FOURTEEN
Done with his second shower of the day - so far - Vin sat in his borrowed clothes on the top stair of the staircase. He didn't want to go down and face Buck or Chris. He couldn't face them again. Between the two of them, they knew practically everything that'd happened to him. How could he just go and have a normal conversation with them again? Especially after what he and Buck had talked about? It just would never happen."Vin?" Mary appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "How are you doing?" She noticed that his hair was wet. He'd been taking a shower when she left the house this morning, now his hair was wet again, and he was dressed in some of Chris's clothes.
"I'm okay," he lied. "Just sittin'."
"Have you had anything to eat?"
"Bananas..." Vin had to think about it. "Had some bananas and milk..."
"Is that all?" she asked and Vin nodded. "Come on into the kitchen, I'll make you some lunch." She saw the hesitation. "Chris is on the porch talking with my father on the phone, and Buck is in the yard with Billy and Cowboy..."So Vin followed her down, feeling lost in the clothes that were a little big, the jeans that dragged on the floor behind his feet, the sleeves of the cotton shirt that covered his hands.
Mary didn't turn her head, but her eyes went to the front door as they crossed the hallway, thinking about what she'd seen this morning, thinking about what she was seeing now. "I just came from Mom and Dad's..," she said casually, over her shoulder. "They want to have Labor Day out at their place, by the lake..."
"That'd be nice..," Vin said, thinking there was no way he'd last in a large group of people, even people he knew. "It's comin' up fast, huh?"
"Next weekend already." She kept up a line of innocuous conversation as Vin sat at the table, feeling awkward and useless, and she toasted bagels and made scrambled eggs for him. "The last time I was out there, I got the worst sunburn, and Billy of course found the only poison ivy in the county..." Vin listened to her and made appropriate remarks, and wished he was anywhere else.
She was done in a little while and setting the plate in front of him. "Would you like orange juice? Or we have milk, tea?"
"No, Mary - I can get it for myself. That's all right. I appreciate you takin' care of me. You must have other stuff you gotta do..." After he said it, Vin hoped it didn't sound too obvious. But Mary smiled and rubbed a hand across his shoulders.
"Well, Chris has been busy - I have three baskets of laundry to sort and put away upstairs. You call me if you need me, okay?"
"Thanks - okay. Thanks Mary." Vin managed a smile, and she leaned down to gave him an unaccustomed kiss on the top of his head.
+ + + + + + +
Vin ate slowly, mostly to give his body the chance to revolt before he'd eaten too much. Occasionally he could hear snips of Chris's phone conversation on the porch. From the tone of his voice and the little Vin could make out, Chris and the Judge were agreeing right down the line on Lucas James. Out the kitchen window he could see Billy and Cowboy running back and forth in the yard. That meant Buck was where? Not in the house, Vin hadn't heard him come back in. So he must still be outside. Maybe he could just sneak to his truck and drive home - no, Chris would see him. Besides, he didn't know where his keys were. But he could explain to Chris that he just wanted to be by himself for awhile, Chris'sd understand. 'Course, he had to wait for Chris to get off the phone. Maybe he could just go lay down again for awhile, wait for Chris to come looking for him.
That seemed like a workable plan. Vin finished his lunch and put his dishes in the sink. Just then, seeing Billy race across the landscape, Vin suddenly thought of Maria. Suddenly he had to know.
Forgetting that he intended to never have another conversation with Buck, much less be in the same ten square feet of space, Vin went through the family room and out the sliding doors. Buck was sitting on the top step of the deck, facing away.
"Buck?" his voice sounded so anxious, Buck jumped to his feet as he turned.
"You okay?" he asked, just as anxious.
"Is Maria allright?" The only concern Vin had right now. "When you talked to her yesterday, she seem okay? She was pretty upset Friday."
"She's fine - worried about you. But fine from Friday.You know, she's a real pretty girl." Vin gave him a glare, his own assortment of physical and emotional distress forgotten.
"You might want to hold onto that thought for the next ten years Bucklin, so's I don't have to beat the snot out of you..."
Buck smiled at his friend - scrawny to start with, nursing broken ribs and a cracked spine, and going through hell - threatening him with physical violence to protect Maria. "She's a sweet kid," he went on. "Thinks the world of you, her parents do too. And not just 'cause you took care of her on Friday. They were telling me you do an awful lot of good for an awful lot of people in your building." Vin shrugged.
