot of stuff there, that for the record I use also to go to clubs. Well, now only to go to clubs” she shrugs as she's examining a satin-like robe and then puts it back.

“You just need two triangles of fabric to be dressed and look nice, Meg, but for me it's slightly different”

“You just need triangles a little bigger, what's the problem?”

“The problem is there are no triangles big enough for me”

“Shut up!”

“And I don't know if Eddie would like that, I mean, I don't know his preferences” maybe he doesn't like this kind of seduction artifices, maybe he prefers a simpler style, a more natural approach. Why the fuck am I not naturally hot?

“He's a guy and he's heterosexual, what would his preferences ever be? The more skin he sees, the happier he is” it's Meg's very easy answer.

“My skin?”

“Yes, why?”

“There's too much skin in my case, maybe I'd better hide it” who am I kidding? You don't just put something cute on and turn into an attractive girl. You must be able to carry it around and feel confident in those clothes. I don't even feel comfortable now that I have a coat on. I'm never comfortable, except sometimes, with Eddie. Why ruin everything? I'll just show up like this, with a coat on. Or my fleece robe, I mean, he's used at my shitty outfits, this would be nothing new.

“Angie, what the fuck are you talking about?? He wants to see your skin because he likes you, I thought that had been already established by now”

“He likes me, altogether”

“No, fuck altogether, fuck mind, personality and all the other bullshit”

“Bullshit?”

“Angie, he likes your body, you turn him on, he wants you”

“He wants me so much than I gotta dress slutty to have him notice me?”

“The point is not having him notice you, that's what you got totally wrong. He already noticed you, you're with him basically! The point is letting him know you're ready for the next step. And stimulate him a little, warming up the atmosphere”

“If you say so” warming up, uh?

“Fuck, Angie, you're gonna give me a nervous breakdown sooner or later!” Meg pinches the bridge of her nose and I'm afraid she's really about to explode.

“Don't yell! There's people here” I complain looking around in embarrassment and hoping no one is listening to our conversation.

“Listen, when you're together... don't you ever notice anything in him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Whenever you kiss or hug... I mean, when you make out and stuff”

“Well, he looks... invested, focused on me and always gives me those looks that-”

“Ok ok, the look of love. But apart from that? Nothing else? Can't you feel anything?”

“What am I supposed to feel?”

“You know, since you also sleep together... and stuff”

“Stuff and stuff... Couldn't you be more clear?”

“Have you ever felt... something knocking?”

“Knocking?”

“Hasn't mini-Eddie ever popped up to say hi?”

“Mini... MEG WHAT THE FUCK??”

“Does he get hard? You must have noticed”

“DID YOU LOSE YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

“Shhh stop yelling, there's people here” Meg chuckles and I'd kick her ass.

“You're to lock up” I grab her from the sleeve of her jacket and try to drag her out of the shop with me but she pushes me towards the books section.

“Jeez, you're such a prude”

“I'm not a prude, I'm just... discreet”

“Ok so have you ever discreetly checked if he gets a boner or not when he's with you?”

“Apart from the fact that it doesn't mean anything”

“Sure, now Eddie gets random boners with no reason, after all he's in his full pubescent phase”

“You're joking but it's true. Erections are not necessarily linked to sexual arousal only. Do you know men can get erections at the point of death too under certain circumstances?”

“Oh really? And how many times did Eddie die recently?” she smirks.

“Anyway, that said... it's none of your business” I turn the other way trying to look upset and as I look towards the clothing section, where we were until five minutes ago, I spot something I hadn't noticed before.

“I already know anyway!” Meg yells behind my back as I walk away towards the object of my interest, then she catches up with me “Come on, don't be mad. I'm sorry. I just wanted to prove my point! And tease you a little”

“What do you think about this?” I turn around showing the item I've just taken from the line.

“I think that... well, considering it's Eddie, we would never find something better to stimulate him, not ever at Fantasy Unlimited. Buy it!”