"They're good neighbors, good people. We help each other out."
"Well, Dr. Jekyll -"
"-Hyde-"
"Whatever, came by to check on Maria too when I was there. He said to tell you if you need anything, let him know. He's worried about you too...you got a lotta friends Vin. I know something like this can make you want to hide from everybody and everything. But you don't have to. We'll help you get through it." Vin nodded, and blinked, and looked away.
"I don't believe this...," Chris said as he came out onto the deck. "James' uncle is trying to buy his way back into the University..." He let out a long exasperated sigh. "I'll be glad when I see the last of both of those two...how're we doing here?" he turned his attention back to Vin. If nothing else, two hot showers within a few hours of each other were draining the color out of the bruises under his eyes.
"I'm okay," Vin said it shyly.
"Ready to hit it? Get your apartment cleaned up?" Looking at Vin, standing there in clothes that were too big, he looked even more breakable than before.
"Yeah, be good to get that taken care of..." Wasn't he going to beg off and go home alone?
"I'll head out first," Buck said. "Take one last look around 'fore we do anything permanent." What he really wanted to do was open all the windows to clear the smell of the blood before Vin got there. It was bad yesterday, it would be unbearable today.
"Sounds good," Chris told him. "Got the key inside..." They went back in the house, leaving Vin feeling suddenly shut out of his own life.
"Hey Vin!" Billy ran up to him, followed as always by the labrador. "You want to throw the ball for Cowboy?"
"Thanks Billy, ain't quite up to it right now."
"How come you got black eyes?"
Did they hit me between the eyes, or did they slam me against the towel bar? I don't think they kicked me, or they woulda busted my nose.
Vin couldn't remember and he wouldn't have told Billy anyway so he resurrected his favorite standby: "Fell..."
"How come you was cryin' last night?"
The words froze Vin. "You seen that?" He searched his mind, trying to remember if he'd noticed anything. Did Billy see him when he was just upset, or crying, or when Chris held him safe?
"Yeah, but Mom told me to get back to bed. Didja have a bad dream?"
"Yeah, a really bad dream."
Vin sat on the deck with his head in his hands. Billy and Cowboy streaked back and forth across the yard, alternately playing catch or tag, but he paid them no mind. He heard and felt Chris come out and sit down next to him, but he didn't lift his head. Maybe he could stay here. Maybe he didn't have to go back to his apartment just now. Chris'd understand. Just tell Chris that he was tired and didn't feel good, and he wouldn't have to face going back there. Sitting out here, even though he'd been talking about - it - sitting out here - it - just didn't seem as real.It would be real if he went back to his apartment.
He'd say he had a headache - he could feel one coming on. He was tired, his body ached, his heart pounded even thinking about going back. He had to stay here. He had to stay here.
"You don't have to come with, you know," Chris said. Vin looked up at him then. Into his eyes. No pity, no disgust, not even a hint that he might be uncomfortable sitting there next to Vin. Just friendship, support, and comfort. Vin saw the strength there that he needed to get through the next step of his long, painful journey back to being whole.
"I do have to go with Chris. I don't go back now, I never will." Chris nodded.
"Okay. But we don't stay one second longer than you want to okay? You just let me know if you need to leave, and we're out of there."
"Okay - - thanks Chris."
+ + + + + + +
Vin found his clothes, washed and dried again, neatly folded and set on the lower bunk when he went back to the guest room to get his sneakers. He shut the bedroom door and turned the lock, then eased himself out of Chris' clothes and into his own. Not that it would do any good. It didn't make him feel clean. Even taking a shower didn't make him feel clean. He'd never be clean again.
He put his shirt on and buttoned it up over the bruises and wounds, and tucked it into his jeans, before putting on his sneakers. He was about to bundle up Chris' clothes to throw in the bathroom hamper, but he slid Chris' shirt back on over his own first. It was still warm from wearing it, and it made him feel better.
+ + + + + + +
Mary paused in the doorway to the kitchen. Chris was on his hands and knees, shoulder deep in the cupboard under the sink, pulling out bottles and containers, scouring pads and powder.
"Honey?" she asked and received a muffled answer. "What're you doing?" She got another muffled reply which she interepreted as "Getting ready to go to the beach?" and he pulled himself back onto his knees.