******************************************************************************************************************************************

I'm halfway between the first and the second floor when I realize I took the stairs instead of the elevator. I stop for a second, contemplating how stupid I am and trying to remember the moment I put autopilot on. I probably lost some lucidity once I parked outside Angie's condo. Was the doorway open? I think so, 'cause I don't remember buzzing and I'd remember if I had heard her voice, even through that shitty croaky buzzer. It looks like spending more time together hasn't changed the effect that the idea of seeing her has on me. I hope it'll never change. I shake my head and start walking up the stairs, two steps at a time, to arrive sooner. I didn't exactly run but when I get to the fourth floor I feel flushed. I take a deep breath, pull up my backpack and walk down the hallway to Angie's apartment. The first weird thing I notice is a sound: the sound of a saxophone, which becomes louder and louder as I get closer. The second weird thing shows up as soon as I turn down the corner and see something's wrong in Angie's door. As I come closer I realize the hallway lamp casts a narrow beam of light on the floor inside the apartment and from that I notice that the door is half-closed. As far as I know Angie double locks herself up even in her bathroom when she's home alone, she'd never let the apartment door open. I walk up slowly and in the meantime I open my backpack and stick my hand in it to find something I could use as a weapon. I don't really wanna waste some good wine crashing the bottle on the head of an elusive burglar. But I also doubt the videotape of Harold and Maude would have the same effect. I grab the bottle from the neck as I push the door open and cautiously enter the apartment. And I immediately notice two things. First of all I see there's something on the floor and at first they seem parts of a colorful object that broke into pieces. But as I lean down to see better, I take some of these fragments in my hand and figure out it's nothing but flowers, abandoned on the floor. I grope my way looking for water or glass pieces of a fallen and then shattered vase but I can't find anything. Now that I think about it, there was no vase of flowers here, at least not until this morning. Almost at the same time, I realize it's not really flowers but only petals and they seem to form a path towards the living room. In that moment I figure out I can follow the path of the blue and red petals on the floor with my eyes because the entrance is not lit only by the external hallway light but also by some burning candles placed on the phone table and on the shoe cabinet.

Oh.

I quickly stand up, feeling stupid for mistaking a romantic setting for a crime scene. I finally close the door behind me and follow the way led by the flowers, walking towards the living room and imagining the different scenes I could find, which have all the same main character. But she's the one missing when I get in the room, all that I find is more candles, the small table laden with delicious food and further away, between the two couches, a basket with a composition of blue and red flowers, just like the petals on the floor. Your love is king sings Sade in the background, that is not exactly background, since the volume is pretty loud. And I'm just standing here, wine still in my hand, waiting for Angie to magically show up, maybe with a little ambush behind my back, covering my eyes with her hands or in any other way she came up with. But that doesn't happen. Suddenly I think I hear a sound, more sounds, actually an almost regular sequence of sounds. I go and turn down the music a little and the series of dull thuds sounds clearer. Maybe a romantic setting doesn't exclude a crime scene... what the fuck is happening?

“Angie?” I call her and get no answer.

The noise comes from the kitchen and that's where I go, quickly but with caution. At first I slowly open the door to peep in, then I fling it open when I see Angie at the window, leaning outside, basically perched on the windowsill.

“Angie!” I call her again but she can't hear me. So I put the wine bottle on the table and reach out for her, shaking her by her shoulder “Angie what th-”

“AAH! Oh shit, Y'ALL WATCH OUT DOWN THERE!” Angie jumps and starts yelling outside the window, then I can hear a sharp noise, like something shattered into pieces and that's when I look out too to see what's happening.

What's happening is that there a small group of people on the pavement just outside the condo, standing in a sort of circle around a red expanding stain, while a guy curses and gives the middle finger in our direction.

“Angie... what did you do? What does it mean?” I ask as we both stuck our heads back inside the apartment.

“I've just lost a bottle of red wine and a boot” Angie sighs and replies as if it's the most normal thing, finally turning to face me.

And I finally focus for a moment and see what's in front of me: Angie, dressed in just a black The Who t-shirt that leaves her legs almost entirely uncovered, eye liner or whatever it is on her eyes, with those little wings on the sides pointing upwards that make her look more like a kitty, a glossy lipstick on her lips, vanilla scent. Maybe the burglar hit and killed me and this is heaven.

“Well, I can make up for the wine because I brought some too...” I walk backwards towards the table without taking my eyes off her, pointing at the place where I must have put the bottle “and I can go out and get back your shoe in no time. So, you see? Everything has a solution hehe, don't worry” why the fuck am I laughing? Do I think I'm funny? And why am I sweating?

“I'm sorry you have to go, you've just arrived” she replies with an irresistible pout, moving away from the window and breaking eye contact looking down.

“No problem, I'll be back in a minute.” I'm about to leave the kitchen, then I come back in “Oh wait, I can't”

“Oh ok... why? I mean, it doesn't matter Eddie, don't... don't worry” she starts stuttering and I smirk inside, trying to look cool.