"Looking for a bottle of bleach."
Mary stared at him. "You're never doing the laundry again..."
"No - a full one. We're going over to clean up Vin's place. Wanted the bleach to clean up the blood."
"There's one in the garage," she told him. He got to his feet against the complaint in his knees.
"Never gonna forgive me for bleaching all the color out of that bedspread, are you?"
"My mother gave me that bedspread Chris.." But she smiled at her husband. "Here let me get the right things together, you get the bleach and you'll probably need a bucket too..." They gathered the supplies and Chris put them in the bed of his truck. When he went back into the house, he found Vin in the front hallway, staring at that spot on the floor.
"About ready?" Chris asked, and Vin nodded without taking his eyes off the floor.
"Sorry...," he whispered.
"Sorry for what?" Chris walked closer to Vin, as he had last night, slowly but steadily closing the distance.
"All the trouble." Still his eyes didn't leave the floor. "Making y'do my laundry, put me up for the night, having t'come over to my house and help me clean it...'spect you got better things to do on a weekend..."
"Vin - when have you known anybody being able to make me do anything?" That's when Vin looked up at him.
"Reckon it had to be when Mary made you wear that monkey suit to the University Christmas Party last year..," he said it flat-out serious, but a little humor briefly lit his eyes when Chris scowled at him. Then it died away. "You'd tell me, wouldn't you? If I got to be too much trouble? You'd tell me before it got so bad that...that..." He didn't seem to know how to go on, until finally: "You wouldn't push me away would you? You'd tell me I was askin' too much of you before that, wouldn't you?" Chris was too stunned to answer and Vin pushed on.
"I can take care of gettin' myself back together, y'know. You don't gotta do anything you don't want to. I 'preciate the help but it's nothing you've GOT to do...you know?" He sounded almost desperate.
Chris stared at Vin another long minute, strongly resisting the urge to shake him for his mistaken fear. He wondered what Vin had ever gone through that would make him ask a question like that. Should he just say I know and let it go? Not say anything at all and just get Vin headed out for the truck? Lord, what should he say?
"Of course I have to help you Vin. You're my friend. I couldn't not help you. It'd be like asking me to cut my hand off. Of course I have to help you - it's just part of who I am..." Now Vin stared, wide eyed and amazed, and speechless. "Okay?" Chris prodded, and was answered with one short, shaky nod.
"Okay."
+ + + + + + +
Vin'd driven this route hundreds of times, but it never seemed to take so short to get to his apartment from Chris'. He wouldn't have minded a few more red lights, a pokey driver in front of them, a traffic jam... But they tooled along pretty steady and parked in the apartment building parking lot next to Buck's big old Dodge.
"You okay?" Chris asked after he shut off the engine.
"Don't know."
"You don't have to stay..." Vin gave Chris a tired smile.
"Yeah, I do..."
Chris pulled the supplies out of the back as Vin cautiously let himself down out of the passenger door. "I can carry something," he offered after he shut the door, and Chris handed him the bucket with the paper towels. Chris carried a cardboard box with the bleach, scouring powder, "scrubbing bubbles", Lysol, rags, sponges, and garbage bags. Vin stared at the assortment.
Seemed like every single part of recovering from this nightmare had to do with getting clean.
They turned to walk to the front door then, Chris kept Vin between himself and the building. He scouted the area for people - he had the description of Vin's attackers from Buck. If he laid eyes on them, they were dead. It didn't matter if he had to follow them to hell. They were dead.
As they walked along, Vin listened to the sounds drifting down from the street festival. He really wanted to go this year, but now he couldn't imagine ever going. Too many people. Too much confusion. They could be anywhere. Maybe he should start thinking of moving again, maybe to a different city even, where nobody knew. He couldn't imagine carrying this pain for the rest of his life, on display where everybody who knew what happened could see it. Move somewhere nobody else knew, and he could keep the pain and the shame hidden.
He looked up to his apartment windows as they rounded the front of the building. Buck had both windows open and a fan on in one. "Must be hot inside," Chris said - though he knew it was to blow the smell out - and Vin just nodded and pulled open the front door, and they went inside.
Every step up the staircase took more and more out of Vin, till finally he stopped altogether on the landing. From where they stood, they could see the door to his apartment, cracked open a few inches. Vin stared at it, catching his breath."Don't you have an elevator in this building?" Chris finally said.
"Gettin' old?" Vin had to ask. He knew Chris was asking for his sake.
"Reckon I must be - got old friends..," Chris shot back and Vin had to smile at the play in the words.
"Not much more to go," he said. "If either of us collapses, Buck can just come and carry us." Vin passed the bucket to his other hand, and hung onto the banister as he climbed the final dozen steps. He stopped just at the door and let Chris go first.
Good thing he had the pail - he felt like he was going to be sick.
Still holding the box of cleaning supplies, Chris pushed the door open with his shoulder. He expected to be hit with the smell of blood, instead, the apartment was filled the unmistakable scent of Lestoil.
"Buck?" he called, when he didn't see his friend.
"Visitin' the necessaries...," Buck called back, and appeared around the bathroom door. "Got some water and cleanser soaking on the wall and floor in here, just takin' down the medicine chest. Figure on going to the hardware store, buy another one...might have to repaint or repaper the bathroom too..." He said it softly, then called over Chris' shoulder, "Hey Vin...long time no see..." though it'd been an hour or so.
"Hey Buck...," Vin answered, but his eyes traveled over his plundered front room. Books, letters, CDs, littered the little room. More fractures of his life, tossed everywhere, broken, trampled, dirtied. He'd never get it all back together.
"Where do you want to start?" Chris asked as he took the pail. He'd given the supplies to Buck. Vin shook his head and swallowed hard.
"Don't know - I don't know." They'd touched his possessions, their fingerprints were on his belongings. "Gotta pick up this mess..." They were still in this room.
"Buck's got the bathroom under control...I'll take a run through the kitchen then come back and help you, okay?"
"Yeah..." Vin felt Chris move away. He turned and walked to the bathroom. Buck had the door half closed, and Vin tried to see it now through their eyes, what they saw, when they broke into his life. He pushed the door gently with an index finger and found Buck crouched next to the tub, his feet on a square of cardboard in the middle of a Lestoil puddle, scrubbing the wall with a huge sponge. The once white and floral ugly wall paper was now pink and orange and floral ugly wall paper. Vin saw that Buck wore latex gloves.
"Don't got any disease I know of..," Vin said quietly. Buck looked up at him. He knew what Vin meant, but he hadn't put the gloves on for any other reason than habit.
"I was hopin' this wasn't all your blood."
"It is..." Vin took a long look around and let out a sigh. "Place needed redecoratin' anyway I reckon." Unconsciously, he put his hand up to hold Chris' borrowed shirt closed at the neck. "I ‘preciate you helpin' me. Don't think I coulda done it on my own." His voice had no spirit or strength.
"Well I'm glad to help you Vin. Means a lot to me that you let me. Know it can't be easy for you right now, havin' people around you. Means a lot to me."
Vin nodded, and blinked, and backed out of the bathroom. "Gotta pick up the mess in the front room," he said.
"Well, give a shout if you need a hand."
"Okay." Vin turned and walked back through the kitchen/dinette, past Chris who was re-stocking onion salt and pepper containers in the cupboard. He stared down at the browning bloody foot prints he'd left on the carpet.
"I'll take care of those soon as I'm finished here," Chris said.
"Okay..." Vin followed the trail with his eyes, all the way to the door. The door was shut now, still he had to walk past it to get to the front room. Then the door would be between him and Chris and Buck. And if the door opened and if they came in, they would be between him and his friends. And if they got between him and his friends... "Chris?" They stood less than five feet apart, but the urgency in Vin's voice brought Chris right to him. Even Buck was out of the bathroom in an instant.
"You okay?" Chris asked.
"You help me? Come with me?" Vin's voice shook. "Come with me in the front room?"
"Sure, come on..." With a gentle hand on Vin's back, Chris turned and exchanged a look with Buck. They didn't fault Vin for being scared. "We'll get everything picked up. Come on..."
Chris started picking up books and lining them back up on the shelf next to the front windows. Vin carefully set himself down on his knees to gather his CDs, jewel cases, and liner notes together. A lot of the CDs were cracked or visibly scratched, a lot of the cases were broken, and a lot of the liner notes were shredded beyond repair. Vin couldn't help another long sigh.
"Lose a lot?" Chris asked.