“I forgot I have to do something first”

“What?” she asks puzzled before I get close and take her face between my hands to kiss her.

“This. I'll be right back, ok?” I whisper right after.

“Ok” she smiles and I kiss her again.

“And just so you know, when I'm back I got a bunch of questions about all this to ask you”

“Ok” her smiles widens and I kiss her once more.

“I'm telling you in advance so I won't catch you unprepared”

“Ok...” she repeats and I'm about to kiss her once again but she holds me back with her hands against my chest “Now go though”

“Uh is that so?” I try and get my kiss but she pushes me harder away.

“Hurry up”

“I'm going, I'm going. So bossy...” I let go of her and leave the kitchen, only to show up on the doorway a second later, only for a moment “I like it”

It takes me a while to find the boots, I mean, the boot, Angie's brown one, cause it rolled down the sidewalk under a parked car. When I find it, I instinctively look up, as if I'm expecting to see her still there, at the window, with her colorful hair fluttering in the night breeze. But she's not there and I immediately go back inside. And during the whole way, this time using the elevator, I try and figure out the connection between wine and boot and the dynamics that brought them both out of the window. I walk up to the apartment and Sade is still singing.

“Thank you, Eddie. Do you want some?” I turn around the corner in the hallway and Angie's on the doorway with a bowl of chips in her hands and she holds it out to me as I get closer.

I want you I'd tell her but I just give her the boot and take the bowl and bury my hand in it.

“Anytime” I watch her quickly walking away into her room, quickly walking on her naked legs... GET IT TOGETHER MAN, YOU'RE SWEATING.

“Why are you standing there like that? Come in” Angie comes back and I'm still here at the door eating chips.

“I was waiting for you” I shrug and follow the flower path and her steps once again into the living room.

“So?” she asks when we're in front of the couch and I put the bowl of chips down on the small wooden table, since I believe we're about to sit down. Yet she keeps standing and smiles at me, with the tip of her canine popping up and diggin into her lower lip for a second as usual.

“So?” I repeat getting closer till my face is inches from hers, but without hugging her or kissing her, as if there's a game, a challenge between us, a challenge I'll surely fail.

“The bunch of questions... “ she looks down and, tugging the hem of her t-shirt down, she quickly takes a seat and I'm sure she's blushing even though she's not looking at me.

“Ok... Sade?” I point at the record player and sit down beside her, as I take off my jacket and throw it on the other couch.

“Hahaha of all this mess, the strangest thing to you is Sade's record?”

“No. But it's the first thing I thought of now”

“Don't you like it? It's... it's a good album” she turns towards me and subtly closes the distance between us on the couch at the same time.

“She's very good, it's just I didn't think you liked her. Can I ask the second question?”

“Sure”

“What the hell were you doing at the window with a bottle and a boot?” Angie's grin widens again.

“I was trying to open the wine bottle” she shrugs as if this is the most obvious explanation.

“By kicking it?”

“Hahaha more or less. My dad taught me”

“I sense a memorable anecdote is coming, I'm all ears”

Angie tells me about that time when she went on a camping trip with her parents to Lake Payette, her father's idea to celebrate his and his wife's birthdays, that I guess must be very close. On night one Ray pulled out a bottle of wine he had brought for the occasion but realized he forgot the corkscrew. He pounced on the cork with a knife but it seemed he couldn't open the bottle. Janis wanted to postpone the toast to the following evening, after going to the nearby shop and buying the bottle opener. There was no way to convince Ray though. So Angie's dad, as nothing happened, took off his boot in front of them, stuck the fuckin' bottle in it and, without saying a word, walked clumsily on a single boot up to the closest ponderosa pine and started slamming the bottle, protected by his shoe, against the trunk.

“You know, the pressure inside the bottle pushes the cork out, until you can grab it and take it off with your hands. My mom and I were doubled over in laughter” as she tells the story, Angie crosses her legs and moves on the couch and this makes her shirt go up little by little. I notice that and feel kind of an asshole.

“But it worked”

“And that was the first time I tasted wine: I was 11. It was good, although it had been shaken for 15 minutes”

“This means you got no corkscrew here at home?”

“Yeah... I mean, actually we had one, but I can't find it anymore. I guess someone took it at my birthday party or Matt or Chris borrowed it and haven't returned it yet. Sure it didn't seem wise to go there and ask them now, you know...” yes, I know, you didn't ask them because they'd have asked questions you don't wanna answer, at least by now.