"Looks like..." He made piles, triaging the mess into OK, maybe, and dead.
They had touched these. They were still in this room.
The corner of a jewel case stuck out from under the couch and Vin put his hand into the narrow space to retrieve it, but his fingers touched something else and he pulled it out. He stared at it awhile and tears filled his eyes. He slowly eased himself off his aching knees to sit with his aching back against the couch. Damn.
"Vin?" Chris saw his face, but couldn't see what he held in his hands. "What is it?"
"My Dad...," Vin said, and Chris couldn't believe that the high, pained voice belonged to his friend. He came to Vin's side again to see, to help, but as soon as he got close enough he knew there was nothing he could do. Vin's hand held a small shattered frame that held a desecrated picture of his father - eyes punched out and teeth blackened.
"God, Vin..." But what could Chris say that wouldn't make it hurt worse?
"How could they?" Vin asked, distraught. He leaned his head up, eyes squeezed shut, trying hard not to cry. "How could they?" He couldn't stop the tears, couldn't stop the agonized moan that escaped past the suffocating pressure on his heart. "Not my Dad..."
"Vin - it's okay." Not the picture, not the circumstances - what then? What was okay? Chris set himself next to Vin and put his arm around him. "We can get it fixed."
"No you can't." Chris knew it was true.
"We'll try. We'll do something." He was desperate to make it better. "It'll be okay Vin, honest. We'll do something."
"No, you can't." Vin hugged the remains of the framed photograph to his chest and bent his head over it. "It'll never be okay." Chris held him tighter and wanted to just fold him into a hug that pushed everything else away, but he didn't know if it would embarrass Vin in front of Buck, and the man had suffered enough embarrassment in the past few days to last him ten lifetimes.
So he kept his arm around Vin, and put his other hand over the shaking hand that held the splintered wooden frame and ruined photograph close. "It will be okay Vin. I promise. Whatever it takes, I promise you it will be okay."
After awhile, Vin's back hurt too much to stay sitting on the floor. As much as he wanted to stay in the comforting safety of Chris' arm, he shifted slightly - "I gotta stand up." - and Chris helped him to his feet. He kept the picture of his father pressed close over his heart and walked toward the bathroom with slow, shuffling steps. Chris was behind him and Buck was in front of him, so he was safe."Buck?" he said as he got to the half-closed door. His voice was dead. "Can I get in here a minute?"
"Sure." Buck pulled open the door, he held the mop in one hand, and set it down in the bucket. "Careful, floor's still damp."
"Yeah." Vin didn't look up as they passed each other. When he shut the door behind himself, Buck walked into the frontroom.
"He's not lookin' too good," he said to Chris, keeping his voice down.
"No, he's not. They messed up a photograph of his Dad..."
"Bastards..." Buck didn't even try to disguise his anger. "Not enough what they did to him..." He looked at the jumble of broken CDs at his feet and bent to start picking them up. "Look at this..." Chris got a paper bag from the kitchen and they collected the bits and pieces.
Vin stood a few moments in the bathroom, looking around. Buck had stripped the wall nearly bare of wallpaper, and the medicine chest sat in the tub. All its meager possessions had been transferred to the sink. The tiny room looked different to Vin, as though he'd never set foot in there before. But the echo of taunts and threats reverberated around him and the room started to spin. He caught himself on the sink and shut his eyes against the dizziness, waiting for it stop or at least slow down so he could use the bathroom then go lay down for a while.
"I got the medicine cabinet off the wall," Buck was saying, his anger dissipated into a weariness. "Ended up ripping most of the wall paper off, couldn't get all the blood to come off. Figured it'd just be easier to start fresh." Just then Vin came out of the bathroom, and Buck turned to tell him the same thing. "I know it looks bad in there now Vin, but we'll get it all done up again, real nice."
"Okay." Same dead voice. He couldn't care either way. "I think I might -" But his words were interrupted by a knock on the door. Vin's eyes flew open in sudden panic. Buck motioned Chris to go to Vin, and he approached the door, his gun hand reaching for the snub nose holstered on the back of his belt.
"Yeah?"
"Buck? It's Josiah." All three men let out sighs of relief and Buck opened the door to let in their friend. "You expecting somebody else?" Josiah asked when he saw where Buck's other hand was resting.