“And you decided to use the Pacifico technique”

“And since I don't have any tree here, the only way to do it was beating the bottle against the wall. But I didn't want to risk getting the kitchen dirty so...”

“Hehe so you figured you'd do it out of the window?” I adore this woman.

“Yep. And it was working fine, until a certain someone scared me and made me drop everything. And I made a mess” she gives me a playful nasty look and scoots away from me.

“You're right, it's all my fault.” I scoot over on the couch to sit back close to her “But I know how to make you forgive me” ok, more than close basically glued to her.

“How?” she looks up at me amused, basically batting her eyelids against mine.

“Opening the other bottle” I stand up out of the blue and I leave her there, maybe a little disappointed? I go into the kitchen, take the bottle and open the window.

“With the Pacifico technique?” she asks as she shows up at the kitchen door.

“Nuh, with the Vedder one” I peer outside, remove the wrapper, pull out my lighter and start heating the end of the bottle neck with the flame.

“Isn't this dangerous?” I feel one arm circling my hip and for a minute there the red wine bottle was about to end the same way as Angie's one.

“No, I did it so many times” I answer as I rotate the bottle.

“Hey, it's coming out!” Angie exclaims behind my back while the cork starts moving.

At that point I tilt the bottle slightly as to prevent the cork from exploding like a bullet inside the apartment or into somebody else's window. Finally the corks pops out and falls into the street, where it looks like he doesn't hit anyone. Wine is safe too.

“See! Hot air expands inside the bottle and pushes the cork.” I close the window and triumphantly show the uncorked bottle to Angie, who arches her eyebrow at me “What? I can do science too, you know”

“So you also know you could have caused an explosion and get hurt?” she rolls her eyes and by the way is still hugging me.

“Not if you know how to do it and and to be careful. So, am I forgiven?” I ask, raising the bottle at her as if it was a toast.

“Sure!” she chuckles and looks at me in silence for a while. And I'm expecting a kiss but instead, she lets go of me and exits the kitchen, but not before addressing me again “Let's go taste you boiled wine”

The wine is not boiled at all and it's not bad. Angie and I are at the second round and, as I'm stuffing my face with chips and sandwiches, I realize it's getting hot in here. I mean, I can't be this heated for two glasses of wine. And neither for the half nakedness of Angie. Even though... And this is the moment I figure out my usually chilly girlfriend is dressed only in a t-shirt and I can't hear her teeth chatter for the cold, so there must be something going on here.

“My bunch of questions aren't over anyway...” I say and Angie makes herself comfortable on the couch, half laid and leaning on the armrest.

“Shoot”

“It's fucking hot in here, isn't it?” I ask as I take off my flannel and she starts laughing uncomfortably and, as she tries to sit up, her feet get closer, touch my legs and push against me a little to leverage. But I don't move an inch.

“Hahaha yeah, you're right... as you can see, tonight's really the perfect night: just one disaster after another”

“Why? What happened?” I throw the shirt there were my jacket is.

“I don't know, it must... the heating system must be broken, and that's not unusual. The new thing is... this time, I don't know... they kind of broke the other way round and it's been heating non stop at full power since this afternoon”

“Do you want me to check your radiators?”

“No point trying, it's not just here, the whole building is burning basically”

“Do you want me to go down and check the boiler room?”

“NO!” Angie basically kicks me, then regains her composure “Err no, no worries. And then, I mean, the apartment manager is the one who's supposes to take care of this stuff and call technicians, that's what he's paid for! He'll do the work”

“Ok”

“And what if you can't solve the problem and maybe no one can and they blame you because you put your hand in there...”

“Alright”

“And by the way, at least it's not freezing, for a change”

“Well, yeah, still better than freezing but...”

“I know. Shitty building. Anyway, now you know the... ehm, you know why I'm dressed like... this” Angie goes on and pulls down her t-shirt again to cover her thighs.

“I wouldn't call it a disaster then” I smirk and rub the back of my hand softly against her leg, from her ankle to her knee. She stares at me in the eyes and for a moment I'm sure she's about to throw herself over me and kiss me, but I'm wrong again.

“So? Which movie do we watch first? Mine or yours?” she asks out of the blue.

“You decide” actually I even forgot about the movies, the heat, the wine, about where we are and maybe what year we are as well.

“No, come on, you tell me” my hand is still going up and down.

“It's the same for me, Angie”

“Same for me too”

“You're the host, you choose”

“You're my guest, so it's up to you” of course, as always: it's up to me.