"Policeman's always on duty, you know that Josiah...same as a priest." Buck stepped back to let Josiah pass, then gave a quick glance up and down the hallway before shutting the door.
In the brief flash of time it took to turn his eyes toward Chris standing protectively in front of Vin, between the bathroom and bedroom doors, Josiah took in everything. "Vin, heard you weren't feeling well, thought I'd come by, see if there's anything I can do." Chris moved forward first, sensing that Vin would follow.
"I'm doin' okay," Vin finally answered as he did take a few steps to not be too far away from Chris. "Who - who'd you hear it from?" Who knew? Who was talking? Who did he have to look out for now?
"Well, JD mentioned it after I said Mass this morning, and then Ezra called me and said you were hurt bad enough to make Chris talkative..." Vin turned a worried look to Chris, wondering what exactly he'd been talkative about.
"Told 'em yesterday that you fell...," Chris answered Vin's unspoken question.
"I'm thinking you musta had a little help in that department," Josiah said. "Somebody hurt you, didn't they?" He kept his voice gentle and comforting. "Got yourself coupla nice shiners there." As he spoke, Josiah closed the distance between himself and Vin. Chris moved off slightly then and Vin didn't follow. He let Josiah get close to him. "What have you got there?" Josiah asked of the wooden frame still held close.
"My Dad...," Vin told him. How to explain it? "They ransacked..." but then Vin could do nothing more than turn the horror to him. Josiah took the small frame in his hand and gazed on it a few moments.
"This is bad Vin," he finally said. "You have another picture of you Dad, don't you? You keep in your room?" Vin nodded. "I think you'll feel better if you have a sound picture to hold onto, don't you? Can I get it for you?" Vin nodded again and Josiah smiled. "Thanks." before moving the few more feet into Vin's bedroom. After a moment's hesitation, Vin followed him in and shut the door.
"It's the voice," Buck said. "Makes you feel like you're wrapped up in a quilt and laid to rest in a feather bed."
The hinged double frame sat on Vin's dresser, one side a picture of his mother, the other side his father. Thank God neither picture had been touched. Josiah lifted it and gently handed it to Vin. "Guess they didn't get this far." Vin pressed these pictures just as tight to his chest, and held his free hand out for the destroyed photo. "Can I hold onto this Vin? See what I can do to repair it?" Vin had to think about it a moment or two.
"Okay..." He used his free hand to hold Chris' shirt closed at his neck. "Josiah? You do me a favor?"
"Of course Vin, anything."
"I wanna go to confession."
"Here?" Josiah looked around the small room, tidy in a disorganized way.
"Yeah...I wanna do it now." Vin made sure he met Josiah's eyes. "You'll hear my confession won't you?"
"Of course I will, come over here and sit down." They sat together on the unmade bed. Vin put his heels on the metal bedframe and rested his elbows on his knees.
"This still counts as private, right? Confidential and all that. Right?" Vin asked.
"Seal of confession - still counts," Josiah assured him.
"Well, umm.." Without the darkness, grate, and relative privacy of an actual confessional, Vin felt a little shy of starting. Josiah seemed to realize this.
"Why don't you just tell me what's on your mind Vin...that'll work just as well as the formal way..."
"Okay...umm...the last time I went to confession was around about Easter...I missed Mass a couple times since then. I had a headache the one time but I think I coulda gone to Mass anyway, and the other time I knew I was gonna have to work that Sunday, but I didn't do anything about making it to Church the night before..." Then he said nothing more.
"Is that all?" Josiah asked, not unkindly.
"Well...I swore at a lady who cut me off in traffic last Fourth of July...Josiah? I did something really bad...I don't think maybe confession'll cover it." His voice shook.
"Of course it will Vin. The only sin God can't forgive is the sin we aren't sorry for..." He put his hand on Vin's shoulder. "...tell me what happened..."
"They've been in there awhile," Buck said, as he put the finishing touches on a deadbolt lock on Vin's front door. The apartment was all picked up and put away as best as they could do. Chris was scrubbing at the carpet, and didn't respond."Chris?" A little more loudly.
"What?" Chris asked, his mind clearly somewhere else.
"What d'you think is goin' on in there?"
"Talking." Chris shook his head and continued scrubbing. "All I can hear is talking."
"Vin sound like he's holding up?"
"Can't tell...just voices..."