“Uhm... alright! Let's watch yours first then”

“Ok! The tape is there under the tv, would you put it on? I'll get some water” in a fraction of a second Angie sneaks away into the kitchen and I find myself alone. I turn off the stereo then crawl in front of the tv to get the Goodfellas tape and as I do I think about one thing. Well, actually two. One worse than the other. The first thing is that I'd rather have gone to get the water instead of Angie, so I could come back here and see her on hands and knees as she fumbles with the videorecorder, and that it'd have made for a very nice view. My second thought is that the tv looked much better in Angie's room and it'd have been much more enjoyable to watch it with her from her bed.

Disgusting thoughts indeed.

“Did you find it?” Angie's question startles me as if I was caught red handed doing something illicit.

“Yep” I press Play, stand up and try to get back on the couch before her. I do and sit right in the middle of it. So she won't be able to sit far from me. I gloat for my smar idea.

“If you want to be more comfortable, just lay down. I'm gonna sit there. Hehe we have one couch each if we want to” is Angie even aware of her endless power? The power to leave me totally speechless with such statements?

“Actually... I don't want to”

“Are you sure?” well, I don't know... WHAT DO YOU THINK?

“Very sure, I don't want a whole couch for me, I wanna share it with you” I hold my arms out and grab her by her waist, pulling her gently towards me until I finally take her back on this couch. And I hold her and kiss her and touch her, pushing her delicately towards the armrest on her side. And at some point I feel her hand moving right under my body. I think I know what she's about to do and I feel euphoric all of a sudden. But Angie is able to surprise me again, because even if I don't see her doing it, I can clearly feel her gesture of grasping at the hem of her t-shirt and pulling it down for the umpteenth time. I internally laugh at my stupid X-rated delusions, although on the other hand I'm sorry Angie doesn't feel comfortable with me yet. I don't wanna hurry, really, I'd just like to know what the problem is. I give her one last peck on her lips and back away so we can both sit up properly.

“Ok. Let's fastforward all the commercials and advisories. Where's the remote? Oh there it is!” Angie, the one who was about to abandon me all by myself on this couch, the one who was coy and bashful during my approach like two minutes ago, it's the same girl that basically climbs on me to jump over on the opposite side and stretch out to take the remote on the other armrest. And then does the same thing backwards to get back to her place. And I'm not complaining at all.

We're almost at the end of my movie and this is the situation: we finished the wine I don't even remember when, as for food only a few snacks and two small chocolate cakes are left; I'm in my t-shirt and boxers because it's really hot, although we opened the window in the living room; Angie's smoking a cigarette, resting on the couch with her legs over mine and I've been genty stroking them for literal HOURS, something that contributes in heating the atmosphere even more. And I also feel kind of guilty, because Harold has just rushed to the hospital with Maude and I already know what's about to happen and the ending breaks my heart every time... and I'm here, basking in the softness and smoothness of Angie's skin under my fingers.

“It's so sad. But also beautiful at the same time” she remarks during the credits.

“Yeah. You really haven't seen it before?”

“Never. And now I see why you like it”

“Hehe right, Cat Stevens has something to do with it” I reply since I think she's referring to the soundtrack.

“Uhm yeah but that's not what I meant. What I wanted to say is that... well, this movie is like you” she takes one long last hit of smoke, then puts out her cigarette in the ashtray she placed on the floor. And she's amazing. Not because she's smoking but... I know it's not nice to say, and it's also unhealthy, a bad bad habit, but... there are times, particular times in which, maybe fuelled by excessive domestic heating and subsequent nudity, I see something extremely sexy in a woman who's smoking.

“Absurd?”

“Absurd, eccentric, thoughtful, bitter and sweet...” Angie slowly counts the adjectives on her fingertips and I can't say she didn't get them right. This means she knows there's something bitter, and dark inside me. Maybe that's why she doesn't trust me completely yet.

“Eccentric uh?” a devilish grin appears on my face.

“Oh well...”

“Said the girl who tried to open a bottle with a shoe outside the window”

“Ok this is gonna be another of those recurring jokes you're gonna use to take the piss out of me for the rest of my life, isn't it?”

“Yes... after all, I can't make fun of you for your nights out with Meg to pick up guys anymore, I have to find a substitute”

“Really? And why?” she adjust herself better on the couch to sit up and for a minute I'm afraid I'll lose touch with her legs, but she still keeps them over mine.

“Because you're not having those anymore” I hold her by the hips as she puts her hands on my shoulders.

“Are you sure?”

“You don't need to”

“So can I hang up my infallible pick up techniques now?”

“Sure, now that you picked me up”

“How I made it is still unknown...”

“With your infallible pick up techniques, of course”

“That are? Not doing absolutely anything?” as if she needed to do something to have me fall for her. I lay down on the couch and pull her with me.

“Being yourself and not doing absolutely anything, the best way”

“If you say so...” she mutters and she tries to sit back up but I hold her tight and prevent her from sneaking away. At this point, also not to slip and fall off the couch, she has to more or less straddle me.

“It worked with me, can't you see that?” I grab her as she tries to wriggle free, I hold her tighter and slip my hand under her t-shirt, to caress her back.

“Eddie! Come on, let me sit up...”

“Why?”

“Because I'm hurting you...”

“Shut up!”

“It's true and you know it”

“You can't crush me, I can feel you got all the weight on your knees and arms”

“Because I wanna spare you asphyxiation?”

“Cut.The.Crap.” I decide I'm gonna do this the hard way and my hand sneaks across her back towards her armpit so I can tickle her, but she gives up long before I get there. Mental note: Angie is very ticklish “Oh, that's better!”

“Hahaha stop it!”

“Much better” I repeat when we find ourselves basically nose to nose and then I stop torturing her, close my eyes and breathe in silence with her for five minutes, I think, waiting for something... that never comes. Angie removes her hands from my hair, where she had casually buried them in the heat of the moment. Then she holds on to the pillows, pulls herself up and backs away from me.

“I'll turn off the tv” Angie stretches out her hand to get the remote from the table where I put, then sits back down at my feet. I take a deep breath and sit up too.

“I'd better go” I'm about to stand up but Angie, with a quick move, grabs me by the arm and pulls me back down on the couch.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”

“Home, so I'll let you sleep” I pinch her cheek and try to stand up again but Angie doesn't let me.

“But I don't wanna sleep! Well, I mean... you can sleep with me, you know, you can crash at my place”

“Even tonight?”

“Yes, why? Don't you want to?” Angie's torturing the hemline of her t-shirt again and if she tugs at it some more, it'll become a tunic.

“Sure I want to. I thought that it may be a problem”

“A problem about what?”

“I don't know, because of Meg?”

“Meg won't be here, she's sleeping over at her friend's”

“But she'll be back tomorrow morning, right? What if she sees me again? What will she think?” I'm saying it for her, not for me. If she sees me and does the math, I'll be nothing but happy.

“What will she think? Nothing. Anyway, I already told her”

“You told her?” I ask, suddenly interested and full of hope. Did she really tell someone we're a couple?

“Yeah, I told her you'd come over tonight. And that maybe you'd sleep here” hope destroyed in ten seconds. Maybe.

“And what did she say?”

“She said ok” Angie shrugs and takes the last two cakes left from the table, biting on one and handing me the other one.

“Ok? Only ok?” I take a bite too.

“Sure, what were you expecting?”

“Nothing. But... I think Meg knows then”

“Sure she knows, I've just told you! Why all these problems all of a sudden?”

“No, I mean she knows... about us...” a second bite and no more cake.

“NO! I... I didn't tell her anything”

“Angie... it's the 4th time we sleep together in a week, I don't think you need to tell her. If she's not stupid, she'll understand by herself.

“She knows we sleep together but she doesn't know... what... ehm... what we do” Angie eats the rest of her chocholate cake and pours herself half a glass of water to swallow it better.

“She can assume it, I guess” seriously, Meg's assumptions surely go well beyond what actually happens between Angie and I in reality.

“Meg has no trouble to say what she thinks: if she had suspects, she'd have openly told me”

“You should do it”

“What?”

“Openly tell her, about us”

“WHAT? WHY?” why the hell is she so scared?

“'Cause she's a friend to you and you have to start somewhere, don't you?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Listen, we already talked about it, do you wanna keep it secret? Ok, I'm in. But you could take things gradually, with no big collective announcements, just by telling it to one single person. And why not your best friend?”

“I don't know, maybe because she's totally incapable of keeping a secret?” Angie looks at me as if I was stupid and rolls her eyes.

“Well, that's so much better, isn't it. We only need to tell Meg, then she'll get the word out for us” I try and hug her and she slaps my chest in response.

“Fuck you, Eddie”

“Let's go to bed?”

“Mmm... ok”

19 notes · View notes