+ + + + + + +
Another half hour passed before Josiah came out of Vin's bedroom, closing the door behind himself. By now everything that could be cleaned had been cleaned, trash taken to the dumpster, and medicine chest stowed in the bed of Buck's truck. The two friends sat on either end of the sofa, tired and resting. Josiah came to stand before them.
"The boy's been through quite a bit the past few days," he said. He spoke softly, to keep Vin from hearing.
"He's got a lot more to get through yet," Buck answered.
"Is he okay?" Chris asked. He got to his feet, intending to go to Vin. "I don't know," Josiah admitted. "He's got more questions than even I have answers to..."
"What kinda questions?" Buck asked.
"Oh - like why did it happen. Did he let it happen..."
"I already told him he didn't ‘let' it happen," Chris insisted.
"Well that's good Chris. But he's probably gonna need to hear it quite a few more times before he believes it. He blames himself for being in the shower when they broke in..." Josiah paused before saying the next, though he had Vin's permission to tell Chris and Buck what they'd talked about. "He says he doesn't feel like a man anymore, like he doesn't deserve to be around us, any of his friends..."
"That's just plain foolishness," Chris said.
"It ain't foolishness to him Chris," Buck said. He stood as well, stretching the weariness out of his shoulders. "What should we do Josiah? What can we do?"
Josiah looked around the apartment. "I'd say you're doing it. Just being here for him. Just being his friends. Not treating him like pariah. Told him, if he wants, if it gets too hard for him, I can recommend a psychologist who -"
"Vin doesn't need a shrink," Chris spat out, but keeping his voice down. "He's got his friends. He doesn't need some stranger poking around his brain, making him feel worse." His anger took Josiah by surprise, but instead of reacting to the outburst, he just nodded once.
"Vin feels safe with you Chris, he told me that. He doesn't know why you've stood by him through this. Either of you -" he included Buck in his statement. "But he's grateful that you are."
That tempered Chris' anger some. He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and kicked at nothing on the floor. Buck sighed and pulled his keys out of his back pocket. "Well, I'm headed to the hardware store, get a new cabinet...anything else you think he needs?" he asked Chris.
"No, don't think so..." Chris looked around.
"Okay...Josiah, feel like a trip? Maybe y'got a blessing for new bathroom mirrors?" They headed for the door.
"I'm sure I could come up with something..." When they left and shut the door, the room became dully silent, even the whir of the fan in the window sounded hollow somehow. The apartment was put back together, but still had that tattered look of something not quite right. After a minute or so, Chris took his hands out of his pockets and walked to the bedroom.
He tapped on the door, and heard a very muffled "Hmm??" That was all the response he got, so he opened the door just enough to peer around to the bed. Vin lay on his side, still clutching the picture frame, still holding Chris' shirt closed at the neck. His eyes were closed, but he opened them slowly as he turned to the door. Maybe he'd been crying, Chris couldn't tell. But he looked exhausted.
"I was gonna make some lemonade, that OK? You want some?"
"...'kay. Kinda thirsty anyway." Vin started to push himself off the mattress.
"I'll bring it in here...," Chris offered.
"Naah, I'll come out there." Vin didn't ask for help, and Chris didn't offer, but he stood nearby till Vin was on his feet. "Where'd they go?" he asked when they walked out into the little dining room.
"Hardware store, get you another medicine chest," Chris told him as he hunted up the supplies and started to make lemonade.
"No, they shouldn't do that - I shoulda give ‘em some money first. They can't be doing that." He set himself in a kitchen chair. He did it slowly and carefully, but caught his breath in pain, and bent over his crossed arms, trying to hold on through it.
"Vin?" Chris came to him, crouched down in front of him, trying to see his face. "What is it?"
"Hurts," Vin forced out through clenched teeth. "Just...hurts..."
"What hurts?" Chris asked, then realized what he might be asking. "I mean - is it - do you need - do you think - ?" and even Vin had to laugh at his embarrassment, though the sound was high and gasped out. He put his hand on Chris' shoulder and leaned closer, almost resting his head against Larabee.
"It's...okay...Chris...everything hurts..."
Chris felt how hard Vin's fingers dug into his shoulder, the white knuckle grip he kept on the picture frame. "You need your painkillers? You got ‘em with you?"
"M-m-y sh-shirt pocket - don't leave...," he added abruptly when Chris started to stand. "Just...let me..." He panted short breaths, trying to outlast the pain. Finally it eased enough that he could sit back and open his eyes. "S-s-sorry," he said, pulling his hand off Chris' shoulder, back to the neck of his shirt.
"Don't be sorry - you okay now? You wanna take a painkiller now?" and all Vin could do was nod. Chris brought him back a glass of lemonade and took the bottle out of Vin's shirt pocket. "How many?"
"As many as I've got left," Vin said, which got him a scowl. "Two - whatever - I don't know. It says on the label." Chris handed him two tablets and recapped the bottle to tuck back in Vin's pocket.
Vin took the medicine, and drank most of his lemonade, and Chris poured him some more. Then he poured some for himself and sat in the chair diagonal to Vin. "Better?" he asked, hopefully.
"Soon, I reckon..." A few deep breaths, eyes closed, and everything seemed to ease. "Feel like I got caught under a steam roller..." He opened his eyes again and saw past Chris to his front room. "Hey, y'got it all straightened up?"
"Best as we could...Buck put a deadbolt on your door."
"Sure - now..." but his voice wavered. "So - how's things at school?" Though he knew the latest, and Chris hadn't heard anything more since coming to Vin's apartment.
"Well..." Chris shook his head and let Vin turn the conversation. "The Judge says he wouldn't have Lucas James back on a bet, but his uncle is making noise about lawyers and wrongful termination...I tell you - tomorrow I'll be walking into a disaster."
"Yeah..." Vin took a swallow of lemonade. "Guess I'm on waivers, hunh?"
"Only if you want Vin. I need you back as soon as you're ready. Desk duty - but I need you to help me through this mess. You know Groundskeeping and Maintenance. Who does what, what needs to be done, what can wait. Soon as you're ready, I need you back."
"Okay..." Vin seemed to think about it. "Just to let you know though - I'm calling in sick tomorrow..."
"I'll make a note of that." Chris smiled, till he saw Vin's eyes and the pain that flashed across them.
"Josiah said it wasn't my fault," Vin said quietly.
"It wasn't."
"Told him he could tell you he knows - he wouldn't have otherwise. Confession and everything. He said I shouldn't despair."
"No - you shouldn't." Chris leaned toward Vin, letting his elbows rest on his knees.
"Hard not to Chris. This is something - ain't like getting mugged, or hit by a car. This is - every single bit of the rest of my life. Y'know I can never donate blood again? If I ever got married, my wife could never donate blood. I gotta worry about what disease I mighta been exposed to, what might crop up ten years from now. And if anybody ever finds out at school - I couldn't bear that Chris. To have people whispering about me, talking about me." He started talking faster. "I know what they'll say. What they'll be thinking. Hell, I'd be thinkin' the same thing if it wasn't me...I couldn't bear that Chris."
"It's all right Vin - no one will know. Nathan and Rain couldn't - wouldn't - say anything. It'll be all right."
Vin shook his head a little, but didn't say anything. He pulled the picture frame away from his chest to look at the photographs. "Miss ‘em," he said after awhile. "Guess I'm glad though they ain't here...can't see telling ‘em what happened."
"Your Dad would understand," Chris said.
"I don't know. I hope he would, but I don't know...don't know why you're still here..."
"We're friends and you still owe me five dollars from the Stanley Cup." Chris waited to see Vin's reaction. Either he didn't think it was funny, or his brain was taking a long time to turn it over; he watched Chris a minute.
"No goal," he finally said, resurrecting an old argument. "...tired...lay down on the couch?"
"Sure, c'mon." Chris stood and helped Vin to his feet.
"Carpet looks good," Vin said as he made his way to the couch. He sounded tired.
"I'm glad somebody appreciates my housekeeping skills," Chris told Vin, and gently helped him to sit on the couch.
"Told you Chris - shoulda just bought another bedspread and not told Mary anything about it..." He eased himself into the pillows and cushions, keeping the picture of his parents close. "If you'd just listened to me..." his voice trailed off.
"Next time I'll listen Vin..." Chris went back to Vin's room for a blanket, watching to see if he minded being left alone even for that short a time. He seemed to be asleep though, and Chris spread the light cover over him.
"Don't leave," a soft voice asked.
"I won't."
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